No other could know the agony as well, nor experience the pain of loss as much as Mary, the mother of Jesus, on the day we call Good Friday. Long before she gave birth to the Holy Child in Bethlehem, Mary pondered the monumental change growing within her womb. More than the physical changes...more than the cultural challenges, Mary pondered that she, a lowly Hebrew virgin, would conceive the long-awaited Messiah...the Savior of Israel. Her first child. An awesome responsibility for any woman to have a child, but Emanuel? God with us?
I can't imagine all the thoughts Mary carried throughout her lifetime of her first-born son. I relate only to those I hold inside my heart and mind for my own son. Though my first I only saw through a plate glass window 15 hours before he died, I was gifted with my second son for 33 years. The same age as Jesus when He gave his life on the Friday, we call "Good" in remembrance of the crucifixion.
Needful to say, Mary probably did not feel so "good" that day as she followed her son about to be accused, tried, beaten, mocked, spat upon, nailed to a wooden cross with spikes that tore into his flesh. As horrific as it seems to me the death I am told claimed my son as his head was crushed, beyond recognition when he met boulders on a bank when the driver of an ATV rolled the 4-Wheeler over and instantly killed my son, it is nothing compared to that which the mother of our Savior experienced as she watched in vigil at the foot of the cross as Jesus drew his last breath and said "It is finished".
What went through her mind? How unfair did it seem to Mary? How many memories of joy and laughter and hugs did she recall? How many tears did she shed? Did she kneel there in fear for herself by being the mother of the Man from Galilee? How did she feel as she watched all the things she may have expected to occur be destroyed that dark and lonely day on Golgatha's hill? What did she think would happen? Had she been forewarned? Could she have fathomed the heartache she would have to endure because her son would have to die that she could live forever with him? I do not know.
But as I contemplate this day, I know I will some day. I will know why my son lived only 33 years...before God took him to live with Him for eternity. I will know, as Mary, why we mothers were left behind. And it will be a good day. The best day among all. And I know then and there, I will have no more sorrow, no more pain, and no more emptiness for the void left behind when my son left me to join Mary's son. selahV