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What a long time ago it feels like, it feels like it was three years ago in a distant dreamland. But at the same time, I can remember it like yesterday. In reality though, it was about a month ago. My name is Zacharias. I am 14 years old. I was there to witness all the terrible and glorious events in the last week of Yeshua's holy life. I must admit, at first, I was extremely skeptical of Him, but came to love Him more than a brother, even though I had never actually met Him. But I would be happy to recount the events that unfolded at that time, and what it felt like from the people's view. For this reason, I will share my thoughts and views, if that is not too much of a distraction from these sacred events. That is probably enough talk - here is the amazing story of the Cross.
I can hear again that day in the temple, hearing the cooing and fluttering of doves in their cages, waiting to being sold and sacrificed in the Temple, the chatter and din the people made while buying and selling them, along with all the other noises of sheep, goats, and pigeons. I heard the prayers and cantations made by the Pharisees, and the Sadducees in a voice that no one but they themselves could understand. But although I heard them, I didn't actually listen to them. I was listening and watching a distant sound in the background: a train of soldiers and a man. It was a Roman Centurion's harsh voice barking out orders to his men - probably another criminal being sent to the cross. I always had a little pity for those poor wretches going to such miserable deaths.
I followed the voice until I got to the fateful place of death. Why did those Romans have to be so cruel in killing them? I guess that's what they deserved, but still - hanging a man on a wooden beam stuck to a tree by driving nails through his wrists and ankles? Letting him hang there naked and ashamed, with so many people passing by, hurling insults at him?
One passer-by came and started to scream and yell, trying to get out all his hurt and bitterness at that tree, and everything it stood for - Roman rule and oppression. To get everything out, he would probably have to stand there forever. The fun and games of the Romans was a lifetime of hurt and pain for almost all Jews. Another passer-by came and mocked just for fun - to make him feel better, knowing there was someone else to blame, someone else on whom he could dump his frustration and anger on. I wonder if either would stop if they knew that they were helping the Romans in the greatest possible way - with each insult, they were making a far worse and deeper wound then any wound the Romans could make. For them it was just a fun mockery, appeasing their soreness, but for the man on the cross, the emotional scars were like a living hell, so torturous and painful, that no earthly pain could compare. The feeling of worthlessness, of being rejected and cut off from fellow man, is too hard to grasp for a simpleton.
I left, not wanting to see the man die. The man would hang there, forced to slouch, and he would start to suffocate. When he could not hold his breath any longer, he would have to pull his whole body up with his hands, each being more deeply cut into by the nails. He would then relax into a slouch again, until he needed another breath. He would repeat this excruciating procedure again and again, until he would run out of strength and suffocate.
What a punishment. The Romans only did it this way to show that the might of Rome was superior, that it could humiliate someone and do anything they wanted to another. But I wonder what kind of glory can be found in an empire if its way of showing power is to be tyrannical; their fun letting a man be gored to death by miscellaneous animals in an arena. From our people's point of view, we are being ruled by a tyrant. He makes it so that if a Roman guard asks us to carry something for him, we must obey, no matter how old the person asked is, and no matter the weight of the item to be carried. There is such a hatred for the Romans and their terrible capital, for that one wooden beam that so many of their prize zealot leaders - their only hope for freedom - hung on. From the Roman people's side, they probably liked the Romans a little more than we did. They got privileges, could do whatever they wanted, go wherever they wanted, and have anything they liked. I didn't realize though, while seeing this scene, how much that one wooden beam would affect and mean to me only a few days later.
That night I went to sleep with visions of terror and horror. I would not let my weary body rest, for fear of the nightmares. I felt I was being mocked, beaten, and put on a cross. It was like I was living the day again, but this was me. I was no longer sympathizing with the man I was thinking of, I became the man. I could feel his pain, voice his screams of agony, and feel his heart cry out. My head was throbbing so much, that I was barely conscious. I was in so much pain that I almost fainted. I woke up drenched with sweat.
The next day went as usual. I got up, started working, and all that. Then I heard that a teacher was coming, a very special teacher who might even be the Messiah! I thought that since this was the most important day in Jewish history, I would risk the punishment for sneaking out, and hurried to the city. Jerusalem was filled with people, and to my surprise, my whole family came! They had tried to find me, and couldn't (since I had already left), and thought maybe I'd be here. They told me they heard He was healing people all the time, wherever He went! He cast out demons, set free people in bondage, and even raised a dead man!
We all watched together, as best as we could with the crowd, and suddenly, we saw palm branches, cloaks, and mantles, being thrown on the road. Soon I joined with the whole multitude, some saying, "Hosanna! Hosanna to the son of David!", while others said, "Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!", and still others said, "Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest!" It was full of excitement, until we got even more excited, as someone called, "The Messiah!" We all turned to see Him, He was riding on a donkey in plain clothes! He wasn't at all the military might, or dashing zealot, riding on that big impressive horse, we all thought He would be. I was actually kind of disappointed, to tell the truth. We had waited for so long, and now that He came, He didn't look like the type who would kill a fly. How would He get the Romans out and back to Rome, if He was sitting on a donkey, a colt?
With mixed feelings I tried to get a better view of this humble Messiah. I couldn't, and to be honest, wasn't really that interested anymore. If that was our long awaited Messiah, I would have to think again what good a messiah was for. We had had other "messiahs" before, they all turned into a hoax, but at least they had gotten the people's hopes high. They had been zealots, touching the heart of the peoples where they hurt most, Rome.
"The Messiah", as the people called him, was named Yeshua. Funny I thought, His name means "Save us". He probably made that up like the rest of the zealots, like Barabbas BarYeshua who was in prison at that time. Yeshua went to Bethany, and I slowly walked home with my family. I agreed with my parents to come back the next day, although I didn't know why. He would probably soon be forgotten. I had seen him, and I didn't like him. What else was there to see or know about Him? I was about to find out.
The next day we saw Yeshua come back into Jerusalem. His eyes were red and puffy. Someone next to us said He had been crying. Just what I thought, a leader who cries. Cry the Romans out, would He? I was starting to dislike Him more and more. But then, much to my surprise, He went into the Temple, got a cord of rope, and started thrashing the place, overthrowing tables, setting all the birds free, with such zeal and anger on His face, that I almost stopped breathing from amazement. He hurled the tables to the side, saying, "It is written, 'My house shall be a house of prayer for all nations', but you have made it into a 'den of thieves'!" I was too amazed to move, this messiah was "The Messiah" He would drive the Romans out, so what if He cried, so what if He rode on donkeys. The people could finance Him, and He would get this done. This would probably start the glorious overthrow! And I would be apart of it! He could lead zealots, healing the wounded, and raising the dead! We would be invincible! Rome would fall! I started to cheer, but by the time it came out, everything was all over. It was finished. Done. Gone. It all stopped. I stood in the silence as He, the glorious Savior, walked out. He wasn't going to do anything to the Romans. He just stirred up a little mess in the Temple. My old anger came back. Why? Why did He have to stop? I would have been all for Him if He had continued, as would almost all the crowd. Didn't He want to be someone in life? Didn't He want to make history? I would soon realize how much history He would make. In just a few years, kings, queens, princes and rulers, would all confess His holy name. At the time though, He made no sense at all to me. I stomped off home.
When I got home I went to a corner by myself and cried. I cried for myself, I cried for my family. I cried for my people and our long-gone-nation. We used to be a glorious nation. What happened to it? I soon cried myself to sleep. In that fitful sleep, I dreamed. There I saw Abraham, the Father of our people. He showed me Isaac, his miracle son, and Jacob his grandson, who actually saw God. I saw Moses, the great leader, who not only saw God, but He saw His back and lived! He led the people of Israel out from oppression in Egypt through the desert, and then Joshua took over and got them to the promised land. Why couldn't they be here today? Or why couldn't I have lived then? I then saw David, one who actually killed a great tyrant named Goliath of Gath. He could have killed the Emperor and ended Roman power, couldn't He? There was Solomon who drew even the Queen of Sheba in the glory days of Israel. There was prophets, like Samuel, who was about my age when He heard from the Holy One, and led our people to victory. I wish I could hear God like He did now.
Over the next few days, I heard Yeshua again with my parents, but I wasn't really listening. He was just talking about how bad, terrible, and evil the Pharisees and Sadducees were. He also talked something about the destruction of the Temple. Boy, some Messiah, this Yeshua. He was probably just out there to get even for something that the Pharisees had done to Him. I yawned. But then as we kept hearing Him, the Pharisees made verbal traps for Him, but He turned it on them, every time! I started to listen to what He was saying a little more closely.
But that time never came. The next thing I knew, He was gone! I heard that He had been arrested. I wasn't too surprised because of the way the chief priests and elders looked when He was answering their traps. But still, why would God do this? I had just started to really pay attention to Him! Why wasn't I more responsive before! O, I felt like kicking my self blue! I realized that I had been embracing all the fakes, and been skeptical of the only one who wasn't fake! I asked God to forgive me, and I didn't even say it as a prayer, but I think He heard me anyways. I had rejected His son. O Lord, forgive me! I had rejected you!
I then thought of joining a zealot band that was planning to try and free "Jesus of Nazareth" as He was sometimes referred to; but then I thought that it would be a waste of time. They still thought as I had, that He would be a zealot king, but I had heard that He said that His kingdom was not on earth, but in heaven. When people were going to try to make Him king, by force, if necessary, He left. Oh well, I wondered, What will happen next! I sat there in delirium, thinking what about what I should do next, wondering if I should go and see for myself what was happening. I thought I should go to see the trial.
I went to the city and found out that Yeshua and His disciples had eaten the passover meal at my dad's friend's house. He then went to the Garden of Gethsemane, and after that was arrested. All His disciples deserted Him. Apparently, the traitor was one of Yeshua's own disciples. How terrible, I thought, to be stabbed in the back by your own followers, your closest friend. I then heard that the trial with the Sanhedrin had happened the last night, and some said Yeshua blasphemed God when questioned. I couldn't believe it! But then someone else told me that none of the arguments against Him could even agree with each other. So I knew that it not blasphemy. Just a scam like the rest of it to find a reason to condemn Him. I heard that Peter, one of Jesus closest disciples denied Him three times. What a thing to do. After all He's done for that Peter, that he would even think about denying Him. I would have thought that he would at least acknowledge that he knew Him! I told my parents, and they decided we should all go together to see what would happen.
We inquired and found out that Yeshua was sent to Pontius Pilate, the Governor. He was then bounced about between Herod and Pilate, no one really wanting to sentence Him, but curious to see who this huge almost-riot was over. Pilate ended up stuck with Him. When we got there, Pilate didn't look to good. I don't think that even such a cruel and vile governor as Pontius Pilate could sentence the Son of God without any emotions.
Pilate was just starting to make his speech. Before I continue though, I must mention that we have an agreement with the Romans, that every year at Passover, we are allowed to have one prisoner go free. So Pilate was hoping that the crowd would choose Yeshua to be free, since he knew that Yeshua was handed over out of spite - by the chief priests and elders - and knew the crowd would want Him free. Unfortunately, man is so double-minded, so untrustworthy, that the crowd's vote was easily bought by the chief priests and elders. They were paid to yell for Barabbas BarYeshua, a zealot who I mentioned earlier. So when Pilate tried to make the crowd see the light, the light was falling on blindfolds. Instead of chanting for release of the just Prisoner, they screamed out "Crucify Him, crucify Him!" Pilate would try to say things like, "Why, what evil has He done?", thinking a little common sense would help. The people just screamed out, "Let Him be crucified!". Giving up, He cried, "I am innocent of this just Person. You see to it." The bloodthirsty people would say, "His blood be upon us, and on our children". How could they curse their own children with the guilt of murder of the Son of God?
Yeshua was first whipped - whipped so many times, that I do not think that anyone has ever been whipped as much, or survived it. Each whip cut into His flesh, with each whip, screams that can only be made when the most excruciating pain is felt came ripping out of His Spirit. Watching this, I felt as though hell had landed and I was watching its first victim. I shuddered with horror and fear. When finally it was over, He was turned over to the cruel Roman soldiers.
Yeshua was then beaten and mocked by the soldiers, each spitting on Him terrible insults. He had just been through this mocking by the chief priests and elders laughed and mocked Him saying, "Who hit you? Prophesy!", then having to be made then to suffer the humiliation and slander of the Romans. A crown of thorns was placed on His head, He was made to strip and wear a red robe, then the soldiers started mocking Him, and His heavenly kingdom. "Hail king of the Jews!", they would mock. His clothes were given back to Him for one of the most shameful and agonizing parts of the cross - the march.
To have to be a criminal in the march is to have to be forced to carry a huge wooden beam, then marched in front of everyone, your enemies laughing and insulting you to the very core. To let your enemies mock and see you powerless, unable to even lift a piece of wood. The scene I had followed before all this, the one that made me think about the picture of the cross, repeated itself, but this time it felt so slow and terrible.
This felt like the event I had followed a few days ago, except much more intense, because, for some reason, this felt more personal to me. I don't know why, I haven't even met the man, really. It just felt as if I knew Him very well. One thing I noticed, was the difference between the earlier man going to the cross, and Jesus of Nazareth - in Jesus, there were no hatred-filled looks at Barabbas, the one who had been set free instead of Him, there were no screams of hatred for the Romans, no blaspheming God for letting this happen, and no facial or body expressions that showed anything against anyone at all.
Me and my family followed Him to the designated place for the brutal death - Golgotha. On the way, Jesus stopped and fell so much with the weight of the cross, that a friend of the family named Simon of Cyrene, father of my friends Alexander and Rufus, was called and forced to carry the cross. He had just come from the country, and I don't know how He felt about carrying that heavy chunk of wood, but I would have felt honored, privileged, in fact, to carry it.
When they got to Golgotha, about the third hour, Jesus was put on the cross and nailed. I cried to think that this savior was being treated this way. How could people be so heartless and compassionless? To let an innocent man just hang there? I felt every beat of the hammer on the nail as if it were on me. I felt devastated. Then the soldiers started gambling for His clothes. They divided his cloak, one for each of them, then because his undergarment was seamless, they cast lots for it. I later realized this was a fulfillment of Psalm 22:18. I hated those brutes! How could they do such a thing to someone so holy as Him? I thought I would never understand them. Then at least they offered Him a painkiller made from wine and myrrh, but, to my surprise, He tasted and refused it.
Passer-bys shouted insults, like "You who are going to destroy the Temple and build it in three days, save yourself! Come down from the cross if you are the Son of God!". The chief priests, teachers of the law, and elders said, "He saved others, but He can't save Himself! Let this Christ, this King of Israel, come down from the cross, that we may see and believe! He trusts in God. Let God rescue Him now if He wants Him, for He said, 'I am the Son of God'!" When I heard these insults, I felt like biting their heads of and letting them be thrown on the cross to suffer. But then I thought about what Yeshua taught. "Love your enemies, do good to those who mistreat you." I wouldn't say a word against them.
As I was thinking of how much I hated the Romans, I heard Jesus Yeshua, "Father forgive them, for they know not what they do". What? What did He say? "Forgive them?" Again I thought that He must be in a state of delirium. Totally understandable with all that pain. But no, if in delirium, threats and curses normally lash out at the Romans. But "Forgive them"? How could He say that? He should have said something vile and hate-filled to the Romans - something to at least get a little small strike of revenge, I mean, look what they had done to Him? But instead, He asked His heavenly Father to forgive them, forgive those wretches - filth compared to Him, after everything they did. It was too much for me to handle. It seemed like I stood there for hours, just watching Him. So noble, so brave. What would I do in His place? I wouldn't say "Father forgive them, for they know not what they do"! I would scream, "Lord, kill them, free us from this oppression! You desire freedom for your people, not this! Send your fiery angels to burn up this whole barbaric empire!" The words kept echoing in my mind: "Father, forgive them, forgive them, forgive them". I couldn't comprehend it. How could I forgive them? He of all people had the most reason not to forgive, but He of all people did. I thought of this for a long while.
As I recovered from my daze of thoughts, I realized there was a sign hung up above His head that read in Aramaic (our language), Latin (Roman language), and Greek (most everyone else's language), "This is Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews". How amazing - for that was exactly what He was - the King of the Jews, and they had put the real point of His coming above His head for all to see! The chief priests and elders understood a little, and told Pilate to make it say, "He said, 'I am the King of the Jews". But Pilate would have none of it and told them, "What I have written, I have written". I was almost starting to like this normally-cruel governor. But what was so shocking to me, and what I couldn't understand, was that His only sentence was being the King of the Jews. All this torture just for being a king. What kind of sentence is that?
I didn't know whether to go or stay. I didn't want to see Him die, but at the same time, I did. I decided to brave it.I didn't know how, but I would. I couldn't even stand to watch the thief die. How would I be able to watch my Savior die? The thief deserved it, but this man was perfectly innocent! His only crime being on earth and stating His true identity!
The two thieves on either side of our Savior hurled their own offenses at Him. One said, "Aren't you the Christ? Save yourself and us!" But the other thief shamed the other: "Don't you fear God since you are under the same sentence? We are justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong." Then he turned to Yeshua and said, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom. Yeshua replied, "I tell you the truth, today you will be with Me in paradise". I was shocked. Yeshua was saying that this little thief, he was allowed to come into paradise? What a thought. What about those Pharisees? Shouldn't they get to go in before a common thief? I needed to think about taht. I must tell you now, that at about the sixth hour, the whole place went dark, black as midnight.
I forgot when, but at sometime Mary (Yeshua's mother), her sister, Clopas, and Mary Magdelene were standing near the cross and I heard Yeshua say to His mother, "Dear woman, here is your son" (referring to John, one of His twelve disciples). Then He said to John, "Here is your mother" (referring to His mother Mary). From that day on, John took Mary into his home. Wow I thought: when He is dying, just trying to breathe, all He thinks about is His mother and disciple. Wow. What a man.
At the ninth hour, Yeshua suddenly cried out, "Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani!", which, in our language, means, "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?" It was then that I realized, that His own Father, God, had left Him. God was nowhere near us. He had turned His back on His own son. But why? I thought, why would God let His son be treated this way, and then turn His back on Him? Isn't God loving? Why would He do something about it? Wasn't God powerful enough? This whole event raised uncountable questions. I was so confused. In the midst of this drama, some are so ignorant, that they think He is calling for Elijah! Someone gets a sponge. He fills it with wine vinegar and puts it on a stick. He then gives it to Yeshua. The others mock, "Now leave Him alone. Let's see if Elijah comes to save him."
During that same fateful hour, Yeshua cried out in a loud and powerful voice, such a voice that it must have shaken heaven, piercing through the clouds: "Father, into your hand I commit my spirit!". It was such a voice, that no mortal could comprehend it, the rocks split, and the ground trembled, resonating the sound. It dug deep into the very earth we were standing on echoed it, shaking and roaring. The tombs broke open with the sound, and the voice woke the dead. They rose in answer to the holy call, the bodies of many holy men, raised to life! The voice resounded in the Holy Temple, and to everyone's horror and amazement - the veil between the Holy Place and the Holy of Holies was ripped from top to bottom!
I recovered from the shock and I looked back to Yeshua, precious Yeshua, He was dead. The cry He had cried was His last breath. Why? Why? Why must He have died though, what was the point? He had done miracles, so I guess that was a point, I persuaded myself. He had taught valuable lessons, so I guess that was a point too. My heart started to feel encouraged. But why did He have to die?!, My heart screamed. I couldn't find an answer for myself this time. I heard a centurion say, "Surely this was the Son of God". But what good does it do us now? He's dead. All is lost. Why did He have to come if He was going to die like the rest of us. Was this another false "messiah"? I knew the answer in my heart, No, of course not. He saved people, and did extraordinary deeds, of course He wasn't a fake. Just ask all His followers.
I looked at the faithful few remaining who loved Yeshua more than I did. They watched Him from a distance. It must have been so hard for them. All the memories. They had cared for His needs, following Him from Galilee. There was Mary Magdalene, the one who had been delivered of seven demons by Him, Mary the mother of James, Joses, and Salome (also Jesus' mother), and the mother of Zebedee's sons.
The Next day, Preparation Day (the day before the sabbath), the soldiers returned to break the legs of the criminals, so that whatever strength they had would be useless - they would not be able to push themselves up to breathe if they had broken legs, and that way they would die fast. So all the night, even though they had been able to breathe by pushing themselves up, they now couldn't, and soon suffocated. When the soldiers finished breaking the legs of the two thieves beside Yeshua, they came to Him, and found that He was already dead. So they didn't break His legs. Then one soldier pierced Yeshua in the side, and a sudden burst of blood and water flowed out. Later, when I found out how many prophesies He fulfilled, (all of them concerning the Messiah,) I was realized that these acts were a fulfillment of the prophesies in Exodus 12:46, Numbers 9:12, and Psalms 34:20.
This next part I heard from the disciples of Yeshua, and have combined their stories to make the following account. This is a collection of the gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke (whose account is not to be thought less accurate just because he is a gentile), and John.
Joseph of Arimathaea, a prominent leader of the council, who was himself waiting for the kingdom of God, came to Pilate to ask for Yeshua's body. He wanted to at least give Him a decent burial. When Pilate heard that Yeshua was already dead, he was surprised, and summoned a centurion to find out if this was true. When he found out it was true, he gave the body to Joseph. Joseph went and took down the body from the cross. Then he wrapped the body in linen, and laid it in his own stone-hewn tomb. Nicodemus and the women came with him also, and prepared spices and ointments. Nicodemus helped Joseph bury Him, and brought 75 lbs. (34 kg.) of aloes mixed with myrrh, as is the Jewish custom. Then they all went home to rest for the Sabbath.
The Pharisees knew that Yeshua had said He would rise in three days. That was more than I knew, because I didn't know anything about Him rising from the dead yet. They became afraid that his disciples would steal the body, and say He rose again. So they got permission and soldiers from Pilate to seal and guard the tomb where Yeshua was buried. That way, no one could steal the body for whatever purpose.
Everything went pretty quiet for the next three days. On the first day of the week though, Mary Magdelene came to the tomb and saw the tomb stone the Romans had put over the entrance rolled away! Mary ran and came to Peter, and said, "They have taken away the Lord out of the tomb, and we don't know where they have laid Him!" Peter and John ran to the tomb, John going faster than Peter. John got there and stooped to see the linen burial clothes. Peter came and stooped in, and saw the burial clothes laying there folded up, with the towel wrapped around where His head would have been, was folded apart by itself. Then John came in, saw, and believed. Later they would know the scriptures saying that He would be raised again from the dead. Then the disciples went home, I guess to think about this glorious encounter.
Mary stood there weeping outside the tomb. She stooped down to look in the tomb, her tears blinding her sight. But no matter how blind she might have been, she could not mistake the two angels in white, standing there. One was at the head, and one was at the feet of where Yeshua's body would have been. And they angels said, "Woman, why are you weeping?" And she answered, "Because they have taken away the body of my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid Him."
Mary turned and saw a Man. She thought He was the gardener. She thought she knew His purpose. She thought she knew what He did for her. But she found out soon that she did not know any of the above statements, she declared to herself. What she did not realize or think about, was that she was about to encounter the living, omnipotent, majestic, incarnate God, who is, who was, and who is to come. She was about to encounter her risen Savior. Her Lord. As she turned to look at the gardener, a servant she thought, she was turning to look at the Son of the Most High God. He, the master and creator of all, of everything, the galaxies and stars, said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping? Who are you looking for?" She thought she knew, but all her longings and desires were met in this one Man. She turned and with tear-filled eyes, "Sir, if you have taken Him away, please tell me where you have laid Him, and I will take Him away." She was so blinded by her tears that she did not notice the compassion and love that flowed out from these eyes before her. And she heard a voice, a voice from the Man in front of her, but said with power. It was not with an earthly power, as with small kings and queens, but a power filled with love and beauty, a power not known to this earth, a power so great that the whole heavens are filled with awe and wonder by one word of it. It was with this deep power, from heaven that He said to her, "Mary". That one word shattered her little world. She looked at Him and realized that the man in front of her, the one she had thought of as a servant, was actually her Lord and master. He was her heartbeat, her joy and goal, and her righteous redeemer. She replied with all the desperation in her heart, all the longing of her life, all the emotion that is possible in a mortal soul, "Rabboni!" (In our language that means Lord or master) There is not enough time in the whole history of the universe for us to comprehend, or even think what that meant to her. That one word changed her life, that one word, in all its sincerity went right into her heart, that sword of love and passion. She was struck with the desire to worship Him, and nothing could stop her, not even all the powers of death and hell.
She almost touched Him, but He said, "Do not touch me, for I have not ascended to my Father. But go to my brothers, and tell them, 'I ascend to my Father, and your Father; my God, and Your God'." With these words, these musical sounding words deep in her heart, implanted by God alone, with such purity and holiness, she left to tell the disciples.
That evening, the disciples met in secret, for fear of the Jews. What would they do to them now that their Lord was gone? But in their deepest, darkest hour, the moment of shame and dread, their Savior came and stood in their midst. He said, "Peace be with you". That was it. No "Shame on you for not believing I would rise from the dead", no "Well you could have stayed with me a little while I went through the trial instead of deserting me like you did", just "Peace be with you". That's all there was to be said. The disciples just needed to hear that. It silenced all fears and guilt or condemnation. It was like a breathe of fresh air after almost being suffocated or drowned. That was their Messiah, and they knew it. Then He said it again, just to confirm, "Peace be with you: as the Father has sent me, so I send you". Then He breathed on them what felt like a breathe of Life, pure, cooling Life, straight from the throne of God, with the glory and power of the King of Kings with it, and said, "Receive the Holy Spirit". Then He said, "Whoever's sins you forgive are forgiven, and whoever's sins you hold back, they are held back.
The disciples told Thomas (or Didymus as he is also known as) later that they had seen the Lord (for he was not with them when this happened), but he did not believe. He said, "Unless I can behold in His hands the nail prints, and put my finger into them, and thrust my hand into His side, I will not believe".
Eight days later, the disciples (Thomas included) were together with the doors shut, and our Savior appeared to them again! He stood in their midst. He said as He had said before, "Peace be with you", and then to Thomas, "lay your finger here and see my hands; and reach your hand, and thrust your hand into my side, and do not be faithless, but believe." Thomas, struck with awe and humility said, "My Lord, and my God!" The Savior chided him, "Thomas, because you have seen me, you have believed: blessed are they who have not seen, but have believed."
Another time, the Lord showed himself to His disciples in Tiberius. There were Simon Peter, Thomas (or Didymus), Nathaniel of Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two more of His disciples. Simon said, "I am going to go fishing." The disciples said, "We will go with you." They went and entered a ship immediately. That night though, they caught nothing. In the morning, the Lord stood on the shore, but His disciples did not recognize Him. He said to them, "Children, do you have any meat?" They answered, "No." The Lord said, "Cast your nets on the right side of the ship, and you will find." Skeptically, the disciples obeyed, and when they did, much to their surprise, they were not able to draw their nets up because of the multitude of fishes! And John said to Peter, "It is the Lord". Peter grabbed his coat and put it on (because he was naked), and jumped out of the boat, throwing himself into the sea to meet the risen Savior. The other disciples came in a small ship with the nets full of fish, since they were not far from land, only about two hundred cubits.
When the disciples got to land, they saw a bed of burning coals there with fish on it, and bread. The Messiah said, "Bring the fish which you have caught." Peter climbed up and dragged the net full of great fishes, one hundred fifty-three. Miraculously, not a net was broken from the great weight! The Christ said, "Come and dine". Not one of the disciples needed to ask, "Who is this", for they all knew it was the Lord. Their Savior then gave them the bread and fish to eat. This was the third time He had appeared to His disciples after He had risen.
When they had dined, Peter's Lord and Savior said to Him, "Peter, son of Jonas, do you love me more than these?" Peter was taken aback with surprise, but replied, "Surely, Lord; You know that I love You." The answer: "Feed my lambs". Then He asked again, "Peter, son of Jonas, do you love me?" Peter's answer was the same, "Surely, Lord; You know that I love You". The seemingly redundant answer was: "Feed my sheep." The Master looked deep into Peter's eyes and asked a third time, slowly but firmly, "Peter, son of Jonas, do you love me?" Now Peter was full of sorrow, because He asked the third time. Peter had denied his Lord three times, and now, He was asked three times by his Lord if he loved Him. He answered slowly, trying to hold back the lump in his throat, "Lord, You know all things, you know that I love You!" In response was a very deep and passionate answer, "Feed my sheep."
The Messiah said to Peter, "Surely, surely, I say to you, when you were young, you girded yourself and walked wherever you pleased: but when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will gird you, and carry you wherever you do not please." This He spoke signifying what sort of death he should glorify God. After these words, He said the same gentle words that had caused Peter to follow Him in the first place: "Follow me." Peter turned and saw John, who had laid on the chest of Yeshua at the last supper before His death and said, "Lord, who is it who betrayed you?" Peter then looked at John and said to the Lord, "Lord, and what should this man do?" The answer was soft but strong: "If I want him to stay until I come, what is that to you? Follow me." All the disciples thought that that meant that John would not die, but that is not what He had said. He did not say: "He will not die", but "if I want him to stay until I come, what is that to you?"
Another time, two of the Lord's disciples were going to a village called Emmaus. He went and explained about Himself to them starting from the beginning in the Torah, and ending with all the prophecies stating the rising of the Messiah after His death! Then He went and ate with them and they realized He was the Lord!
The Lord appeared to many others, and finally, ascended into heaven! Now, we all wait for His glorious coming that every eye shall see! And we always remember His glorious death and resurrection! Praise the Lord! Thank you for hearing my story, and I hope that you will come to know the Lord as I have, as the Savior and the Messiah! Amen! Come Lord soon! Amen!
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