Not Here
Mount of Olives, a resting place for Jesus and his twelve. This night seemed to be like any other for most of the disciples. Jesus went away to pray alone, and then it happened. Voices in the dark, torches in the dark, footsteps in the dark, multitude of officers in the dark, chaos in the dark. Simon Peter grabbed a sword, took a swing, caught the ear of an opposition. Even in the midst of the chaos, Jesus spoke up and the chaos stopped. Jesus even said, “Or do you think that I cannot now pray to My Father, and He will provide Me with more than twelve legions of angels.” Matthew 26:53. Yes Jesus could have but not here.
Pilate was first and then Herod. The courtroom of deception had begun. He was questioned, ridiculed, accused and beyond. “9 Then he questioned Him with many words, but He answered him nothing. 10 And the chief priests and scribes stood and vehemently accused Him.” Luke 23:9-10. The questions were to entrap, Jesus or perhaps to enrage Him. Even with all of the questions when it came time to answer any of them the reply of Jesus was silence. Not here.
The public vote would now take place. Which criminal would they release as was the custom for Passover. Pilate could have chosen a lesser opponent for Jesus to face but instead he chose the vilest criminal known in the city. Surely this would do the trick. But in the end the vote was to release Barabbas a well-known murderer over Jesus. The crowds and Pilate were not in control that day, it was still the will of Jesus. He could have chosen freedom but instead his silence once again said, not here.
He died that day on a hill known as Golgotha. It was His choice. The whips, crown of thorns, the abuse, the bleeding, the suffering, the beating, the slaps and strikes, were all done because He allowed it. He could have stopped it at any moment, but not here. The nails in his hand, his feet, the cross, the vinegar, the taunting, the jeers, the spear, Golgotha… Calvary… it had to take place for it was the only way. But would this be the end? Not here.
It was early in the morning of the first day of the week. The sting of death was real. Mourning was still in place and hearts were broken. Proper burial spices were brought to be administered so that closure could commence. As the women topped the hill they took in the scene, things had changed. Soldiers sleeping, earth quaking, Sun shining, stone rolled away. Friday was dark but Sunday was different. Friday was filled with hate, but Sunday would be filled with hope. Friday was about death but Sunday was about Life. Everything changed because when they approached the tomb, they heard two words…. NOT HERE!
Pilate was first and then Herod. The courtroom of deception had begun. He was questioned, ridiculed, accused and beyond. “9 Then he questioned Him with many words, but He answered him nothing. 10 And the chief priests and scribes stood and vehemently accused Him.” Luke 23:9-10. The questions were to entrap, Jesus or perhaps to enrage Him. Even with all of the questions when it came time to answer any of them the reply of Jesus was silence. Not here.
The public vote would now take place. Which criminal would they release as was the custom for Passover. Pilate could have chosen a lesser opponent for Jesus to face but instead he chose the vilest criminal known in the city. Surely this would do the trick. But in the end the vote was to release Barabbas a well-known murderer over Jesus. The crowds and Pilate were not in control that day, it was still the will of Jesus. He could have chosen freedom but instead his silence once again said, not here.
He died that day on a hill known as Golgotha. It was His choice. The whips, crown of thorns, the abuse, the bleeding, the suffering, the beating, the slaps and strikes, were all done because He allowed it. He could have stopped it at any moment, but not here. The nails in his hand, his feet, the cross, the vinegar, the taunting, the jeers, the spear, Golgotha… Calvary… it had to take place for it was the only way. But would this be the end? Not here.
It was early in the morning of the first day of the week. The sting of death was real. Mourning was still in place and hearts were broken. Proper burial spices were brought to be administered so that closure could commence. As the women topped the hill they took in the scene, things had changed. Soldiers sleeping, earth quaking, Sun shining, stone rolled away. Friday was dark but Sunday was different. Friday was filled with hate, but Sunday would be filled with hope. Friday was about death but Sunday was about Life. Everything changed because when they approached the tomb, they heard two words…. NOT HERE!
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