Dear Jesus,
I stand amazed at your courage. It isn’t as if you weren’t tempted in your soul to turn away from the cross. You prayed for that cup of suffering to be taken from you. It isn’t as if there was no trembling in the face of the pain, no questioning the reason for it all. No, you were fully human, so you struggled with every step, every lash, every breath, every taunt. And there were so many opportunities along the way for you to bail, to take the easy route, to listen to the promptings of your disciples and taunting enemies. But you did not waver. You picked up the cross, and you walked. I tremble in awe at the thought.
You have challenged me to pick up my cross and follow. How might I find just a bit of your courage?
I pray for the courage to move against the crowds, to choose neither the pathway of one tribe or the other, to be dismissed by Romans and zealots, Pharisees, and Sadducees alike.
I pray for the courage to do what is right as I discern it to be right, even when the consequences frighten me.
I pray for the courage to be silent and stand strong, just as you did with Pontius Pilate when shouting or speaking just adds to the cacophony.
I pray for the courage to find my voice, echoing the voice which I believe to be yours, the voice I hear in my heart.
Most of all. Jesus, I pray for the courage to love. To love those who are different and think differently, to love those who challenge and persecute, to love those who do not love in return.
I humbly, fervently, ask for the courage you showed us, the courage of the martyrs who came before me, the courage of the millions who simply and faithfully have followed you for 2000 years. Amen.