Lindsey Staton Life Coaching

What are you wearing?

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I am completely addicted to T-shirts.

I think my mom was hoping I’d grow out of it, but it’s only gotten worse with age. I was trying to figure out how to monetize this addiction. Maybe I could wear a sponsor’s T-shirt during one of my videos or speaking gigs. Ya think? Hello?

I have quite a stash of Star Wars T-shirts, of course. Plenty of cartoon and comic book characters. But my favorites are the ones that say stuff. Funny stuff. Inspiring stuff. Wearing words, communicating a message without the permanence of a tattoo.

When I was serving jury duty last year, I was nervously going through the metal detector coming back in after lunch. (Those things always make me nervous. I don’t know why.) I walked through and one of the security guard barked at me, “No!”

I jumped out of my skin and looked up anxiously, “No?” I had no idea what I had done but I was fully ready to apologize and throw myself at the mercy of the court.

He grinned and said, “YOUR story matters.”

I exhaled and giggled. My T-shirt was from the Storyline Conference I went to in Chicago a few years before. Dark blue, big white letters: YOUR STORY MATTERS.

My T-shirts are conversation starters. People ask me what they mean and we get to chat for a moment. We get to briefly connect.

The first time this ever happened was in high school. We went on a youth group ski trip and our leader had T-shirts made. The entire back of the shirt said: BE LIKE CHRIST.

I never wore that shirt without getting to talk about it with somebody. Not sure how well I did with that as a high schooler. It wasn’t a vague ‘God’ or a version of Christianity that was open for interpretation. Any of the names of Jesus leave very little wiggle room.

Whenever I come home from clothes shopping (which is pretty rare), I get to the end of my presentation and Brad says, “Okay, let’s see it. Where’s the gray T-shirt with writing on it?” And he’s undoubtedly right. (Except for the color. Sometimes I switch it up to blue.)

Since we didn’t have the kids for Christmas this past year, Brad took me on a cruise. I decide him to give him a surprise gift: a whole week with no T-shirts with writing on them. Packing took a little longer than usual, but I pulled it off.

I don’t think he noticed.

The funny thing is, on the cruise, I felt so stifled. I wasn’t communicating any message, inspiring anyone, challenging anyone or making anybody laugh with my T-shirt.

How wrong I was. Every move I made sent a message about who I was, what I believed and how much I loved whoever I believed in.

There’s a wonderful anonymity that goes with cruises. We had never seen any of those people before and likely would never see them again. I truly felt on vacation. No extra energy going out, no one I needed to invest in for the long term.

But old habits die hard. Our favorite bartender on the Lido deck, Diane, learned our favorite drinks and made any substitutions we wanted. We asked her about her family and got to know her. Our server in the dining room every night (I couldn’t pronounce his name), but we talked about his family, where he was from.

Second Corinthians 3:1-3 talks about the message we are SUPPOSED to be sending:

Are we beginning to commend ourselves again? Or do we need, like some people, letters of recommendation to you or from you? You yourselves are our letter, written on our hearts, known and read by everyone. You show that you are a letter from Christ, the result of our ministry, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts.

There are a couple things we are told to clothe ourselves in:

The Lord Jesus Christ (Romans 13:14).
Christ (Galatians 3:27).

Compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience (Colossians 3:12).
Humility (1 Peter 5:5).

So that’s two votes for Christ and two votes for humility. Actually it’s pretty much a unanimous New Testament vote because Jesus = humility (Philippians 2).

What does that look like? On the cruise, it did NOT look like being rude to the staff or talking down to the servers. And over the years, we’ve seen plenty of that. I tell my kids all the time: If they’re ever dating someone who is rude to someone serving them, RUN.

What messages is my life sending? Let’s take a look at yesterday, shall we?

Yesterday morning my actions told my daughter that she’s important to me when I got out of bed to let CJ teach me how to do the thing with the egg IN the toast. I had told her the night before that I wanted to watch her do it. I wasn’t feeling up to it when the time came BUT was smart enough to do it anyway. (Good move.)

Later that morning I communicated that you really don’t need to put your seatbelt on until the beeping sound annoyingly reminds you. (Mom fail.)

I told my body that I didn’t care how it felt when I (over)filled it with junk for lunch. (Weak sauce.)

I texted with a fellow mom, letting her know she wasn’t alone in her tween difficulties. (We should start a support group.)

I made an extra batch of muffins for my sweet neighbor which will hopefully make her feel loved and appreciated later today. (A small thing for some of my favorite people.)

I confessed my struggle to quit Diet Coke and asked for encouragement from my Facebook group. (Excellent pep talkers, my friends.)

A friend of mine probably felt not cared for when she texted in the middle of dinner prep and I told her I couldn’t talk. (Blew it there. Calling her later today.)

Syd got the message that I delighted in her when I laughed at something funny she said at dinner. (Brad did NOT get that message. I’d like to do that one over.)

Beau felt trusted and valued when I shared some important details about my day. (He’s an excellent listener. VERY trustworthy.)

What shirt was I wearing? My gray Wicked T-shirt that says “defy gravity.” Did that undo any of the damage done by my bad decisions? Nope. Actions speak louder than words, even ones on T-shirts.

My actions don’t just communicate about ME. I’m a Christian. My actions communicate about my God. How big is He in my life? Or maybe just HOW BIG IS HE? I believe in Him, but is my God worthy of my life looking different?

YES!!! YES, HE IS!!! Infinitely worthy. Unendingly loving. Unlimitedly powerful. Unquestionably holy.

Unless He comes up in conversation, people have to learn about my God by my actions. He is staking His reputation in the world and the perception of Him by unbelievers on those who call themselves His followers.

Lord, I know Your ways are perfect, but I gotta ask: Are You sure about that? I mean, we don’t always make You look so good.

I love words. Writing them, reading them, saying them, hearing them, editing them, arranging and rearranging them. But my words will never outweigh my actions. If my words and actions don’t line up, guess what will win. You got it. Actions.

What I am saying and what I am wearing are not nearly as important as what I am DOING. As my favorite line in Batman Begins says, “It’s not who you are underneath. It’s what you do that defines you.”

I’m thankful for grace, thankful for God’s power and ability to use this broken vessel to communicate His perfect, perfect love. My life is a billboard to the world. God paid for the advertising in full with the blood of His Son, Jesus.

And Jesus didn’t just say the words. He backed it up with every moment of His life, death and life again.

Be like Christ.

Easier said than done.

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Was blind but now I see

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I really hate not being able to see.

As I’ve mentioned before, I am totally scared of the dark, most likely for that reason. It’s not the DARK I’m afraid of, per se. It’s what I CAN’T SEE in the dark that scares me.

When Caroline was just a few months old, I had LASIK on my eyes because I was afraid of what might happen if there was an emergency in the middle of the night and I couldn’t get to my glasses or contacts. I was 20/1600 before the procedure, so functioning without some kind of help was impossible.

The LASIK worked and I did just fine for quite some time.

Until I didn’t.

For some reason, my eyes decided to not work together anymore about five years ago and I developed double vision. My eyesight deteriorated rapidly (nobody knows why) and I quickly reached the point where glasses would no longer be enough.

Surgery.

Unlike my two burn surgeries back in January, this one was planned and expected. And THANKS to the burn surgeries back in January, I had already met my deductible and as Joey says on Friends, “I can have all the free surgeries I want!” (Not exactly, but it helps.)

Of course the doctor had to run through all the worst-case scenarios. The one that stuck in my brain was, “If your eyes get infected after surgery, you could lose your sight.”

He went on to say how highly unlikely that was and he had done the surgery hundreds of times and that had never happened, but I didn’t hear much of it.

All I could think about was the Grand Canyon and how beautiful it was.

What if I never got to see what my kids looked like as adults?

I hadn’t seen Scotland, Ireland or Alaska yet.

What if I couldn’t READ anymore?

I thought about getting a hundred other ‘second opinions,’ but the surgery was going to have to happen at some point. And the longer I waited, the weaker my eye muscles.

I’m thankful to report that the surgery went beautifully. The doctor said it was absolutely textbook and he did not expect to have to go back in to make any adjustments. Four days out and I can see with my new prescription in my glasses, better than I’ve been able to see in YEARS.

My eyes don’t feel GREAT. But they work. And I’ve uncovered some superpowers that I didn’t realize that I had:

  1. I can do an excellent impression of someone who is NOT on Percocet, in short spurts.
  2. The ridiculously high threshold for pain that allowed me to sustain a third-degree burn without pulling away does NOT apply to my eyes. Pain meds take the edge off, but certainly don’t make it go away. Youch.
  3. I can take a shower with my eyes closed.
  4. I like listening to books on tape.
  5. Any weight I lose in a 2-3 week period I can, um, FIND again in 2-3 DAYS.

I also have a whole new respect for the phrase, “Perception is reality.”

I knew that what I saw wasn’t what was real or accurate. I knew that my vision was compromised and I was seeing an unclear picture of what actually existed. But it didn’t matter. My eyes were only capable of seeing blurry, double vision. And now that they are working properly, it’s hard to imagine seeing it any other way.

And the truth is, I honestly didn’t believe my eyes for a little while. Everyone kept asking me how many of things I was seeing after the surgery. It looked like one, but I know I can WANT things into existence. Or at least into perception.

Seeing what I want to see, believing what I want to believe has been part of my personality as long as I can remember. And I wasn’t sure if I was actually seeing one of something or I just really, really wanted to.

The spiritual gift of discernment is notably missing from my inventory. What I’m lacking in discernment, I make up for in an overabundance of faith and benefit of the doubt, even when I situation has not warranted it, even when people don’t deserve it. It can be endearing, but I regularly end up shocked and heartbroken that my loved ones and heroes have, as Brad says, ‘feet of clay.’

And I can see clearly now, but the process was not fun.

As uncomfortable as it is right now, I am absolutely thrilled with how well it worked. Kinda like those infomercial products. I can’t believe it actually worked!

The surgeon measured my eyes based on what I told him I was seeing. He plugged the numbers into a formula so he knew exactly how many millimeters each eye was off. He went in there, cut the muscles to the back of my eyes and reattached them with the right amount of tension to line my eyes up with each other. The fact that he lined them up perfectly on the first try is mind blowing.

And then the second part of the vision correction was glasses. He wrote me a prescription for new lenses a week before my surgery, based on what he THOUGHT it would be AFTER my surgery. I put them on when I got them back on Wednesday and seriously, it’s like watching HD TV for the first time. Double vision is completely gone and the nearsightedness is corrected with my glasses.

Brand new eyes. Eyes that see everything as it is, not how I THINK it is.

My eyes and brain are still getting used to working as a team instead of limping along on solo trips. Whenever I change what I’m looking at, my eyes have to refocus for a second or two, kind of like the autofocus on a camera. It’s not automatic yet. And it still hurts.

But I have no complaints.

Not being able to see is a terribly helpless feeling. Knowing that not even glasses nor contacts could make my broken eyes work was incredibly frustrating and scary. And the tiny prospect of the surgery not working completely took over my imagination and I feared waking up and seeing absolutely nothing.

I have a T-shirt that says ‘Be Thou my vision’ that I wore the day before my surgery. It’s one of my favorite hymns. Old English lyrics strung together in poetry. I think the melody is a traditional Scottish tune. When Brad and I got married, that song played while I walked down the aisle.

I pondered those words as I lay awake the night before. Be Thou my vision. What a bold prayer.

Lord, give me Your eyes. Let me see the world the way You do because Your perception TRULY IS reality.

You see difficult people as Your beloveds, made in Your image. You see the brokenness of this world as why Your Son died on the cross, to be redeemed someday. You see what it was created to be and what it will be again.

You see it all with perfect clarity, but You are not afraid. You knit me together in my mother’s womb, every piece of me, INCLUDING my eyes. All of their intricacies, all of the misshapen parts. You knew what I saw and You knew what I couldn’t see. And you gave my surgeon the ability to fix it.

I just wonder in what other ways my inaccurate perception distorts what I see. Certain problems are multiplied and they appear to be more/bigger than they are. Issues are unclear, the edges blurred until I can’t tell where one ends and another begins.

In what other ways do I need to let You make me really uncomfortable for the sake of being able to see clearly on the other side of that pain?

I can’t believe it worked. I can’t believe my eyes. I was blind but now I see. I see through my clear yet still flawed eyes.

And it’s beautiful.

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Tribes 2

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And the tribe continues to expand.

I’m sitting here in the guest room of Brad’s brother’s/sis-in-law’s house listening to, well, Brad snoring, and the early stirrings of my nephews as they try to drag themselves out of bed to make their tee time at the golf course.

Another wedding tomorrow. This time I sit on the groom’s side. Brad’s oldest nephew, John, is marrying Carson, his high school sweetheart. She’s been around about as long as I have, so I honestly don’t remember this family without her. She’s already in.

This family doesn’t really have many hoops you have to jump through. Any significant others, even the kids’ friends who get invited on beach trips are just…IN. First, as most importantly, Brad’s mom will friend/follow you on any social media account you may have. And you automatically have an open invitation to anyone’s home, even if you’re just passing through town WITHOUT the family connection.

(And then, of course, when the teenagers break up, the ex-boyfriend/girlfriend is out as quickly he/she was in, depending on how the family member feels. If the family member says they’re in, they’re in. And if the family member says they’re OUT, well, they’re VERY out. No questions asked. And I appreciate that loyalty. As it should be.)

Brad is officiating the wedding so we had John and Carson down to Orlando for the weekend for some pre-marital counseling. The goofy nephew I had seen with his cousins at holidays or summer vacations transformed into a MAN almost in front of my eyes.

(They all LOOK like men now, to be sure. But this kid-no-longer has his shit together. I was and am VERY impressed, but not surprised. This family is full of rockstar kids, which is why Caroline fits in so well.)

John and Michelle (parents of the groom) picked me up at the airport just before lunchtime yesterday, as I made my what-is-becoming expected trip up early to help with the last-minute stuff and provide moral support for the mama.

Michelle and I have ended up close friends and very-much sisters. I was remembering something Sydney and I were laughing about recently.

“You people are nuts,” I told Syd. “Seriously, this family is crazy.”

She laughed and wisely pointed out, “Hey, I was BORN into this family. I didn’t have a choice. YOU MARRIED IN. You CHOSE this. What does that make YOU?”

I busted out with fresh giggles. Nuts. Maybe even crazier than they are.

“Michelle!” I exclaimed. “We OPTED IN to this madness! What is the matter with us? And Carson is about to do the same thing!”

Well, come on in, girlfriend. And bring some chips and margaritas while you’re at it.

The families of the bride and groom have already melded seamlessly and tomorrow will make it official. It’s been nothing less than magical to watch.

And that’s the thing about tribes. They’re family BY CHOICE. Also by blood, in some cases. But the implication is a decision to join and be accepted by a team.

What I’m starting to realize is that marriage is not a one-time decision you stick by forever. It’s a daily, sometimes hourly, renewal of your vows. Even after the rings are on and the papers are signed, you choose each day what kind of relationship you’ll have.

High road or low road. Forgiveness or grudge. Kindness or judgment. Careful or careless. These marriage vows are made moment to moment, in the HEAT of the moment. And your marriage must be strong enough to endure the forging flames.

But of course, God knows what He’s doing.

The original decision is His. This person will bring out the truest version of this other person, expose them to the fire of sanctification, burn away the dross and reveal the gold so pure, God can see His reflection in it. Two precious metals, sanctified by grace, trials and tribulation, melded together. Forever. As one.

And ‘happily ever after’ is not accomplished AT the wedding, as Disney movies and fairy tales depict. ‘Happily ever after’ BEGINS at the wedding. From there, you fight for it.

Brad and I have a no-holds-barred approach to premarital counseling. Both of us wounded and seasoned veterans, we entered our second deployment with eyes wide open. And while it leads to sometimes tricky conversations about money, kids, families of origin, etc. we unapologetically point out areas of concern and potential difficulty in the budding marriage. Because nobody makes their best decisions when they’re caught off guard.

And I love this new tribe. More parents and grandparents. Two more sisters to adore, two brothers I have no idea what to do with and the next generation coming up before my very eyes.

I chose this. And I continue to choose it every single day.

Love you all. Congratulations, John and Carson. We love you and are so happy for you. And when the going gets tough, choose the other person again and again and again.

And know that your tribe is backing you up, choosing both of you, every single day.

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Just a little light

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A lot of people consider me a bleeding heart.

It’d be tough to argue with them. There aren’t many causes that I couldn’t pour myself into at a moment’s notice. All I have to do is watch one video, hear one story, learn one statistic and I can be fanatical about change.

I tend to throw around more time and money than is necessary or even healthy, sometimes not even knowing if it made any difference.

But recently, I got a lesson on how far just a little bit of light can go.

Several weeks ago, I posted on Facebook about a friend of mine. Mom of five, no degree, no job, married to someone who moved out years ago and completely dependent on his whims to put money in her account to care for their family. He wouldn’t divorce her, make the car payments (so the car got repossessed) and child support was determined by what kind of mood he was in (they’ve been evicted several times).

Some people would look at that and say things like: Well, these are the consequences of her choices. Doesn’t she know she can just go to the courthouse and demand things? Why doesn’t she do something about it?

First of all, I’m really glad Jesus doesn’t always make me lie in the beds I make. Secondly, after being so trapped for years, you forget that you are capable of being free. You shame yourself for getting into this mess and you stay paralyzed with fear and regret. That’s why.

She and I had lost touch over the past several years. I hadn’t heard from her in a while but just assumed things had gotten better. Then I talked to a mutual friend who brought me up to date and I found out things were worse than ever.

Social media is a double-edged sword, to be sure. I love keeping up with friends and family that I don’t see much anymore. But honestly, it probably does more harm than good.

BUT… I’m friends with some amazing people. And if you don’t ask, the answer is always no, right?

So I asked. Posted to Facebook, explained the situation, listed the needs and asked if anyone had any ideas.

Well.

Even if I wasn’t a ridiculous optimist, my faith was restored in humanity.

Out of the woodwork came high school friends, college friends, former coworkers, coaching clients, friends of my parents, friends of my kids. People I had seen the day before and people I hadn’t spoken to in 20 years.

Lawyer friends were sending me PDFs of paperwork to file. Women who survived similar situations got on the phone with her. People sent money, gift cards, well wishes. Some people gave a lot. Some people gave a little. But it seriously added up. And of all the people who contributed ANYTHING, only one person actually knew HER.

You know what this tells me?

1) What I already know: I am friends with some amazing people.
2) People WANT to HELP and GIVE.

Time, money, advice, suggestions. My friend who felt alone, abandoned and powerless suddenly had a surge of hope. And believe me, there is nothing more dangerous than HOPE. It makes you feel like a superhero.

Did we raise enough money to hire a lawyer, buy her a house and by her a car? Nope. But God used that injection of hope from people all over the country to remind her of His love, which she was seriously starting to doubt.

I’ll tell you what else it did. That rush of hope got the ball rolling that quickly picked up momentum.

She had a great phone conversation with a woman who had been in a similar situation.
She managed to bum a ride downtown to file the paperwork for immediate child support.
She opened her own bank account in her name and put the donated money in it.
She was given the name of a family law attorney who gave her free legal advice.
She was able to buy a couple of her kids some much-needed new shoes.
She met with a career specialist who is helping her with her resume.

My friend felt trapped because if she went through the state for child support, her husband would get mad and (temporarily) stop giving her money (which she had been through before). That little bit of cushion gave her the confidence to move forward without fear of retribution. (And her husband is at a total loss for how she’s buying groceries.)

It shows what just a teeny bit of light can do.

In overwhelming situations, I often feel so hopeless that I offer nothing. Because I can’t fix it all, I don’t help with ANYthing.

A great reminder what God can do with a couple fish and loaves of bread.

Also a great reminder that maybe we can’t solve homelessness, but we can give one person a boost. We may not be able to rescue every single victim of human trafficking, but we can save THAT one and THAT one, provide her with shelter, food, therapy and job training. We may not be able to overcome the corruption that keeps Haiti starving, but we can supply jobs and purchase products that empower individuals and families to survive.

Most people gave between 20 and 50 dollars. What difference could that make? Well, it showed my friend that someone cared about her. And combined with other 20s and 50s, it became enough to change the trajectory of my friend’s life and her children’s lives.

Codependent people like me get easily sucked into extreme helping. And my husband knows this bleeding heart well. He gently reminded me to not put pressure on myself to fix EVERYTHING (which I needed and appreciated) and so God was able to show me what He can do with just a little SOMEthing. ANYthing.

So for those of you who gave, know that you saved a life. Whether you gave $20 or $200, whether you gave time, advice or gift cards, you SAVED HER LIFE. And we have no idea what God will do through her when she no longer has to worry about food or clothing.

You changed the game, you lit up her future when she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face because of the crushing darkness.

When Jesus looked up and saw a great crowd coming toward him, he said to Philip, ‘Where shall we buy bread for these people to eat?’ He asked this only to test him, for he already had in mind what he was going to do.

Philip answered him, ‘It would take more than half a year’s wages to buy enough bread for each one to have a bite!’

Another of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, spoke up, ‘Here is a boy with five small barley loaves and two small fish, but how far will they go among so many?’

Jesus said, ‘Have the people sit down.’ There was plenty of grass in that place, and they sat down (about five thousand men were there). Jesus then took the loaves, gave thanks, and distributed to those who were seated as much as they wanted. He did the same with the fish.

When they had all had enough to eat, he said to his disciples, ‘Gather the pieces that are left over. Let nothing be wasted.’ So they gathered them and filled twelve baskets with the pieces of the five barley loaves left over by those who had eaten. John 6:5-13

Philip said, “We can’t feed everyone. So what’s the point in feeding ANYone?”
A little boy said, “Well, all I have is my lunch, but you can have it.”
Andrew said, “It’s not much, Lord. But this is what we have to work with.”
Jesus said, “It’s plenty!”

Thankfully when I was feeling like Philip, God surrounded me with Andrews. And my friend is on her way to a new life.

There are no words to express her gratitude. It was no less than a God-given miracle to her. She took it to heart and is using it to fund her fight for freedom.

And her heart is not the only one that was changed. Thank you all for reminding me what just a little light can do.

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Thursday night

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John shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The evening had taken a strange and unexpected turn.

They were all together for the Passover meal. Jesus had led the prayers, songs and stories. John always loved to watch Him tell stories of ancient Israel. His eyes would dance and sparkle, almost as if He were there and describing it from memory. Every word He said seemed alive.

But not tonight.

Tonight there was an unfamiliar weight to His words and heaviness to His voice. His eyes didn’t light up with excitement. In fact, they almost seem to stare off into the distance, looking at something the rest of them couldn’t see.

Then Jesus had said something about a traitor. Peter had nudged John and told him to ask their Leader who it was. John was never far from His side and tonight was no exception.

Without giving it much thought he had inquired of Jesus for clarity. Peter seemed particularly uncomfortable and wanted to put whatever he was worried about to rest. Maybe it was something about what Jesus had said before. Something about a rooster.

Jesus didn’t answer but slowly turned His all-seeing eyes to Judas across the table, who instantly transformed into a scared animal caught in a trap. Jesus had kindly whispered, “Friend, do what you came here to do.”

And with that, Judas bolted out of the room like he had seen a ghost. The disciples looked at each other in confusion and waited for Jesus to explain what had happened.

He didn’t.

But whatever it was solidified the countenance of their Rabbi. John studied His face, His eyes.

Was that… fear? Was Jesus actually afraid?

Surely not. Of all the misadventures He and the disciples had been on together, He was never afraid. Frustrated, angry, tired, sad. But never afraid.

But this was a new expression and John didn’t like the look of it. He leaned in to His beloved Friend.

“Lord… ?”

Jesus rose, eyes still on the table. “I must go and pray now. I must speak with My Father.” The rest of the group quickly scrambled to their feet.

Moments later, Jesus dismissed all but Peter and John. John watched Jesus bid His friends good night. There was an unsettling urgency in His behavior that John couldn’t quite put his finger on, as if He wanted to tell them all something desperately important, but couldn’t.

Jesus led a silent walk to the Mount of Olives. John and Peter stayed a few steps behind Him but not a word was uttered.

John looked at Peter, who was uncharacteristically quiet. He usually had plenty to say and was terribly animated about it. But his normally confident swagger had changed into a timid pace. Inner turmoil oozed out of his pores and his eyes darted over the mount before them.

John considered asking Peter what he was thinking but decided against it. He was sure it would come out at some point. Peter just couldn’t keep anything to himself for too long.

The trio reached a certain spot and suddenly Jesus turned around.

John instinctively reached for Peter to make sure he was paying attention. Peter visibly jumped when John touched his arm. This was getting ridiculous.

But before John could question Peter, Jesus spoke up.

“Dear brothers…” He began tenderly. Then His voice caught. He struggled to maintain His composure before clearing His throat and beginning again, raising His eyes to meet theirs, “My brothers, my friends. Stay here and keep watch for Me.”

“Lord,” John began, genuinely confused, “what are we watching for?”

Jesus gave him a tiny smile. “Just keep watch, John. I will go a little farther up and pray.” He patted John’s arm comfortingly, but somehow John wasn’t comforted. He watched his Rabbi disappear into the brush, shoulders slumped as if He carried the weight of the world on His back.

John’s heart was beginning to race and he had no idea why. Turning to his friend, “Peter, what – ?”

“Just leave it alone, John!” Peter snapped harshly. “I mean…” his voice dropped to a regular tone and he looked away, “just leave HIM alone.” He plopped down on the ground and leaned back onto a large rock, gazing forward at nothing in particular.

That means PETER wants to be left alone. John shook his head and sat down next to his friend in silent support.

Rarely was anything left unsaid among the three. Peter was outspoken and impetuous, never holding back. Jesus seemed to confide more in Peter and John than the rest, for some reason. He had called Peter His rock but John knew that he was Jesus’ favorite.

He joined his fellow disciple in leaning against the stone. It had been a long day. Jerusalem was more crowded than usual for Passover. The welcoming crowds had become skeptical in the last day or so. Normally they could barely make it down the street because people were constantly coming up to Jesus. But the past 24 hours seemed devoid of eye contact. Everyone seemed to shuffle away from Jesus, which made for more efficient travel but the Teacher’s spirits seemed to slowly drop along with the number of His previously enthusiastic supporters.

John began to replay the recent events in his mind. They had just been to see Martha, Mary and Lazarus. Martha outdid herself with the meal, per usual, and Lazarus ate heartily, which never failed to make John smile.

He had seen Lazarus walk out of the tomb, still wrapped in his grave clothes. It was a sight he would never forget. It was a turning point in their journey with Jesus. Those who hadn’t believed suddenly did and everything seemed to pick up speed from there.

John had been uneasy about coming back to the City. Rumors of disgruntled Pharisees spread among the people and no one wanted to get on THEIR bad side. The Romans stayed out of their religious lives for the most part, mainly insisting on peace and taxes, but they remained an unwelcome presence among YAHWEH’s chosen people.

His eyes began to droop as the exhaustion of the day overtook him. Peter was already snoring loudly and John decided to just let him sleep. Maybe his friend was just tired. Rest would surely do him good. Things always look better in the morning.

John’s mind continued to wander until his thoughts turned into dreams.

He was in the clouds suddenly and before him was a Rider on a white horse. The horse looked angry and his Rider looked right at John with eyes aflame. John tried to say His Name, but was struck silent, desperately trying to form words that would not come.

Blood dripped from the white robe of the Man and the horse stamped the ground impatiently. The Rider reached out and touched the horse’s broad, muscular neck and the animal instantly stilled… like the storm on the sea…

The blood though… the blood…

Suddenly, a familiar Voice woke him from his nerve-wracking dream, “The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.” He jumped up, startled, to see Jesus standing next to him, eyes considering a smile and then deciding otherwise.

“Rabbi,” John greeted Him. He felt a strange thickness in the air. Heavy. Mighty. Terrifying. He saw his Friend in a new light although all three were enveloped in a choking darkness. John’s spirit stirred like the horse in his dream. There was a war going on. Invisible. And silent.

John squinted in the darkness and took a step forward as he strained to see Jesus. His face came into focus and John gasped.

“Rabbi…” his voice trailed off, trembling and he could only point at Jesus’ head while he fought back a wave of nausea. Horrific as it was to behold, John could not tear his eyes away and wondered if he were still asleep.

He struggled for words. “Rabbi,” he choked out, “You are… bleeding…”

Tiny dark spots had gathered on Jesus’ forehead before, mingled with sweat, ran down His tear-stained face. And the moon came out from behind a cloud landing squarely on Him, momentarily lighting the color of the perspiration to blood red.

John began to feel dizzy and fell forward on his hands and knees, trying to catch his breath.

“Oh John,” Jesus quickly reached up and, one hand at a time, swiped at His brow with His palms almost as an apology. “I am… I AM… I am… deeply troubled.”

John stared in continued terror as his Friend, his Teacher, his Lord as He opened His palms and looked him square in the eye with such intensity, it almost physically hurt. John

looked panic-stricken in Peter’s direction, only to find him still sound asleep.

He looked back. There before him stood Jesus, His bloody hands and forehead mirroring the blood-marked doors of every home they had passed that day. A smear of lamb’s blood had been ritually painted on the doorframe to signal the sacrifice that saved them all from certain death.

One mark at the top and one on each side. John’s eyes widened even more. His mind was spinning out of control.

Then another familiar voice echoed in his head. John the Baptist, “Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!”

The lamb… the LAMB…

John clutched his head, as if to keep his brain from falling out. Not Jesus. Not HIS Jesus. He was going to be King! This couldn’t be happening.

Jesus remained perfectly still, hands still open displaying the blood and began to whisper all too familiar words:

On the tenth day of this month each man is to take a lamb for his family… The animals you choose must be males without defect… Take care of them until the fourteenth day of the month, when all the members of the community of Israel must slaughter them at twilight…. Then they are to take some of the blood and put it on the sides and tops of the doorframes of the houses where they eat the lambs…

John heard a noise in the distance. The sound of voices. He looked in the direction of what he heard and saw torchlights glistening. The voices did not sound friendly. He strained to hear.

Judas?

Jesus continued, His voice rising slightly over the noise.

On that same night I will pass through Egypt and strike down every firstborn of both people and animals, and I will bring judgment on all the gods of Egypt… I AM the LORD… The blood will be a sign for you on the houses where you are, and when I see the blood, I will pass over you…

“Peter!” John hissed. “PETER!” His friend stirred, mumbled something and clutched is sword, then stilled.

The voices were getting closer. What was happening? WHAT WAS HAPPENING?

Jesus raised His voice again, squeezed His eyes tighter still as if feeling excruciating pain from an invisible source and continued,

This is a day you are to commemorate; for the generations to come you shall celebrate it as a festival to the Lord—a lasting ordinance. 

Jesus suddenly opened His eyes, looking straight into John’s soul. The fear melted away for just a moment and His face set like flint.

“Behold,” the Lord stated loud and clear for all to hear, “the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.”

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