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“When Jesus saw his mother there,
and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, “Dear
woman, here is your son,” and to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” – John 19:26-27a
When’s the last time you called your mother? Throughout scripture there are references to
honoring your mother and father, treat them with respect and care for them as
you would yourself. We tend to get so
wrapped up in our own lives, that many times the relationship we have and need
with our parents is overlooked or minimized.
Mary was a young woman when the angel appeared to her with the miraculous news that she would carry the Savior of the world. Thirty three years had since passed and she had seen her son be ridiculed, ostracized, and now beaten and spit upon. Imagine standing on the rock covered hill of Golgotha as they laid Jesus on the cross. Your son, your flesh and blood – beaten and disfigured. No longer the cute 3 year old boy you bounced on your knee, or the 7 year old boy helping you with chores, or the 20 year old young man working in the carpentry shop. No, here lay your son, charged with a crime he didn’t commit, sentenced to die a gruesome death. You hear the sound of metal striking metal as they drive the spikes through his hands. You hear your boy cry out in agony, and watch his body convulse. You want to run to his side, cover him, protect him – but you can’t, for this is why he was born; and deep inside you knew it was coming.
You can’t stop the flood of tears and your own sobbing as you watch them lift that cross and drop the post into a hole. Blood dripping down the wooden cross and pooling near the bottom. You look up into the glaring sun and see the bloodied scarred face of the young man you raised, nurtured and cared for his entire life. How could this be God’s plan? How could God want to destroy His own son? You recall the voice of the angel from so many years ago, “He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end.” – Luke 1:32-33 What had happened to this plan of becoming the King and reigning from the throne of David? Confusion sets in, this is not at all what was expected, but through it you know God is still in control.
In Jewish tradition the oldest male is responsible for the care, nurturing and well being of the parents as they get older. Jesus, as the oldest male child in his family, had this responsibility for caring for his mother. Even from the cross, while gasping for breath he has compassion on his mother. The woman who bore him, fed him, cared for him and raised him. He took his responsibility to ensure her comfort in life was not left to happen chance. He turns to one of His closest friends, his beloved disciple and passes on this responsibility. John was sitting near Mary, comforting her, while watching his Savior, his King be put to shame and death on a cross. He locks eyes with Jesus and accepts the responsibility to be adopted as her son and to care for her. This was Jesus final engagement with his mother, his disciples and humanity. His 3rd words from the cross closed the book on what he was sent to do. From this point on, he begins to prepare his spirit and soul for eternity with the Father.
Mary was a young woman when the angel appeared to her with the miraculous news that she would carry the Savior of the world. Thirty three years had since passed and she had seen her son be ridiculed, ostracized, and now beaten and spit upon. Imagine standing on the rock covered hill of Golgotha as they laid Jesus on the cross. Your son, your flesh and blood – beaten and disfigured. No longer the cute 3 year old boy you bounced on your knee, or the 7 year old boy helping you with chores, or the 20 year old young man working in the carpentry shop. No, here lay your son, charged with a crime he didn’t commit, sentenced to die a gruesome death. You hear the sound of metal striking metal as they drive the spikes through his hands. You hear your boy cry out in agony, and watch his body convulse. You want to run to his side, cover him, protect him – but you can’t, for this is why he was born; and deep inside you knew it was coming.
You can’t stop the flood of tears and your own sobbing as you watch them lift that cross and drop the post into a hole. Blood dripping down the wooden cross and pooling near the bottom. You look up into the glaring sun and see the bloodied scarred face of the young man you raised, nurtured and cared for his entire life. How could this be God’s plan? How could God want to destroy His own son? You recall the voice of the angel from so many years ago, “He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end.” – Luke 1:32-33 What had happened to this plan of becoming the King and reigning from the throne of David? Confusion sets in, this is not at all what was expected, but through it you know God is still in control.
In Jewish tradition the oldest male is responsible for the care, nurturing and well being of the parents as they get older. Jesus, as the oldest male child in his family, had this responsibility for caring for his mother. Even from the cross, while gasping for breath he has compassion on his mother. The woman who bore him, fed him, cared for him and raised him. He took his responsibility to ensure her comfort in life was not left to happen chance. He turns to one of His closest friends, his beloved disciple and passes on this responsibility. John was sitting near Mary, comforting her, while watching his Savior, his King be put to shame and death on a cross. He locks eyes with Jesus and accepts the responsibility to be adopted as her son and to care for her. This was Jesus final engagement with his mother, his disciples and humanity. His 3rd words from the cross closed the book on what he was sent to do. From this point on, he begins to prepare his spirit and soul for eternity with the Father.
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