Reflections on My First Passover

It was Passover in Jerusalem.

Very soon, Christ would find Himself abandoned by His disciples, convicted by His people, and nailed to a Roman cross.

He could have been performing miracles. He could have been teaching, preaching, and expounding on the scriptures like only the Son of God can. He could have made the sun stand still. He could have called on ten legions of angels. He could have thrown up his hands and walked away.

It was Passover in Jerusalem, and the biggest miracle we see Christ perform is to make a way for His disciples to keep the Father’s appointed time. It was foremost in their minds, and it weighed heavily on His heart. When every step carried him closer to Calvary, Christ stopped to acknowledge and celebrate the Passover season. He wasn’t ticking some religious box. He wasn’t fulfilling His role as an upstanding member of Jewish society, but He was seeking to live in full obedience to the Father’s commandments to His people. He “earnestly desired” to eat the Passover with His disciples, knowing better than anyone the meaning and the weight of His being our Passover Lamb. He left no doubt about its significance.

Seated around a table, surrounded by His friends, I can almost see a bittersweet joy in His eyes as He looks at this motley crew of misfits that had been called to follow Him. “And when the hour came, He reclined at table, and the apostles with Him. And He said to them, “I have earnestly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer. For I tell you I will not eat it again until it is fulfilled in the kingdom of God” (Luke 22:14-16).

Somehow, in the pastel colors of spring, I missed it. Somewhere, among all the colored eggs and bunnies that have come to monopolize the season (and that have absolutely nothing to do with the resurrection of Christ), I lost sight of the cross, of the tomb, of the Passover lamb. Thousands of years before, when a people found themselves beaten down by cruelty and oppression, a man came to liberate that people. Stubbornness and pride held them there until God passed judgment, which one could only avoid through the blood of the Passover lamb.

It was Passover in the city of Jerusalem, but this time, a king would take the place of that Passover lamb.

So this year (2022), Teri, our girls, and I happily celebrated the Resurrection with our extended family, but not before honoring Passover first. I was excited when I decided to prepare a meal for Passover, more so when I asked a few friends to join us. Then I went grocery shopping. I thought about every item I put in that shopping cart and about the last meal my Savior ate on this earth.  I wondered if any of the disciples saw the bigger picture. I thought about the bread that He broke and dipped into the bowl with Judas Iscariot. I thought about the cup that Peter took, with denial already forming on his lips. I thought about Jesus, and I thought about me. I thought about the incredible sacrifice, the undeserving punishment, and the horrific death of MY Passover lamb.

Now, I’m not so much excited as I am determined, and I understand in part the earnest desire to celebrate Passover. So, we will continue to do so. With bitter greens, roasted lamb, and unleavened bread, we will honor God’s Passover, looking backward at the blood on the doorposts and the three nails and a cross and looking forward to its fulfillment in the Kingdom (Luke 22:16).