STATION 9: JESUS FALLS FOR THE THIRD TIME

So then, since we have a great High Priest who has entered heaven, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to what we believe. This High Priest of ours understands our weaknesses, for he faced all of the same testings we do, yet he did not sin. So let us come boldly to the throne of our gracious God. There we will receive his mercy, and we will find grace to help us when we need it most.
— Hebrews 4:14-16 (NLT)

I am one who has seen affliction under the rod of God’s wrath; he has driven and brought me into darkness without any light; against me alone he turns his hand, again and again, all day long.
He has walled me about so that I cannot escape; he has put heavy chains on me; though I call and cry for help, he shuts out my prayer; he has blocked my ways with hewn stones, he has made my paths crooked.
The thought of my affliction and my homelessness is wormwood and gall! My soul continually thinks of it and is bowed down within me.
But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end.
— Lamentations 3:1-3, 7-9, 19-23 (NRSV)

Station 9

Once again, he falls.

This is the third time.
Not because he is weak,
but because the burden is real.
Because the weight of the cross is not metaphor—
it is suffering, embodied.
It is exhaustion and agony, multiplied.

Jesus falls again—
not for show,
not as a symbol—
but as one crushed by pain.
Still fully human,
still choosing to walk forward in love,
even when his legs will not hold him.

This third fall is the one we fear the most:
the one that makes us think we’ll never rise again.
It’s the fall that tempts us to believe
that even God has abandoned us.

But right here—
in the dust,
in the despair—
hope still flickers.

The steadfast love of the Lord does not end.
Not at the third fall.
Not at the foot of the cross.
Not even in the grave.

Let us pray.

Jesus, you fell again, and we remember how deeply you understand what it means to be undone by pain. To have nothing left. To feel completely spent.

You do not demand strength from us — you meet us in our weakness.

We pray for those who have collapsed under life’s burdens: those with failing health, those battling depression, those carrying silent grief or invisible wounds.

Lift them, Lord — but even more, sit with them in the dust. Remind us all: falling is not failure. And even in the darkest place, your mercy rises with the dawn.

Give us the grace to keep walking. One step at a time.

Amen.