Hi MODs! Since today is Good Friday, I thought I would share a post from my blog that I wrote last year at this time. Maybe it will help focus your thoughts this Easter weekend—it’s certainly a reminder that I need as well.

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Over coffee one morning recently, I read the part of the Easter story when Jesus stood before Pilate (found in Luke 23). This chapter of the Bible tells how Jesus was ping-ponged back and forth between trials—first before Pilate who couldn’t find any fault in him, then to Herod who mocked him and sent him back to Pilate, then to Pilate a second time. Still, Pilate could find no wrong in Jesus, but because Pilate was a weak leader and a coward, he ordered Jesus to be flogged and killed, releasing a thief and a murderer instead of Jesus.

The whole time, Jesus stood silently, not answering his accusers. Not saying a word to defend himself.

I thought about how quickly I jump to defend myself, how I always have something to say, especially when I feel backed into a corner. If anyone was backed into a corner, it was Jesus. False accusations flew all around him, and yet, he did not respond.

I sometimes wonder why. Why did he just stand there and take it? Why didn’t he just bring the temple crashing down on them all? Why didn’t he at least laugh at them and tell them that their day is coming?

Humility. Jesus knew that this was his time and that no answer he could give would save him from what he had come to do. Jesus knew that he was the only one who could set the world free, but in order to do that, he had to endure suffering, mocking, torture, and humility.

As I wrapped up my time in the Bible that morning, my coffee cup in my hand, I started to imagine what it might be like to have Jesus sitting at my kitchen table with me. His physical scars healed, yet still visible. His compassion showing through his eyes. His love overflowing.

And I wondered what I would say to Jesus.

I would tell him about my friend who is in a place of intense spiritual warfare. I would ask him to help another who is suffering with mental illness. I would ask him to help another who is struggling financially after a divorce.

Surely he knows the people I love who are hurting.

And I would tell him all about the incredible blessings in my life—my husband, my daughters, my family, my friends. We could talk for hours about the blessings.

Then I would take his hand, open his palm, trace the scars, and whisper, “Thank you.”