"He Looked at Me" - A Monologue on Holy Friday

 By Semira Dikova

Photo by Alem Sánchez on Pexels

You can call me mad if you want. I'd rather you do.

Because if I am not mad, if what I saw was real, 

then everything I thought I understood about life, 

about myself... is ashes.

I wasn't there with my body. I know that.

But don't you dare tell me that I wasn't there! 

Because I saw the Cross. 

And He looked at me.

Do you think it was a dream? Maybe - I don't know.

All I know is I woke up panting. My pillow was wet, my hands were shaking, and my chest was aching, longing for Him.

But the worst part... the part that still burns within me, 

It was His gaze.

He was there. You know who it is, I mean. 

Christ. The Lord.

Not in golden robes, not on an icon surrounded by candles.

No - Christ broken. Torn.

And still more beautiful than anything I've ever seen.

...

God help me, I didn't deserve to see. He was beautiful.

...

I couldn't move. My feet felt buried in guilt. The kind of guilt that doesn't even know how to repent properly.

I just stared, and I knew - He knew everything.

...

Every lie. Every betrayal. All the small, poisonous things I did.

He saw.

But He didn't look away.

Don't you understand how unbearable that is? 

That He didn't turn His face?

I wanted Him to. I thought that He would.

I would've rather been cursed, damned, anything...

But He just looked.

And as He looked, I felt it, I felt love... 

His love is what made my shame scream.

No one talks about this part, I know.

They talk about forgiveness as being easy, sweet, and clean.

But when someone sees the filth you carry... yes, when God Himself sees it, but still loves you, only then will you understand.

What did I do? What did I say? Well... what do you say to the One you've wounded, who still offers you everything?

But He did speak. Just three words, 

"It is finished"

The dept was finished. The silence. The separation.

Finished.

And I woke up.

Photo by Pixabay

And now I'm telling you, but why?

Not because I'm wise, nor do I understand any of this.

But if there is any chance of Him looking at you like that - 

By this I mean:

If you ever feel the weight of your sins crushing 

into the depths of your Soul - fall.

Fall to your knees.

Weep, shout, go silent, whatever you do - but don't turn away.

He didn't. 

He didn't bear the Cross for nothing. He bore it for you.

"He Looked at Me" - A Monologue on Holy Friday

By Semira Dikova