Stations of the Cross Meditation
Dear friends,
As we enter into Good Friday, I want to share with you these meditations I've written on the stations of the cross. I hope this helps you reflect on the events of today a little bit more.
See you in the Eucharist,
May
Station one: Jesus is condemned from the viewpoint of a follower of Jesus.
“Crucify Him, crucify Him!” The shouts of the crowd echo in my mind. They seem to shake my very being to the core. Just a few days ago the crowds were rejoicing “Hosanna to the Son of David.” The sound brought tears of joy, sighs of relief, there He was, our savior, the messiah, the one we had all waited for. Now, the sounds of the crowd carry an earth shattering message. They wish to crucify my Lord. He is God, surely this will not come to pass, surely He will find His way out of this. I look to find Jesus. He stands bloodied beyond recognition, guarded by Roman soldiers. His eyes are sunken, every breath He takes is labored, people jeer and shout and spit at Him. Everything around me seems to go quiet as I look at Him. He locks eyes with me as Pilate gives the order for Him to be crucified. As I watch Him being led away, I cannot move, I feel as if I’m being suffocated. My face turns hot as tears stream down my cheeks. In this moment I hear His voice, as if He is standing right beside me. He tenderly says, “I do this, because I love you.”
Station two: Jesus is made to carry His cross from the viewpoint of a soldier
I follow behind a man who is to be crucified. He claims to be the King of the Jews. His head bears a crown of thorns. On his back is laid a burden any king would command His servants or slaves to lift. Is this the King of the Jews? His hands and feet will soon bear scars that never will heal. He will hang there on a cross. He will struggle to breathe. Every moment of the rest of His life will be in agony. He will pay for His crimes. Pilate has had Him sentenced and rightly so… but Pilate found no guilt in this man. I’ve seen and heard many things about this man, but never once have I heard of His wrong doing. He is walking this road to pay for His crimes, but what crimes is He paying for?
Station three: Jesus falls the first time from the viewpoint of Joseph of Arimathea
I have been standing in this crowd for hours. The sun is scorching and the tension in the crowd has made many people bitter. I have followed this Man in secret throughout His ministry, lest anyone know I follow Him and cast me out. There He stands, Jesus. He’s slowly moving through the narrow and crowded road bearing His cross alone. He falls, the sound of the wood hitting the ground echoes through the street. I draw a sharp breath. A soldier beside Him orders Him to move forward. Slowly and shakily, He stands. He turns his face towards the crowd. Our eyes meet. I am overcome with a deep sorrow, yet somewhere in the very depths of my soul I can hear Him tell me “I love you.”
Station four: Jesus meets His mother from the viewpoint of Mary
“You yourself a sword shall pierce” I have long pondered these words in my heart, along with so many others. I carry them with me as I walk through the crowd, to my son, my only son. His face, my sweet Boy’s face, is covered with blood both fresh and dry. His eyes are tired. The thorns they have laid on His head pierce Him at all angles. I kneel down to meet His gaze. My heart aches as my hands reach towards Him. I hold his face, gently wiping His eyes. He fell countless times as a child, scraping up His knees and coming to me in tears. I always wiped His eyes and held Him until the pain ceased. He is not a little boy anymore. I can no longer gather Him into my arms and wipe away His tears. I look into His eyes, and He looks into mine. This is what He has come to do. Watching His suffering penetrates the depths of my soul. I kiss Him on the forehead. I gaze at Him one more time, His look strengthening me, and allow Him to continue. I walk with Him through every ounce of pain in silence.
Station five: Simon helps Jesus carry His cross, from the viewpoint of Simon of Cyrene
I do not know this man I have been compelled to walk with. I do not know what He did to deserve this sentence, but the crowd is divided about His crimes. The judge said He has done nothing wrong. The Pharisees and religious leaders beg for His death. Half of the crowd weeps for this man. Some remain silent. Some mock Him, their words drowning out the wailing of a group who must be his supporters. If He is guilty, He does not look shameful. If He is innocent, He does not plead for mercy. His face is set like flint as He carries this cross, this heavy burden. His eyes are fixed on His end goal. He is physically aching, but His resolve is strong. He carries the cross with such a determined resolution that one wonders, could this be His mission? Could He have been asked to carry this cross, not like His life is destined to end on it, but as if the fate of the world depends on it. If I were asked such a thing I would surely back away from the question. But this man does not back away from the cross.He carries it with a determined passion. What a passion.
Station six: Veronica wipes the face of Jesus from the viewpoint of Veronica
My Lord! My Lord walks down the narrow crowded road to Calvary. They are going to crucify my Lord. My hands tremble, my legs quake, my eyes are filled to the brim with tears. My heart has never known such grief. His clothes stick to His back with dried blood and sweat. His shoulders bear wounds that reopen with every labored step. His hands are gnarled, His arms are carrying the heavy burden of the cross. He is bloodied from head to toe, but His face, oh His face. His eyes are swollen, one even red and bleeding from the thorns which were forcefully thrust on His head. His lips are dry and cracked with thirst. His hair is matted around His face. My Lord, what have they done to You? What can I offer Him? I have nothing but the very clothes I’m wearing. How could I console Him? I understand, I have little to give, but what little I do have, I will share. I rush through the crowd, untying my veil, and fall on my knees before the Lord. He stops and looks at me. I gently wipe His face with my veil, careful not to linger too long over any area or press too hard on His wounds. His presence and gaze warm my soul. My Lord has loved me to the extreme, this small act is all I can offer Him, yet He is thankful. My heart yearns to be of better help, of more consolation, but I gave Him all that I could. He is harshly prompted to carry on. I draw away and look down at my veil. His face is impressed upon it, but it does not look agonized. In my heart I thank Him for this act of love, this sign of gratitude, this gift of strength and hope, given to me by Him, as I continue to follow down the long and narrow road.
Station seven: Jesus falls a second time from the viewpoint of Mary Magdalene
Before I met Him, my life was dark, full of sin and sadness. Before Him my life was only grief. Yet, He met me there. He did not require me to be perfect before I met Him. He simply met me where I was. I think of this as I watch Him fall a second time. Tears streaming down my face, my thoughts confused about why He is suffering this way. My grief is unbearable, yet I look at the face of His sorrowful mother and His own suffering face and wonder what it must be like to walk this path? Or to walk this path with your only son? My previous thoughts resurface as I watch Him stand back up. Jesus told us that we would have to take up our crosses and follow Him. How many times have I fallen under my cross? How many times has sin caused me to stray? Every time I fall, I add to His weight. Yet, He bears this weight willingly, He bears it for me. He knows I will fall, and He is prepared to forgive me, to wash me in the ocean of His mercy. I do not walk this road alone, I will accompany Christ on His road to calvary, knowing that it is truly Him that is accompanying me.
Station eight: Jesus meets the women of Jerusalem from the viewpoint of one of the women
We have watched the man we know to be our Savior since the beginning of His walk, and now we meet Him. I am moved to uncontrollable tears at the sight of Him. My God, My Lord, My King, My Savior, walking this criminal’s road. He is beyond recognition, battered and bruised. He looks at us, this group of women weeping for him and says, “Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me; weep instead for yourselves and for your children.” This rebuke cuts deep into my core, but as I listen to Him speak, I realize He is right. Many of us will leave this day unchanged. We know this man to be the son of God, but no matter how many times we have heard Him tell us to repent, we have not changed. We must bring about a change in our ways, a sorrow for our sins, and for the sins of others. We must now repent and encourage others to do so. How can we come to the Kingdom which He speaks of if we do not change. How can anyone know to repent if no one tells them. He is calling us to action, will we respond?
Station nine: Jesus falls a third time from the viewpoint of Mary
He’s almost to Calvary, when His knees buckle and He falls a third time. The shock of it sends me to my knees. I want to cry out “My Son!” I want to console Him. To take His pain away. The agony of this moment carries a different kind of sting. My son, my only son, my precious child. I have shared my life with Him. For so many years it was just my son and me each forming each other's hearts. For thirty three years I shared my heart with my son and He shared His heart with me. And as He walks this road we share our hearts still. We have shared each others agony walking down this long and narrow road together. We are nearing the end of the path, but there is more to endure, worse to endure. He knows this, and He is ready. He takes a moment, takes a breath, and stands back up, ready to move forward. I walk with Him through the crowd as he approaches Cavalry as though I were walking beside Him, holding His hand.
Station ten: Jesus is stripped of His garments from the viewpoint of a passerby
A crowd is gathered by Golgotha. Another crucifixion? There have been many lately, I understand that criminals must be punished, but why in such a gruesome manner? I approach the crowd and stand next to a young man who is helping a very sorrowful woman along, possibly the young man’s mother. They watch intently as the Roman soldiers take away the criminal’s tunic, and cast lots for it. The others divide his outer garments amongst themselves. “What is this man’s crime?” I asked the young man. “He has done nothing, sir, Pilate and Herod have ruled Him innocent.” Tears were steadily flowing down the woman’s cheeks as she squeezed the hand of the young man. “Who was He?” I ask. “We believe Him to be the promised Messiah, sir, our savior, the Son of God.” I stood in disbelief. How could that man be the son of God? He does not command angels to save Him, rather He lets Himself be killed. What great savior would not be able to overcome such a thing. He is innocent and does not even ask for Mercy. He is said to be the Son of God and yet He allows people to shame and humiliate Him. He allows lots to be cast over His clothes. He watches as nails are brought up the hill where they will be beat through His hands. If this is the Son of God, for what reason does He give up His life willingly?
Station eleven: Jesus is nailed to the cross from the viewpoint of Dismas the good thief
My life is ending for the crimes I have committed. And I deserve it, for I was rightly and justly condemned. But the man that is being crucified right now, He does not. I could hear His trial, the false information the religious leaders gave to Pilate, yet Pilate did not find Him guilty. I heard them scream for His death, and Pilate consented. I heard the wails of the weeping women, I saw each of His falls. I hang on this cross and look down as the soldiers place the nail over His hands. He does not cry out. I remember seeing this man teach and heal and perform miracles. I watched from afar, convicted, but unchanged. This Man is the son of God, and I knew it, but I continued my crime. With every thud I gasp, the sound is earth shattering. I cannot help but feel remorse for my sins as this Man is being unjustly tortured and killed. With every bang that drives the nail further into his hands, his feet, I internally cry out to the God I once worshiped, forgive me Father. This man has come to save, He has come with mercy, He has come with what we hoped for, what we need to live forever, and these religious leaders remained unchanged, like I had. They cared not for Him and sent Him to death. The very person that came for them, they begged to be killed. And He went to His death, even for those that did not love Him, even for those who never would, even for me who did not change, but there is still time.
Station twelve: Jesus dies on the Cross from the viewpoint of John
I watch, as my closest and dearest friend hangs from a cross. At any moment His life could end. All of the apostles, my friends, His friends, are gone. At the foot of the cross remains His mother, his mother’s sister, Mary of Magdala, and myself. I listen to Him ask the Father for the forgiveness of those who mock Him. Or is He asking forgiveness for our sins, the ones He is now bearing? I hear Him assure the thief next to Him “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” He promises Heaven to a thief, because He sought the Lord’s mercy and forgiveness. Then He looks at Me and His mother. “Woman behold your son.” He says to Mary. His eyes now look directly into mine, piercing my soul, “Behold your mother.” She was the last thing Jesus had, and even her he gave away. He withheld nothing from us. “I thirst,” he says and while someone works to quench His thirst. He thirsts not for water, but for us, we can be His consolation. “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” These words do not suggest He has lost Faith, but show that He is human, and can feel desolate. He does not despair though as these words follow, “It is finished.” Jesus has done what He came to do. He has triumphed. With His final breath He entrusts everything to His Father. “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” And with that He breathes His last.
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