Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: SOCIAL (04/07/16)
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TITLE: Jesus My Friend | Previous Challenge Entry
By Brenda Rice
04/14/16 -
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The pain inside me forced its way toward my heart that was already broken. Grief like nothing I’d ever known griped me. “Oh God, why did Jesus have to die?” I asked out loud. Hoping God would answer immediately.
Then I remembered. He told us He would die. He told all of us, but we didn’t comprehend His message. I know I struggled to grasp His teachings during the last days we were all together.
Remembering, I let my mind look back over the time since Jesus healed me from seven demons and all kinds of infirmities. I followed Him like a desperate sheep follows its shepherd. I soaked in every word He taught. He became more than a teacher to me, He became my friend.
In the early days His mother, Mary, His sisters and His brothers followed Him, too. We were there most of the time when He called His disciples. Before long we were like a group of friends enjoying companionship, and learning to love each other by seeing the way Jesus loved.
Thinking back, I remembered when Jesus called Matthew, the tax collector to follow Him. We went to the hated tax collectors house for a meal. Matthew called his friends, tax collectors too and everyone enjoyed being with Him. Fellowship was never sweeter than in His presence.
I miss Him so much. How can I go on without Jesus? I’m hated in most social circles. Oh, the disciples have accepted me, but they are scattered like a covey of quail. Who knows what they will do now.
When Jesus was traveling about the region choosing His disciples, He often visited His good friend, Lazarus and his sisters, Mary and Martha. They were great hosts. Well Martha was the worker-bee while Mary sat at Jesus’ feet listening as He spoke. Martha complained that Mary was not helping her tend to the needs of their guests.
The last time we visited there, Mary poured perfumed oil all over Jesus. When Martha protested, He replied that Mary was performing a necessary ritual for His burial. Everyone thought that an odd response, but it was true.
Jesus loved the crowds that crushed in on Him every day. The disciples grew weary of them and sometimes tried to send them away, but Jesus made time for everyone. The children were especially dear to Him. I watched Him as He held them, touched their dirty little faces and prayed for them. Love—love not of this world.
As for me, I loved Him with my whole heart. I looked for ways to show Him my love and make His days easier. One glance from Him and my efforts were rewarded. He saw me like no man ever saw me before. He made me clean and pure again. All I have left of Him is the peace He gave me. Peace that no one can take away.
There was electricity in the air on the mountain the day they killed Him. Only John was there of the twelve. Mary, His mother and I, and a few others stayed, but it was horrible. My heart broke for Mary. What an amazing woman; her faith in her son never faltered.
At the end, when the air became violent and the earth shook Jesus cried out to John, “John receive your mother. Mother receive your son.” I cried uncontrollably. I thought, He’s hanging naked, humiliated, in agony and yet, He made provision for His mother.
If only the Romans and Jews could have known Him like I did. If only they could have seen into His Godly heart and realized how much He loved His people. If just once, they could have sat around a table with Jesus and listened to His words, things could have been so different.
My name is Mary Magdalene. Jesus was my friend.
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