Behold, my hour has come.

The Passover meal is set before us in the place I have chosen.  Passover is to be a celebration of the deliverance of my people in the face of desperate persecution and slavery. Judas had made his exit, leaving a cloud of speculation and disappointment. There seems to be a marked change in the countenance of the remaining eleven. Somber, yet inquisitive eyes, all trying to understand.  Trying to figure out the next chapter.  They don’t really understand it all.  I have taught so much in such a short time.  But they don’t yet understand.

I recline here with my friends, my companions for well over three years.  I love them.  I have cared for them. I have fed them from God’s abundance.  Buy my example of care and affection, I have tried to explain the purpose of my life and of their lives. They do not understand the time is at hand.

To demonstrate to these special men the love I have for them, I remove my cloak and overshirt and wrap myself in a towel.  All the while, they stare and whisper.  With a slow deliberation, I pour water into a bowl and I move to each person in turn and wash their feet.

Of course, Peter, my rock, my skeptical fisherman would not let it go.  My servanthood lesson could not go unchallenged. Looking down at my attempt to show my love for him he stated, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?”

I looked up into Peter’s impetuous and alarmed eyes and said, “Peter, someday you will understand.”  You see, my hour had come.

In his own rough scratchy voice and pulling back his feet from my hand, Peter says, “You shall never wash my feet.”  After much discussion and further objections, the deed was completed.

“Do you really understand what I have done for you?”  You see my hour had come.  It was the place of no turning back.  No more would there be laughter and fishing. No more would there be a few fish turning into baskets full.  No more walking along the Sea of Galilee.  It was the first moment of the end of my earthly life.  My hour had come.

I am filled with emotion and deep feelings.  I lean back at that table of now somber men and remember the beginning of it all.  I remember the hour I spoke, and the world came into being.  The hour I walked in the cool of the evening with Adam.  I was there in the beginning.  I was there witnessing all the trails of tears of Israel. I had to come to be a part of my treasure. And now my hour had come.

I close my eyes to see Mary and Joseph.  I remember well the time I told my mother, “My hour had yet not come.” Three years and it is now over. I am now at the time where it is to end.  The end of my purpose.  My purpose to walk, talk, understand, care, hope, be disappointed, to teach, be misunderstood, to be hailed, and to be criticized. It was time to give up and let go.  My hour had come.

From that first hour, this world has made its path around the sun.  It has been the home of my greatest treasure.  Yet it has been corrupted by war and famine and disease.  My greatest treasure has darkened the surface with suffering, pain, and hate.  They have wallowed in despair, never understanding the true nature of the purpose.

This despair and pain were unavoidable.  It came with my gift of freedom. That freedom became license.  That license became the darkness.  My greatest treasure became without worth.  No money would ever buy the redemptive value of my treasure.  I had to come and pay the price.  My hour has come.

The darkness will be even more intense.  Man will always be cruel.  The poor will always be on the street corners asking for one more coin. There will droughts, famines, war, pestilence, hate, disease.  Yet, in the middle of it all will now be a bright shining light.  There will be a hope.  There will be redemption offered.  My hour has come

Someday a new hour will come, and I will plunge a fiery sword into the very innards of the earth.  It will split like an overripe fruit.  This world of pain will pass away. It will be swallowed up and obliterated. The mountains, seas, oceans, plains, deserts, forests will all pass away.  Someday that hour will come.  But as I listen to the hushed tones of my friends and realize I must teach some more.  I still have work to do.  I must give them my words of life.  To help them understand the end is near.  I must tell them, “My hour has come.”