Walk With Me #Deararn.

Mary was young, maybe teenage when the angel came visiting. She became the custodian of Gods heart from that encounter. Heaven trusted her womb to carry the Saviour of the whole world. She was given the brief and her response till date leaves me in awe.

And the angel came in unto her, and said, Hail, thou that art highly favoured, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women. And when she saw him, she was troubled at his saying, and cast in her mind what manner of salutation this should be. And the angel said unto her, Fear not, Mary: for thou hast found favour with God. And, behold, thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a son, and shalt call his name Jesus. He shall be great, and shall be called the Son of the Highest: and the Lord God shall give unto him the throne of his father David: And he shall reign over the house of Jacob forever; and of his kingdom there shall be no end. Then said Mary unto the angel, How shall this be, seeing I know not a man? And the angel answered and said unto her, The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the Highest shall overshadow thee: therefore also that holy thing which shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God. Luke 1:28-35)

She pretty much said to the angel, ‘consider it done.’ Please tell me what kind of a wiring will make young Mary have such depth? Let’s just say that the angel already acknowledged that she was full of grace. And faith is by grace.

Do you sometimes wonder how destiny makes his house calls? Have you ever imagined that you were on his list?

Let us meet Simon of Cyrene. He was one of those we would term "waka pass" (one who makes a cameo appearance) characters in a role play. He got a one-liner mention in the History of life, but wait, that is all needed for destiny to come calling. The account was reported in three of the four gospels; his feature is easy to pass unless you are probing.

The sun was sitting in all its strength on Friday afternoon, but a few hours before the ceremonies would kick off. That many were hurrying to the city, and human traffic was at its peak was part of the drama. But, despite the hustle and bustle, an event was playing out, and no one could claim not to notice. It was the 'prophet', the thorn in the flesh of the Temple's elders, bearing a cross. He was making his way to the place of the skull. There was noise and chatter alright, some mocking and jeering, others basking in the euphoria of the moment. Jesus' sympathizers were confused and sorrowful; he was bloodied, weary and worn. The creator of the world was being dragged by his creation, punished for the sins he did not commit and declared worthy of death by those who should be pleading for mercy. As far as the people knew, he was an impostor and needed to be rid of. They were doing just fine before he came to make strange claims and introduced unacceptable doctrine. Worse still, he had the crowd's interest and even got many to subscribe to his teachings. The temples were thinning out because congregants found the new sensation, and the priests and elders were miffed. They were losing face to the new itinerant preacher, which was hardly suitable for their exalted positions.

Imagine the custodians of the book of the law could not discern that what they read daily was living among them. He had compelling presentations, and hearts were shifting by the droves. There was no denying the power that came with his speeches, and his followers could not be dissuaded. How does one person come on the scene and make nonsense of their essence? 

Why fight who came to help you? Did you not know you needed a Savior? Why preach a message you do not believe in and cannot defend? Did you need to rubbish the person who claimed to know just because you don't? Questions I would love to ask the Pharisees and elders of the Temple if we get to see them. We may have already met. The ones in the days of Jesus may have since been long gone, but their descendants remain and have no problems carrying on the tradition.

Judas, the son of Iscariot, was the only southerner amongst Jesus' disciples. To have made it to one of the twelve, we can deduce that he had innate attributes that qualified him for the Master's pick. Like the other eleven, his brief was first to be with Jesus and then to make disciples of men. They were together with the master day and night, save when they were sent to the city on a mission trip. 

True, there was Peter, James and John, men we can call the first three, but there was Judas, the treasurer. Considering that money was an essential part of their ministry, being trusted to take charge of the purse reveals volumes. We were not told that Judas had any prior experience (Mathew was a tax collector) with keeping funds, but neither did the others know their new mission. We would be safe if we concluded that with the Master's training, they would get the necessary skills. The analogy would be fine if the bible were not careful to note that Judas was a thief who now and again helped himself with the contents of the coffers. Why, then, would the Master put him in charge? We may never know the answer to the question, but we can rest in the fact that God's ways are higher than man's.

How can a man spend three years hearing the many messages on life and heart matters and be unregenerated? So Judas was not only calculating, but he was also evil. 

Let us call it the secret place of Jesus. The Bible tells us it was His custom to withdraw to the garden so He could commune with the Father. We know that He had a regular time and place for prayer. We also know that He did something once heaven endorsed it.

We may want to ask. What is it about having a prayer place and time? Does it mean God would not hear us otherwise? On the contrary, it is the force of habit. The art of separating ourselves into specific locations signals that we consider prayer crucial to life and value our time with God. It is an honour to be allowed in God’s presence. Separating ourselves to receive such a huge grace is a delightsome act.

Remember that God is holy and separate, so our relations with Him must be so. ‘Does it mean my prayer would not be effective if I don’t have a place and time?’

Not so. We do so to have unhindered access, and the only way we can achieve that is to give it what will make for the utmost effectiveness.

The sacredness of the communion table and its tremendous power were ingrained into me early in life. I must have been about ten or eleven years old. The elements were prepared by people who had seeded their lives to God and His service. If the sacredness of the communion could be described from a little girl's perspective, it would read; thus, The Reverend Fathers and Sisters always wore white. They barely spoke any word anytime they were on duty. Everywhere was quiet; you could hear a pin drop, and even the air aligned with the ambience. Everything was still a testament to their holiness and proof of the presence of God. This scenario always filled me with awe. They even sang songs, and with such sonorous voices, it felt like heaven was visiting the sons of men. Someone had told me before that if anyone was not clean, at that moment, they could die as God was too pure to set eyes on any filthiness. So, I was also in fear but not the bad kind. I made sure to confess and do away with my sins before I came to church, so I knew I was ok. When the priests got finished with their preparation, they would gingerly walk down to the base of the altar where the communicants were kneeling and waiting to partake of the body and blood of Christ. All these helped me conclude that I needed to respect the sacredness of the table.

Dinner was set, and all were made ready. Time to eat, and the Master requested a towel and a washbasin. Naturally, hearts were curious. What again, they must have wondered. Their Master's leadership; is the style characterised by twists and turns, surprises, and awe-inspiring moves. They became much better people just hanging around him. Their ignorant life made full of clout and wisdom, and power. They were boys to the henchman. How cool was that?

That day though, the water basin and towel move was a wonder. As the disciple sat down to watch, they saw him go on one knee. The Master was bowing, for what and to whom?

Jesus stopped at the first disciple and demanded his dirty feet. "Stretch out your feet", was the order. Bewildered, he did as commanded. There was silence in the room. The eyes and body did the talking. What was he up to? What was he trying to say?

The Master grabbed the feet, dipped them in the basin, and started to wash. The disciple, though bewildered, could not ask questions but had inner turmoil.

One after the other, feet were stretched for the Master to clean.

Jesus got to Peter, and the disciple refused. The others may not know what is right, nor the person of Jesus. He had earlier made it known that Jesus was Christ the anointed one. Had they forgotten He came from heaven and was not their mate?

It was a privilege to be called to be His disciple. After all, many fishermen did not make it to their company.

He insisted he could not have his Master serve him in such a derogatory way.

Jesus' response threw another spanner in the works. "If I do not clean your feet, you will not have your place in me."

The intelligent guy Peter said, "don't just clean my feet wash the whole of my body, and let me have all of you."

Let us pause there a bit.

Jesus was trying to teach how to be a master. If you are so-called, you are to come down to the level of the people. To touch anyone's life, you have to reach their heart. You must show you are humble enough to go ten yards with them. You have to be willing to take the crap.

Peter wanted it all. He was that passionate, but Jesus replied it was enough to have the token.

The message is clear enough without us going into religion.

Let's take the second part of the service.

The table was set, and the Master was ready to unlock the next mystery.

So he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him.

He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?”

Jesus replied, “You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.”

“No,” said Peter, “you shall never wash my feet.”

Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no part with me.”

“Then, Lord,” Simon Peter replied, “not just my feet but my hands and my head as well!” (John 13:4-9)

Have you ever picked up a book, skimmed through the pages and felt your life was being surveilled? Did the words therein make you feel like your personal space was being invaded? Did any word tug at you so much that you felt like engaging the author and giving them a piece of your mind? I am sure you attempted to skip some pages and discovered you were engrossed. Some of the thoughts provided made sense, and you reasoned, 'that was a good way to put it'. The truth is, I know the answer to most of the questions posed above, so I will not wait for you to respond. I am just like you. My reactions are just like yours.

Sometimes, I read some articles and agree or disagree with the thoughts therein. I have often stumbled at information that practically turned my life around. Sometimes I read because I know who wrote, understand their thoughts and believe in them. I have even related to some of these people, so I know how they function.

Other times I knew nothing about the writer, yet I felt the pull to read whatever they wrote. At such times, I have been tremendously blessed and fired up.

I have lived many Easter seasons. My early years in the choir and lay readers society, and my adult years as an intercessor and counsellor.

The years as a member of the choir and lay readers were all about singing Easter songs and reading about the passion of Christ.

Wait! As I write this, the word passion jumps at me. The thought of someone feeling so passionately about me to lay down his life so I could live, brings a lot of emotions back.

I specifically remember the song the Old Rugged Cross. The image the song paints keeps me sober. I love the lyrics, and I remember one of my mentors always rendering the same on Good Fridays.

The season of lent culminates on Easter Sunday or better still resurrection Sunday. But before we get that far, the Holy Week.

Holy Week celebrations for me began on Thursday when we had the last supper.

The story; Jesus sent some disciples ahead to prepare a place for him to have the last supper before his death.

Back up a bit, earlier, he sent them to the city to get a colt for him to ride.

The colt was tied, never been ridden, specially prepared for what nobody was privy to.

The instructions were, “go untie the colt, you would be questioned, and your answer should be, the Lord is in need, and the colt is on duty.”

Go with me in your mind, please. Imagine the colt was a human being. He had a sense of purpose, and every time he quizzed the master, he would be told wait.

After years of feeling ready, he resigned to being tied to one spot. His heart was right, but a bit confused.