Curtain
Your words…
It was now about noon, and darkness came over the whole land until three because the sun’s light failed. The curtain of the sanctuary was split down the middle. And Jesus called out with a loud voice, “Father, into Your hands I entrust My spirit.” Saying this, He breathed His last. Luke 23:44-46
Therefore, brothers, since we have boldness to enter the sanctuary through the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way He has opened for us through the curtain (that is, His flesh), and since we have a great high priest over the house of God, let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed in pure water. Hebrews 10:19-22
My words…
Praise
God, You are the One who makes the impossible possible. It’s impossible for the sun to fail for three hours in the middle of the day. It’s impossible for the sanctuary curtain to split in two down the middle. It’s impossible for one person to carry the guilt of everyone else. Yet it all happened on the same day. You lowered the lights on the stage, opened the curtain, and gave everyone free admission to heaven. Your Son paid the ticket price. Paid in full. Paid in blood.
Prayer for me
Help me grasp a deeper understanding of the price paid that day. I have so few words to go by in the gospels. Your Spirit was there, watching the scene unfold, the scene that had been foretold. I look to You, Spirit, to replace any of my misconceptions with Your perspective. A little at a time is fine.
Forgive me
Forgive me for not falling on my face in gratitude and praise for all that happened that day, the day that changed everything that means anything.
Prayer for others
I think about those who were in the temple when the curtain tore from the top down. There they stood, gaping into the one place they were strictly forbidden to enter. Word must have spread through the temple courtyard and through the city. Hurry! Get a seamstress to repair the curtain! For there couldn’t be a way for just any ole person to enter the Most Holy Place. Impossible!
Makes me smile.
Willing
Your words…
Then Jesus came with them to a place called Gethsemane, and He told the disciples, “Sit here while I go over there and pray.” Taking along Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, He began to be sorrowful and deeply distressed. Then He said to them, “My soul is swallowed up in sorrow – to the point of death. Remain here and stay awake with me.” Going a little farther, He fell facedown and prayed, “My Father! If it is possible, let this cup pass from me. Yet not as I will, but as You will.” Then He came to the disciples and found them sleeping. He asked Peter, “So couldn’t you stay awake with Me one hour? Stay awake and pray, so that you won’t enter into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.” Matthew 26:36-41.
My words…
Praise
Father, when I think of Gethsemane, I see the setting of the preamble of the holy declaration, the definitive affirmation of Your love for Your creation. It was just an olive grove, a secluded place set off from the city of Jerusalem. Yet never had any garden on earth been the focal point of so much power. Jesus wasn’t alone. Father, You were there; it was Your will that illuminated the road to Golgatha. Your Spirit was there, strengthening Jesus to endure the weight of every sin that had or will be committed and still have the physical strength to carry his own cross. And Satan was there, wasn’t he? He wouldn’t miss the opportunity to cast his net of torment over Jesus. He belittled the Plan. He poked holes in its soundness. I’m sure he offered all manner of revisions. You willed. Jesus submitted. The Spirit strengthened. Satan tempted. Angels hovered. The disciples slept.
Prayer for me
I am somewhat validated by the fact that the disciples gave in to their weak flesh when they should have been spiritually on guard. I give in all the time. But I also struggle with double weakness. Not only is my flesh unwilling, there are times when my spirit is unwilling as well. What a wretch I am! I need the strength to remain on guard, and I earnestly pray for a inpouring of nourishment from the Spirit.
Forgive me
Forgive me when I have been called upon to watch and pray, and I have fallen asleep, or have put it off, or have forgotten altogether. Watching and praying – the roadblock to entering into temptation. Forgive me when I walk around it.
Prayer for others
I love that Jesus was so concerned for His disciples all through his agonizing ordeal in the garden. He was teaching them right up until the end. He knew they would need to learn to watch and pray if they were to spread His message of love and safety to a lost generation. I pray for Your disciples the world over. What a beautiful body of spirits! Help us all to be willing, both in spirit and flesh, to keep our eyes and hearts open to those living without You.
Gratitude and Praise
Father, You planned for the scene in Gethsemane before you separated light from darkness. There was no other way, and You knew it. You are One with the Son and the Spirit. You all recognized the destruction of sin and its horrific effect on Your lovely creation. You all suffered together, Your agony manifested in the drops of blood seeping through the pores of Jesus. The host of heaven stood ready to block the path to Calvary, but they knew You would never allow it, and, for that, they praised Your holy name. As do I.
Hosanna
Your words…
When they approached Jerusalem, at Bethphage and Bethany near the Mount of Olives, He sent two of His disciples and told them, “Go into the village ahead of you. As soon as you enter it, you will find a young donkey tied there, on which no one has ever sat. Untie it and bring it here. So they went and found a young donkey outside in the street, tied by a door. They brought the donkey to Jesus and threw their robes on it, and He sat on it. Many people spread their robes on the road, and others spread leafy branches cut from the fields. Then those who went ahead and those who followed kept shouting: Hosanna! He who comes in the name of the Lord is the blessed One! The coming kingdom of our father David is blessed! Hosanna in the highest heaven! Mark 11:1-2, 4, 7-10
Rejoice greatly, Daughter Zion! Shout in triumph Daughter Jerusalem! Look, your King is coming to you; He is righteous and victorious, humble and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey. I will cut off the chariot from Ephraim and the horse from Jerusalem. The bow of war will be removed, and He will proclaim peace to the nations. His dominion will extend from sea to sea, from the Euphrates River to the ends of the earth. Zechariah 9:9-10
My words…
Praise
You knew this would be Your last journey into Jerusalem, and You knew this would be the time You would fulfill Zechariah’s prophesy written 500 years before. It was time to find the colt and attend Your coronation as King. You didn’t arrive on a horse and saddle like a warrior. You rode an animal of peace with coats of Your followers to sit on. Trumpets and cymbals didn’t accost Your ears; they were caressed by the praise of the people who had felt Your healing touch, learned from Your parables, and witnessed Your compassion. Some had been following You for days, months, or years, walking from town to town, sleeping on the ground or in a borrowed bed. Not the life of a king. But when You mounted a donkey as You entered Jerusalem, Your royal processional began – Your Triumphal Entry. The people recognized it for what it was. It was not proper that the feet of the animal carrying the King should touch the ground, so they carpeted the path with branches. “Hosanna!” they shouted. “Save us!” It was as if the people finally “got it,” and they could not hold back their praise. The Apostles soaked in the adulation, proud to say to anyone who would listen, “I’m with this guy. I travel with the King.” It wasn’t much of a coronation, compared to that of Solomon, for example. But Your Triumphal Entry “fit.” It fit Your message of humility, approachability, and simplicity. My spirit is lifted each time I read it.
Prayer for me
Not long after this coronation event, You were killed. The mood of the city darkened and the cries of “Hosanna!” were replaced by the shouts of “Crucify Him!” The Apostles, who had followed You for years, scattered. Would I have attended Your coronation and shouted “Hosanna!”? Absolutely. At Your crucifixion, would I have scattered? Probably. I come to You, the well where I draw strength, and ask for a deeper faith, so during the dark times, I will not scatter.
Forgive me
Forgive me when I neglect to praise You for the innumerable reasons You should be praised. You are my King, but I don’t spend enough time and energy proclaiming that to You or others.
Thank You
Thank You for riding into Jerusalem on a donkey, sitting on other people’s coats. You accepted the praise of the poorest of Jews, laying branches at Your feet. I am so grateful to know that I don’t have to hold a position of power, wear fancy clothes, or claim a certain level of education to praise You. You accept praise from anyone.
More praise
You are the blessed One who came down from the highest heaven where angelic praise is perfect and fitting, to a dusty road riding on a donkey, accepting the inharmonious praise of imperfect people. And it was all right with You. And that’s another thing I love about You. Hosanna, Lord! Save me!
Hands
Your words…
When the sun was setting, all those who had anyone sick with various diseases brought them to Jesus. As He laid His hands on each one of them, He would heal them. Luke 4:40
Then Jesus led them out as far as Bethany, and lifting up His hands He blessed them. And while He was blessing them, He left them and was carried up into heaven. After worshiping Him, they returned to Jerusalem with great joy. And they were continually in the temple complex praising God. Luke 24:50-53
My words…
One of my bibles is very old, the binding worn. I like that bible because Your words are written in red ink. Many times, I would open my bible and read the red words only, and that was enough for me. But I have learned that Your hands tell a silent story of their own. I picture them small and smooth, clutching Mary as Your family fled for Your lives into Egypt. You grew to learn carpentry skills, and You earned every cut and scar on Your palms and fingers. They were immersed in river water at Your baptism and cracked and dry during Your time of fasting and temptation in the wilderness. You did not recoil in the presence of those with unsightly, contagious diseases, oh no. You reached toward them, touched them, and cleansed them. Peter’s mother in law felt the touch of Your hand, and her fever fled. You placed Your fingers on the eyes of the blind so they could see. In the presence of thousands, You held loaves of bread and caused them to multiply. Just as Peter began to sink into the sea, You caught hold of him and asked about his faith. During one of the most insightful scenes in scripture, You placed Your weary hands on a group of little children and smiled and blessed them. A woman who had walked bent over for 18 years stood upright when You touched her disfigured body. You used Your hands to teach a lesson on justice when You overturned the tables of the temple money changers. You placed Your fingers in a deaf man’s ears, and Your soothing voice was the first sound he heard. You neglected to wash Your hands when dining with a Pharisee and used the occasion to teach him what true cleanliness is. The apostles never forgot the touch of Your hands on their feet when You washed them. You broke a loaf of unleavened bread and held a cup of wine as You served the first Lord’s Supper. You carried Your own cross, and the pain from the splinters did not compare to the pain caused by the iron spikes piercing Your palms. And then, the final time Your hands were seen, they were lifted in a position of blessing. How fitting.
Even if Your spoken words were never captured in red ink, I would still be able to know You, learn from You, and love You just by reading about Your hands. That is enough for me.