In preparation for Holy Week I have been reading the final chapters of each gospel. Last Friday a strange thing happened as I was reading Luke 22:63-65.
Now the men who were holding Jesus mocked him and beat him; they also blindfolded him and asked him, “Prophesy! Who is it that struck you?” And they spoke many other words against him, reviling him.
As I read these terrible words I found myself saying to Jesus, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Jesus. Forgive me!”
I felt myself to be an actor here, not just a spectator. I was so much a part of that ugly gang that I knew I was as guilty as they. I felt that if the rage of God should spill over onto those soldiers and sweep me away, too, justice would have been done. I wasn’t there, but their sin was my sin. It would not have been unjust for me to fall under their sentence. Keep Reading...
