“They were on their way up to Jerusalem,
with Jesus leading the way,
and the disciples were astonished,
while those who followed were afraid.” 
Mark 10:32

 This is the picture that grips me during Holy Week:

Jesus, striding up to Jerusalem, determined to carry out his mission—
which would involve betrayal, mocking, flogging, crucifixion and death.

He led the way.

Four times, Jesus told His disciples what was coming.
He always included the final part—resurrection—
but they didn’t seem to hear it.

“The Son of Man is going to be betrayed into the hands of men.  
They will kill him,
and on the third day he will be raised to life.”  
And the disciples were filled with grief. 
Matthew 17:23

Jesus lost them at “they will kill him.”

The Twelve were full of fear,
perhaps wondering if death was also waiting for them in Jerusalem.

BUT THEY STILL FOLLOWED.

They did it scared.

I must remember,
when I am astonished at being led down the road marked with suffering,
that it’s a place He’s been before—
and He knows the way.

I can still follow.
I can do it scared.

The disciples thought the cross was the end of the story.
But it was the middle of the story.

Those things you’ve prayed about for weeks, months, and years?
Your story isn’t over.
You’re in the gory, glorious middle.
Because the cross is never the end.
The cross is always followed by the resurrection.
Always.

Sunday’s coming.