Category Archives: Meditations

Someone had to do Something

A monologue from the perspective of Judas, prior to the Last Supper.

I say ‘the perspective’, but it might be better to say ‘a perspective’ as this piece probably has a more compassionate and understanding interpretation of Judas than Christian tradition as always portrayed.


The name’s Judas.
Jesus called me – like he did the rest of us.
I’ve listened to his teaching.
Travelled far and wide.
He commissioned me with the rest,
with authority to heal and preach and cast out demons.

And boy does the world need that.
The evil powers of the Romans,
Influencing everything.
They’ve got the pressure on the temple leaders.
Pushing them into a corner.
Corrupting our religion, our way of life. 
Something’s got to change.

And Jesus’ radical message was one I was wholeheartedly behind.
Down with the Romans and their defilement of our country!
I’m ready to take them on by force.
And there’s others too.
There’s plenty of people who want to see them gone.
I’m ready to rally the troops when Jesus gives the signal.

In the meantime,
I’ve been serving the cause as treasurer for Jesus and the group.
Managing the money,
Making sure we have enough to get by.
It’s hard work – life on the road,
Not knowing whether we’ll have a safe place to sleep each night.

Especially when Jesus doesn’t exactly tell us the itinerary for the week.
It’s hard to plan ahead when you don’t know where you’ll be by nightfall!
And then he goes and disappears to ‘be with his father’,
without even telling us where he’s going!
The number of times we’ve not been sure where he is.
Worried they’ve captured him.

And given how increasingly unsafe it’s been getting,
That’s been really concerning me.

And then walking into Jerusalem,
Boy oh boy I thought it was the moment,
Riding a donkey,
And parading in from the east,
just as Pilate was doing so from the west.
The crowds gathered,
“Hosannah to the Son of David!”

I was getting ready to sound the trumpet,
And rally the troops,
I knew we could do it,
Liberate our people,
And get back to being the community of God we’re called to be.

But then, he went and trashed the temple!
We’re meant to be overthrowing the Romans,
Not our own!
I mean, yes the Romans have a lot of control in the temple,
But trashing the temple,
Think about the optics!
That looks like an attack on our people,
Not the Roman puppeteers who exert their power. 

It was at that point,
I decided that the pressure must have been getting to Jesus.
He was risking everything,
The impetus that’s been building among the people,
That I’ve been building among those willing for an uprising.
Now people were beginning to doubt.

So I decided,
I’ve got to do something.
I’d save the programme.
Steady the ship.
Steer us in the right direction.

And Passover is just the time to do it.
Jerusalem is full of people remembering how God delivered Isreal from slavery of Egypt.
Full of people who will be on right side of the fight.
Now God will deliver us from the oppression of the Romans,
Just like he did for Israel when the escaped Egypt.  

So I quietly went to see the Chief Priests.
Asked them what they wanted,
And they said, if I hand him over to them,
Betray him,
They’ll sort the rest. 
And pay me 30 pieces of silver for it!

Betrayal – that’s a loaded word.
I wasn’t betraying him,
I was just creating the right circumstances for Jesus to do what Jesus came to do.
Revolution.
Reform.
Out with the Roman’s – in with God’s way.
God’s kingdom – come on earth.

So if Jesus is Messiah,
The one who has come to save,
When he gets arrested,
Captured,
They he’ll have no choice,
But to make the call to arms,
And we’ll gathering in great numbers,
Overthrow the Romans,
And we’ll be liberated at last.

And 30 pieces of silver,
That will go a long way to convince the people on the fence about joining us in the uprising.
It’s an added sweetener,
An investment to help the cause.

The Romans will all be taken off guard,
And the revolution will really begin.
It’s not betrayal.
It’s just doing what needs to be done.
Nudging things forwards,
Before the momentum gets lost.

It’s a weight of responsibility.
I feel it heavily.
But it’s the burden I have to bear,
The sacrifice I make,
for the cause of the kingdom of God.
I’ve just got to do something.

Gathering to celebrate

They gathered,
In that upper room,
To celebrate the feast.

A space prepared,
To welcome them,
Together and in peace.

The city
had been stirred,
When Jesus rode in on an ass.

He upturned
Tables in the temple,
And said what would come to pass.

When walking from the temple,
They’d said
‘Look how large and grand’

Yet He’d replied
One day soon,
No stone would be left to stand.

Sun will darken
Moon go dim
Stars disappear from the heavens.

And the powers
and principalities
of all the earth be shaken.

And now he says,
Quite openly,
My time is getting near,

So let us
Celebrate the feast,
It is that time of year.

The disciples
Didn’t understand
All these things he’d said.

They talked together
Pondering
What really lay ahead.

But despite all that,
As was his call,
They’d gathered there as one.

With hopes and fears
Uncertainties,
Unsure what was to come.

So now,
In this borrowed room
They gathered side by side,

To celebrate
The Passover,
With us, God abides.

Dazzled by Jesus: a reflection through the eyes of Peter

Read: Luke 9:28-36

I saw Jesus. I knew it was him, but he looked different: his face a ball of white light, his clothes so dazzlingly white that it hurt my eyes to look at them and I shielded them with my arm (dreams can seem so real sometimes).

Then I saw the other figures, two of them, and they were talking to him. It seems strange, but I knew straight away who they were: Moses and Elijah. They were all in white, all three of them enveloped in this amazing light, brighter than the sun.

And they were talking with Jesus, like they knew him already, like it was something they did everyday. But it was more than that: Jesus was at the centre of the three; he was the greatest of them. I thought a lot about that later: imagine it, the Jesus we’d walked with, eaten with, spent so much time with: greater than the greatest of our prophets.

And suddenly I realized I wasn’t dreaming, that this was real. It felt like somehow I’d slipped into another world. And I was terrified. Typically for me, I started gabbling, blurting out anything that came into my head, trying to make the situation seem normal: some nonsense about building shelters for them, James told me afterwards.

Then it got scarier: we were caught up in the cloud, James and John and I. My heart was pounding so hard in my chest I thought it was going to burst and I was quaking all over. If I was going to die, to be struck down because I was unworthy to be in the presence of God himself, I wanted it to happen quickly. And painlessly.

Instead we heard a voice: it seemed all around us, loud and booming, yet it also spoke quietly as a whisper into our ears: ‘This is my Son, whom I have chosen; listen to him.’ I fell at Jesus’ feet and when I got up, the cloud had gone and we were alone with him.

He didn’t give us any explanation: just told us not to say anything to the others, to anyone, until he was raised from the dead. We didn’t understand what he meant then – it only made sense a long time afterwards.

James, John and I didn’t talk about it much among ourselves. I think we were all trying to work out what it meant, but we couldn’t quite get there. I only knew that I’d had my confirmation: this man Jesus, my friend and teacher, he was the Christ, the Son of God: he’d come at last!


Follow Up: How do you see Jesus today?

Today’s thought for the day is also available in Worshipping Together, a monthly worship at home resource.

Faith in the fog

Faith in the Fog
I drew away this morning, thinking I was going to a quiet place.
When I got there I could see only a few metres, the wind was howling, the rain soaking in.
Where was God in all this?

Then I realised. My life is a bit like that at the moment. I can’t see where I’m going.
This blowing at me from all directions.
Yet I hear the Lord say ‘have faith in the fog’.

So I will. I will have faith in you Lord. I believe.
I believe you will provide for me. I believe you have a plan for me.
I believe you hold my life in your hands.

So I stand in the cold.
The wet, the wind, the fog and say here I am. I am listening.
I will have faith in the fog.

Frost

Frost.
Winter’s paint brush.
Earth’s Creator, Maker, Artist,
Displaying their skills,
As the familiar colours of our environment,
Are covered in hews of white.

The world, this place we inhabit,
looks different,
for now.

Windows are patterned with natural beauty,
As fingers of ice reach out to one another,
Swirling into into a masterpiece that will not last till lunchtime.

Earth’s Artist,
Offering a unique work of art
that is for our eyes this day, this moment.

The white frost captivates us,
We are made to notice the beauty of the simple things,
The things we too easily take for granted.

Cobwebs, frozen into lines of white.
Leaves, tinged with flecks of ice.
Grass, sprinkled with silver as sunbeams turn dawn to day.

Earth’s Creator,
Calls for our attention.
Saying “see, I made this. It is good.”

So we slow our pace,
Step onto the grass,
And hear the crunch underfoot,
With each stride we take.

Icy paths slow our footsteps
Make us pause,
take our time,
to enjoy the moment we have,
In this glistening white wonderland.

Earth’s Maker,
Saying slow down,
be still for a while,
rest in this moment.

We breathe out,
And as the warmth of our breath touches the icy winter air,
Our breath becomes obvious to us.
Visible proof that there is life within us.

Earth’s Creator, Maker, Artist,
Saying the beauty I breathe throughout this world,
I also breathe in you.

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