A Beginner’s Guide to the Stations of the Cross

Every good story comes in three parts. You put your character in a tree. You throw things at him. You get him down. Setup and problem. Escalate the problem. And finally resolution. The stations of the cross are a meditation practice walking through the moments of Jesus’ last day leading to the cross and resurrection. They invite us into the good story of the cross. They encourage us to wander in our imagination with all the sights and sounds and smells, to truly be with Jesus in these scenes. The stations of the cross are a useful practice especially in the final days of Lent just before Easter, but also any season we find ourselves in a “messy middle.”

On Palm Sunday the disciples and the crowds thought, “This is it. This is how we win. This is how God rescues us and puts us back on top!” But then on Thursday, everything goes wrong. Nothing goes the way they thought.

Sociologist Brene Brown became famous when her TED talk went viral and become one of the most-watched TED talks ever. She’s now written multiple books about dealing with shame and vulnerability. She offers three-day workshops. And what she’s found is that day one is easy. People love day one. Day one is the start. And day three? People really love day three. That’s the triumph. But day two is different. Day two is the struggle. Day two is hard.

Here’s how she describes it in her book Rising Strong: “Day two, or whatever that middle space is for your own process, is when you’re ‘in the dark’—the door has closed behind you. You’re too far in to turn around and not close enough to the end to see the light.”

Beginnings and endings are fun. Messy middles are not. We’re not comfortable at all with messy middles. On Maundy Thursday, we find ourselves in Jesus’ messy middle. If we come to church and enter into the story, only from Sunday to Sunday we miss something really important here. We miss Jesus’ day two. We get Palm Sunday. The ticker-tape victory parade. And then the next week we get Easter Sunday, all victory and triumph and empty tomb. 

But in between those two Sundays? It’s a train wreck. It’s darkness. It’s confusion. It’s disappointment and disillusionment. It’s betrayal and abandonment. We cannot ignore this part of the Jesus story. 

On Easter Sunday, we’ll all shout, “He is risen!” But on Maundy Thursday, we are all Judas, bitter that Jesus doesn’t meet our expectations. On Maundy Thursday, we are all Peter, drowning in our shame and our fear. We need to sit in this uncomfortable space, if just for one night.

When we read the Jesus stories in each of the four gospels, time slows down when we get to Holy Week. And it gets slower when we come to Thursday night and Friday. We see more detail in the life of Jesus Thursday night and Friday than any other day in his life on earth. The stations of the cross help slow us down to notice all the details.

We need to be with Jesus in his day two, when Jesus himself is in the dark, the door has closed behind him. He’s too far in to turn around and not close enough to the end to see the light. For all our talk about God being with us, can we attune ourselves to be with Jesus over the next three days? Can we be with God? Can we be with Jesus as Jesus suffers?

Because here’s why this matters. So many of us experience a day two. Do you know what it’s like to be stuck in the dark? To be alone? To be forgotten? To think life was going to be a certain way, and then the bottom drops out? And then the bottom drops out again?

And how many of those around us in our communities and neighborhoods know what it’s like to be unjustly arrested? To experience sham trials? To be unfairly brutalized by the authorities? To be betrayed and denied and abandoned? Because Jesus knows. Because Jesus has experienced all of those things.

Teachers who wish they didn’t have to live paycheck to paycheck. Students who never want to hear about another shooting again. Black mothers whose bodies seize at the sound of every police siren. Immigrants who fear that any day may be the last before they’re separated from their family. And whatever deepest, darkest fear that hides deep in your own heart.

These are the meditative moments of the Stations of the Cross.

Station 1: Jesus is tempted.

All the good stories start in a garden. Jesus prays in a garden. The disciples fall asleep while Jesus sweats blood. Panic and faith. Panic and faith. Take this away. Thy will be done.

Station 2: Jesus is betrayed.

Hear the sound of marching soldiers. A betrayer’s kiss. The most awkward sword swing and a bloodied ear. “Am I a dangerous revolutionary?” An unjust arrest.

Station 3: Jesus is condemned.

Jesus stands alone before Pilate. He stands alone before Herod. No one stands up for Jesus. No one helps defend him. Abandoned by the friends whose feet he’d washed just hours before.

Station 4: Jesus is mocked.

No one understands. And so Jesus becomes the joke. “Hail! King of the Jews!” The cruel laughter. Bullied and beaten. Bruised and bloodied and broken.

Station 5: Jesus is given his cross.

The heavy beams. Such a cruel instrument of torture and death. The consequence of rabble-rousers who dare disturb the peace of Rome.

Station 6: Jesus falls.

Can you feel the weight? Exhausted and weak from blood loss and shock. His knees buckle. The soldiers give a kick. They just want to go home. This is just another day’s work.

Station 7: Simon carries Jesus’ cross. 

“Take up your cross and follow me,” he had said on a better day. Does he whisper through cracked and bleeding lips, “Help me”? It’s too much. It’s too heavy. Will you help?

Station 8: Jesus is stripped.

His cloak ripped from his tender back. Naked. Exposed to a jeering crowd. How vulnerable. How shameful.

Station 9: Jesus is nailed to the cross.

Hear the hammer strike. Hear the anguished cry with every blow. As each new pain sears through every nerve.

Station 10: Jesus dies. 

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” With his dying breath, Jesus prays a psalm. A prayer of abandonment. When God first breathed, the dirt became a human being. And now the very breath of God is extinguished.

Station 11: Jesus is buried.

Can you imagine being one of those who took Jesus from the cross? To wash his body? Wrap it? Carry the body of God to a cavernous tomb? And leave all of God’s goodness sealed behind a rock?

Station 12: Jesus rises.

And death starts to work backwards. Everything sad can now come untrue. God’s good creation of the world starts again. As Jesus says, “Behold, I am making all things new.”

Don’t skip day two. Stay with Jesus in the darkness just a moment. Be with someone you know who may be flailing in the darkness. Hold Jesus’ hand because Sunday morning is coming.

You can find the stations of the cross in the sanctuaries of many Roman Catholic and Episcopalian churches. You may also find them at a retreat center. Artist Scott Erickson has produced a series of images related to the stations.

During Holy Week, let’s spend those moments deliberately walking with Jesus on the way to the cross. Easter Sunday comes next.