It was strange, the Teachers’s instructions. Go into the town, find the man carrying the jar, ask him about a room for the Passover. But, we have learned over the years that Jesus doesn’t always like to tell us everything, so we went and did what he asked.
The Passover was strange too. Jesus spoke of His body broken and His blood poured out, all for us. His persistent references to a coming time of suffering are intensifying. He even spoke of His being betrayed, if you could imagine it, by one of us.
There was more, of course, but after he suggested that I would deny him, three times no less, it was hard for me to concentrate on the rest. That He would doubt me after all I’ve left behind for Him really hurt. I tried to reassure Him that I would be faithful, but His words hung in the air, in my mind and heart, and they hang even heavier now, for I have done exactly what He said I would do.
Three times I stood at a crossroads – acknowledge my Lord and my Savior, or protect myself from guilt by association. Three times I rejected Him, until I was so adamant I didn’t know Him that they left me alone.
When the rooster crowed, I could have died right there. I will never hear that sound again without pain. I have failed him, utterly.
And worse, He is in their custody, and I fear that this time, there will be no escape for Him. What are we to do?