DURING HOLY WEEK
WE THINK ABOUT THE DIFFERENT EVENTS
THAT TOOK PLACE OVER TWO THOUSAND YEARS AGO.
I RECENTLY HEARD SOMETHING
WRITTEN BY GLORIA GAITHER,
THAT WAS VERY MOVING
AND I HAD NOT CONSIDERED, BEFORE NOW.
I SHARE IT WITH YOU.
WITH THE "GLORY, HALLELUJAHS",
STILL RINGING IN THE EARS OF THE DISCIPLES,
AND THE SONGS OF "BLESSED IS HE",
STILL HEARD THRU THE STREETS OF JERUSALEM,
JESUS GOES ON WALKING
IN THE SHADOW
OF WHAT RESTORING BROKEN LIVES WILL COST.
A TOLL ONLY HE CAN PAY.
FROM HABIT HIS FOOTSTEPS TAKE HIM
THROUGH THE GARDEN OF GNARLED TREES
AND RUGGED ROCKS
WHERE HE HAS GONE SO OFTEN
TO PRAY AWAY THE ABSURD HEAVINESS
OF HIS HEART.
BUT TONIGHT,
THE HEAVINESS WILL NOT GO AWAY.
'DRINK YE ALL OF IT', HE HAD SAID,
JUST HOURS BEFORE HE SHARED THE MESSIAH'S CUP,
THE CUP OF THE NEW COVENANT.
HOW COULD THEY KNOW WHAT NOW BRIMMED
FROM THE CUP HE HAS TO DRINK.
IT DOESN'T HOLD
THE SWEET WINE OF COMPANIONSHIP.
A CUP THAT STANDS
AS A YAWNING CHASM BEFORE HIM.
HE SEES THE PAST IN THE CUP.
HE SEES THE FUTURE.
HE SEES THE SICK PERVERSION
OF EVERY SODOM AND GOMORRAH.
THE BLOODY WARS OF VIOLENCE,
OF BROTHER AGAINST BROTHER.
BETRAYALS OF TRUST
AGAINST THE INNOCENT.
HE HEARS THE CRIES OF CHILDREN
VIOLATED AND ABUSED.
THE SOBS OF THE WOUNDED IN BODY
AND BROKEN IN SPIRIT.
THE ANGRY SHOUTS OF MEN
IN STREETS WHERE VIOLENCE
TEARS RELATIONSHIPS APART.
THE BITTER VOICES OF YOUNG MEN
WHO HAVE NO ONE TO TRUST.
IN THE CUP HE SEES TEENAGERS
WRITHING IN THE FIELDS OF SOME INSANE WAR,
CRYING FOR THE MERCY OF DEATH.
HE SEES LONG LINES OF NAKED,
JEWISH MEN, WOMEN AND CHILDREN MARCHING,
MARCHING TOWARD THE GRAY, SMOKE STACK BUILDINGS,
WITH THEIR STENCH OF BURNING FLESH.
IN THIS CUP HE SEES UNBORN CHILDREN
AND THEIR CHILD MOTHERS
WHO WEEP AT NIGHT
FOR THE LOST CHILDHOOD OF THEM ALL.
AND THERE IS SILENCE IN THE CUP.
THE LONG EMPTY SILENCE
THAT WIDOWS KNOW
WHEN THERE IS NO ONE TO TALK TO.
THE UNCOMFORTABLE SILENCE,
AS THICK AS A CEMENT WALL,
BETWEEN FATHERS AND SONS
WHO HAVE NEVER FOUND A WAY
TO LOVE OR TO BE LOVED.
THE PANICKED SILENCE
OF MOTHERS WHO WAIT FOR A FEW WORDS
FROM LOST DAUGHTERS.
THE DESPERATE SILENCE
OF CHILDREN
WHO WAIT FOR AN ALCOHOLIC PARENT
TO BURST INTO THEIR ROOM
WHERE THEY COWER
TERRIFIED IN THE DARKNESS.
HE SEES ALL THE VIOLENCE,
ALL THE PAIN,
ALL THE BROKENESS,
FROM EDEN TO GETHSEMANE
AND FROM GETHSEMANE TO THE END OF TIME.
SINCE BETHLEHEM HE HAS WALKED THE EARTH
AND WITH ALL THE HUMAN LIMITATIONS,
EXCEPT ONE.
HE HAS THE TERRIBLE AWARENESS OF GOD.
AND THIS AWARENESS EATS AT HIS SOUL,
CONFIRMING THAT HE MUST
NOT ONLY SEE ALL THE PAIN IN THE CUP,
BUT HE WILL HAVE TO EXPERIENCE ALL OF IT.
HE MUST BECOME BOTH VICTIM AND VIOLATOR.
HE HAS TO BECOME SIN ITSELF,
IF THE LOST CHILDREN OF THE FATHER
ARE EVER TO BE RESTORED TO WHOLENESS.
THIS TERRIBLE AWARENESS
WAS MORE
THAN A HUMAN BODY WAS EVER MEANT TO BEAR.
DROPS OF BLOOD
BEGIN TO RUPTURE FROM THE PORES OF HIS FOREHEAD
AS IF THEY WERE DROPS OF SWEAT.
HE TURNS FOR THE SUPPORT OF A FRIEND.
FOR SOMEONE
TO JUST BE THERE FOR HIM IN THIS HOUR.
BUT HIS FRIENDS ARE ALL ASLEEP.
HUMAN COMPANIONSHIP IS NO MATCH
FOR THE COMMITMENT
THAT THIS RELATIONSHIP DEMANDS.
HE WILL DRINK ALONE,
AS HE HAS WALKED ALONE
FROM EDEN TO GETHSEMANE,
AND NOW FROM GETHSEMANE TO GOLGOTHA.
THE ROAD HE MUST TAKE
WILL BE CALLED 'SORROW'.
THE 'MAN OF SORROWS'
MUST WALK SORROW'S STREET
AND HE MUST GO - ALONE.
WRITTEN BY GLORIA GAITHER
I AM REMINDED OF A SONG THAT I USED TO SING
MANY YEARS AGO.
JESUS PAID IT ALL
ALL TO HIM I OWE.
SIN HAD LEFT A CRIMSON STAIN,
HE WASHED IT WHITE AS SNOW.
THANK YOU, LORD JESUS
