I can only imagine

Good Friday. We all know the story, and I for one do not mean to down play it's importance. But today, I am looking at the story from a different point of view. I am looking at it through Marys eyes. Through the eyes of a mother.

I remember being pregnant with my children. The hopes and fears I had for them. Already I felt myself being as protective as a mother lion. I knew their future held great promise and yet a part of me was very scared of the journey ahead for our family. I can only imagine what fear Mary felt. I can only imagine.

I remember when my children were born. I remember holding them for the first time. Caressing their tiny cheeks. Smiling as they wrapped a tiny finger around mine. Feeling a love swell through me that was more powerful than anything I had ever experienced. Wanting to protect them from every evil and every harm that might be out there waiting for them. I can only imagine how protective Mary must have felt wondering what the future held for her Son. I can only imagine.


I remember sending my children off to school. They never knew how much I prayed for them. I knew I could no longer protect them from everything and everyone. And as they grew, they pulled further and further away as children will do when trying to spread their wings. And still I prayed...and worried. I can only imagine how much pride Mary had in her child and how much she prayed and worried when her child grew and left home. I can only imagine.


I remember when Ashley had a severe infection in her hand that had to be lanced, or when Chelsea had to get stitches or when Austin broke his arm, I cried inside because I wished I could take away their pain. I wanted to make the pain stop, but there was nothing I could do. I felt so helpless. I can only imagine how helpless Mary felt when she knew there were those out to get her Son. I can only imagine.


I remember times when someone intentionally caused physical or emotional pain to one of my children and the anger and frustration that rose up inside me. How dare they hurt my child! I can only imagine how angry and frustrated Mary felt as she saw her Son being teased, tormented, tortured and I can only imagine the horror she felt when she learned her baby boy was now sentenced to death. I can only imagine.


I can only imagine the sadness and pain she felt when she saw her Son, the one she held and cuddled as an infant and child, the one she watched grow with such pride and love, and the one she knew was chosen by her Lord, was collapsing from pain and exhaustion as he tried to carry his cross. I can only imagine.



I can only imagine the complete anguish she felt as she saw that same baby boy of hers hanging up high on a cross. Knowing there was absolutely nothing she could do. How many times did she tell him she loved him? How many tears did she shed? Did she ever wish she could do it over and beg God for a different outcome? I can only imagine.



I can only imagine how she felt when they lowered the body of her Son off the cross. Did the memories from his life come flooding back? Did she wish there were other things she had said? Did she have a moment of doubt in Gods words regarding him coming back to life? Did she wish she could hold her son one more time? I can only imagine.

I can only imagine.