Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Good Friday Reflections: Jesus' Funeral
by pastorjonIMPORTANT NOTE: This is a piece of a longer writing project. You can view the entire project here: Good Friday Reflections: Jesus' Funeral

The following is a piece of writing submitted by pastorjon on March 23, 2008
"This is the last of five monologues written to explore the thoughts and feelings of Jesus' followers. The setting of the delivery is an imagined gathering of his followers sometime following his crucifixion and burial."
Peter: A Good Friday Reflection
Our friend who spoke a moment ago is not the only one who has been blind... for the fact is, we've all followed Jesus, we've all given him part of our life, and we've all missed the point. We've all tried to make him into the Messiah we've wanted him to be, instead of simply learning who he really is. We've all tried to keep him from going back to Jerusalem--we've all tried to get him to stop talking about his death.I was the most blind last night and this morning. He told me it would happen-- but I didn't believe him. I thought I would follow him to the end. I thought I would go with him to the cross. But I couldn't even admit that I was one of his followers. Three times they asked me if I was a disciple... and three times I lied to them in order to save my own skin.
But I haven't been blind the entire time I was with Jesus. There was one time--up at Caesarea Phillippi--when, for one brief moment, my eyes were truly opened and I saw Jesus for who he really was. You remember that night? We sat around the fire, and Jesus asked "Who do people say that I am?" Well, the answer was pretty easy-- some people were saying that he was a prophet--maybe John the Baptist, maybe Elijah, maybe Jeremiah. But then, he asked the question that has rung in my ears ever since, "Who do you say that I am?"
I don't know where the answer came from. I don't even know that I had ever strung those particular words together in a sentence before. But it was as though, for one brief moment, my eyes were opened and I could truly see. And before I knew what I was saying, the words tumbled out--"You are the Christ, the Son of the living God!" And as quickly as it had happened, it was gone again...for just a couple of minutes later, Jesus was talking about his death. I pulled him aside and tried to talk some sense into him--and he told me to "get behind him," as though I was tempting him to do something awful.
Oh how I wish I could have a moment of clarity right now... in the midst of all this. Oh that I could have that same confidence I did that night at Caesarea Philippi. If only I hadn't denied him. If only he were alive and with us right now. If only...
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