One Man's last breath to save the world

"He was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed." Isaiah 53:5

The dark of the night folds over the garden. It’s cool out and there’s a light breeze, gentle enough to rustle the trees into soft whispers. A man in his thirties, handsome, tender-hearted, and gentle, kneels down with his face to the ground, his hands balling into tight fists in the dirt. Tears begin to fall from his eyes as he weeps bitterly.

His dark hair falls around his face and he chokes out strained words, ‘My Father…’

The words are painful to speak and he takes his time to release them into the air. His heart aches but there is nothing he can do.

‘My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.’

Alone, as his friends sleep soundly beside him, he is terrified. He is frightened of the impending trauma but he cannot let anyone know. He needs to be bold. His friends look up to him, they hang off every word, their fears become obsolete from simply looking into those deep piercing eyes. They depend on him but he is only human. His pain is real.

‘My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done.’

He covers his face with his hands and sobs sorrowfully. He has to do it, he knows that. He was born to do it. He was given the strength to face it. And he’s a man, a human, and he wants to obey his Father. He wants to please him.

Wiping the tears from his eyes, he takes a deep breath and one last, longing look into the starry night sky. His Father is watching him, giving him his every breath, holding him tightly in a warm embrace, telling him that it will be okay.

He thinks of his friends and how much he loves them. He thinks of his mother, father, brothers and sisters, all those little children he held in his arms, the desperate people he touched with his healing hands, how much he loves them all. He thinks of his enemies, the ways they persecuted him, yet he still loves them. This love is enough.

He stands up. The hour has come, his time is here. The burden is ready for him to bear. It’s time for him to show how much he loves the world.

 

* * *

 

            ‘He’s been in the garden praying so no one else should be around. Watch for the one I kiss; he’s the man you want.’

Judas was at the forefront of the group of people eager to arrest Jesus. As he led the chief priests, the officers of the temple guard, and the elders, there was excited chatter that finally some sort of action was being taken in getting rid of this joker. And they had an insider, one who’d been following this so-called Messiah, eating out the palm of their hands. Judas was weak, and the officials took advantage of that.

Once they were deep into the garden, they came across Jesus with his disciples. They all looked tired and worn out, so Judas knew this would be an easy task.

‘Greetings, Rabbi.’ Judas walked straight up to Jesus without hesitation and kissed him briefly on the cheek.

When he moved away, the look on Jesus’ face made his stomach turn. It was full of pity and sympathy as Jesus knew exactly what was going on. Judas stepped back and kept his eyes on the ground. He couldn’t look into those eyes full of grace. He couldn’t take back that kiss now.

As the officials began to move in on Jesus, one of Jesus’ followers, Peter, drew his sword and lunged at Malchus, the servant of the high priest, slicing his ear clean from his head.

Malchus clasped the side of his head as blood washed down his face. ‘My ear! You crazy man!’

‘No more of this!’ Jesus lowered Peter’s sword and picked up Malchus’ ear, holding it back in its place and healing the wound so miraculously that not even a scar was visible.

Jesus turned to the officials. ‘Am I leading a rebellion, that you have come with swords and clubs? Every day I was with you in the temple courts, and you did not lay a hand on me. But this is your hour �" when darkness reigns.’

Jesus’ disciples huddled together, not quite knowing what to do with this situation. They wanted to fight for their Lord, but Jesus wouldn’t let them. They wanted to protect him but they were just ordinary men, not even equipped with proper weaponry. They noticed the large weapons the soldiers were carrying. Peter had been brave enough to attack but in a real battle, would they prevail? And then there was Judas. Judas. They’d spent months with Judas and got to know him well, but none of them had been prepared for such a massive betrayal. They were angry. They watched him standing on the outskirts of the conflict, head down and arms across his chest. What had he been thinking?

One of the officers made his way over to Judas and pushed a bag of coins into his hands. ‘Your due.’

Judas didn’t even look up. He could feel the eyes of his former friends burning into him and he didn’t want to see their condemnation. He could feel it; that was enough.

The soldiers grabbed hold of Jesus and dragged him out through the garden. The officials followed behind as the disciples cried out to Jesus, ‘Lord! Lord!’

What could they do? Should they follow? Should they stay? Peter saw Judas sheepishly making his way out of the garden and he chased after him.

‘This is your fault, Judas! Yours!’ He collided with Judas and shoved him hard in the back.

Judas clutched the bag of coins tightly and began to run. He was afraid. They were all afraid.

‘You better run! I would never betray Jesus like that! Never! You’re a traitor!’ Peter had always been fond of Judas, they’d been good friends and enjoyed debriefing together after one of Jesus’ messages. He’d felt that Judas’ faith was strong, but there was such a worldly side to him as well. He could never quite get to the bottom of it but now he’d seen it. Now he knew what he was really like.

The rest of the disciples were stunned by the conflict. This was real now. Everything Jesus had said to them was coming true.

One of Jesus’ quieter disciples, Andrew, suddenly noticed Malchus still sitting in the garden. This guy was an enemy, but Andrew had noticed his reaction when Jesus healed his ear. As he approached him, he noticed tears streaming down Malchus’ cheeks as he turned his bloodied hands over and over, clutching at his renewed ear in disbelief.

Andrew knelt down beside him and Malchus turned to look at him. ‘When he touched me I felt something shift inside of me that I can’t even explain. I feel lighter. I feel so much joy and I don’t even know why. He healed me, but it’s more than that. When he touched me… it…’

Andrew could feel tears well in his eyes, for he knew exactly what this man was talking about. He’d experienced the touch of the Spirit too. He knew about the power in Jesus’ hands.

He touched Malchus on the shoulder and smiled. ‘Jesus touched you with more than healing. You’ve been touched by the Holy Spirit. You have faith you didn’t know you had, Malchus. Now you can be free.’

‘I played a part in arresting him and for what? He’s the Son of God and he’s being dragged away like a lamb to its slaughter. You have no idea what they’re planning to do to him.’ Malchus dropped his head into his hands. ‘They’re going to kill him. What have I done? I can never thank him. I can never thank him!’

‘Malchus,’ Andrew squeezed his shoulder. ‘Malchus, look at me. He said he will leave for now, but not forever. I don’t understand what this means but we must believe.’

Andrew got to his feet and held out his hand. ‘Come with me. You’ve experienced the power in Jesus and you believe.’

Malchus clasped Andrew’s hand and stood to his feet, the two embracing with tears of joy. ‘My brother, he’s the one. He truly is Lord of all.’

 

* * *

 

Peter made his way after the officials, but kept his distance so as not to look inconspicuous. He was still unsure of what to do. He loved Jesus but didn’t want to do anything to make the situation worse; Jesus had already been upset at him for drawing his sword in defence and he didn’t want to displease him again.

            When he reached the courtyard of the high priest’s house, he sidled up to the fire that a group of people had kindled. It was comforting to be surrounded by this glowing warmth so he sat down beside a servant girl and rubbed his hands together, soaking up the heat.

            He noticed the young girl watching him and he gave her a tired smile. She was quite pretty and had bright green eyes. She didn’t return the smile and kept watching him instead.

            Peter thought that maybe she just wanted someone to talk to so he pulled his arms into his body. ‘Cold night tonight, isn’t it?’

            The girl ignored his question and lunged straight into her accusation, ‘Now I know why you look familiar. You’re one of that man’s disciples.’

            The sound of her voice was sweet and pure as honey, but her accusatory tone was bitter so Peter didn’t hesitate in his response. ‘What? No I’m not.’

            His denial pained him but it was okay, he wouldn’t be seeing her again. He got up and walked off quickly to the entranceway, hoping not to be noticed again. It was hard to tell who would be on his side and he couldn’t bear the accusations. He didn’t want to be an outsider.

            ‘Jesus, I’m sorry…’ Peter whispered as he went through the gates.

            There was a crowd of men standing at the gates and they stopped him in his tracks. ‘Hey, you’re one of those, aren’t you? Surely!’

            Peter stopped and looked straight at the men and full of confidence he laughed it off. ‘No, gentlemen, I’m not. You’re mistaken.’

            When he got the nods of approval he picked up his pace and kept walking. Why were people accusing him all of a sudden? Why couldn’t they just mind their own business?

            Peter put it out of his mind as best he could until another man passed him by and grabbed his arm. ‘You were with him, weren’t you?’

            This time Peter didn’t even stop. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’

            Just as he said these words there was the condemning call of a rooster and Peter’s stomach twisted into a thousand knots as he remembered the words Jesus had spoken to him earlier: ‘Before the rooster crows today, you will disown me three times.’

            Peter ran off the track and hid behind a tree, dropping to the ground and sobbing uncontrollably. He clutched his stomach and drew out heavy breaths.

            ‘What have I done, Lord? What have I done?’

 

* * *

 

When daybreak came, Jesus was heaved up from his sleep and dragged off to Pilate. His whole body felt like it had been raked over a bed of nails and the soldiers who handled him weren’t gentle; they made sure to irritate every area that had been beaten the night before. Jesus didn’t fight against them though, he just kept praying for their forgiveness and asking for God’s mercy to be shown in their lives.

            As soon as his tortured body was thrust in front of Pilate, the officials surrounding him began to hurl accusations, ‘This man opposes payment of taxes to Caesar and claims to be a king. The Messiah.’

            Pilate drew his attention to the beaten man before him and he asked him softly, ‘Are you the king of the Jews?’

            Jesus met Pilate’s eyes. ‘You have said so.’

            Pilate shook his head at this response and threw his hands up in defeat. ‘Gentlemen, I can find no possible reason to charge this man.’

            ‘If he were not a criminal then we wouldn’t have brought him to you.’

            ‘But what has this man done?’ Pilate took one step closer to Jesus. ‘Man, your own people and chief priests have handed you over to me. Tell me, what is it you have done?’

            Jesus’ knew the odds were against him. He knew of the prophecies and of his Father’s will.

Whatever he was to say now would have no effect on the outcome of this situation so he simply looked up at Pilate and spoke gently, ‘My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jewish leaders. But now my kingdom is from another place. The reason I was born and came into the world is to testify the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me.’

Knowing he was getting nowhere with this man, Pilate sighed. ‘I can find no reason to condemn this man. But since it is customary to release one prisoner at the time of Passover, I will let the people decide. Bring him.’

As the people all congregated in the courtyard, Pilate stood before them with Jesus on one side and Barabbas, a vile murderer, on the other.

‘Which of these men do you want me to release to you?’ Pilate shouted.

Jesus, weak and suffering in pain, was kneeling down while Barabbas stood tall and proud. He knew the crowd was going to choose him; this Jesus guy had caused so much trouble they surely wouldn’t want that brought back amongst the people again.

‘Barabbas!’ the crowd responded. ‘Release to us Barabbas!’

Barabbas thumped his chest hard and laughed out loud. He’d gotten off Scott free for a murder and insurrection and for this, he was feeling pretty good. The small crumpled man beside him was nothing; he had nothing to show for himself now, and because of that Barabbas had freedom.

‘What shall I do with Jesus then? He who is called Messiah?’

The crowd didn’t hesitate as their voices projected across the courtyard. ‘Crucify him!’

Pilate looked down at Jesus. ‘Why, you people? What crime has he committed?’

The crowd ignored the question and their chanting grew louder and more forceful. ‘Crucify him!’

There was no way for Pilate to change their minds, as they made sure their will was carried out in the most damning way possible. He watched Jesus remain still on the ground, not retaliating, not putting forth a defence, not even looking at the crowd. There was no way to save this man if he wasn’t prepared to save himself.

‘I am innocent of this responsibility.’ Pilate took a bowl of water and washed his hands in front of the crowd. ‘This man’s blood is on you.’

As Barabbas was released into the crowd, the people accepted him with cheers and adulation as if he hadn’t been imprisoned for horrific crimes. All that had been forgiven as they jeered and hissed as Jesus was dragged roughly to the Praetorium where he was to endure his impending suffering.

 

* * *

 

            ‘I can’t keep this! I don’t want it!’ Judas tried desperately to return the money to the chief priests and elders. ‘I have sinned and betrayed innocent blood. Please, I can’t have this.’

            ‘What’s it to us?’ they replied. ‘It’s your responsibility.’

            Judas felt like a knife had been thrust deep into his chest. How could he keep this money when the man he loved, his teacher and mentor, was to be condemned to death by his greedy actions? No, he couldn’t have this money. He didn’t want it. He’d do anything to take back what he did, just to be able to look at Jesus’ shining face once more.

            As he walked along the path to the temple, the bag started to feel heavier. Would he ever be forgiven for what he did? How could he let his selfishness control him like that? Jesus had done so much for him, he’d made such great friends among the disciples, people respected him; what good was he now? He was at a point of no return.

            When he reached the temple, he threw the money inside and ran as fast as he could. He bought a rope from a merchant and went as far as possible away from the town. Nobody could witness what he was about to do. It was right. If Jesus was going to die, then so was he.

            Climbing to the highest part of a tree, he slung the rope around a branch and secured it tightly around his neck. He didn’t even realise he was weeping until he felt tears tickle his cheeks.

            ‘Lord Jesus, forgive me for what I have done and for what I’m about to do.’

            With a deep and shaky breath, he let go of the branch and fell until the rope pulled tight and the life left his tormented body.

 

* * *

 

In the Praetorium, the soldiers threw Jesus down to the ground. They ripped the clothes from his body until he was naked and threw a scarlet robe around his shoulders. One of them twisted together a collection of thorns into a faux crown and forced it onto his head, the thorns digging deep into his flesh and springing blood which trickled down his face.

            The soldiers all laughed hysterically as they put a staff in his hand and knelt down around him, pulling at his hair, slapping his face, and spitting on him.

            ‘Hail, king of the Jews!’

            There was an uproar of laughter as they jeered and mocked him, stripping away all dignity. A soldier took the staff from his hand and struck him across the head, the thorns penetrating deeper into his skull. They hit him again and again, spat insults in his face, and made sure he suffered for all it was worth.

            Jesus remained still. He remained calm. He let his persecutors torture him as much as they wished for he knew his Father’s will was greater than anything he felt at that moment. Any pain, any suffering, any offence he bore, he bore out of obedience. The world he loved so much could not save itself; it was filled with sin and human emotions, just like these soldiers. They did not know what they were doing and Jesus respected that. If the death and suffering of one man could release the entire world from an eternity of pain, how could he say no to that? His pain meant nothing if it meant saving the pain of everyone else. He was sent to step in, a role he was going to fulfil.

 

* * *

 

The time had come for Jesus’ crucifixion to become public for all to witness. The soldiers led Jesus down to Golgotha, or the place of the Skull, where his death was to take place. They burdened him with the cross he was to be hung on, but under its weight and because of his exhaustion, he kept stumbling and falling to the ground. The soldiers were getting agitated that this man, who professed to be so powerful, could not even carry a few planks of wood.

            ‘You! Man! Come over here!’ One of the soldiers called out to Simon, who was on his way from the country, to carry the cross on Jesus’ behalf.

            Simon saw Jesus lying on the road, beaten and bruised, this innocent man suffering for nothing, and he didn’t hesitate to lift the cross onto his shoulders.

            ‘Get up, you worthless king!’ A soldier dragged Jesus to his feet by the hair and pushed him along the road. Simon followed behind, the weight of the cross paining him, but for Jesus he would do anything. This was nothing compared to what he would go through in a few minutes.

            When they reached the hilltop, the soldiers tied Jesus to the cross and then prepared the nails. A large crowd had gathered, both those who despised him and also those who wept for him. The first nail was positioned at the centre of his wrist and the hammer came down hard. Cries of agony escaped Jesus’ lips as he endured blow after blow until all the nails had fastened him to the cross.

            As the soldiers prepared to haul the cross upright, Jesus closed his eyes and said softly, ‘Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.’

            Gasps, wails, and laughter all mingled together as the cross was pulled upright and Jesus came into full view.

            The rulers and soldiers both stood at the foot of the cross and mocked him. ‘So he saved others and claims to be the Chosen One, let him save himself!’

            ‘Come on, bring yourself down from the cross! Strike us down! Show us that you truly are the Messiah!’

            The soldiers gathered together and started scoffing, ‘He can’t save himself. He’s just a man.’

            There were two criminals crucified on either side of him and one started to shout at him, ‘Hey! Aren’t you the Messiah? Save yourself! Save yourself and then save us! Come on, you call yourself Messiah, so prove it.’

            The other criminal rebuked him, ‘Don’t you fear God since you are under the same sentence? We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong.’

            He turned his head to face Jesus and looked at him with tearful eyes. ‘Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.’

            Jesus turned his comforting eyes toward him. ‘Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.’

 

* * *

 

It was about noon when darkness began to engulf the land and it lasted until three in the afternoon.

The whole land was covered by a blanket of darkness and Jesus turned his face to the sky, crying out, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’

A soldier took the liberty of soaking a sponge in wine vinegar and placing it on a staff to lift to Jesus’ lips. The bitterness stung the cuts he’d received and he couldn’t bear to drink it. All the land had fallen silent and the only sound left was his own raspy breaths as he struggled to hold on. Every bone, every muscle, every inch of his body was in agony and he knew he was close to the end.

He took his final breaths to speak to his Father, ‘Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.’

His eyes fell heavy and his muscles began to relax. All this pain would soon be gone and he would be free.

For his final words, he could only manage a whisper, ‘It is finished.’ He bowed his head and gave up his spirit.

There was soon a rumble across the land and an earthquake shook the ground; gigantic rocks split right down the centre, tombs shattered open, and the curtain in the temple was split in two from top to bottom. This eerie sight frightened the soldiers and people who were still gathered at the cross.

When they looked up at Jesus and noticed he had slipped away, they fell to their knees in humility and cried out, ‘Surely he was the son of God!’

The people who knew Jesus personally and loved him stood at a distance and watched on as those who despised him so much dropped to their knees in disbelief. They wept bitterly for Jesus was now dead and there was nothing they could do to save him. They saw his lifeless body hanging loosely on the cross and cried for the horrific acts committed against him. This beautiful, humble man with eyes like deep, blue ponds and a smile to die for was taken away too soon. They needed him. What would they do without him?

 

* * *

 

It was time for the body of Jesus to be taken down from the cross, and a certain good and upstanding man named Joseph desired to take care of Jesus’ body. He considered himself a disciple but he suffered great fear of the Jewish leaders so he kept his discipleship a secret. He consulted with Pilate who gave him permission to take the body.

            Joseph and another man, Nicodemus, who also struggled to publicise his love of Jesus, wrapped the body carefully in linen cloths with a mixture of different spices.

            ‘I wish I hadn’t hidden my faith, Nicodemus. Jesus needed more people on his side. He needed me but I was so scared.’

            Nicodemus placed a hand on Joseph’s shoulder. ‘We can’t go getting caught up in what we should’ve done. It’s happened now. This is the least we can do for him. This is how we can honour him now.’

            Joseph placed a hand on Jesus’ face and ran his fingers gently over the bloodied cuts and blackened bruises. He wept for the man he loved but was too fearful to be seen with. He longed for more time with him, to learn more, to know more, but that time was now gone. He would never be touched by the depth of those eyes again.

            ‘Come, Joseph. We must take his body now.’ Nicodemus squeezed Joseph’s arm and they finished wrapping him in the linen. ‘He knew how much you loved him. He knew.’

            The two men were followed by Mary the mother of James, Mary Magdalene, and Salome, who watched as they lay Jesus’ body in a freshly cut tomb. They paid their respects to the man they loved and went home to prepare more spices for the next day.

 

* * *

 

It was so early the next morning that it was still dark out, but Mary Magdalene felt a great need to take the spices to Jesus’ body as soon as she could. Her heart ached for the man she had lost; he’d healed her in a miraculous way and been someone she could depend on. Her life had been a mess before she met Jesus and it brought her great sorrow to know she would never feel his touch again. At least she could still see his body and honour him with the spices. It was all she could do to keep going.

            When she arrived at the tomb, she dropped the jars she was carrying when she saw the stone had been rolled away. She stayed a few meters away but could see that the body was gone and all that was left were the linen cloths.

            ‘No…’ she cried. ‘Lord!’

            She turned and ran as fast as she could. The Pharisees. It must have been them. How they hated Jesus, how they wanted to see him dead, but to steal his body? It couldn’t be right!

            ‘Peter!’ Mary ran towards the disciple in a panic and he took her in his arms when she reached him. ‘Peter!’

            ‘Mary, what’s wrong? What’s happened?’ Peter held her in her panicked state and tried to calm her down.

‘Peter, they’ve taken the Lord out of the tomb, and I don’t know where they’ve put him!’ Mary looked up at him with tearful eyes. ‘He’s gone!’

As soon as Peter heard those words, he found John and they all went back to the tomb to see for themselves.

John reached the tomb first but stayed at the entrance, bending down to look inside but not daring to go in. His heart sunk when he saw that there was nothing there. Mary was right.

Peter finally caught up and ran straight inside the tomb. He dropped to his knees and clutched at the cloth, not understanding what had happened. He was surely gone without a trace. Who would do such a thing?

As soon as Mary arrived back at the tomb, Peter and John were about to start walking back to town.

‘You’re right, he’s gone.’ Peter cupped her face. ‘Come back with us. We mustn’t hang around and get worked up.’

Mary shook her head. ‘I need to stay. I… must.’

Peter kissed her and let her be.

She stood against the tomb and began to cry. This wonderful, beautiful man had healed her broken self from demons that had corrupted her spirit. She should’ve been looking after him. She should’ve slept out here to protect him. Nobody could protect him from certain death, but maybe she could’ve protected him from this.

She bent down to take one last look in the tomb and gasped. There were two angels sitting where Jesus had lay, both shining as bright as lightning and smiling at Mary’s presence at the tomb.

‘Woman, why are you crying?’ one asked her.

Mary’s shoulders sunk. ‘They have taken away my Lord and I don’t know where they’ve put him.’

Suddenly there was another voice behind her. It was a man standing in the garden and Mary assumed it was the gardener. ‘Woman, why are you crying? Who are you looking for?’

‘Please sir, if you have carried him away let me know where you’ve put him.’

His voice then turned as pure as gold as he spoke her name. ‘Mary.’

Mary recognised the voice and her eyes were opened to he who stood before her. It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t. And then he smiled at her and she knew. Nobody could warm a heart like his smile could. It was really him!

‘Teacher!’ Mary dropped to his feet in awe and cried with joy that he was alive.

‘Mary, my girl. Do not hold on to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father. Go instead to my brothers and tell them, “I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.”’

‘Yes, Lord. I will!’ Mary got to her feet, took one last look at Jesus’ wondrous face, and ran to where the disciples were staying.

 

* * *

 

It was about seven miles to Emmaus and two of Jesus’ disciples were walking the dusty road. It was a reasonable distance but the men were immersed in a conversation about all that had been happening with Jesus.

            ‘It just doesn’t add up. It’s been three days and there has been no sign of him. I just don’t know what to think.’

            ‘The women went to the tomb, and so did John and Peter, but none of them found any sign of him. How can he just disappear? And why?’

            It was starting to get warm so they stopped for a drink and that was when they saw a man approaching them.

            They greeted him and offered him some water but he only had one question for them. ‘What are you discussing together as you walk along?’

            Cleopas kept his eyes downcast but he was surprised that this man was so ignorant of everything that had been happening. ‘Are you the only one who has no idea of the things that have been happening in these days?’

            ‘What things?’

            ‘Well, about Jesus of Nazareth. He was a prophet and was powerful in word and deed. He was sentenced to death and crucified by our rulers but we had hoped he was the one to redeem Israel. And now it’s the third day but some of the women went to his tomb only to find it empty. Two of our friends also went down there to see for themselves but they couldn’t find anything either.’

            ‘How foolish you are, and how slow to believe all that the prophets have spoken! Did not the Messiah have to suffer these things and then enter his glory?’

            As they continued to walk along, the two disciples listened intently to all the prophecies and everything in Scripture that had been revealed. They felt full of something supernatural as they listened and began to understand why these events had to happen as they did.

            It was getting darker when they reached Emmaus but the man looked like he was going to continue on.

            ‘Why don’t you stay with us?’ Cleopas offered. ‘It’s getting late.’

            The man agreed and as they were having dinner, he took the bread, gave thanks, broke it and gave it to the disciples.

            That was when it struck them; their eyes were opened to who this man was but all they could do was look at each other in disbelief.

            Cleopas turned back to the man. ‘Jesus…’

            But he had disappeared and the disciples jumped to their feet, strapping their sandals back on eager to return to Jerusalem to share the good news.

            ‘Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?’ Cleopas laughed as they were already back on the road. ‘It was truly him!’

            Their excitement pushed them all the way back to Jerusalem where they burst through the doors where the rest of the disciples were and told their story of their encounter with the risen Messiah.

            ‘It can’t be…’ Thomas said pacing back and forth. ‘Mary said she saw him too. And now you two. I won’t believe it until I see him for myself.’

            As soon as Thomas spoke these words, Jesus appeared before them all and spread his arms out in love and gentleness. ‘Peace be with you.’

            The disciples all moved away from him in fear thinking he was a ghost. Even the two who rushed from Emmaus were fearful as doubts began to rise in their own minds.

            Jesus held out his hands. ‘Why are you troubled and why do doubts rise in your minds? Look at my hands and my feet. It is I myself! Touch me and see; a ghost does not have flesh and bones, as you see I have.’

            The disciples were overjoyed when they saw the nail marks in his hands but Thomas hesitated and moved forward slowly.

            ‘Lord, can it really be you?’

            ‘Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe!’

            Thomas was unsure. If he reached out his hand and nothing was there, that would be it. He could be sure this was a dream. But he wanted it to be real. So badly.

            He took a deep breath and slowly put out his hand and it rested in the hole in Jesus’ side. It was flesh. It was really, truly flesh!

            Thomas dropped to the floor. ‘My Lord and my God!’

            Jesus placed a hand on Thomas’ head. ‘Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.’

            Jesus still saw the uncertainty on the faces of his disciples so he opened their minds to understand the Scriptures. ‘This is what is written: The Messiah will suffer and rise from the dead on the third day, and repentance for the forgiveness of sins will be preached in his name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things. I am going to send you what my Father has promised; but stay in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high.’

            He then kissed each one of them with the power of the Spirit. ‘As the Father has sent me, I am sending you. Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive anyone’s sins, their sins are forgiven; if you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven.’

            Peter bowed his head at this and knew Jesus had forgiven him for denying him those three times. He placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder as if reading his mind to assure him that yes, his sin had been forgiven through the blood shed on the cross. 

Jesus continued with a final statement, the Great Commission, equipping his brothers with the strength to carry out the command, ‘All authority on heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.’

He led them out to the vicinity of Bethany where he stretched out his arms, blessed them all, and was taken up to heaven. The disciples were awestruck over what had just taken place but they weren’t fainthearted that he had left them again, for they were empowered with the Spirit to continue his work. There was only joy left. Joy that their Lord had broken through the suffering and pain only to rise again in glory and power. They vowed to worship God for the rest of their days and carry out the Great Commission as they had been commanded to. Jesus’ words were truth and nothing was going to stop them; they had seen miracles, healing, suffering, joy, and a resurrection that would change the world.

They’d witnessed the most compelling act of love the world had ever seen, and because of that they desired to share it with the world. Their hearts would always burn for the Jesus they knew and they carried with them the promise that he would be with them always. Jesus, the Messiah, whose last breath saved the world. This one act of love that would impact for eternity. A love that can never be shaken.