What would it be like to sit on the mountain with your disciples
as you taught the Beatitudes?
What would it be like to see you come down from the mountain,
followed by great crowds, as a leper approached—
begging and kneeling before you, desperate for healing?
And you, with compassion, stretched out your hand, touched him, and cleansed him.
What would it be like to witness the encounter with the centurion in Capernaum,
when you were astonished by his faith and healed his servant at that very moment?
What would it be like to hear the whisper of the wind as you got into the boat,
with waves crashing around, and yet you chose to sleep?
Then you rose, rebuked the winds and the sea, and calmness filled the space.
What would it be like to see you enter the country of the Gadarenes,
where two demon-possessed men came out of the tombs,
crying out and calling you the Son of God?
They begged to be cast into a herd of pigs, and you granted their plea.
What would it be like to witness the paralytic lying on his bed, as his friends,
full of faith, tore apart the roof to lower him before you?
You forgave his sins and healed him.
And those who touched even the hem of your garment were made whole.
Would it be strange to see you reclining at the table with tax collectors and sinners?
Would it be unsettling to hear the Pharisees mock you from the corners,
only for you to remind them that you came not for the righteous, but for sinners?
Would it be overwhelming to see you perform miracles—healing the sick,
the lame leaping with joy, the blind seeing colors, the mute singing hymns, the dead rising from sleep, and the hungry fed and satisfied?
What would it feel like to sit under the tree and listen to you say,
"Deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow me"?
For whoever saves his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life
for your sake will find it—a paradox that weighs so heavily.
Perhaps I would be like Peter, denying you not once, but even more than three times. Or like the bystanders, unmoved by your words.
Maybe I wouldn’t have the courage to pour out expensive oil on your head,
displaying extravagant love and devotion.
But after all the miracles, what would it be like to march with you
to the Mount of Olives, singing amid the darkness before the crucifixion?
I wonder what your voice sounded like as you lifted your heart in praise.
What would it be like to catch a glimpse of you, in olive trees,
exceedingly sorrowful and troubled, yet fervently praying
and surrendering to the will of the Father?
What would it be like to continue turning the next pages of your story?
To see you delivered for crucifixion, mocked, laughed at, spat upon, and struck?
As you stood before the governor, accused by the chief priests,
you remained silent—not a word in your defense.
There was nothing to prove, and they were amazed.
A rare combination of gentleness and humility, paired with majestic dignity.
What would it be like to hear the crowds chant your name?
Condemning you to be crucified?
"Crucify him!"
"Crucify him!"
"Crucify him!"
"Crucify him!"
What would it be like to hear the horrific sounds of scourging?
The crack of the whip, as it tore into your flesh.
You, draped in a crown of thorns and a purple robe, like a prisoner mocked as a king. They came up to you, saying,
"Hail, King of the Jews!"—only to strike you in the face.
I wonder if this is what it truly means to take up the cross, deny myself, and follow you.
Wouldn’t life be horrific, like walking through the valley of the shadow of death?
And yet you chose to lay down your life for sinners, for sinners like me.
I wonder what it would be like to see you carrying the cross to
a place called Golgotha, and then to witness you being nailed to it
—accepting all the humiliation in the eyes of many as they cast lots for your garments.
Some hurled insults as they watched you, while the elders and priests mocked you, sneering, "He saved others, but he can't save himself."
Even the rebels crucified beside you heaped insults upon you.
And I wonder how terrifying it must have been when my favorite clouds were swallowed by darkness across the whole land,
as your cry pierced the silence: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"
Indeed, you endured it all—the hardship, the rejection, the unbearable loneliness.
A grief so sharp and heavy that you had to bear it alone.
Immediately one of them ran and took a sponge, filled it with sour wine put it on a reed, and offered it to you to drink. The rest said, “Let Him alone; let us see if Elijah will come to save Him.”
And then you cried again a loud voice, and yielded up your spirit.
What it would be like to see at that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom.
The earth shook, the rocks split and the tombs broke open.
The bodies of many holy people who had died were raised to life.
They came out of the tombs after your resurrection and went into the holy city and appeared to many people.
What would it be like to see people stand in awe of you, proclaiming,
"Truly, this was the Son of God"
Then you were buried.
From swaddling cloth to a linen shroud.
From Bethlehem to Jerusalem.
From praises to scorns.
From shepherds to soldiers.
From rejoicing to weeping.
Then—three quiet dawns.
I wonder, did you find rest in those three silent days?
And the cross leads me to the empty tomb, wiping away my tears, pain, and hurt.
I hear you whisper:
"I died for you so you can live for me.
I was crucified, but now I am the resurrected King!
And I’m always here, waiting for you to come
and embrace the gift of life I offer."
Amazing grace...
What would it be like to witness all of this and write it down?
Matthew, thank you for this first account of the Gospel.
As I read, I’m mesmerized, falling in love with Jesus once more, longing after Him. Who am I to wonder or question His ways?
It is written, and it is done.
After all, He just wanted to retell His story.
Would you be courageous enough to go?
Certainly, there is a promise in His Great Commission,
after all—that He will be with us until the very end.
"Therefore, go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely, I am with you always, to the very end of the age."
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