04/18/2025
Friday: The Crucifixion
Friday has come.
Jesus’ fate lies on the hill of Golgotha.
Already beaten and whipped and more, He’s loaded down with His own cross to carry.
There isn’t a ton that scripture tells us where Mary is during this time.
But I don’t think it needs to really.
It tells us she was there. At the cross.
Her own son’s death, crucifixion.
And I think that says enough.
She watched Him be nailed to a tree, spat on, mocked, and worse.
She stood as He hung there for hours, life slowly leaving His body.
And she knew that this was all part of the plan, that this day would come.
But still nothing can prepare you for that.
She is “THE” Mary, the mother of Jesus.
But I imagine their relationship felt much like the relationship of a regular mother and son to her.
She carried Him, felt His kicks in her belly.
She nursed Him, clothed Him, raised Him up and cared for Him daily.
She knew WHO He was, but I wonder if to her, He also just felt like her son at times.
I imagine she was a safe space for Him.
Somewhere to crash and let it all out.
Almost like he could take off the “Messiah” hat and just be Jesus, her son, for a minute.
If He could fall deep into the arms of His mother and feel peace.
Feel at home. Feel cared for in a way only she could.
Mary followed Jesus to Calvary.
And as He neared death, hanging on a cross for the world, every single one of us –
He remembered His mother, made preparations for His mother.
He has this quick exchange like -
“Mom, meet my disciples, your sons”
“Disciples, meet my Mom, she’s yours now.”
And they took care of her.
Even in His death, He made sure His mom was taken care of.
And He dies.
Hung on a cross, for you and for me.
And for Mary, His own mother.
Her SON turned SAVIOR.
This is a hard one, one I've had to mentally prepare myself to walk through.
To put myself in the shoes of.
It has just about wrecked me.
And as I sit down to get my thoughts out I'm holding back tears and the heaviness on my chest is almost unbearable.
I am a mother.
I have a son of my own. He’s three.
He’s momma’s boy, He’s my youngest, my baby.
He loves Jesus, much less WAS Jesus.
Can you imagine?
Right now I follow Him to the fridge for the umpteenth snack he’s requesting for the day and to rescue Him from things he shouldn’t be doing in the first place.
But Mary couldn’t rescue Jesus.
She had to give Him up, sacrifice her only son, for our filth.
Follow Him to Calvary, to die on a cross.
And for people so cruel, the very ones killing Him, He also died for.
I have all the normal parental fears, feel all the normal pressure and worry.
Am I raising Him right? Teaching Him the right things? Instilling all
the Jesus in Him that I possibly can?
Preparing him for life, for friendships, for a wife one day?
But can you imagine raising Jesus?
The pressure, the fear, the worry I imagine Mary had at times.
But she did it with willingness and grace –
From accepting what God had for her in that pregnancy.
To accepting what God had for her son. Accepting what she watched on that hill that day.
Beginning to end, Mary did her best.
And she was willing.
With God by her side, she did what was asked of her, for her son.
And really, for the world.
As women, as moms –
Are we stewarding our kids toward Jesus?
Are we loving our kids the way I imagine Mary loved Jesus?
Are we breathing life, breathing Jesus into the hearts and minds of our children?
The hardest job I have is being a mom.
But the most rewarding job I have is being a mom.
Am I accepting this role with grace as Mary did?
Showing gratitude enough because He gave these children to ME?
Putting the world aside, my fears aside, myself aside to raise the next generation of Christians?
Turning the tv off, the phone off, shutting off the noise to focus on my children?
Following Jesus closely enough myself that my kids see Jesus through me?
Taking them to church? Teaching them His word?
Speaking life into them with our words, the songs they hear, etc?
Are we trusting God with our children?
Are we willing to put ourselves aside as their parents, turn them over to the Lord, that He may use them as He sees fit?
I strive to be the kind of mother I imagine Mary was.
I wonder – what was it like to be in the shoes of Mary of Nazareth?
Shared from Courtney Melton
