i'm new to the cciph blog, but i thought i would post some thoughts from my own journal that i had in reaction to seeing the passion of the christ earlier this evening... -brad


Lord, open my eyes...

that was my prayer as i took my seat in the darkened theater earlier this evening. i think i'm probably the last person around to finally see this film... it's hard to even call it a film, it seemed so real, so tangible. during the next few hours, i kept my eyes open, even when everything inside of me wanted to shut them tight, cover my ears and scream to keep the awful sounds and images from ringing inside my head. (maybe this would be a good time to note that i am a very empathetic person. this is essential in understanding my reaction to the film) as i watched the story of christ's suffering unfold before my eyes, i found myself identifying with each of the principle characters...

i was peter, denying that i had anything to do with jesus, merely to save my own face. i was heartbroken when i saw the look of utter disappointment on the face of my Lord, and realized that i had become the very person that only hours earlier i said i would never become.

i was mary magdalene, remembering when i crawled pathetically to the feet of my Savior after saving me from the assault of the jewish elders, weeping because i didn't deserve his love. i watched in horror and disbelief as he sacrificed himself for my sake yet again.

i was pontius pilate, torn between the decision to do what was right, to set an innocent man free, or to simply please the crowd and protect myself from future strife.

i was mary, the mother of christ, watching helplessly as my son was tortured nearly to the point of death. i wept, desperately wanting to heal his pain, to hold him in my arms like when he was a young child, to comfort and console him.

all of these things (and much more) were racing through my head as i sat there next to my dad. and i sobbed. there were times when i wanted to get up from my seat, somehow walk through the movie screen (and travel back 2000 years) and take the place of Jesus as they beat him, the place i know that i deserve. other times i wanted to scream at the roman soldiers who flagellated him, "stop, stop, you're killing him!" i never looked away, not once. i didn't have the will to turn my head or to even close my eyes. throughout the film i uttered silent prayers of thanksgiving, it seemed that i couldn't say it enough. i've done nothing to deserve this sacrifice, Lord... thank you, thank you, thank you.