by Mary Flood
You must die to live
was what he said.
They tried to believe it
as he lay dead.
The disciples shook,
locked upstairs in a room,
fighting feelings of sadness,
fear, and gloom.
They tried to remember
those last gray days,
and wondered really
if loving pays,
if truly the only thing in life
that makes a difference
will cause them strife.
They thought for sure
the end was near
and huddled together,
blinded in fear.
They hadn’t seen Jesus
as he climbed that hill,
determined to follow
his Father’s will.
His eyes were clear
even through the thorns,
and his spirit shone,
though his body was worn.
The women consoled him
as best they could,
when his legs buckled
under the weight of the wood.
Even Pilate who sat in greatness knew
that Jesus’ message
was simple and true,
but because the crowd
went nuts that day,
he closed his heart
and turned away.
He gave them Barabbas,
a cheat and a thief,
sent Jesus to death
whose only crime
was belief.
Soldiers hung Jesus
out to dry.
All day long people passed by.
“Hey, Jesus! You fool!
Come down from your cross.”
They laughed and pointed,
“Now prove you’re boss!”
Jesus’ mother heard them.
Jesus felt full of shame.
But all he could do
was take the blame.
As he hung on the cross
in a rush of despair,
he cried, “Father,
don’t leave me.
Are you really there?”
The answer came clearly
for just as he died,
the veil of the temple
was ripped open wide.
When Jesus was buried,
his friends’ hopes were, too.
His disciples were frightened,
didn’t know what to do.
And then the women
flew through the door,
crying, “Jesus lives!
He’s not dead anymore.
He told us he’d die,
but now he’s back.
He’ll give us his Spirit
to keep us on track.”
So remember now
that Jesus lives,
in all of those hearts
who freely give.
Easter wasn’t just then;
it’s now — each day.
The message is ours
to live and say.