Kaleidoscope: the Crucifixion as viewed by John

We asked a myriad of voices to engage with the crucifixion as if they were one of the characters present and write from that perspective. We gathered last week for an amazing collective of perspectives that ranged from a diverse, colorful, eclectic group of people gazing at the cross. We will post each character and their angle as we approach Easter. Enjoy!

Kaleidoscope graphic


The awful sight comes into view.

I turn to the hill, and I close my eyes.

I can only think:

So it ends.


Steps before me, I see my Lord, my Hope,

savaged and scoured and sipping his final breaths.


His body bears the marks of mockery and torture.

They tell the story all too well.


I look to the hill

and I cannot help but think, selfishly, of all that ends now…


The hope and faith I held, that we all held

That we could be new again.


The days of stories and wisdom,

Of miracles and crowds.

 Days when his quiet voice

Lit up our hopes like stars,

Kindled our faith until it burned, warm as the sun.


It was a time for bold hearts

And I was there to drink it in,

To proclaim it louder than anyone.


Was it all just a strange magic? Where are the crowds now?


I walk closer. There kneels his mother Mary and the others.

We have little comfort to offer on this darkest of days,

not to him or to each other.


But comfort comes, for Jesus looks upon us.

He speaks to Mary: “Woman, here is your son.”

Then to me: “Here is your mother.

And I know that I will care for her through her last days.


I look to the hill, and I wonder:

Is he man or is he god?

The humanity of him, the fragility,

is on pathetic display in this cold place.

Is our faith to now snap, as easily as a twig?

Snap, as easily as a man?


It shakes me. I am… frustrated

he could have seen this coming!

He could have hidden his ways…

Taken a different path.

Saved his message.


Hah. Saved his message…for what? A safer time?


No… that was not his way.

Not the man I knew.


The man I knew

defied the temple leaders.


The man I knew

commanded the crowds

and fed them with fish and bread and wine.


Is this not the man

Who was lifted from the Jordan,

and revealed as the Chosen One of God..?


Is this not the man

Who saw me — in my wild and strange ways —

looked past my recklessness and vanity —

and proclaimed me a “son of thunder”?

I have felt his grace so completely

that I am bold to call myself

… the one whom Jesus loved.


Perhaps we all feel that…

all of us who knew him.


Such a love — that knows no limits —

has brought us to this day.


Yes, he saw this coming…

Yet he stayed true to his path.


I see this now for what it is — a choice.

An awful, inevitable choice

As raw as an open wound, as pure as blood,

He did this… for us all.


Perhaps the prophets were right,

that new beginnings require dramatic endings.

That salvation can be found through sacrifice.

That through death we find life.


Perhaps Jesus himself was right,

that darkness cannot overtake light.

That love endures over hatred.


And if that be so,

then what greater love can my own eyes witness

than that pinned above me now?


I look now to the hill, we all do,

for suddenly the ground shakes, the skies are darkened.


For a moment, we stare in silence, and we tremble.


What is to come is not known to me…

But I feel the dawning of a new kingdom.

My hope lives on. My faith lives on.


And as I look now to the hill,

I can only think:

So it begins.



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