Thursday night

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.”