Lord my friend is dying.

And all there is left to do is pray.

As I step into the church and see the images of your passion, I am struck by how clean and quiet they are.

This story, played out for us to draw closer to you, doesn’t hold the sounds, touch, smells and emotions that would have been your reality.

Brutal, rough hands forcing you to a path you did not deserve,

the splitting sorrow of rejection,

beaten, blood tastes overflow,

the jeering crowds, hatred and ignorance pressing in,

eyes too swollen to see the ounce of friendship, still there, but wary,

prowling guards consolidate vicious fear,

the wailing sobs of those who could not comprehend,

kind hands bashed away,

the weight of every sin borne across your body, beaten, torn, exhausted and failing,

stripped of dignity,

too cruel nails plummeting flesh beyond severity,

breath halted.

And yet, and yet, this was to be.

For in dying you have brought us to new and eternal life. There is glory waiting for each one of us ready to believe. God’s love is so great that not even death can end it, and so we pause and take in the promise made to each one of us. A promise of eternity lived in Joy, happiness, gratitude, peace, and rest,



By Tanya Trevena

Image courtesy of Sister Benignus