The Trial

The Holy Spirit prompted me to share a bit from the entry I read today:

Read: Mark 14:53-65 (Emphasis mine)

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.

Then the high priest stood up before them and asked Jesus, “Are you not going to answer? What is this testimony that these men are bringing against you?” But Jesus remained silent and gave no answer.

Again the high priest asked him, “Are you the Messiah, the Son of the Blessed One?”

“I am,” said Jesus. “And you will see the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of the Mighty One and coming on the clouds of heaven.”

The high priest tore his clothes. “Why do we need any more witnesses?” he asked. “You have heard the blasphemy. What do you think?”

They all condemned him as worthy of death. Then some began to spit at him; they blindfolded him, struck him with their fists, and said, “Prophesy!” And the guards took him and beat him.

Essentially, Jesus turned Himself in right there.

"Caiaphas is robed in a rich red. Jesus is roped.
The trial begins." ~Walter Wangerin Jr.

(Imagine the stirrings in the courtroom!)


When Jesus gives them exactly what they are after; a reason to condemn Him, they attack. Viciously.ο»Ώ

"So heartened are folks by this turn of events, so sure of the prisoner's folly and of their own superiority, that quite fearlessly they spit on him. . . .

Jesus looks out the window. The sky is streaked with grey. Morning is coming. He says nothing now. He says nothing at all. ~W.W.Jr.

I Pen a Prayer to the LORD:

The weight of darkness
suffocates me when I feel it —
You too, LORD, until You prayed there in Gethsemane.


“Take the cup of wrath—yet not my will, Yours.”


Dear God,
Your wrath is more to be feared than theirs—
and theirs is like
cast iron on my chest.


Thank you for saving me, my Jesus.
And if I ever need to bend the knee in Gethsemane,
I know You will be my strength.
Amen.

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