Last Supper

Shared
          bread
              wine
                   space
                        time
                             lives
                                  love

Broken
          ideals
               team
                   bread
                        dreams
                             heart
                                  world

Given
          grace
              love
                   wine
                        blood
                             strength
                                  enough

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The Temple

I hadn’t really thought about it before.   I mean, the traders had always been there, selling all the things we needed for the rituals and sacrifices, changing money, providing all the paraphernalia of offering.   OK, so they clearly weren’t in it for charity, but, well … people need the stuff, and getting stiffed by the authorities, that’s just the way it is, right?   Don’t mess with the established order, keep your head down, get on with it.

Anyway, it’s all business as usual, and then suddenly this man Jesus shows up.   Apparently he’d only arrived in the city the day before, but he’s straight in there, no messing about – quoting the scriptures at the same time as chucking all the traders out of the courtyard: words, tables, money, birds, people all flying all over the place!   Certainly not one of those preachers that left you wondering just what it was they were trying to say.

But the really amazing thing, the thing that stuck with me, is he’s just one man, right?   Yes, he came in like a whirlwind, but he’s just one bloke.   Yet the people went.  And the temple bigwigs, they didn’t look too pleased, but they didn’t stop him.   And not only did they go, not only did he pull it off, they didn’t come back.   The next few days there’s none of the usual stalls and traders in there, just people coming to the temple for, well, for what the temple’s for.   And Jesus teaching, healing, and meeting with all kinds of people.

And now all the adrenalin’s long faded, and time’s moved on, it’s still left me thinking.  Left me wondering, mulling over, just how much of what we take for granted isn’t necessarily the way it should be?

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Palm Sunday

So, Jerusalem.   All the people, all the noise; the cheering, the praise.   The warmth.   And the weight of expectation.

I wonder how many of them will remember this when they’re calling for my death, just a few days from now?   How many will have been in both crowds, caught up in the moment, swept along, but not really knowing, just carried in the moment?   It reminds me of the beginning – humanity so close to the Father; intimate, walking with Him; yet so soon and easily swayed to rejection by a few well-placed words, a gentle nudge at the right time, in the right place.

And look at my friends: bewildered, excited, happy, overwhelmed by this reception, not sure quite what to make of it, but certain it’s right, that we have finally arrived.   The mixture of joy and bemusement on their faces is such a picture, it makes me smile deep inside!   For them, despite the colt, despite all the subtle ironies, despite my trying to tell them what is to come, this really is a “triumphal entry”.   Yet at heart, it’s just another step of obedience, another moment on the journey, the choice to continue, to fulfil the task set before me, to walk in the Father’s will.

Still, it is good.   Good to be welcomed, to be recognised, to be known and acknowledged.   Good to share the joy, the celebration and the fun of this day, to see the Spirit stirring these hearts, to know that the stones don’t have to cry out.   And for my friends, my disciples, I hope that they can hold this day in their hearts, and begin to grasp that exciting and uplifting as it is, it is only a shadow of what is to come.

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