Excerpt from my book: Mary's Diary, the Life of Jesus through His Mother's Eyes
I am so distressed! There is something in the air! I can feel it! The
animosity towards Yeshua is as thick as an ominous cloud. I know the
religious rulers are planning evil against Him. I know He is not safe
here. Oh, Yeshua, Yeshua, I wish You hadn’t come. I wish You would
flee like a bird to the mountains! I wish that HaShem, God would somehow
hide You like He did when they wanted to cast you off the embankment
in Nazareth! I fear for You! I’m so afraid the Great I AM will not save
you, this time.
Oh, El’Elohim, have mercy, please, please have mercy on my Son.
Of the same day
Yeshua and His talmidim, disciples went to a friend’s place to celebrate the
Passover. I would have given all that I have to have been there with Him.
I spend much time on the rooftop gazing at the darkening sky, my
hands clasped in prayer. I think I saw Him leave John Mark’s house
and head for the Olive Orchard. Oh I wish He would stay where it is
safe . . . a little safer, at least.
Later, much later; I saw soldiers with torches heading that way.
It can mean no good. Oh, that my eyes could see in the dark and
penetrate through trees, so I could know what was going on. Someone
tell me, please, what is that hubbub in the streets all about? At this
hour. Oh, what is going on? Tell me, please, tell me what is going on?
Oh, Yeshua, Yeshua! Are you safe? Is it well with You?
A man is running down the street! Would He be coming to this
house? He runs like Yochanam (John)
! He sees me! He is calling my name! He
wants me to come! It must be because of Yeshua!
I must go!
They crucified my Son, today. I can hardly bear to sit down and
write, yet if I do, perchance there will be healing for my spirit. Nay
there cannot be healing. Nothing can heal my torn, bleeding, broken
spirit. There is no grief as insufferable as losing a tinoki in such a cruel,
heartless way. I can not go on.
The agony is too great.
Sleep has fled, and my head is pounding terribly so I might as well
try to put my thoughts on paper. It has always helped in the past. I shall
never be able to get those horrible scenes out of my mind. No one can
describe my suffering as I stood on the dark, wind-swept hill watching
my Son, my beautiful, dear, precious Son writhe in pain while the
lightning flashed around Him. The lightning seemed to be trying, but
never quite succeeding, to strike Him like vicious serpents! Oh, why
did they do this to Him? He was always so good, and kind, and loving.
Why did HaShem allow it?
There is one thin shaft of light that has pierced my agony. Even
while dear Yeshua hung there on the cross, He remembered how much
I would be suffering, and weakly called out to me; “Madam, behold
Thy Son!” My eyes were drawn to His eyes, and although I saw so
much concern for me in them, I also saw so much pain that I could
hardly handle it! They seemed to be saying, “I am doing this for you,
Imma, and all of the rest of God’s children, besides.”
Then his eyes turned toward John, and He said to him, “Behold
your mother.” I think He was asking His beloved disciple John to
care for me because His own brothers were still irritated or confused by
the kind of Man He had been. John has a tender heart much like
Yeshua’s own. In some way, in a soothing way, it will seem like having
Yeshua back home with me, because John will not be gone all the
time doing miracles, and drawing crowds like Yeshua did.
Oh, how could I forget . . . even for a moment! He won’t be gone . . .
gone . . . like . . . ohhhh . . .
Much later; I sank to my knees, sobbing my heart out.
John knelt beside me. He let me bury my head on his shoulder,
just like a beloved son would.