...by Beka Jackson
When I was young, my church did an Easter Cantata every year. There was one song one year that I remember above all the rest. The people were circling around Jesus and Barabbas and they were shouting "Barabbas! Barabbas! Now unto us release Barabbas!" Pilate circled around the outside singing some really cool counter melody about his struggle to release one of the two men. It was moving as a child and moving still as I think back to it.
Strange how those same people who cheered and praised Jesus as He paraded into Jerusalem were shouting his death only a few days later. How could they have so easily forgotten? Surely I wouldn't have been one of those people. I would've followed Jesus all the way. Never denying Him or pleading for His crucifixion.
Yet this past weekend, I offered my praise to Him. I sang words of love and commitment; meant every bit of it with my entire meaning. And today, with that same mouth I find myself using less love-filled words as I sin. And then I remember the words of Isaiah:
But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed. We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all. (Isaiah 53:5-6)
It’s a nice thought to assume I would be one those people that was faithful to the end. To think that I would be right there with Mary, weeping at Jesus' death. But so often I prove that may not have been the case.
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