It’s not supposed to end like this.

He was talking of redemption, of glory, of kingdoms, how can he bring those about if he’s arrested? How can a dead man redeem Israel? Surely Peter didn’t want it to end like this. He drew a sword in the garden, fisherman turned soldier to lead a charge that would never materialize. He swung to kill, but got only an ear and a rebuke. He was supposed to establish a new kingdom, but there he is, the would-be king being led away in bindings.

It’s not supposed to end like this.

Peter and a friend in the high priest’s courtyard,  the loss of what was to be still fresh on his mind. God’s people aren’t supposed to lose this time. “You aren’t one of this man’s disciples too, are you?” The denial came out of his own denial. Three years he followed Jesus, he recognized him as the Messiah. How could he have been so wrong? The fire crackles as someone asks, “You aren’t one of his disciples too, are you?” Disciples follow leaders, leaders are supposed to accomplish something. How could he be a disciple if Jesus was just going to give up? “I’m not a disciple of his.” Peter was supposed to be the rock, he was supposed to be the cornerstone. Jesus changed my name, he thought, and for what? “Didn’t I see you with him in the garden?” a face asked that looked vaguely familiar. Why did these people have to be so persistent? His denial came a second before a rooster crowed. Peter looked at his friend, his friend looked at him, and then Peter remembered.

It’s not supposed to end like this.

Mary stood near the cross, unable to be far from her son, but unable to look upon him. His body bleeding from the beatings, his face swollen and twisted in anguish. His pain was her’s whether she looked at him or not. She stood near the cross, unable to be far from her son, comforted by her people and one of her son’s disciples. Where were the rest? They followed so closely in life, often covered by the dust from Jesus’ feet, and yet now, in this moment of duress, where were they? 

It’s not supposed to end like this. 

She knew that from the moment she was told she would have him. An announcement filled with glory and terror, she knew this was a blessing to which nothing else could compare. And now what? Parents shouldn’t bury their children. Children shouldn’t have to make provision for their parents, and yet here’s Jesus entrusting her to his disciple. This is not the word Mary wanted fulfilled when she saw the angel so many years ago. This is not how she thought things would end.

It’s not supposed to be like this.

God knew it from the moment he couldn’t find Adam and Eve. His beloved creation, the very image of himself, hiding in fear and newfound insecurity. He provided cover. He provided comfort. He provided a way out of the mess that they had found themselves in. He gave life to barren wombs. He carved paths through the very seas he had created. He made promises and fulfilled them, provided sustenance in dry lands. He freed the slaves and humbled the wicked. And it never seemed to be enough for his beloved creation.

It’s not supposed to be like this.

Those were the words his son shared. There was a better way to live than what their tradition suggested. It wouldn’t be easy, but it would be worth it. It would require death. It would require loss. It would require the relinquishment of all the things dear to the heart. It would require forgoing the political revolution, it would require enduring hardship, it would require giving up one’s own son. But it would be worth it.

It’s not supposed to be like this. It’s not supposed to end like this.

It won’t.