April 10 - Post Easter

Last week I imagined what it would have been like to be a friend of Jesus when he walked, as man, here among us.  I acknowledged that I would have been a fickle friend – keen to know him in the good times, disillusioned when I began to realise he wasn’t following the path I wanted, betrayed and angry when he allowed himself to be so easily put to death.  I sadly confessed that though I might have a friend in God I wouldn’t have, and might not still today, be that great a friend in return.

So how might it have been to be a friend of Jesus this side of Easter?  Word would have begun to spread that Mary had seen him – really seen him!  "What, really?!  Where?!  I don’t understand, how can it be Jesus?!" I would feel the excitement begin to build.  As more and more people said ‘it’s true, he has risen!  It is him, but more...different...holy!" I would be caught in the wave of joy and excitement, I’d run to each place people said he had been or would be. 

And then I’d see him.  And I’d remember.  Oh God!  I’d abandoned him.  I’d been angry at him and I’d walked away.  I’d even cursed him, so betrayed had I felt by his failure in my eyes to be the king he promised.  I’d try to shrink back into the crowd.  "Don’t let him see you!" my inner voice would cry. 

But it would be too late.  He would turn to me.  He would look, straight into my eyes and ask, "do you love me?"  "Yes", I’d whisper.  "Oh despite all I have done, yes!"  A smile would consume his face, "then I am yours and you are mine.  All is forgiven."

It’s funny, it doesn’t seem to matter if I knew Jesus then, or now.  If I was his follower on dusty feet 2000 years ago or am following his spirit’s guidance today.  The story is the same.  I have failed God.  But, even when it might seem otherwise, he has never failed me.  And he is always waiting, waiting to forgive my sins and welcome me home.