Stations of my heart

It’s Holy Week. And as some Christian traditions walk the Stations of the Cross, I am reading through the Easter story and I am recognizing the stations of my heart, through Jesus’ disciples.

Palm Sunday — Station of Awe

Sometimes my heart cries ‘Hosanna in the Highest!’. It bows in awe and adoration of the King of kings. My heart sees Jesus seated on the throne at the right hand of the Father, with all of his majesty and glory on display.

Maundy Thursday — Stations of Weariness, Rebellion, Fear

Like Jesus’ disciples in the Garden of Gethsemane, I can become weary and tune out. Like Judas—and for less than thirty pieces of silver—I betray Jesus, who said: ‘The one who has my commands and holds on to them is the one who loves me’. And like Peter, my heart can become fearful to the point of denying my Lord.

Good Friday — Stations of Boldness and Grief

There are times when I, like Simon of Cyrene, take up my cross, being yoked to the instrument of Jesus’ death. Like Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus, I sometimes offer my resources to honor Jesus. And like these men and the women who witnessed Jesus’ death, I am appalled by what my sin required of ‘He who knew no sin’. At the same time, I am emboldened by the way Jesus faced death and by the gift of his life. There is no greater gift than this: that a man lay down his life for a friend.

Sunday — Stations of Confusion and Doubt, then Worship

Where is the Lord, this conquering King? Why doesn’t he meet my expectations and deliver me from the devastation of Sin? Is Jesus really the one? Is Jesus really alive? First, the women. Then the disciples. And finally Thomas. All struggled with disbelief. But when doubt is swept away by a blessed assurance, I can confess along with Thomas: ‘My Lord and my God’.

Consistently, Jesus pastored his disciples through Holy Week. And he is my pastor wherever my heart happens to be.