Good Friday was quite an event in PB’s dad’s church. Seven pastors from local congregations gathered to preach on the seven last words of Jesus from the cross. Each speaker was allowed ten minutes. But if you know anything about pastors, you know ten minutes doesn’t cut it.
That service was a marathon—
a true experience of long-suffering.
It definitely was not the day to volunteer for nursery duty.
In between each message there was a hymn or special music. One year, a man with a deep baritone voice sang an old hymn with incredible depth of emotion.
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Oh – Ooohhh – Oh.
Sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
As his voice soared, my heart trembled.
For a moment, I was there.
I still find myself there, in the cast of characters that were eye-witnesses:
Malchus and Pilate and Barabbas;
Simon of Cyrene, the centurion, and the thief;
the Pharisees, Joseph of Arimathea, and Mary Magdalene.
As Holy Week approaches, I’m preparing a series of ten reflections called “Were You There?” I’ll post five of them here, from Monday, April 7 through Friday, April 11, and five more the following week, ending on Good Friday.
Come with me over the next two weeks
and see if you can’t find yourself there, too.






