A Personal Pentecost

This is a dramatic reading on the crucifixion, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus Christ from the viewpoint of the Apostle John.

It strikes me as odd realizing it’s been a year since the Shavuot after our Messiah’s crucifixion and subsequent resurrection. Some call the holiday Pentecost because it comes fifty days after Bikkurim or Firstfruit, the day our Messiah rose from the dead. It’s really beyond my comprehension how the Holy Spirit has added so many people to his church. Actually, now that I think about it, Jesus did say that one day we would be able to do more than he ever did. I remember thinking at the time, that was a bold and impossible statement. Yet, his Holy Spirit has really done that as it helps us convey to others that Jesus is the answer to what they are searching for.

I think back to how this all started for me. I was a mere fisherman. No one really important. Although, my father Zebedee having his own fleet of fishing vessels made me think I was important. Boy, did I have a lot to learn. Yet, Jesus called me to follow him, and he said he would make me a fisher of men. And, I guess, that is what he has done. Of course, my start was not so profound. I have always been passionate, but unfortunately, that passion was not always bridled very well. Thus, I was labeled a Son of Thunder. On the flipside, many also implied I was his beloved disciple. Yet, that, too, was not how it had always been. In the beginning, Jesus would tell me, “I love you, John, but . . .” These words would cut me to the core because what he was really telling me was that I had made another blunder.

Yet, over time, I took his words to heart, even though they were quite painful at the moment he spoke them. I tried desperately to do things differently and to bridle my passion and make it positive and not explosive. I remember the first time he cusp my neck with his hand and gave my cheek a peck, but now, his words were, “I love you, John” without that dreaded “but.” I can’t tell you how my heart soared, and that experience even made me long to become more diligent. I often woke early from my slumber and deeply pondered the meaning of his words as I lay there and listened to the birds starting their day.

Although I didn’t always understand his stories, I knew there was more to them than just the obvious. Yet, even when I understood, or thought I understood these stories, that did not prepare me for what was soon to come. Even though what occurred was foretold, that was not what we had been taught about how the coming Messiah would act or would do. Now, I definitely knew Jesus was our promised Messiah, but I guess I imposed what I was taught about the coming Messiah on him rather than really listening and understanding what he was trying to tell us about what he was going to do and what would happen to him. Dying was nowhere in our thoughts about what was going to happen to him. We never focused on those things in the prophetic Scriptures. Our Messiah was going to be a conquering Messiah and would become our king. This is what we wanted for Jesus. But that is not what happened.

His dying on the cross is still so vivid in my memory. I don’t think this memory will ever fade. His crown of thorns caused blood to trickle down his cheeks and chin and then onto his chest. It was so heart wrenching to watch. I can’t even explain the blood. There was just so much of it. I don’t think anyone could have endured so much agony as he did if they were merely human. If he had not been our Messiah, being both divine and human, he would not have even made it to the cross before he would have expired. To put it mildly, he was a bloody mess.

Mary, his mother, who had always treated me as a son, stood beside me with tears streaming down her cheeks. She tried to ignore all those who were hurling jeers and insults at him. Yet, it was almost impossible to ignore. Grief is a strange thing though as that memory is not as vivid as just seeing him suffer. What else is vivid is the darkness that descended upon this scene before us. It was almost like nature had joined in our suffering and sorrow and was now displaying our inward emotions for all to see.

Mary clung to me as if her very strength depended on me supplying it. I think that was the only way she made it through this awful ordeal. I can’t tell you how horrific it was to stand there unnerved as we looked up at him slowly dying before us. Through pained eyes, he looked at me and said, “Behold, your mother.” I almost gasped as this statement revealed he was thinking about her during the very last moments of his life. I nodded. Of course, I would do anything he asked of me. Yet, she was like a mother to me already, so it was not a burdensome request. Mary seemed to lose it, though, and she clung to me even more tightly as she lost almost all her strength understanding the finality of Jesus’ words.

I then saw one of the guards put something on a sponge and put it to his mouth. I thought it a hint of compassion as he was giving Jesus something to relieve his thirst. Maybe he was, but I soon realized it was more likely a playful distraction for the guards as they argued over who would do the deed. He then uttered, “It is finished.” As he uttered these words, he looked at me, his eyes so piercing, without even a blink. His expression turned almost serene, but I felt the obscenity of the event as I saw the spark in his eyes slowly go dim.

He was gone! How could this be? His work couldn’t be over. In whom would I now confide? I saw his head fall to his chest which caused more blood to spatter and cascade down from his cheek. His body was now just a shell. His words to Nicodemus later came to mind. He was now like that brass serpent Moses placed on a pole. Yet, the significance of this didn’t really register quite yet. Also, it was not until much later that I realized his Spirit was accomplishing the victory for us our souls needed. For now, it was just heartache. Mary hugged me tightly, still sobbing. Our senses were assaulted again as one of the guards rammed his spear into Jesus’ side with an upward thrust. Mary shrieked as the act startled her so. I wrapped my arms around her and buried her face into my chest as I didn’t want her to see the blood and water that gushed from the puncture wound now visible in his side. If I didn’t know he had already died, there was now no question as to his death.

Both Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus, two prominent members of the Jewish Sanhedrin and evidently secret disciples of his came forward and took his body down and placed him in a nearby tomb. This surprised me that they would be so bold now and do this. I was impressed that they were so gentle with his body. I knew Nicodemus had talked to the Messiah, but I never saw him at any of our gatherings. I did see Joseph occasionally when Jesus talked, but I had no idea he had now believed in Jesus. Most of the Jewish leaders didn’t. I was glad these two had finally gotten their courage to act. But it seemed a little too late to me. The tomb lay in a quaint place that had been made into a beautiful garden for someone of wealth. Quite fitting, I thought. Just then, we heard the shofar at the temple being blown announcing the Passover lamb had just been slain. I didn’t realize it at the time, but this symbolized a double vignette of offerings. Both the national pascal lamb and the true Passover Lamb of God were sacrificed. At this time, I had no understanding that this was all part of his plan for us, for the world, and of all we would gain eternally from his death. It’s not that he had not said or implied such, it’s just that my brain was not willing to go there while he was alive.

I, along with the other disciples, sequestered ourselves away. We were scared and really had no idea what to do or what to believe. Our minds were in such turmoil. Many of the women wanted to go back to the tomb and do their own anointing of Jesus’ body. Some of us tried to discourage them from doing so, but they were determined to show their devotion to him. Yet, it was three days after his crucifixion before they were able to do so due to the first day of Matzah, or Unleavened Bread, being a special Sabbath and then followed by the weekly Sabbath. None of us men went with them. We believed that if any of the soldiers guarding his tomb saw us, we would get arrested. Yet, the women could likely cajole the soldiers to let them into the tomb for a short time.

Not long after the women had left us, the door suddenly burst open. We all flinched and looked for a way to escape as we thought Roman soldiers had somehow found us. A couple of the women had returned and were beside themselves. “He’s alive!” they shouted. “We should not have doubted.” We all sat or stood dumbfounded. I was one of the first to leave and check this out. Peter was not far behind. I ran with all my might. Although quite a distance to the tomb, I didn’t stop for anything except seeing Mary Magdalene along the way. “I saw him,” she said. “He is risen, not dead. Go and see for yourself.” I rushed off, but her words did not compute in my mind. I could only think that someone must have stolen his body and Mary was confused. The faster I ran, the more livid I became that someone would steal our Master’s body like this. There had to be a way to make them pay for such cruelty. Yet, when I arrived, I first didn’t go in, but Peter did. When he came out, I went in as my anger had subsided and I became curious as Peter looked perplexed. My eyes grew wide upon seeing the facecloth folded neatly and set apart from the other linen. This meant his body was not taken in haste or inhumanely. Someone had taken a conscious effort to fold this linen. My heart leapt within me. Could it really be true? Was Mary not confused after all? Was he actually alive? I began to believe it. Our Master was alive!

Peter and I and the women all went back to the others. Everyone was in an uproar disputing what we had seen. Some believed and others were skeptical. Suddenly, with the door locked, Jesus stood among us. At first, we all jumped back. I was one of the first to step forward. He came up to me, gave me a hug, and said as he had done many times before, “John, I love you.” My eyes filled with tears as his hug calmed my doubts and fears. Then, all the others flocked to him and began to embrace him as well.

Unfortunately, he was with us for only forty days when he took us to the Mount of Olives, and we saw his ascension. I have to say, we were so unprepared for comprehending his instructions to us of, “Stay in Jerusalem.” Before we knew what was happening, he rose out of our sight and into the clouds. While angels did appear and tell us not to be flustered because, one day, he would return to us just as we saw him leave, their words only added to our tension and confusion as we had a hard time processing all of this.

Yet, in ten days, things became so much clearer as the Holy Spirit descended upon us in a mighty way on that Shavuot, or as some call it, Pentecost. I have no words to really tell you how I felt. Yet, the Holy Spirit gave us calmness and a boldness which I had never experienced before. Words to say just came to us. We apparently spoke in other languages, but all we knew was we were speaking words God gave us to say.

His plan for us is now so much clearer. We are to build his kingdom until he returns. Then all the prophecies that he did not complete when he was with us will be fulfilled when he returns because he is always true to his word and his word will never return to him void. All that he says or has said will come true. I continue to be a fisherman of souls and can only share what my Messiah shared with me. The answer to what each person is truly seeking for themselves is to respond and allow Christ to give them their own Pentecost just as he did for me and so many others.

And what about you? Are you willing to join us and be one of his disciples too? Have you had your Pentecost? All you have to do is do what I did. Accept his sacrifice. It is only through his sacrifice for us, for our sins, that we can now come to him in repentance and accept what he has done for us which we could not do for ourselves. Nothing we do now or even after we accept him is necessary or even effective. It is all through his work and not ours. Then the Holy Spirit comes and dwells with you and helps you to become more like him. Today can be your Pentecost. I had mine. Why not have yours today?

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Visit Books & Words to Inspire by Randy C. Dockens