Bewdley
I’m still thinking about last Friday.
The outdoor Passion Play in the small town only 2 miles from where I live is performed every 2 years.
The following is a mixture of all my thoughts in note form during that event.
Parking the car away from the event and having to walk because of road closures created the excitement that this was going to be special.
This was a standing performance only, in the rain, pity.
Some people didn’t stay till the end, in fact, they began to leave before the main bit. Some didn’t look like they had actually turned up for it at all, they were passing through, popping into the shops.
Others were laughing and talking loudly, totally disengaged with this momentous event.
The majority however, were focused on the man in white, Jesus. Would he actually hang on a cross? Yes he would.
I struggled to see, the umbrellas didn’t help in front of me! I looked up to the flats and saw how many had great views hanging out of their windows, I wished for a good view. Small children were placed on top of fathers’ shoulders.
The crowd just simply watched as the man in white hung in front of them on the cross.
It was the final act that stunned the crowd. They took him down from the cross and carried him through the crowd to a designated place. As they weaved a path, the people silently gazed and looked on a man who had given it all. It was a great performance.
And I pondered how this event in Bewdley mirrored so much of what really took place in a small city many miles away 2,000 years ago. The man in white was carried right past me and I whispered the words thank-you.
Thank you for your surrender.
Sacrifice.
Death.
Everything.
All.
The Church likes to celebrate His resurrection and victory, rightly so. But one week on I am stirred more with His death. His willingness to die for the cause of love leads me on.
Thank you.
1 Corinthians 2:1-2
Missions Paul 