Chapter 3

When Love Hurts 

His exceeding distress - undeserved. Blood oozes from his forehead. 

   From the beginning he had loved his own and taught them truth. His was and is the highest power, offered freely to the willing. Their kings mostly served themselves.

   His way is to teach, lead, feed and warn. Still, they rebel. Few understand. Few seek after him, except for healing. 

   The teacher's sadness...heavy...a vice like distress that leaves one weak. He is God and is with God, yet he once needed angels to minister to him. 

   He will not rule from a distant throne, but walks among men, sometimes hungry and thirsty, tempted on all points, but sinless, weeping not for himself but for them. For this, he is hated by those who should know what is written.   

   Had he not fed thousands, shown kindness to outcasts and healed a centurion's daughter? Didn't he give sight to the blind, calling attention to spiritual blindness? Hadn't he made the lame to walk, calling all men to walk with God? 

   If just one of 10 lepers returned to thank him, how many mortals will seek him when they don't see him? No matter. Into the mire he had come, with angels singing, Peace on earth good will toward men. 

Without a fight? 

   There will be no peace or good will in Gethsemane ... his hand-picked followers oblivious to the coming horrors of the night. His cousin - the greatest among men - has already been beheaded.  

   Stone-cut commandments had not won hearts. Quaking mountains and desert vipers left short memories. Parted waters and defeated enemies - oh, so yesterday. Prophecies come true, and prophets die. 

   The blind receive sight, the lame walk, the deaf hear and the dead are raised. But, teacher, you can't be from God. You are breaking our laws. 

   His soul is sorrowful, even unto death. Yes, offered a transgressor's death he drops to his knees, taking counsel with the Father one last time. 

   Above, The Host is frozen in silent grief. Is the Creator himself, their Captain, about to ... just lay it down? Without a fight? 

Tomorrow: Is there an alternative?