Who will Call Him? I will
In cold despair
They'd laid Him in the tomb
The body of their Master fair
Third morning came
As they returned to pray
Light was shining everywhere
But Jesus' body was not there
And as they gazed at an empty grave
The earth around began to shake
And they were so afraid
But voices of angels filled the air
Their shouts proclaimed "He is not here"
And you could hear them say
Who will call Him King of kings
Who will call Him Lord of lords
Who will call Him Prince of Peace
Such a wonderful counselor, Mighty God
Who will call Him King
Their spirits soared
As fear was turned to joy
Standing there before their eyes
Jesus clothed in radiant white
And with a voice they'd heard before
He told me "Go and tell the world that I'm alive"
They ran as fast as feet could fly
"The Lord is risen" was their cry
And you could hear them say
We will call Him King of kings
We Will call Him Lord of lords
We will call Him Prince of Peace
Such a wonderful counselor, Mighty God
Just like He said
He is risen from the dead
And the people say
We will call Him King of kings
We will call Him Lord of lords
We will call Him Prince of Peace
I will call Him King of kings
I will call Him Lord of lords We I will call Him Prince of Peace
Goodbye alpha, hello omega.
Time bent for the last time at Jesus’ death, which was the off-ramp back into Paradise. For the first time in his life, Jesus’ heart failed. I began to walk back toward the two Mary’s.
I thought I was getting the point finally. God made us all in His image and likeness. Love of family is a Godly thing. I loved Jesus again, and that’s what redeemed me back into God’s family.
A long time ago, when I asked Jesus why he was here, he said, “to save your ass.” He did it. He saved my ass. And at the same time, he saved everyone’s ass. I saw both roads going to the same thing—the Father.
And now all of those miracles where Jesus did a little bending of space-time piled up into payback time. When he died, there was nothing holding the fabric together, which had diked all of those ripples. The sky opened up. The earth shook. Everything hit us at once, such that for a moment I thought I could see thunder and hear lightning. The sky darkened and a wind roared through us. With this false night, I was able to glimpse a lone star shining above—the star of the Nativity.
A Roman repeated himself with, “Surely this was the Son of God.”
My God! Is this what it took?
I knew better. I was educated now. I didn’t need a tongue of fire. All you had to do was listen to what he had been saying all of this time to know. I’m not proud that I wasn’t always listening, but what happened to me on Golgotha was the Cliff Notes synopsis and commentary all rolled into one.
Lazarus had to just about pry me from Jesus’ feet. I staggered off listlessly, looking for myself. Back at supper the night before, when he wouldn’t tell me which way to go at the fork in my road, I mustn’t have been listening to him my whole damn life, because he was the way to go. He was the way. There were two of me and I knew now which one I was gonna dump.
I collapsed near a large boulder. The storm was still raging, like the morning breath of God Himself. I closed my eyes and once again met myself coming and going. I saw the lonely, despondent one with my left eye, and with my right eye I saw myself more clearly than ever before. My mind’s gaze slowly panned to the right with both halves of my brain. I was going to be a good angel in the antediluvian battle that was waging in heaven somewhere, sometime, and in my head now.
And just as suddenly as the cosmic upheaval rang aloud for Jesus’ death, the earth grew still again. And slowly there fell upon Golgotha something never seen before—snow. First as flurries, then a heavy flotilla of white, fluffy crystals. Jesus had had fun with the weather before, but this pureness seemed so appropriate.
The sky brightened, the winds calmed, and the ground sat inert under my feet. The snow hadn’t lasted for very long. By the time I drifted away from consciousness, the sun was already melting away the white on the ground. The fabric of space-time unraveled for a lot of others, too. To the horror of a lot of cured lepers they rapidly grew their lesions back. Newly seeing men went blind again; newly hearing men went deaf again; new speakers went mute. Now agile people fell out. An ear fell off of a soldier’s head. Many thousands who had eaten from manipulation of Fibonacci numbers as applied to chaotic systems and gravitational lensing suddenly found themselves achingly hungry. Foul-smelling Gaius fell back dead and became fetid again. And on and on.
Turned out that Lazarus, too, was dead within an hour of Jesus’ dying. Everyone thought he was just taking a snooze, of course, but they soon guessed the truth when they discovered me and the temporary results of Jesus’ other miracles. The physical world caught up with Jesus Christ, and a lot of people were very surprised.
And very pissed off. And then I died...again, unraised like everyone else Jesus had reanimated one time or another.
Back at Mary’s and Martha’s, everyone was in a state of shock—not only because of the whole crucifixion thing, but over Lazarus and me as well. For them, time itself seemed to be coming to an end. Mother Mary and Maddie, as unlikely a pair as could be conceived in fact or fiction, returned to Bethany to bring Lazarus’ body back.
The unexpected deaths were like a promise taken back, and it was tempting to think that Jesus wasn’t anything he had claimed to be, except just another dead Jew. It was tempting to be angry with him. Christianity was off to an awful start.
I don’t know what brought me back, but what woke me up was the sound of the massive crumbling and crackling of stone. I was groggy, and I began the usual preening of getting the sleep out of my eyes, scratching myself, and stretching on what seemed like a flat slab. My pupils had been fixed and dilated, and when the shaft of morning light streamed in I reflexly braced my eyes. I tried opening them, but the brightness was too intense. I sneezed.
“God bless you,” someone said.
“Who’s that?” I cried out, squinting to see.
“It’s me, Lazarus. Is that you?”
“Lazarus, I thought you were dead again.”
“Well, here I am alive again.”
“Wow, then I guess me, too.”
“I saw a light. Just like people say.”
“Really? That’s an improvement.”
“Yeah. And the closer I got, the more beautiful it got. And then something pulled me back. Man, I can’t wait to go back into the light. I know that’s where I belong. You saw it, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t see shit!” I grumbled.
“Uh-oh,” Lazarus said. “That’s your wake up call.”
“Oh, shut up, Lazarus.”
“Say, where are we anyway?” Lazarus asked. I could now open my eyes if I shaded my forehead with my hand. I looked around.
“I think…I think this is a sepulcher.” I sat up and looked around fully, and I saw the remains of several other corpses. “Ahhh!” I yelped.
“What!” Lazarus yelled.
“We were buried! I know we were dead, but buried! I am so grossed out.”
“We’re not dead now, my boy,” Lazarus said, yawning.
“Which is why I’m getting out of here.”
“You go ’head,” Lazarus said, resuming a reclining position, “I’m going to sleep in. I’ve had a really bad weekend.”
I sauntered out, a little dizzy. There was a large, round, carved rock, about the size of the opening into this concavity, and it had been neatly placed just to the side. Looking at the inscription on the rock, I found the family names Joseph of Arithmea’s relatives all over it.
I walked on, gaining strength in both my stride and my ability to constrict my pupils as I went. It was Sunday morning. By the time I was back in Bethany at Mary and Martha’s, it was common knowledge that Jesus had already been in the crypt a day and a half. I had to hear all about it from the beggar woman that hung around the place: how Mother had stayed over Friday, and dreamt that both Jesus was going to be all right.
Jews and dreams. She went home to Nazareth, saying she had nothing more to worry about.
She must have been right—about me, anyway—because I walked in like I had just pulled an all-nighter—a little hung over but glad to be alive.
“Jesus has been in that crypt over a day and a half,” she had told me. “At Joseph of Arithmea’s tomb.” When I recalled this, it creeped me out, because the only other talking person there was Lazarus. Could Jesus have been one of the other stiffs there in the darkness?
There are those who say Jesus never really existed. There are those who say he wasn’t everything he said he was. I guess naysayers can give their reasons why he wasn’t the Son o’God, and Bible-thumpers can give their reasons why he was. But when you go through all of the logic in the debate over Jesus Christ, you ultimately have to wonder, “What was in it for him?”
There was nothing in it for him. Just us.
There are those who say Jesus never rose from the dead. That his bones are still in the ground somewhere in Palestine. But if Christianity was off to a bad start when the lepers sloughed their skin again, then it would have been dead in the proverbial Jordan water had he just died and rotted. The Apostles scattered, like the followers of the false Messiahs before Jesus who had garnered enough of a following to warrant capital attention. Had they never met again, that would have been that.
But something happened for them. Christianity did take off. People like Saul got the thunderbolt out of the blue to become people like Paul. And the evangelists authored the New Testament. Not these guys the way they were—not these silly cowards and undependable doubters. There had to have been something big enough to put cowards and undependable doubters into turbo. A big surprise.
Now that I think about it, he never really actually told anyone he was going to rise from the dead. Not in those words. Sure, he had made some cryptic comments, but no one figured on something like this. And when he did rise, all the cures were reinstated. His disciples fell back toward him—like enough matter falling into a heavenly body to cause critical mass.
The star ignited and wise men paid attention.
My Son’s death, my salvation
I woke up this morning feeling a sense of dread in the pit of my stomach. Today is the day that Jesus, my beloved son, will be crucified. I have been through so much with him, from the day of his birth in that manger in Bethlehem to the day he began his ministry and performed miracles. I have seen him heal the sick, feed the hungry, and give hope to the hopeless.
But now, as I watch him being dragged through the streets, beaten and bloodied, my heart is breaking. How can this be happening to my precious son? I try to keep my eyes on him, to offer him some comfort with my presence, but the crowds are too thick, and the soldiers are pushing us back.
As we make our way to Golgotha, I am overcome with grief and despair. How could anyone do this to such a kind and loving man? I want to scream, to demand that they stop, but I know it will do no good. The wheels have been set in motion, and there is no stopping them now.
Finally, we reach the place where Jesus will be crucified. I can see the crosses that have been prepared, and my heart sinks even further. I watch as they nail him to the wood, and I can feel his pain as if it were my own. I want to reach out to him, to hold him close and take away his suffering, but I know there is nothing I can do.
As the hours tick by, I watch in horror as my son hangs there, gasping for breath, his body wracked with pain. I can hear the insults and taunts of the people around us, but I try to block them out. All I can focus on is Jesus, and the unbearable pain he must be feeling.
Finally, as the sun begins to set, I watch as Jesus takes his last breath. My heart breaks as I realize that he is gone, that I will never see him again in this life. But even as I mourn, I know that his death was not in vain. I know that he died for a greater purpose, to bring salvation to all mankind.
As I leave Golgotha, my heart heavy with grief, I hold onto the hope that one day we will be reunited, that I will see my son again in the kingdom of heaven. Until then, I will hold onto the memories of the kind and loving man he was, and the impact he had on so many lives.
(This is ftom Mary's POV my version of what she's thinking that day... Well today 2000+ years ago)
I, the Beloved
That particular night remains crystal clear In My memory. on The evening of The Last Supper, Jesus convened with His followers for a concluding feast prior to His apprehension. Along with My fellow apostles, I was present and attentively listening as Jesus discussed His forthcoming demise.
Following dinner, we proceeded to The Garden of Gethsemane for a session of prayer. It was at That moment That The soldiers appeared with The intention of detaining Jesus. I observed Judas, who was part of our group, as He used a kiss to betray him. The Jewish council, known as The Sanhedrin, took custody of Jesus to conduct His trial.
I kept My distance, observing Jesus being interrogated by The high priest from The concealment of The shadows. He was charged with blasphemy which caused Jesus to feel distressed and anguished as He attempted to justify himself. In due course, they resolved to transport him to Pontius Pilate who held office as The governor of Rome.
I observed Pilate from afar as He interrogated Jesus, attempting to ascertain if He had committed any offense. Pilate was unable to identify any wrongdoing In him, and He even suggested setting him free. The populace made an outcry to set Barabbas, a well-known lawbreaker, free.instead.
The words ringing In My ears were difficult to accept, as The crowd demanded The crucifixion of Jesus. In order to prevent a disturbance, Pilate instructed for Jesus to be scourged and subsequently conveyed for execution on The cross. My eyes witnessed The cruel spectacle of Jesus being disrobed and subjected to physical abuse, His skin lacerated by The lash.
Silently shedding tears, I walked behind him while He was compelled to bear His own cross.to The location designated for His execution. His seven final utterances were audible to me and they left a profound impact on My emotions.
O Father, pardon them as they are unaware of their actions.
"Today, I promise That you shall accompany me to a peaceful paradise."
"Dear woman, take a look at your offspring." Observe and recognize The woman who brought you into The world as your mother.
"Why am I abandoned by you, My Lord?"
"I am In need of hydration." (I AM THIRSTY) He was a man here. He took the form of a man to save us
The task has come to an end.
Dear father, I entrust My spirit In your care.
As The outcome, Jesus was affixed to The crucifix, and I observed In dreadful shock as He dangled there, His vitality gradually fading. However, I was aware That The conclusion had not been reached yet. Despite witnessing Jesus' death, I held onto The belief He had previously expressed about His resurrection.
As promised, He resurrected after a period of three days. Elation and amazement overflowed within me as I comprehended That My Lord and Redeemer had triumphed over mortality and bestowed upon us The boon of never-ending existence.
All is Well
Peter sat at the table with Jesus and the other disciples, feeling a sense of unease wash over him. He had always been a loyal follower of his teacher, but he couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding as Jesus spoke of his impending death.
As they ate the Passover meal together, Peter listened intently to Jesus' words, trying to make sense of the cryptic messages he was conveying. He couldn't bear the thought of losing his beloved teacher, but he also couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was about to happen.
After dinner, they went to the garden of Gethsemane to pray. Peter struggled to stay awake, his mind racing with worries and fears. He knew that Jesus had been betrayed by one of their own, and he couldn't shake the feeling that they were all in danger.
Suddenly, a group of soldiers appeared, led by none other than Judas Iscariot. Peter watched in horror as they arrested Jesus and dragged him away, leaving the disciples scattered and afraid.
For the next few days, Peter was consumed by guilt and despair. He had denied Jesus three times, even after swearing to be his loyal disciple until the end. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had failed his teacher and his faith.
But then, on the third day, everything changed. Mary Magdalene came to the disciples with news that Jesus had risen from the dead. Peter couldn't believe it at first, but as he ran to the tomb and saw the empty grave clothes, he felt a sense of hope ignite within him.
Over the next few weeks, Peter and the other disciples encountered the risen Christ multiple times, and Peter's faith was renewed. He knew that Jesus' death and resurrection had been the ultimate sacrifice, one that had redeemed him and all of humanity.
As he reflected on those tumultuous days, Peter felt a sense of gratitude for the love and forgiveness that Jesus had shown him. He had been given a second chance, and he was determined to use it to spread the message of Christ's love and salvation to the world.
What if the world was
no need to fear
no cause to run
What if we didn't have to
What if we all stood
that haunt us
What if we
Took a stand
What if we looked at the
what we long for?
Happiness is the world
Happiness takes the form of what beholder believes it to be
For some it may be family and friends
For others it may be a good book or meal
For the rare few, however happiness is the world
It is watching the soft droplets of snow fall down to earth out of the window at midnight
It is gazing up at the stars, alone with the universe until dawn
It is sitting in the backyard letting the sun tan your skin and watching it set
It is running barefoot through the grass, picking flowers and dancing like no one is watching
It is standing in the rain, eyes closed, feeling nature do its work on your hometown
The world can be a cruel place, but if you just brush its cheek, kiss its forehead,
You can experience the happiness it has to offer
Cleaning Out The Negativity
All my thoughs are swept away, like a broom has set to work in my mind.
Good thoughts stick to my skull, and no mop comes to clean them up.
The good thoughs, that are of topic, are aloud to trickle in- slowly- as thougn the peron who swept my brain had installed a filter that only allowed positivity through.
It would break eventaully- but the thoughts of my mind-filter breaking were blocked by the mind-filter itself.
Then, the person in my brain- the person who resembls my joy- goes on a working vacation to my heart.
It wipes at graying spots, using a cloth of God’s forgivness, and soap of generosity.
True happiness allows me to live in the moment- if only for a momet (the one I’m living in, of course)- and I forget my worries long enough to remind myself: the world does have evil, but there is good aswell. The two of them together create balance, and our moments of joy become purer.
But Only We
I gave you my heart
Perhaps you stole it.
To be honest, I don’t remember a time
Before there was us;
A time when I was me
And you were you
And I knew myself.
My memories are all of us;
Eyes entwined and
Sinking into our warmth.
There was no me
There was no you
But only we.
Until they spoke
And you awoke
From our dream
Of pleasant pastures
And holding hands.
And you awoke –
A broken spell
Because of their touch,
Fingers on your cheek
Hand on your chin
Their kiss on your lips,
Sucking you from me.
And you saw you
And then you saw them.
I’m left alone,
Not me again,
Just a hanging part of us,
Like a broken door
On broken hinges
Hanging and useless.
There was no me
There was no you
But only we.
There is nothing