They took Jesus to the high priest, and all the chief priests, the elders and the teachers of the law came together. Peter followed him at a distance, right into the courtyard of the high priest. There he sat with the guards and warmed himself at the fire.
The chief priests and the whole Sanhedrin were looking for evidence against Jesus so that they could put him to death, but they did not find any. Many testified falsely against him, but their statements did not agree.
Then some stood up and gave this false testimony against him: “We heard him say, ‘I will destroy this temple made with human hands and in three days will build another, not made with hands.’” Yet even then their testimony did not agree.
Mark 14:53–59, NIV
The phrase that stood out to me at first was the scene.
Jesus stands before the Sanhedrin:
“…and all the chief priests, the elders and the teachers of the law came together.”
All gathered together around Jesus. What a thought. How Jesus does that. He gathers us; He unites us. Only He can. I wondered what we do when we “come together” in His name.
What does this look like? I think on what I have seen; what I have heard. I wonder if I really know Him.
What is my testimony?
In comes Peter in the following line, “warming himself” by the fire. I feel a pang. I know what it feels like to be left defenseless; I know I have “warmed myself” while rumor and gossip flew, or let myself get caught up in it all.
I hear in the back of my mind: “Do you love Me?”
Then I remember Jesus and forget myself (what a relief!). What is the lesson in Jesus’ example in my life? To be silent before my accusers, real or imagined. To be ready to answer for myself. That wasting my breath has gotten me nowhere. To save it; that it is His to give, and His to take.
I let my eyes drift past my “assigned reading.” Jesus only answers one question, in verse 62: When addressed directly, asked if He is indeed the Messiah, He says:
“I am … and you will see the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of the Mighty One and coming on the clouds of heaven.”
At this, my breath catches. A promise; a call to attention. To remember who I am to Him, the audience of One; the only One who matters.
I wrote a poem about His return a while back; who I want to be on that day; how I want to know Him for myself.
I can see now that it was an invitation to prepare. With trembling and with awe. Because it will come, and none of the hearsay will matter anymore.
We think
Usually
About endings
When will You come?
What will You bring?
Will it be war?
Will it be peace?
Will it be joy, judgment, or grief?
And then, of course
I think of me
I am among those who believe
So I am filled with hope
When I imagine
Where I’ll be
I’ll be holding flowers
At least that’s what
I like to think
You’ll ride on clouds
And storm on down
As angels sing and trumpets sound!
And I’ll be in my garden
Holding flowers
For my King
I’ll have gerberas
And roses
Irises, poppies
Handfuls upon handfuls
Of fragrances
So sweet
As the world burns
My heart years
For You to come and greet
And I’ll be gazing upwards
As the rest
Look down on me
I’ll look up and it will be
Your face
I see
Yes
My blades will be the tender
Grass beneath my feet
I’ll wait expectantly
Dressed perfectly
Perhaps as one of these
Whose elegance and splendor
Earthly beings
Hardly believe!
Flowers
These flowers
Opening
Unfolding in their
Knowing
That the true light is coming
And I’ll be holding flowers
At the end
That’s beginning
Devin Tooma is a lover of Jesus, a poet, and “dog mom” to Ola the poodle.