Running Toward the Danger: Faith

Dear Readers, thank you for continuing to join me as our series, “Running Toward the Danger,” nears its conclusion. We have been looking at the ministry of Jesus through ficitonalized perspective of those who were front and center, based on Scriptural accounts, and research. What began as a Lenten series has become an honest look at some of the powerful emotions, and their dangers, that most of us encounter during life’s journeys.

Each post includes primary Scripture notation, a characterized perspective, and questions for thought. My goal is to offer new insights into the ministry of Jesus as He chose to fulfill His Heavenly Father’s purpose for Him by running toward the danger for each of us . . . and to offer encouragment that He is with us as we confront dangers in our own lives.

Mary Magdalene’s Perspective

The Danger of Faith

Scripture Reference: John 20:11-18 CEV

Perspective

How could He love me so? Of all the people Jesus had to choose from, why would He choose to invite me into His flock?How many times have I asked myself those questions, and hesitated to ask them of Jesus?

I finally figured out that I was wasting my time, and blessings, on wondering about His motives to include me in His inner circle. It took a minute, but the realization eventually came to me that I should, instead of questioning, simply embrace the grace and love that Jesus freely offered.

Jesus looked beyond my weaknesses and failures; He never really seemed to care about my past. Neither did He allow any of the apostles to use it against me. To tell the truth, I think for at least a few of the twelve, their minds were blown with the equity Jesus showed me in our group.

Is it any wonder that my devotion to Him and His mission grew daily? We witnessed miracles, and listened to the words of a man who declared Himself to be the Son of God. Sometimes it was hard to take it all in, to wrap my head, and heart, around it. But Jesus never faltered in His care for us, and His focus on sharing a gospel of love and redemption never wavered.

In time, I came to have faith in what He said, whether I understood it or not. It no longer surprised me when Jesus spoke of His Heavenly Father in intimate terms, much like He did of His mother, Mary. When I look back now, I realize Jesus told us numerous times He would return to His Heavenly Father. As we neared what became our last Passover, Jesus became more assertive and passionate about what we could expect to happen.

We recalled Him telling religious leaders, “Jesus answered them, ‘Destroy (undo) this temple, and in three days I will raise it up again.’. Then the Jews replied, ‘It took forty-six years to build this temple (sanctuary), and will You raise it up in three days?‘ But He had spoken of the temple which was His body.” (John 2:19-21 AMPC).

Everything changed in what seemed like the bleak of the eye. Dear Reader, please remember what turbulent and uncertain times we lived in. Temple leaders scrutinized every facet of our lives, hoping to rain down their zealous and self-righteous judgment upon us. The Roman government saw us not as living souls with purpose, but as revenue, at most as their chattel to be used as they wished. Any action or word that interfered with filling their coffers was subject to swift and drastic punishment.

Jesus walked a tightrope between Jewish and Roman leaders until He became seemingly locked in their crosshairs overnight. At the last Passover meal we shared, He tried to tell us what was about to happen. I don’t know if anyone in the room actually got it. If Jesus was the Son of God, how could the awful things He described come true . . . but they did. Every lash, every thorn, every curse . . . all of it, and then some. I could not pull myself away from His torment, though a couple apostles tried to stop me from witnessing His torture and final agony.

But then there was Mary, the mother of our devoted Rabbi. The only thing I seemed able to do was to stay close to her side. As devastating as my pain was, I couldn’t imagine Mary’s.

At last, it all seemed to be over. Most of the apostles and some of the women huddled in a house, filled with fear that either Temple or Roman soldiers, or both, would come for us next. Passover closed in around us, stopping all but sacred activity, including preparing Jesus’s body for a proper burial.

No one ate, no one slept, once in a while someone would muster a memory of words spoken to us. Like His words to us in the upper room just hours before He was taken away “Jesus said, ‘Don’t be troubled. Trust in God, and trust in me. There are many rooms in my Father’s house. I would not tell you this if it were not true. I am going there to prepare a place for you. After I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back. Then I will take you with me, so that you can be where I am.You know the way to the place where I am going.’” (John 14:1-4 ERV)

As bodies and spirits began to yield to overwhelming weariness, each one seeking couch, or cover, or corner to rest in, I sought a place near the door. Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus had gotten welcome word to us that they had taken the body of our Lord from the wretched cross to a tomb nearby. I waited impatiently for the first tendrils of sunrise in order to steal away from our hiding place, unnoticed from within or without.

I wish I could tell you the walk from the house to the tomb was one of faith. It was a walk of duty and reverence, even love. It was a task my Jewish heritage demanded. But no, it was not faith, only brokenness and grief. My feet tread slowly toward the tomb and what must be done . . . and I wanted to be the one to do it.

Every single time I recall the next couple of hours, I am humbled by Jesus’ choice to chose me. Why should I be the first to see the empty tomb and run to tell the disciples? After returning to the tomb, as John and Peter dashed away, why did Jesus choose to reveal Himself to me first?

He gazed upon my imperfect faith, choosing to love and accept me anyway. Maybe Jesus saw what my faith could be.

The danger of faith is that you can’t simply conjure it up. You can’t rely on facts or figures to make it real. Yes, faith can absolutely be tangible, but in its essence, it’s not of this broken world. The danger of faith can be in not realizing that. Faith is a gift given to those with spirits willing to receive it.

I am so blessed to have walked a portion of the path with Jesus during His earthly ministry! As I recalled our time together before and after His resurrection, I came to understand that He doesn’t measure us by how much or how consistent our faith is, only that we have it.

Question(s) for Thought

Think about faith in your own life. What has had the greatest impact on your walk of faith?