At the Cross Roads

At the Crossroads

“Where do you stand? Where are you right now? On which side of the cross roads do you stand? Are you standing before it? Are you on it? Are you beyond it? Where are you right now? Where you are tells a lot about you. Tells who you are…what you do…what you are doing…who your friends are” he said.

I was at the spot where I sat last week. I love seating on this side of the pew because I could see every move of the Pastor Daniels. I could capture his moods and the many faces in the congregation in a quick swoop.

His theme was the Cross Roads.
Why he chose the topic, I could hardly tell. He had a simple, humble way of touching and romanticizing every message. Therefore, I listened up.

“Our lives are always at the cross roads,” he continued. “Where we must make decisions on huge challenges, make choices on the way to follow. The path you follow will either make or mar you. It is the tree of life or death. It is a business success or failure.
The Passover is always at cross roads. It is the only choice of eternal life. The shadow of what Passover does came in Egypt. Those that refused to obey the Word of God paid the ultimate price of death. They did not make the journey at the crossroads of history. They stayed behind. They refused to cross the red sea. They ended their lives in Egypt.”

What is the point, I thought. What is he insinuating? What is he driving at?

"The cross roads is a place of service or disservice. It is a place of honour or dishonour. It is place of great gain or great loss. It is a place of departure or arrival. A go to the right or left…backward or forward tells lot of stories about you…what you are….where you are going or coming. It tells whether you are going to die or live…whether you are going to hell or heaven.”

Out of this world preacher, I thought.
Then he changed his voice and the lines of his thought.

“Time was of the essence. Three men were desperate to live. They were to die by hanging. They were flogged, slapped, and bruised, ripped off clothes…and nailed them on the cross.

John the beloved was there, watching the man on the cross, everyone in town called Jesus Christ, groaning in pains. He held Mary Magdalene’s hand to comfort her. But that was the little he could. She was screaming hysterically. Friends and relations were also standing with them, wailing too.

Away from where they stood, five Roman soldiers tore the clothes of Jesus Christ into pieces. Later they shared the lot among themselves. Other people who had beaten and stoned Him on the way to the Hill of Death stood aloof, and cheering. Then a soldier threw his spear up at Him. As the spear pierced the side of his target, he laughed like a drunk. His victim shook on the cross, and cried out. Water guzzled out, and streamed down.

The man hanging on the left turned to look at Him.

'If you are the Messiah, the One we are waiting for. Yet you could not save the Jews. Now save yourself from this ordeal…weakling.'
He was a notorious criminal according to the Roman law. He was the brains behind the recent attack on the Galilee Garrison. His platoon raided a weapon depot. They needed modern spears, arrows and shields to curb the Roman authority. That was his last mission. Roman soldiers captured him.

‘Leave this man alone,’ the man hanging on the right shouted. ‘He has done nothing wrong,’ he said.
He was the links man in the underworld camp. He was the chief recruiter. He stole things from people, raped women, and maimed so many people. Roman soldiers caught him in a fight a week ago in which he killed two elderly men with knives because they refused their children from joining the camp.
‘He did no wrong. He committed no sin,’ he continued. Then he turned to Jesus Christ, and cried out
‘My Messiah, remember me in your paradise.’

Tears of joy rolled the eyes of Jesus Christ. He turned his head at him, smiling.
‘Today Ludas, you will be with me in paradise.’

People noticed they were talking.
It seemed they were discussing up there, John thought.

‘It is finished,’ said Jesus Christ, and then he dipped His head.

Lightning blazed the sky. Thunder rumbled unceasingly. The earth shook. Black dust rose up…and filled the air. There was confusion everywhere. People started running about.
The temple crumbled down. The curtains of the temple tore apart and hurled off into the wind. Then everywhere became dark.

‘What has finished,’ asked Mary Magdalene, raising her drenched eyes at John.
‘He is the Passover. He is the light, the way and the truth. He is the Passover. We had the last supper last night. No Passover will ever come again. His death on the cross is the last.’

Mary stared at him.
‘Tomorrow is the Passover. We are preparing for it. Why did they kill my son now? They should have allowed him to see the Passover.’

‘No…mother! His is the Passover,’ he repeated, and made the sign of the cross. ‘He is the lamb. He is the Word,’ he whispered.

“Ludas’s face was radiant. His faith took him through. God forgave his crime. So he passed over. He went beyond the cross, into Paradise. His friend mocked Him…failed to ask for mercy. Like Joab grasping the pole of the tabernacle before the sword of King Solomon took him down, he resided on to the cross waiting for the same death.

The soldiers and everyone, who mocked and jeered Him were before the cross,” he said, smiling.

I know the Pastor too well. He is about revealing the crux of the matter, I thought.

“What will happen to them,” he asked.

"We are before the cross now. We are standing at the crossroads where they stood, cheering His death. We are on the Cross Roads. What is your way? Which way will you follow? Whatever decisions you make, remember, that Our Lord Jesus Christ is the Passover.  He is the light, the truth and the way.