Your Trial

A poem by Juanita Ryan

They took Jesus to the high priest, and all the chief priests,

elders and teachers of the law came together.

Mark 14:53

I stood with you at your trial today,

from the safety of my home,

removed by centuries of time.

How often I have read this scene.

How rarely I have stayed long enough

to feel the stunning terror of its truth.

This was not the court of a crazed tyrant,

or of strangers to faith.

The text spells it out.

You were taken to the high priest,

where the chief priests, teachers of the law

and the elders had assembled.

I scanned their stern faces.

I palpated their righteous anger.

My heart froze. My lungs seized.

Religious leaders with so much power.

Believing they spoke

with the voice of God.

Is there a mob more dangerous?

Self righteous enemies

of all they claim to defend.

Yet, you. You stood before them,

Prince of Peace,

unwavering, silent.

In the face of terrible power,

it was you, the Presence of

love’s enduring strength, who reigned.

From Juanita Ryan’s book: Grace Rises