Holy Week, Day 4: Love That Stays

“When Jesus saw His mother there, and the disciple whom He loved standing nearby, He said to her, ‘Woman, here is your son,’ and to the disciple, ‘Here is your mother.’” —John 19:26–27

Apr 17, 2025

So much of Holy Week is about who left:
Judas betrayed.
Peter denied.
The rest fled in fear.

But today, we turn toward those who stayed.

Mary, the mother of Jesus—silent, steadfast.
John, the beloved disciple—grieving, clinging to the cross.

They didn't have power to stop the suffering.
They didn’t know how it would end.
But they stayed.

This is what love looks like:
It doesn’t always have the right words.
It doesn’t always know what to do.
But it shows up and doesn’t walk away.

Seeing Through and From the Cross: Two Paintings, One Love

In James Tissot’s “What Our Lord Saw from the Cross”, we look through Jesus’ eyes at the crowd below. Among the chaos and mockery, we glimpse a small circle of faithful ones—Mary, John, the women who had followed Him. Their presence is quiet, but unwavering.

(“What Our Lord Saw from the Cross” by James Tissot. Brooklyn Museum)

Then we turn to “Woman, Behold Thy Son”.
This time, we see the cross from behind—from the vantage point of the witnesses. John stands near. Mary Magdalene is weeping, arms wrapped around the base of the cross. Mary, Jesus’ mother, knits her fingers together in agitation. It’s intimate. Raw. Real.

Jesus is not the visual center—and yet He is. His very presence, His love, holds the grief together. Even while bearing the sins of the world, He sees their pain. He speaks to it. He stays emotionally present.

The weight of his body crushing his lungs, Jesus gasps it out in short bursts: “Mother… here is… your son… John… here is… your mother.” You have been my family. Now you are family to each other.

This is the paradox of divine love:
Cosmic sacrifice and personal tenderness.
Atonement and attention.
Power and presence.

(James Tissot, “Woman, Behold Your Son”. Come, Meet Jesus)

The Neuroscience of Staying

The human brain is wired to protect us from pain.
Under stress, we fight, flee, or freeze.

But Mary and John didn’t run. They remained present—anchored by something stronger than fear.

That “something” is what neuroscience calls secure attachment: a deep, embodied sense of being loved, seen, and held. Their bond with Jesus had formed new neural pathways—ones that made staying possible, even in suffering.

And their presence reflects another right-brain formation principle: group identity. When love shapes a community, it forms people who say:
“We are the kind of people who stay. Who don’t turn away from pain. Who love, even when it costs.”

This kind of love doesn’t just comfort.
It transforms.

The Invitation: Love That Stays

What would it look like to love like this?

Not to fix. Not to flee. But to remain.

With the friend who’s grieving.
With the child who’s hurting.
With Jesus, even when His nearness feels like silence.

This is what Christlike love does.
It doesn’t walk away.
It creates family from faithfulness.
It carries the weight of suffering—not alone, but together.

Reflect: With Whom Am I Called to Stay?

Am I present to those in pain, or do I tend to withdraw or avoid?
Have I mistaken “having answers” for being loving?
Where is Jesus inviting me to remain—emotionally, relationally, spiritually—even when it’s uncomfortable?
Do I believe that my quiet presence, like John’s or Mary’s, could be an offering of love?

“We love because He first loved us.” —1 John 4:19
“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.” —John 13:34
“Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.” —Romans 12:15
“If one member suffers, all suffer together.” —1 Corinthians 12:26
“Remain in my love.” —John 15:9

A Closing Prayer

Jesus,
You saw those who stayed.
You felt their pain—and You spoke to it.
Even in Your agony, You loved with tenderness.

Teach me to love like that.
To stay near when it’s easier to walk away.
To see others, not as burdens, but as beloved.

Let me carry the cross—not alone, but with others.
Form in me a love that remains.
Rooted in You.
Present to pain.
Alive with hope.

Amen.

Click here for a special Maundy Thursday reflection.

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To view the other articles in this Holy Week series focusing on the paintings of Tissot, please click below:

Day 1: The Cup and the Crushing

https://debbieowen.substack.com/p/holy-week-day-1-the-cup-and-the-crushing?r=1m6dv

Day 2: The Disciples Who Fled—Running from the Pain

https://debbieowen.substack.com/p/holy-week-day-2-the-disciples-who?r=1m6dv

Day 3: Blind Guides and the Undefended Heart of Christ

https://debbieowen.substack.com/p/holy-week-day-3-blind-guides-and?r=1m6dv

Day 4: Love that Stays

https://debbieowen.substack.com/p/holy-week-day-4-love-that-stays?r=1m6dv

A Maundy Thursday Reflection: Presence in the Pain

https://debbieowen.substack.com/p/a-maundy-thursday-reflection-presence?r=1m6dv

Day 5: “Surely This Was…”