Easter - An Eyewitness Account by Bryan Craig
A Creative Story by Bryan Craig
I feel compelled to share the events that happened recently which still do not even seem real. Most of you know I disappeared a few years ago and that I’ve been on a mission. Some closest to me feel as if I’ve lost my mind or at least my focus. I left everything to follow a man, to live homeless, roaming from town to town. Except I must keep emphasizing he was no ordinary man. I tell you he was holy.
My eyes have seen the miraculous. At first there was admiration for this kind, humble, yet passionate man who seemed to know so much about the Bible and spoke with authority. Yes, he was a great teacher, but he was also such a loving shepherd. He always seemed to have time for everybody. But then, we saw him doing miracles. He touched the eyes of the blind and they could see. He healed lepers who had been in misery. He unstopped deaf ears. He even raised the dead. Yes, I saw the scene. This man was dead and in the midst of the grief and mourning, my teacher, this man of God, said a word and the dead man stood up and walked among us. It was crazy!
Yes, this man was more than holy, he was God. He was the son of God, for he called God his father. Yet, he also said he and the father were one. I believed him. Even besides the miracles, there was just something about being in his presence. He even sent us out two by two, telling us to emulate what we saw him doing. We did not feel qualified. We were afraid, yet if he said so, we did it. It was amazing. As we stepped out in faith, we found that his power was with us. We did miracles, we had authority, we helped people, we felt his presence with us.
But when he wanted to go into the city, we were worried. People were starting to hate him, and we didn’t understand it. People wanted to kill him. And the city was dangerous. But he was so determined. We thought it was about a religious celebration, offering sacrifices for sins, remembering the past, feasting and prayer. But he had this look on his face of deep concern, a troubled spirit, a sense of urgency we had not seen before.
He planned a special meal for us. It was so amazing gathering around that long table in the quiet of the night. Everyone was reflective and joyful. It felt like a celebration of our past three years together, but we all felt something very significant was taking place. A couple of the guys helped him plan the dinner, and these guys forgot to secure any wait staff to serve us. Well guess who steps up to be the servant? Him! I couldn’t believe it, especially when he got on his knees and washed my feet. They were dirty and needed it, for sure, but not him! He lovingly cleaned my feet but also looked me in the eyes with love and compassion. He blessed me, and I’ll never forget that moment.
Then, during dinner, he got our attention as he raised a glass of wine. We thought it was a toast, but no, it was a word. He compared the wine to his very blood and the bread at the table to his body. We remembered him talking about eating his body and drinking his blood before. It freaked most of the people out who heard it, and they wrote him off and stopped following. We didn’t understand it either, but we believed in him. And sitting at this table with a glass of wine and a loaf of bread, it somehow seemed to make sense. It was ceremonial, it was symbolic, it was spiritual, it would always help us remember him. And of course, the next day, we would understood more.
One of the guys left early. He seemed frazzled and in a hurry. There were rumors that he was up to no good. I was so caught up in the special time, that I didn’t want to think negative thoughts. We all went on a walk, and we stopped in a vineyard. Just as he had done at the table with the wine and bread, we knew he had something to say, and it was important. We got quiet as he held a bunch of grapes in his hand. He told us He was the vine, and we were the branches. So, he’s the vine and wine? He said if we would abide in him, we would bear much fruit. What did he mean? Bear fruit? We didn’t fully follow, but we knew that it was about him and walking with him, always.
As we kept walking, some of the guys were getting tired, but a few of us stayed with him. He always seemed to like going to the garden for some late night prayer. Again, he continued to carry a sobering disposition, very burdened about something. He asked me to watch and pray with him, but I kept falling asleep. The big meal, the wine, it all made me sleepy. He got frustrated with me, and I felt bad.
Then, I understood why he had been so concerned. A mob of the religious group and the police showed up with a warrant for his arrest. What!? That’s ridiculous. He had never done anything wrong. We cried out in protest, but these guys were forceful and intimidating and would not be dissuaded. One of our guys, in anger, took a swing with his knife at one of the officers and cut his ear off. We thought for sure he would be arrested as well, but they seemed focused on one man, our leader. And before I knew what happened, our leader touched the officer’s ear and immediately healed it. This miracle struck awe in the group, but nevertheless, they hauled him off.
We had no idea what was going on all night. We heard they were holding him near the Temple, but we weren’t sure. We didn’t understand why he wouldn’t defend himself or strike them all down with his amazing power. It was early in the morning before we got any word of what was happening. This was a big deal. Military, government and religious leaders were all involved. There was concern among our group that they were coming after us next. Most of the guys laid low.
We caught a glimpse of him as they brought him outside, and you could tell they had hurt him. His face looked bruised and swollen. How dare they! Then, there was a public beating. They whipped him and whipped him, tearing his flesh apart. I couldn’t bear to watch it or hear his anguish. As I saw his body mutilated and the blood dripping, I couldn’t help but think of his words about “his body” and “his blood.” But why? Why would he have to endure this false punishment?
Just when we thought it was over, we heard the crowd calling for execution. What? These were the same people who loved him when he was giving them food or healing them or teaching them. Now, they, too, were turning on him. The whole thing was a mockery, and too unbelievable for me to bare. The main official seemed to be satisfied with the beating as sufficient, but the political and social pressure was pushing for more… for death.
Finally, we heard he was convicted and sentenced to death. I was so angry and outraged, yet so heartbroken and helpless. We watched as our beloved friend and mentor, the one who was holy and powerful, carried the weight of the world in the form of a Cross, which would be the source of his death. It had to have been 300 pounds, as it kept forcing him to the ground.
Surely they weren’t actually going to do it, but they did. They pounded those iron spikes into his hands and his feet, as we gasped and cried. It was so surreal. People were laughing and celebrating like people possessed by demons and yet, many were wailing in empathy. As they raised the Cross, we realized he really was about to die. I started to understand he had, in fact, been on a mission to come to the city. He was on a mission to die. And one of his last acts on earth was to wash my feet and have a meal with me. I did not feel worthy to even be in his presence.
And then, I heard him speak. Until then, he had remained silent except for painful moans. “Father, forgive them. They don’t know what they are doing.” What!? How could he forgive them for this atrocity. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t just. It cut me to the heart to see such love in the face of such hatred.
About an hour later, he gasped to get a breath, and someone heard him say, “It is finished.” His head dropped, and his life was gone. Then, the sky became black and the earth shook and everyone was screaming and running. At first, it seemed like all hell had broken loose, but rather, I think all heaven had broken loose. Finally, all the people had to realize he was no ordinary man.
A few days later, we were all together, trying to retrace all of his steps and make sense of his death. We were grieving so deeply, but still in denial. Then came a knock at the door, which struck us all silent. Was it our turn to go through the horror we had witnessed? But, no, it was one of the girls. She told us she had been the tomb, and he was not there. What?! Did they take his body? Will their hatred never cease? But she said she saw him near the tomb, and he wasn’t dead. What?! I ran to see this for myself. When I got there, I looked inside his tomb. He was gone.
Somewhere in my memory, I remember him talking about resurrection, but I thought he was talking figuratively. Later that day, we were talking about it, wondering if she had really seen him or had seen a ghost. And just as we were talking about him, he showed up! Yes, it was him. He looked great despite the wounds on his hands and feet. He wasn’t a ghost. He was real. He even ate with us. We were so happy yet trying to comprehend the implications of this miracle. He had raised others from the dead and now he had raised himself.
The city leaders were beside themselves, and they accused us of stealing his body. They had no idea who they were dealing with, and they denied the truth of what happened. We got to spend time with him, and we hoped he was going to stay with us forever, but we could sense his time was short. He hung around for about 40 days and then, one day, we all got a message to meet him at one of our usual spots on the mountain.
He met us there and spoke to us much like he had when he sent us out two by two. It was clear he was leaving. He told us to do with others what he had done with us. He told us to make disciples, and that we would bring his message to the whole world. He even said he was sending us power for our mission. We all wept and said our goodbyes and then, he disappeared into the sky.
Now, it’s been some time since all of this took place, but his finals words hang heavy on my heart. I feel a sacred responsibility to carry on his work. I was so privileged to be chosen to go on this 3 year mission and to see what my eyes have seen. I saw Heaven on earth. I saw God’s love. I saw amazing courage and compassion. I saw the way, the truth and the life. I’ve been with Jesus, and my life will never be the same again. And because he died, I can walk with His Spirit now and into eternity, until I see him face to face again.
You, too, are invited on this adventure of faith. This is why he came and died, so that you and I could find life, real life. Come join me, and you’ll see things you’ve never seen before.