He was ruined. They scourged him repeatedly, taking turns to catch their breath. It was clear to see they were not trying to maim a man, but rend a god. Then the thwing, thwing of hammer and the man previously pinned to the tail of a donkey was now pinned to the roof of the world, a specimen for all to behold. It was excruciating to watch the frame I had leaned against only hours ago. Dear God, they ruined him. They ruined the one I loved.
As I stood my life flared before my eyes, not the sum of my days with Zebedee, but those years after the nets, when my life truly began, those three beautiful years. There were short-breath moments during his time with us when I felt inspired, compelled to capture his words and miracles, to write them down. One day he spoke directly in my eyes: ‘Some day, after it is finished, write down our story. Only then will you see it all.’
I found myself grasping for breath again as I writhed before my friend crossed between two thieves. Words from somewhere beyond me seized my throat causing me to cough and spit, finally to choke them up:
For God so loved the world…
I would remember and record those words years later when I was too old to be a fisherman, much less a disciple. Of all I’ve penned, it is the phrase of which I am most proud, for it is the genesis and revelation of our story.
[…] been following John Blase‘s Holy Week series. Well? Have you? Good Friday’s God is loving and giving. Share this:EmailTwitterFacebookStumbleUponLike this:LikeBe the first to like this post. This […]
This is heartrending. Thank you for recording such touching words imagined from the disciple John’s perspective–a beautiful meditation for Good Friday.
My lungs have known a short-breath moment or two, John. In the end, if that is all there ever was to our story, it will have been enough to leave me ever after eternally breathless. My best to you and your precious family this weekend.
My goodness how God has inspired you to write. You capture the comma in a scripture verse, and express it in a way that flat out stuns the intellect, and transforms the heart. Thank you, God. And thanks, John.
:”not to scourge a man but rend a god” and “the love of God haunts me”. John…those two phrases, they run deep into my marrow and I whisper yes. thank you for this memory.
Wow. The word-plays are magnificent (“crossed between two thieves”; “pinned to the roof of the world”; “rend a god”; “choking” up the words . . .) — making one stop and try to breathe and think, to see, to know. Thank you.
[…] been following John Blase‘s Holy Week series. Well? Have you? Good Friday’s God is loving and giving. Share this:EmailTwitterFacebookStumbleUponLike this:LikeBe the first to like this post. This […]
This is heartrending. Thank you for recording such touching words imagined from the disciple John’s perspective–a beautiful meditation for Good Friday.
The perfect way to begin my day of contemplation of the cost. Thanks, friend.
It is amazing how this day prompts those words from John’s gospel – they’re showing up everywhere across cyberspace. Glory be.
Thanks so much for this week’s reflections, John. Truly wonderful.
My lungs have known a short-breath moment or two, John. In the end, if that is all there ever was to our story, it will have been enough to leave me ever after eternally breathless. My best to you and your precious family this weekend.
I ache in walking these days– can’t get away from it– don’t want to. Your words give voice to a part of the darkness– thank you, John.
My goodness how God has inspired you to write. You capture the comma in a scripture verse, and express it in a way that flat out stuns the intellect, and transforms the heart. Thank you, God. And thanks, John.
Heartbreaking joy.
I am being haunted by the phrase “the love of God haunts me”. I will spend much time in the days to come unpacking all that it means. Thank you.
My heart stills at the way he speaks to our eyes…
John, thank you for these reflections and insights. Your words are a gift.
Ok, I now officially don’t consider myself a writer anymore. That was just brilliantly done.
Thank you!
:”not to scourge a man but rend a god” and “the love of God haunts me”. John…those two phrases, they run deep into my marrow and I whisper yes. thank you for this memory.
[…] John Blase so distinctly writes “they were not trying to maim a man, but rend a god… they ruined him. They ruined the […]
Wow. The word-plays are magnificent (“crossed between two thieves”; “pinned to the roof of the world”; “rend a god”; “choking” up the words . . .) — making one stop and try to breathe and think, to see, to know. Thank you.