The Via Crucis

Please join us for daily devotionals from "The Via Crucis" by Shawn Small
As we prepare to honor the passion of our Lord and Savior

Two nights have passed and they still remain in hiding. The Eleven sit in a room darkened not only by the lack of light, but by the loss of their Rabbi’s once-constant company. His presence has been replaced with an all-enveloping depression. They had devoted their entire existence to following Him, and now all that remains is a sentiment of abandonment. Had they abandoned Him or had He abandoned them? His body was not the only thing entombed. Their hopes, desires, and lives had died and were buried alongside Him.

      His words hung like wraiths haunting all of their thoughts. They had nothing else to do but ponder the last tragic hours of His all-too-short life. The mysterious words that He spoke to them of His imminent end were now blatant. He had said He would suffer a heinous death; He named His accusers days before the events would transpire.

      But it was His words about a cross that seemed to trouble them the most. He proclaimed, on more than one occasion, that the cost of following Him was their willingness to carry a cross every day. In fact, he said that they had to lose their lives for the gospel in order to gain life in God. But where was that good news now?

      His statements about the cross had caused all of them to be dreadfully uncomfortable. In their minds, thieves, murderers, and the godless were the only ones destined for that specific means of Roman torture. Why would He compare following after Him to the most brutal death sentence their oppressors employed? Yet they now realized that their beloved Master and steadfast friend, the one they all believed to be Messiah, had carried a criminal’s weight.

      His words about carrying a cross, once uncomfortable, now tormented this group of men who were gradually pining away in the darkness. They wonder what their lives were worth. What was His life worth? So here they cower as the last few hours of their beloved Jesus’ life replay in their minds over and over again.

      This way of the cross began late in the evening just two nights ago in a garden called Gethsemane.

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. This day, I begin a journey. I am not sure where this expedition of the heart will lead me, yet I am assured that You will guide my steps. Help me, through the story of Your passion, to discover what it means to take up the cross and follow in Your footsteps. The Word of God declares, unless a wheat grain falls into the earth and dies, it remains only a single grain; but if it dies, it yields a rich harvest. Help me to die to self and find life in You. Anyone who loves his life will lose it; anyone who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternity. Help me break away from the appeal of the world and draw toward the eternal. Whoever serves You must follow You, and Your servant will be with You wherever You are. Help me to serve You and follow You anywhere. Help me journey from Gethsemane to the empty tomb, discovering what it means to carry the cross and follow You. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

      The Passover supper had revealed infinitely more than His few followers understood. “Take and eat this bread for this is my body, broken for you. Drink from this cup, for it is my blood, poured out for the forgiveness of sin.” Jesus knew the seeds of Eucharist were planted in unknowing hearts. In a few days, clarity would illuminate their spirits with a glory hidden from the dawn of creation; but tonight all seemed so shadowed and frightening.

      Seeking a fragment of solace in His final few moments before the vast torrent of hate overtook Him, Jesus walked with His Eleven to Gethsemane. Oh, how He loved the peace and solitude of this place! Whenever He visited Jerusalem, He set time aside to seek the Father in this ancient olive grove.

      But tonight was different. He did not come seeking peace or solitude. He arrived with an earnest request. Gathering His three closest companions, Jesus pleaded with them to pray as He went before the Father. As He moved a mere stone’s throw away, terror and anguish overwhelmed Him.

      Heavenly creatures had gathered from the ends of creation to witness this battle which had commended in the most unlikely of arenas. The Prophet that challenged Pharisee and demon alike threw Himself to the ground and prayed, “Abba, Father! I beg you, take this cup away from me.” The next moment of silence froze the invisible spectators.

      “But let it be as You, not I, would have it.” With those words, Abba released one of the angelic beings to emerge from its otherworldly cover, bringing the Son an offering of strength--the strength necessary to fulfill God’s will.

      Discovering His three friends in oblivious slumber, Jesus knew this would be His battle alone. How ironic that this garden was named the Place of Crushing; like olives in the press, He would be crushed.

      In climactic agony, blood trickled from His brow in great drops. His will was sacrificed as this simple carpenter from Nazareth declared, “Not my will but Thy will be done!” The fountain that would soon flood the streets of Jerusalem began to flow in this tiny garden known as Gethsemane.

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. As You entered Gethsemane on the fateful night of Your betrayal, You came frightened and sorrowful. Although You arrived with eleven companions, loneliness was to be your only attendant. Knowing what You would soon face, You asked the Father one request: “Abba, Father! I beg you, take this cup away from me.” But there was no other way. This was the road set from the very foundations of creation. So, with all your strength, you proclaimed, “Not my will but Thy will be done!” You would allow Yourself to be crushed by the Father. That crushing would release oil that would heal our souls and a new wine that would bring about the redemption of mankind. God, I struggle with my Gethsemane moments. Often I feel frightened, sorrowful, and alone. I find myself crying out for Your will in my life. Yet when I am presented with that will, I do not have the courage to be obedient. I often beg You to take this cup away, yet it remains. Give me the strength to follow the leading of Christ and proclaim, “Not my will but Thy will be done in my life.” Father, You do not ask me for a sacrifice or I would give it. You desire me to have a broken and crushed heart. This moment I ask You to give me the strength to release my heart into Your hands. May my life be overtaken by Your presence. Allow the Holy Spirit to use me as a vessel of healing and redemption. May I always allow the decisions of my heart to be a reflection of Gethsemane. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

III

                                      Betrayed

      Only a few hours ago this place was an ordinary farmer’s field just outside the gates of Jerusalem. Tonight changed that fact; this pasture is now infamous. Its new name: the Field of Blood. From this point forward, a one-time grazing field will become a graveyard for foreigners and unknown vagrants who die in the city and are not worthy of a proper burial. All of this because of the silhouetted figure hanging from a lone tree that stands in the middle of this tiny plot.

      Some would say he was the most promising of the Twelve. Unlike the rough and tumble Galilean fisherman, or the other disciples with shaded pasts, this one was properly educated and of the most excellent pedigree. In fact, he was the only Judean of the lot. But could what they say be true? Was he a traitor? Did he turn against the very One he followed for three years?

      What was his motivation? Maybe he began to think that Jesus of Nazareth was a false Messiah. Was he outraged with Jesus’ seeming indifference to the law or His association with shady characters? Maybe he assumed that this action would force the Chosen One into asserting His messianic powers. We will never know for sure.

      What we do know is that he sought out the enemies of His Master just days before to ask what price they were willing to pay for betrayal. And what was his fee? This man of great promise sold the life of his Rabbi for thirty pieces of silver.

      When the schemer’s plan took place, it caught almost everyone off guard. In the middle of the night, in a secluded garden, the soldiers and guards arrived as an angry mob. The betrayer walked through the crowd.

      Jesus turned to him and spoke saying, “Good friend, do what you have come to do.” With that, Judas greeted his Rabbi with a kiss on the cheek. “Judas, are you betraying the Son of man with a kiss?”

      The words of accusation and those eyes of love pierced the man’s soul. Suddenly, the thirty pieces of silver Judas carried hidden in his tunic felt like a millstone hung around his neck. What had he done? He had betrayed an innocent man. He had betrayed his friend.

      Rushing to the temple, Judas rid himself of the blood money. Assuming forgiveness was no longer an option, he could not bear the weight of his guilt. So in this field, he ended his life. That silhouetted body hanging against a gray morning sky bitterly proclaimed to the ages, “I, Judas, betrayed my Lord.”

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me. Father, this one that betrayed You had followed You for three years. He earnestly listened to Your teachings. He saw You heal the sick and free the oppressed. You warmly patted his back as a steadfast friend. He laughed and wept with You, the Messiah. He beheld You walking in an authority he thought impossible. Yet, this man, Judas Iscariot, betrayed his Master for the redemption price of a slave. He allowed Satan to consume his thoughts and influence his decisions. In the end, turning to Your enemies brought him utter hopelessness and despair. The price of betrayal became the bane of his soul. Alone, desperate, and marked, he took the coward’s course and ended his life. As much as it pains me, Lord, I must admit that there are times I have betrayed you. Even though I have witnessed Your presence in my life, I have often sold my soul for the price of sin. Father, redeem me from the works of Satan. Please forgive any obstinate transgression in my heart. Help me to turn away from the sin that so easily distracts me from Your truth and will for my life. I never want to be Your enemy. I do not want to be branded as a betrayer. I want to be known as a faithful servant and friend. Permit me to always recognize forgiveness and allow me to have the courage to possess a clean heart. Remind me that I am never forsaken in Your presence. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

IV

                                      Arrested

      I came to this garden tonight clearly knowing friend from enemy. I had a righteous duty to fulfill, but the blood that covers my hands and robe leave me staggered. How could I have been so mistaken? How was I so blind and deaf to the truth? I was to represent the chief priest in this matter of national security. I approached this garden of shadows in the early morning with a warrant for the arrest of a dangerous insurrectionist. At least, I was assuming he was a great threat, by the amount of armed temple guards and soldiers that accompanied us.

      We had not seized him in the temple because of his enormous influence with the common people. There was even talk amongst them that he was the Messiah returned. That sort of talk even upsets the Romans. We thought him a false Messiah. Certainly, the priests and leaders of the people did not acknowledge him as a prophet. But what did he do that was so heinous that it called for a cowardly seizure in the middle of the night?

      When we arrived and the traitor gave the sign, this Nazarene asked for whom we were looking. When we spoke his name, he replied with “I am he.” The entire mob drew back in terror, and many fell to the ground. I covered my ears (how ironic) because of the utter majesty of his words.

      Composing ourselves once more, but not nearly as confidently, we again approached. That is when one of his zealous followers made a desperate attempt to cut off my head. I ducked his awkward sword thrust, which saved my neck, but still sent a biting pain to the right side of my head. Down on the ground, in plain sight, was my bloodied ear. Instinctively, I grabbed my head. Blood sprayed over me and covered my hands.

      I can only relay portions of the words of this Jesus that follows. “…die by the sword…twelve legions of angels…drink the cup the Father…” The next thing I experienced was his hand on my head and the pain instantly ceasing. My ear was wholly restored. Was it not for the blood that covered me, I would not have believed that I had been wounded.

      All his followers fled in great haste, leaving him alone. He lovingly looked into my eyes, then spoke to the startled mob saying, “This is your hour; this is the reign of darkness.”

      I came to this garden tonight clearly knowing friend from enemy. How could I have been so mistaken?

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me. They came to the garden veiled in darkness; Allow me to shine forth in darkness. They refused to acknowledge You as Messiah and it drove their hatred; I acknowledge You as Messiah. May it compel me in steadfast love. They sought You, Lord, for harm; Let me seek You for healing. When You spoke, “I am,” they stumbled back in terror; When You speak, “I am,” may I bow in worship. One of Yours tried to defend with the sword. May I find my defense in Your presence alone. Those that proclaimed themselves Your followers fled in the night. Help me to never flee from Your presence, but remain close to Your heart. You drank of the cup of the Father’s will. Give me the strength to also drink the cup of His will. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

V                                        Naked

      Is this what the shame of Adam and Eve felt like? Here I crouch in the brush naked. I am frightened, and I wonder what they will do to me if they catch me. What about Him? What will that angry mob do to the Teacher? Why were they armed with clubs and swords?

      Only a few short hours ago, the Teacher and His disciples met in a large upper room in our home for the Passover dinner. We considered it a great honor to host One so highly esteemed. My family had witnessed Him healing many tormented by disease. He taught in a way that captivated both Hebrew and Samaritan, rich and poor alike. But the same teachings that held us in a grip of grace seemed to infuriate the Pharisees, Sadducees, and elders. Yet, Jesus of Nazareth was unafraid of any who threatened Him.

      We had prepared a beautiful seder meal for the wondrous honor of hosting this great Prophet during the holy days.

      Late in the evening, after the Passover feast and the traditional singing of the Psalms, the Teacher and His disciples decided to walk to Gethsemane. I, on the other hand, retired for the evening. Removing my outer cloak, I quickly faded into a peaceful sleep.

      A short time later, one of our servants awoke me in a state of alarm. A hostile crowd, let by one of Jesus’ disciples, had come to our door demanding to arrest the Teacher. Panicked, the servant had sent them toward Gethsemane.

      Realizing a great treachery was at hand, I rushed out of my home toward the garden to warn Him, wearing nothing but my nightclothes.

      When I arrived, Jesus was being led away in irons. Were all His disciples a part of this ploy, or had they simply abandoned their Master in His peril?

      I followed at a distance, trying to remain hidden in the shadows. But one of the soldiers must have caught sight of me. Two large hands came from behind and grabbed me by the collar. Releasing a scream, I tried to pull away, but the grip was too strong. All I could do was slip my body from my nightclothes and run for my life into the darkness.

      I can hear their mocking laughter as they search for me in the garden.

      So, I hide here, naked and afraid. My tears blind my vision. I am ashamed: ashamed of fleeing; ashamed of my fear; ashamed that I may never see the Teacher again. Will these tears ever end?

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me. This follower that ran away naked and ashamed loved You, Lord. He invited You into his home, allowing “the lamb that was slain from the foundation of eternity” to have Passover with His disciples. Later in the evening, upon learning of Your betrayal, he ran to the garden. He wanted to warn you of the danger. He even attempted to follow You in the shadows. But when confronted by those that hated You, he fled. Filled with fear and dread, he ran away, naked and ashamed. Lord, I want “the Lamb that was slain from the foundation of eternity” to always reside in my heart. There have been many times I have wanted to stand up for truth and be bold in my faith. But when confronted with a world that hates You, I have often fled. Christ, I ask you to satisfy me with faith and confidence. Before the enemy, clothe me with the whole armor of God. But before You, Christ, let me have a heart that is ever naked and never ashamed. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

VI                                   Hidden Trial

      As I recount this matter, I admittedly do so filled with a righteous anger at the obstinate false prophet that stood before our council a few minutes ago.

      It was the darkest of nights as we brought the one they called Jesus before the true leader of Israel. You must understand why I call Annas the true leader. Ever since these bothersome Romans took control of our beloved land, they have worked so hard to usurp the Almighty’s established authority of the Jews. Annas, chosen by Quirinius over thirty years ago, is our high priest for life, for this is Jewish law. In this choice, we saw God’s hand.

      But typical to Roman fashion, he was removed only twenty-one years after his installment. The Romans are insidious about deposing our religious leaders when they become threatened by the power of Jewish authority. And of Annas, they should feel threatened, for he speaks of the oracles of God. His current successor is his son-in-law, Caiaphas. A God-fearing man, Caiaphas acknowledges Annas as the righteous authority behind the priesthood of Israel. Thus, when a question of grave importance arises, Annas (in secret) is the first to make judgment.

      On this cold evening, we stood and observed our high priest question the false prophet, Jesus of Nazareth. During this hidden trial, we saw this dangerous man reveal his arrogance and disrespect for God’s true authority. Out of the Nazarene’s mouth spewed words that even caused Annas to cringe. “I always taught in synagogues or at the temple, where all the Jews come together. I said nothing in secret. Why question Me? Ask those who hear Me. Surely they know what I said.”

      Oh, the mockery of his little lecture enraged me! Our great leader must hide in the shadows while this usurper proclaims he teaches in public! He cut to the quick of Annas’s heart. I could not stand by and listen to such smugness any longer. Though the prisoner was bound, I struck him hard in the face with my hand, drawing blood from his filthy lips. I know this to be an illegality of the court, but none chastised me, for they saw God’s justice in my actions.

      The detainee spoke to me. “If I said something wrong, testify as to what is wrong. But if I spoke the truth, why do you strike me?”

      This man will pay the price of God’s wrath! We need no witnesses or proof to justify our actions. He is a rebel and he will die for his defiant words.

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. I said to the Lord, “So often I find myself hidden in the darkness.” And He replied, “Let me bring to light the hidden things of darkness and reveal the counsels of your heart.” I again spoke, “But Lord, there are hidden areas of darkness even now in my heart.” And He replied, “You no longer have fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but now expose them. For you were once in darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as a child of the light.”One last time I spoke. “How, Lord, do I remain light?” With a smile He replied yet again, “He who loves his brother abides in the light, and there is no cause for stumbling in him.” Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

VII                                     Sanhedrin

      From the beginning this was nothing but a fool’s theatre. The stage was set to give the appearance of legality during a morning of constant improprieties. The verdict had been cast days before. All the plans had neatly fallen into place until the actual trial. That is when things went wildly askew.

      The delay of the pretrial before Annas had allowed Caiaphas to gather many of the seventy-one Sanhedrin. Those had plotted this intricate deception had to find a legal basis to condemn their prisoner to death. Their most crucial witness, Judas Iscariot, had disappeared, so they had to quickly produce some witnesses.

      Many came forward. Every one of them disagreed with the testimonies that preceded. It would have been laughable had it not been such a grave decision.

      Finally, when two came forward declaring that Jesus said He would tear down the temple and rebuild it in three days, it was enough for Caiaphas. He had to get control of this madhouse. He once again questioned the man in chains.

      Jesus had not been officially charged, so He allowed no answer to come forth. There would only be one thing that would bring the accused to words.

      Caiaphas, in all his sanctimonious authority, charged the prisoner, by sacred oath, to answer this question: “Tell us if you are the Christ, the Son of God.”

      For the first time in the whole ridiculous procession, He looked up and spoke with unhindered conviction: “I am.”

      This reply, stunning the Sanhedrin into a split second of silence, had not been uttered for fifteen hundred years. They all knew it from their youngest childhood teachings. This declaration was ingrained into their psyche.

      As they stood before the condemned man, His answer carried them back to the desert prophet who stood before a burning bush. “When I go before the Israelites and say the God of their Fathers sent me to you, who shall I say you are?” “I am . . .”

      There was no more doubt; Jesus had openly declared His claim as the Christ. Caiaphas, in his rejection of the Messiah King, tore his clothes. Even though it was illegal, the punishment would begin now, as dark entities gathered into the men that stood around the Son of God. He was blindfolded and they begin to mercilessly beat Him . . . yet he never uttered a sound. The “I am” would allow this drama to continue to unfold.

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. Lord, hear my cry: This world is full of false accusers and those who are indifferent to You. Daily I battle with doubts, fears, and trials. And if that was not enough, there is an enemy that battles for my soul. What am I to do? Child, hear my declaration: If your accusers surround you and speak wounding lies, know that I AM your justice. When you battle with your doubts and fears cloud your mind, know that I AM your courage. As you walk through trials of any degree, know that I AM your strength. And if the enemy comes against you like a flood, know that I AM your shield. I AM your Savior. I AM the Christ. I AM that I AM.

Lord, I believe. Take away my unbelief. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

VIII                                         Denied

      Where is the brave and brash Peter now? Who is this one that so freely swings a sword against an unarmed servant, but flees from the accusations of a little girl? How was I to know, Lord? Why have I run? How could I have denied You? Oh, what a wretched man I am!

      He spoke to me a few hours ago with pity in His voice, revealing my denial. “Never my Lord! Even if all others walk away from You . . . Even if I have to die with You, I will never disown You!” The passion and resolve in my heart was genuine. Yet in Gethsemane could I not even pray for Him?

      When the mob arrived at the garden, I lifted the sword in defense of Israel’s Messiah. (Is that not odd to believe I could protect the Savior of Israel?) I was sure angels would charge to our righteous battle. Instead, He rebuked my rash act of anger. He did not resist that midnight injustice. Why did He act is if He was in control? Why did He not do anything? When I realized He would offer no resistance, I became bewildered. And in that moment of doubt, I ran and hid.

      I finally mustered up enough courage to follow the procession to the courtyard of the high priest. I had to know what would happen to my friend, my Rabbi, my Lord. When the little girl approached me by the fire about being one of His followers, I was filled with dread. And what brave words did Petros proclaim from his lips? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

      I grew more uncomfortable as curious eyes started to read the denial on my face. I quickly made my way out of the courtyard to the front gate. The doorkeeper, a mere wisp of a girl, also took notice. “This fellow was with Jesus of Nazareth.” How easy the frustrating falsehood of innocence jumped from my lips. “I don’t know the man!”

      But in my reckless rejection of Jesus, my thick country accent revealed the truth. That is when a witness to my garden bloodshed had no more doubt of my identity and asked, “Didn’t I see you with him in the olive grove?” I exploded in a final tirade. “I don’t know the man!”

      At that moment my guilt, condemnation, and worst fear were loosed in the crow of a rooster. But I did not hear the bird. Instead, I heard His voice. “Who do you say I am, Simon Peter?” “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.”

      My Lord, what have I done? How could I so easily turn away? Have mercy upon me, Son of God!

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. This disciple of Yours, Peter, gave up everything to follow You. He dropped his nets to become a fisher of men. For three years, he followed You wherever You went. He heard You in the temple and He saw You set men free. He walked on water when You called, and was there when you were gloriously transfigured. And he declared, before all others, that You are the Christ, Son of the Living God! Still, he disowned You. Lord, there are times I have disowned You in front of others. There are times I have not stood as Your disciple. Forgive me for the times I have disowned You in front of men and for the times when no one is watching. Jesus, allow Your Holy Spirit to fill me with a boldness that allows me to lift You up. Help me to live a life worthy of the calling I have received. May I never disown You in my words, lifestyle, or actions. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

X

                                        Herod

      Herod Antipas, Tetrarch of Galilee and Perea, to Pontius Pilate, Most Excellent Prefect of the Judean Province, greetings:

      I have attempted to interrogate the prisoner you so graciously sent to me for judgment. When I received your letter, I was overjoyed for the opportunity to observe this miracle man from Galilee. In fact, I have been anxious for an audience with this Jesus ever since I learned that he was cousin to that troublesome desert nomad, John the Baptist. As you know, John was in my custody until his unfortunate death.

      Though his accusers claim that this Jesus does not think much of me (for he refers to me as a “fox”), I was hoping he would perform some of his miraculous magic tricks and prove himself the prophet others claim him to be. Instead, he has turned out to be as troublesome and arrogant as his deceased cousin was to me a few months ago. I posed multiple questions to him, but in mockery directed at my authority, he stayed utterly mute. He may be a great teacher to the common people, but he is no prophet and certainly no king to the Jews.

      In return for his contempt toward me, I have decided to dole out derision toward his outrageous claims. I must thank you for allowing us this sport at the beginning of the holy days. I could not have imagined I would find so much enjoyment in this surprise trial. With that in mind, and because he refused to defend any of the claims against him, I have returned the prisoner to you. The game is once again in your hands. Enjoy this well-dressed king that returns to your courts and greet him like the messiah he claims to be—or condemn him to death. It makes no difference to me.

      I look forward to our next reunion and I hope to join you for a meal shortly after the holy days.

      May you prosper much under the all-seeing eye of the Roman Empire.

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. Jesus, I cannot endure when they mock You, my Lord. The enemies of God are forever in derision toward Your name. They may call You a miracle worker. They may call You a wise teacher. They may even call You a benevolent prophet. And most call You a good man. But You are God. Your Word proclaims, “If you lift Me up, I will draw all men unto Me.” Teach me to lift You up in my actions and in my countenance. Show me how to lift You up in front of family, friends, and strangers alike. Let the Spirit of Christ shine so authentically from me that no one I meet will call You anything else but Lord and Savior. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

XI

                                          Truth

      The accusations against the Christ were nothing short of ludicrous deceptions created by a jealous group of religious leaders hell-bent on holding power in their clutches. But the influence of these lies came from a much more insidious source. He had met his source ere the beginning of creation.

      The one determined to see the Messiah crushed had taken a multitude of disguises throughout the ages. He had posed as an alluring serpent in Eden and successfully seduced mankind into slavery. In the courts of heaven, he argued for the soul of Job as a brilliant but un-triumphant prosecutor. Three years ago, he had faced this Jesus once again, unsuccessfully attempting to bait Him into the miscarriage of His mission. And now this foe of old had his prey where he wanted Him. Or so he thought . . .

      The deceptive and contrary nature of these charges had sent this nomadic court case from one location to another. The house of Annas and Caiaphas; the courtyard of Pilate; the palace of Herod; and finally back to Pilate’s court. The disregard for proper justice was dizzying. It was clear to Pilate that this man posed no threat. He saw himself as a king of some sort, but he clearly portrayed his reign as spiritual in nature.

      Yet the one point that disturbed Pilate was this regal Jew’s claim to be an ambassador of truth. Not a representative of a truth, but a Truth that was the source of all that is good, right, and real. Pilate’s Roman sensibilities would not allow him to even consider the possibility of a single source of Truth. Truth was what every man deemed for himself, and if necessary, truth was what the strongest demanded it to be.

      In the naivete of his youth, when Pilate foolishly believed in goodness, he had considered this possibility. But the cruelty of life had taught him otherwise. The presence of this man, however, caused his own sensibilities to crumble. Before he could think it through, he uttered a most dangerous statement: “What is truth?” This declaration was safe in the classroom of pondering philosophy students, but in the presence of Jesus it was cataclysmic. And for Pilate, it was too much.

      Pilate called the mob of religious leaders together. “I have examined him in your presence and have found no basis for your charges against him. He has done nothing to deserve death. Therefore, I will punish him and then release him.”

      But the enemy of Truth would not allow his prey so easy an escape.

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. I ask You, Lord, who may dwell in Your sanctuary? Your Word proclaims: He whose walk is blameless and who does what is righteous. Who speaks the truth from his heart. Teach me Your way, O Lord, and I will walk in Your name. Show me Your ways, O Lord, teach me Your paths; Guide me in Your truth and teach me, For You are my God and my Savior, and my hope is in You all day long. Send forth Your light and Your truth, let them guide me; Let them bring me to Your holy mountain, To the place You dwell. Teach me Your way, O Lord, That I can walk in Your truth. Give me an undivided heart that I may fear Your name. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

XII Barabbas

Righteous Lord, I sit here in this prison cell awaiting my martyrdom. Even now, I hear the people screaming my name. “Barabbas! Give us Barabbas!” They want my blood because they don’t understand. In a few moments, I will carry a cross for what I believe and have given my life. May that cross clench their dull and fearful minds. Let them always remember that I am a freedom fighter even though they label me an insurrectionist and murderer. I have been a faithful Zealot, devoted to Your ways and walking in the footsteps of my fathers. You know Lord, like Elijah and Phinehas of old, I stood in defiance of these pagan conquerors. Unlike our apathetic religious leaders, I refused to pay tribute to these Roman pigs! You are my King and the only One worthy of tribute. Rebellion to these tyrants is obedience to You! May my death stir up Your chosen people to oppose these hell-bound dictators of the Jews. I proudly go to this honored death. I know You will reward me for every Roman soldier’s neck I have cut. They don’t even deserve to have their tainted blood spill on this holy land. Forgive me for every Jew that lost his life to a Roman because of my knife. May you take into consideration all the good I’ve done . . . Two soldiers march to the front of his cell. “Barabbas! Time to go, you dog.” As they release him from his chains, he spits in their faces with insolent poison of rebellion and hate. “You’d better settle down, you idiot, or you won’t go free.” “Free? What do you mean? I am to die!” says the confused prisoner. “Not today, you lucky piece of dung. The mob has demanded your release. Your Jewish ‘holy man,’ the Nazarene, will be taking your place.” And with that, Barabbas is thrown to the streets—free to go. I know of this man! One of our own, Simon, gave up his call as a Zealot to follow him. Why has Jesus done this? Why does he now take my place in execution? Do the people hate him so much? What has he done to deserve death? Oh Lord, what have I done? I deserved this death—even craved it! Where will I go and what will I do? This innocent man will be carrying my cross . . . my cross! He is like a lamb to the slaughter. Why have You allowed him to pay for my death?

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. So many times when the clouds of confusion clear from my mind, I find I am in a dark, lonely prison cell awaiting judgment. The walls of this jail are self-imposed, built by me a stone at a time. On careful examination, I realize these walls are constructed of such things as the bitter disappointments of my unfulfilled expectations, buried anger I often harbor toward people, the blindness of my selfish desires, and my willing seduction by the things of this world. These stones turn out to be carefully placed and mortared by my prideful heart and purposed ignorance. Then You arrive and burst open my prison doors. You proclaim, “Come forward, for I have set you free! If you will only confess your sins, I will be faithful and just to forgive all your trespasses.” You throw my sin as far as the east is from the west and my burdens are lifted. Help me, Jesus, to never build those prison walls again. And if, by chance, I begin to build the walls of this prison, let Your Word come in like a wrecking ball to demolish all I have assembled. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon us.”

XIII                                    Condemned

      This was his last chance to bring an end to the madness of this twisted morning. This strange type of ordeal was the very source of Pilate’s hatred for being posted in this ghetto on the edge of the Empire. He despised these people, and more so, their manipulative leaders.

      For the first time in his Palestinian military career, he had met an honorable and worthy Jew. And what was he about to do? He was going to give into the demands of these angry puppeteers that were pulling his bureaucratic strings. He released a dangerous insurrectionist who had murdered many of his own military and would now execute an innocent and peaceful man.

      But Pilate would try one last option. Certainly the common people, who had now gathered as a multitude in his courtyard, would let this Jesus go after a lesser punishment. “Whom do I release?”

      But only one response poured forth from their throat: “CRUCIFY HIM!”

      “But he has committed no crime.”

      “CRUCIFY HIM!”

      The shouts reminded him of a time when, as a little boy, he had witnessed a gladiator fight. One of the combatants had beaten his weakened opponent into a crouched position. The vanquished warrior muttered one word to his opponent: “Mercy . . .” Pilate recalled the crowd falling into a wild frenzy and shrieking as one voice over and over:   “KILL! KILL! KILL! KILL!” Pilate felt as if he was reliving that childhood nightmare again.

      “CRUCIFY HIM!”

      This battle was also lost, yet the victim did not cry for mercy. The captive Jesus looked upon the homicidal crowd with what seemed to be pity, and dare Pilate think, affection.

      Pilate could not afford another embarrassing riot. He would allow this travesty of judgment. But Pilate had one more act of protest to carry out.

      Quieting the agitated assembly, Pilate had a Jewish ceremonial washbasin brought before him. The curiously hushed rabble now watched this pagan ruler ceremonially wash his hands like a pious Jew. On this day, of all days, they knew the significance of that action. Pilate was brashly declaring that he would not accept the blame of this man’s blood on his head. He would not take responsibility of the cross Jesus would soon bear.

      Defiantly they reacted, “Let his blood be upon us and our children!”

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. ‘If your love for early relationships is greater than your love for Me – You are not worthy of Me.’   Help me, Jesus, to love You above all others. ‘If you wash your hands of the responsibility of the cross and following Me – You are not worthy of Me.’ Help me, Jesus, to pick up the cross and follow You anywhere You lead. ‘If you seek for your well-being alone, you will lose yourself on the way.’ Help me, Jesus, to lay my life down. ‘But if you sacrifice your life for My sake you will find an abundant life.’ Thank you, Christ, for abundant life. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

XIV                                         Scourge

      Pilate’s last attempt to appease the crowd took place in the form of the scourge; perhaps a generous show of blood would be enough meted punishment. This noble Jew would certainly be severely scarred for the rest of his life, but he would stay alive, and that was something.

      Every male convicted to execution under Roman law was required to endure the scourge before the final torture. Many prisoners, if fortunate, died under the whip before they ever made it to the cross.

      After stripping Jesus to a loincloth, the soldiers led Him to the post in the middle of Pilate’s courtyard. At the top of the post a ring was mounted with a rope dangling through it. Securely tying His hands with the cord, the soldiers pulled Jesus’ body up toward the ring until He stood upon the tips of His toes. The powerful frame of the Carpenter was stretched taut. Every muscle and every sinew was defined on His extended body. If not for the obvious posture of torture, one would have been reminded of an ancient Greek statue reaching to the heavens.

      The guard who administered the lashes was an expert at the scourge. He was painfully accurate and his tool was no mere whip. It was designed to inflict the most punishing wounds possible. Three leather cords hung from the handle. Each cord was studded with bone and metal fragments that would act as hooks. This punishment consisted of thirteen lashes. Pilate had ordered the guard to “ . . . make it appear as horrible as possible but spare the life of this Jew.”

      Once Jesus was in position, the skilled punisher took a moment to study his victim’s body. He dipped the scourge into a basin of warm water so the leather would adhere to the skin. Standing behind his target, he aimed for the mid-back. Slash! As the cords wrapped around Jesus’ powerful frame, the bone and the metal at the tips of the leather sunk into His body. Feeling the hook, the guard turned himself around, twisting the cords. The hooks gripped into Jesus’ flesh. With all his strength, the punisher pulled away. He stood somewhat stunned as his victim let out a lone muffled moan. Up to this point in his ghastly career, there had always been screams. He had torn three twelve-inch strips of flesh from the man’s body, yet Jesus barely moved. He repeated this process for several minutes until thirty-nine stripes had been filleted from the prisoner’s neck to His calves. Victim and torturer stood crimson. Lacerations covered Jesus’ frame, yet He never cried for mercy.

      As they cut his body down, the torturer wondered, “Who is this man?”

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. You were pierced for our transgressions and crushed for our iniquities. Your punishment brought us peace and by Your stripes . . . blind eyes open, unbreakable hearts break, and stubborn ways change. . . . Gentiles acquire hope, the worthless become priceless, and the poor are wealthy. . . . foolish assumptions expire, blind faith becomes unnecessary, and man’s wisdom hollows. . . . Babylon’s call is muted, the yoke of bondage cracked, and the mark of Cain disappears. . . . consuming fears take flight, destructive words shatter, and hatred loses all its power. . . . eternal separation becomes endless reunion, idols are destroyed, and the curtain is torn. . . . the debts of our past are paid, the law fulfilled, and a King sits on the throne. . . . sickness is healed, pain is swallowed in joy, and sorrow fills with laughter. . . . man is restored, nakedness is covered, and Passover is concluded. . . . the rocks cry out, creation groans, and devils continue to tremble. . . . enemies are reconciled, the lost are saved, and tongues are loosed. . . . Adam’s sin is redeemed, the seduction of the world fades, and the devil’s grasp loosens. . . . hell is defeated, death loses its sting, and the grave remains empty. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

XV

                                         Crown

      I tell you this account that you may clearly understand why I have asked for the relief of my commission. Though it is of minor importance, it may help you to know that I come from a noble Roman family in the seaport town of Troas on the eastern edge of Macedonia. My ancestors were a part of the royal guard that marched with Alexander the Great when this part of the world became a Greek city-state. You could say being a soldier is in my nature. But I no longer have the stomach nor the will to carry on this occupation of death.

      My place in this tale begins in the Praetorium. Pilate had ordered me to oversee the execution of an innocent man. This man, Jesus the Nazarene, had somehow stirred the religious hornet’s nest of the Sanhedrin. In some sort of political game of chaos, this dignified carpenter would receive the punishment set for a bloodthirsty assassin named Barabbas.

      After his scourging, the prisoner was brought before several hundred soldiers, most of whom held a ferocious and ever-brewing contempt for this subject nation. These men had waited months to see Barabbas pay for the deaths of their brothers in arms. Now Barabbas was gone and this man was all we were left with. The charge of death was because of his supposed claim to be the king of the Jews.

      Knowing the anger building in the company of soldiers, I decided to allow them to make sport of this one who would die very soon. The building pressure of the soldiers’ lives would have to be appeased, or more senseless aggression would occur.

      Removing his blood-soaked clothes, the men found a faded military cloak and placed it on his shoulders. One of the soldiers had collected a vine of wickedly long palm spines and created a makeshift crown. A rough-hewn scepter was placed into his right hand and many bowed, yelling, “Hail, king of the Jews!”

      In a grotesque flash, they started to beat him senseless. Some pulled out chunks of his beard while others beat his already lacerated body and head with the stick. He was beaten until you could barely recognize him as human. All their fury was poured on this one man. Wonder of wonders—throughout the agonizing torture, the prisoner barely moaned. Pilate tried to release him again, but the crown demanded blood.

      I must rest, for I do not feel so well. Give me some time and I will tell you more of this sad tale.

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. They twisted a crown of thorns upon Your head and called You a King. And they were right. You are a King, the King of Kings. Help me, Jesus, to follow You in such a manner that I will not be disqualified for the prize—a crown that will last forever. And may that crown be righteousness which the Lord, the Righteous Judge will award to me on that day. Then, as I one day approach Your throne, allow me to lay down that crown before Your feet and say, ‘You are worthy, our Lord and our God, to receive glory and honor and power, for You created all things, and by Your will they were created and have their being.’ Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

XVI                                       The Cross

      They gathered from across the vast scope of creation. The instrument of mystery that lay hidden from before the birth of matter, time, and eternity was about to be uncovered. The Maker subdues the angelic beings that are ready to burst through the hidden realm to save the Son. They may observe, but they are not to interfere in any way. The Son of God must carry this weight on His own shoulders.

      The Christ was barely recognizable. His body was covered with caustic bruises and great clots of blood. A large-framed soldier of eastern descent ripped the robe from His body, reopening the wounds that covered every inch of His frame. As the blood flowed from His torn flesh, the angelic beings gasped. Many of the invisible observers wept at the insanity displayed before them. The sweat, blood, and waste of the prisoner caused the air to grow pungent. The Son of God was clothed once again by a vulgar-mouthed guard who forced a bloodied garment back onto His trembling body. Two fellow prisoners were already on the execution road. Time was running short and the soldiers were growing impatient.

      At this moment, all of heaven became immobilized. Deep within their spirits, they knew the mystery would now be revealed. What would the Son do? Would He call the angels to burst forth in a triumphant shout of judgment? Would the One they called Savior transfigure before His enemies and reveal His true self?

      One cherubim broke the silence and pointed saying, “No! It cannot be. That cannot be the mystery. Not a cross!”

      Forcing the Christ to His knees, two men plunged a rough-hewn crossbeam onto the Son’s shoulders. The splinters dug deep into His back. Tying His arms to the crossbeam, the soldiers forced the Son to start the journey toward the appointed place of execution.

      The angelic host watched His face. Grimacing at first, the Son stood exhausted. But an intense dignity was set in His brow. He would carry the instrument of His humiliation, torture, and death. All would think Him accursed by God.

      So it was true. The will of the Father was something none of them had anticipated. God Himself had provided the lamb for the sin offering. That offering would be His beloved Son.

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.

      When I survey the wondrous cross*

      On which the Prince of glory died,

      My richest gain I count but loss,

      And pour contempt on all my pride.

      Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast

      Save in the death of Christ my God!

      All the vain things that charm me most,

      I sacrifice them to His blood.

      See from His head, His hands, His feet,

      Sorrow and love flow mingled down!

      Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,

      Or thorns compose so rich a crown?

      His dying crimson, like a robe,

      Spread o’er His body on the tree;

      Then I am dead to all the globe,

      And all the globe is dead to me.

      Were the whole realm of nature mine,

      That were a present far too small;

      Love so amazing, so divine,

      Demands my soul, my life, my all.

Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.

*Isaac Watts, Hymns and Spiritual Songs, 1707 Public Domain

XVII

                                         First Fall

      The path to Golgotha, on any other day, would have been nothing more than a pleasant stroll through the bustling streets of David’s City. But on this day, the trek would become the most grueling journey any man would ever take.

      The One who now carried a hundred pounds of raw wood on His beaten and bloodied back also bore the sins of all mankind (past, present, and future) on His human frame. No other vessel but His could ever contain the blemish of Eden and the hope of heaven. He understood this day from before He had uttered “Let there be light!” Before eternity, He had chosen enfleshment and embraced Gethsemane. His face was set like flint as He moved step-by-step down the very road He had paved before time.

      The odd parade of soldiers, criminals, Sanhedrin, and the Christ left the fortress and worked its way toward the city gates. The streets were filled with visiting Jews from every corner of the empire. During the Passover celebration, Jerusalem would swell to maximum capacity, for it was a Jew’s responsibility to make it to the holy city to celebrate Passover at least once in a lifetime. Throughout the streets, men walked briskly toward the temple, bearing unblemished lambs upon their shoulders. Those lambs were soon to be sacrificed as covering for their family’s sins.

      Jerusalem was ablaze with thousands of voices humming in the atmosphere. This made the journey to the execution site particularly tense and slower than usual. The soldiers, already on edge, pushed the condemned like sheep to the slaughter. All they wanted was to finish this nasty business as soon as possible.

      By this point, Jesus was exhausted from the loss of sleep, blood, and water. His feet became unsteady as He walked the stone-paved streets toward His final destination. Finally, trembling under the weight of the crossbeam, the Son of God succumbed to the weakness of His flesh and went down. Hands tied and unable to catch Himself, He fell hard upon His face. The pain was excruciating. Without a moment of relief, two guards grabbed the beam, lifting the bearer who was tied to it. His shoulders felt as if they would separate from His body. In that moment, He grew foggy and started to lose consciousness.

      The gentle “baa” of a single sacrificial lamb broke through the turmoil of the moment, jarring the Son of God back to His senses. He would go forth and finish the work the Father had set before Him.

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. I desire, Lord, to know You in the fellowship of Your sufferings. I do not want to lift my head higher than Your laws, nor attempt to become the master of another through manipulation, haughtiness, unforgiveness, control, or any other ways I may have created. Instead, I want to take on the depiction of Incarnation. I desire to serve mankind through serving You. Help me to be humble enough to bear the weight of the cross upon my shoulders. In turn, I will die to myself and live for You. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

XVIII

                                   Mother of God

      She broke through the crowd in a desperate devotion that only a mother can understand. Very early in the morning, she was woken with the words, “They have taken Him.” Her instincts told her to prepare for the worst. This was a moment she had known since the haunting words of Simeon were spoken, “. . . a sword will pierce your own soul.”

      Her Son had been arrested and none knew why. He had been held in Pilate’s courtyard for quite a long time. She heard the crowds yelling, “Crucify!” Still, she would not allow herself to believe what she already knew in her heart. What is happening to Him? Why have they not released Him?

      By the time the gates to the fortress had opened, she had been pushed to the back of a vast crowd of onlookers waiting for this gruesome parade. Two criminals passed the multitude of onlookers who shouted out curses at the cross bearers. When a third man appeared, a collective horrific gasp echoed. Taking the opportunity, Mary forced her way through the throng, many of whom were now retreating from the front.

      A man, if you could call him that, was carrying a crossbeam and was heading in her direction. The garment he was wearing was soaked crimson in his own blood. His head, a mass of bruises and bumps, carried upon it a wicked crown created out of thorns.

      Hope filled her as the gates closed behind him. Her son was not there. He must have been released and she simply could not see Him in the crowd.

      As the maimed criminal came past her, He looked up and caught her eye.

      Time stopped and all went deathly silent. It was as if the world contained only her and this shattered man. His gaze gave Him away. In this frozen moment, she saw the beautiful eyes of a newborn babe in her arms. She remembered how His gentle little hands reached for her mouth and she kissed them tenderly. She remembered her twelve-year-old son, sitting in the temple with elders and teachers. That day she had been so worried for His safety and irritated at His actions. But when she looked into His eyes there was a playful wisdom. “Why were you searching for me? Didn’t you know I had to be in my Father’s house?”

      This mutilated figure was her beloved son. She screamed in horror, trying to reach Him, but an annoyed soldier simply held her back. Once again, she caught His eyes and knew He was about His Father’s work.

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. I sit amazed, as I gaze upon my children, wondering how the mother of God fulfilled her role. What was her anguish, her pain? She watched her son, pondering many hidden secrets in her heart. She knew Him as Jesus, Savior, Immanuel, God Is With Us, and son. She knew Him better than any other. But did she have other dreams for Him? Certainly she hoped for the best and wanted to watch Him thrive and grow. But Your plans for Him were already set and she had to give Him back to You. Help me understand, Lord, that I am simply a steward of the lives of my children. I look at them and ponder many hopes, dreams, and desires for their lives. Yet, I want nothing neither more nor less than Your will for them. Aid me in knowing when to protect and when to let go. Teach me to raise them in the admonition of You. Allow my life to draw them closer to Your heart. And when the day comes, help me release them back to You. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

XIX                                          Simon

      Many have asked why my father gave himself to martyrdom. If you listen I will now tell you the simple, true tale of an encounter with a crossbearer and how it turned our lives in a direction we never contemplated.

      Our family originated from a Jewish colony in the city of Cyrene in North Africa. We were cultured, wealthy, intellectual, and known for our piety.

      My grandfather, Simon, took my father, Rufus, and his brother, Alexander, to Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover. Can you imagine the excitement over a journey of that magnitude? Visiting the City of David on the holiest day of the year was the adventure of a lifetime. The voyage took several days by sea, and by the time they arrived, the city was filled to capacity. Instead, they stayed a few miles outside of Jerusalem in the surrounding country.

      On the morning of Preparation, they started early toward Jerusalem so as to enjoy as much of the day’s festivities as possible and to take a sacrifice to the temple. But the greeting they received at the gates of the city was anything but joyful. According to Uncle Alexander, an angry and menacing crowd was congested just inside the gates. As they entered, they found themselves staring at three men bearing patibulum (crossbeams) on their backs. Here, on the holiest of days, people were screaming for the sacrifice of these men.

      One of the men, a thief, scowled and cursed the crowd. The second, also a thief, seemed distressed and he openly wept. My father always told me that the last man was too horrible to describe.

      Grandfather often said that he immediately knew it could only have been God who sustained Him with the strength to walk with the cross. It was at that critical moment that Grandfather met the Lamb of God. The one-hundred-pound crossbeam on the third man’s back had taken its toll and He started to stumble. A centurion caught Him and, in what Grandfather perceived to be an act of kindness, cut Him loose of the beam. “You! Get over here!” Simon was stunned but quick enough to tell his sons to follow closely.

      My father said he thought my grandfather was about to be killed. Little did he know he was about to come alive! What happened after that will stay within our family. But I will tell you this. The words that the Christ spoke to my grandfather as he took the weight of the cross forever changed him and our family. They were words to live for and words worthy of dying for.

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. He came to worship, not knowing what to expect. He was simply caught up in the holidays. But on his way toward tradition, he met You face to face. It was at this point that Simon became a crossbearer. And as he took that cross upon his shoulders, You whispered something in his ear. Those few words of intimacy forever changed his life and the lives of his children. Jesus, many times I find myself caught up in the tradition of worship. But the only time worship results in transcendence is when I meet You face to face. As I carry the cross and follow You, whisper words in my ears that will forever change me, my children, and any I may touch with my life. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

XX Veronica

The temporary relief of weight allowed the Son of God a brief respite. He was now heading downhill through the Valley of Tyropean. The hills of crucifixion appeared through His misty, blood-tainted sight. Lingering at the edge of the crowd since His exit from the fortress, a woman waited for just the right moment. There would be only one chance, and his faith-filled follower of the Healer would not waste it on a useless attempt. She must reach Him and touch His face. His bloodied body reminded her of the blood-debt that compelled her forward. Her name was Veronica, but for years she was known as “Unclean.” As a young woman, the starting of her menstrual cycle signaled her arrival into womanhood. But that which should have been a season of celebration turned into a twelve-year nightmare. Her cycle never stopped. She would sometimes flow blood for days, leaving her body drained of all strength. Many times during her life, she could not leave the confines of her home. The embarrassment of a sudden flow in public had been devastating the few times it happened. All the wealth her parents had left for her was spent on doctors who could not heal her. But the most distressing aspect of her ailment was the toll it took on her worship. According to the law, Veronica was perpetually unclean. Every person she came in contact with, the clothes she wore, the very bed she slept in, were considered unclean. She was excluded from the temple or synagogue. She was a marked pariah to all who knew her. The day the Healer passed, she felt an unceasing unction to reach Him. She had heard the miraculous tales. Covering her entire body, she rushed into a crowd that had surrounded Him. “If I only touch the edge of his cloak, I will be healed.” And when she did touch Him, He stopped and recognized her among the throng of people. “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace.” Those words would forever resonate in her heart. The time was now! Pushing through the crowds once again, she miraculously made it past the soldiers and thrust a cool, wet cloth tenderly on His face. For a moment, He felt sweet relief from the heat and pain. His eyes were cleared of the blinding blood. The soldiers were upon her swiftly, throwing her back into the crowd. There she stood watching. He gazed at her and smiled. As He continued toward Golgotha, she clutched the bloody rag to her breast and whispered, “I am again healed.”

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. Daily I press through to You, Lord. I press through the mediocrity that drowns me, the pain of sin, the deafening circumstances, and the overflowing schedules that doggedly overwhelm me. I press toward You, just to touch the hem of Your robe. I have to give back to You. I do not care if my hands are bloodied. I thrust through the crowd only to reach You. My love for You overcomes any fears that whisper in my ears. You said that if I give to the least of these, I give to You. Today, my God, show me the least, that I may serve them and touch You. I will take a risk of love and spread compassion, even if it soils my hands. Amidst those in pain and ugliness, the rejected and the suffering, I will find You and I will take the cool cloth of compassion and love to relieve their suffering. In doing so, I will put that cool cloth upon Your brow and demonstrate my love for You. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

XXI Second Fall

Thank you for allowing me a bit of rest before continuing my strange account. I want to remind you that I clearly understand the ramifications of resigning my post as a centurion. It will most certainly bring dishonor to my family. But the disgrace I have already been a part of makes any other dishonor seem trite. I believe I left off my story with the one they call the King of the Jews being inhumanely beaten by my men. From there, he was led on the streets through the city. The crowds gathered as always, but this time en masse, so our progress was slow. At one point, the prisoner became so weakened that I seized a bystander to take the crossbeam from him. When we came to the hill of Ghareb, the law prescribed that those being executed must, if possible, bear their burden of execution. This one who was beaten beyond recognition stopped. On his own volition, he took the beam from the bystander and whispered something into his ear. I was stunned. Never in all my years as an officer in the Roman army have I witnessed such fortitude and determination. Slowly, he began to work his way up the hill. I held the soldiers back from any abuse simply to watch what he would do next. I looked at his eyes, and they were set as firmly as the giant Gibraltar that sits at the gates of the Great Sea. Half way up his ascent, he lost his footing. The small jagged rocks that lay upon the entire path were cutting into His unprotected feet. Stumbling, he fell again with a nasty thud. I thought he was finally spent. But to my sheer amazement, he pushed up from the dust and stood once again. Grabbing the beam, he again continued his climb. What was this man’s mission? Why did he persevere toward his death with such passion? I had joined the army, following in the footsteps of my father and his father before him. They were the bravest of men and willing to lay their lives down for the Empire. They had something beyond mere belief. They had conviction. I have come to realize that beliefs are something you argue about. Conviction is something you will die for. A person with no convictions is at the mercy of circumstance. This man had a conviction and resilience stronger than any I have ever witnessed. I will go so far as to say that he seemed in control of his own execution. I was humbled by his sheer tenacity. Yet, the strangest part of this tale is still to be told.

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth; And in Jesus Christ His only Son our Lord; who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and buried. He descended into hell. The third day, He rose again from the dead. He ascended into heaven and sits at the right hand of God the Father Almighty, from where He shall come to judge the quick and the dead. I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy Catholic church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting. Amen. I believe these things, Lord. Help me to live them, moving beyond belief into conviction. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

XXII

                                   The Weeping

      The day He had visited the home of Jarius, the ruler of the synagogue, Jesus had run into this same crowd, and it was not a pleasant experience. He had, in fact, firmly rebuked them. “Why make this commotion and weep? The child is not dead, but sleeping.” Their pitiful sobs and horrendous wailing for the dead stopped instantly, replaced by raucous laughter and mean-spirited ridicule. The only thing that caused their amusement to cease was the little girl emerging from her home, very much alive.

      These women had an odd place in Jewish culture. They were official wailers who wept for the highest bidder. The amount of love and honor for the deceased was proven by the number of mourners hired to wail for the dead. This practice was a hypocrisy that was sadly accepted as normal and correct. Yet, paying for mourning never healed a single heart.

      Now, once again, as He topped the hill of Golgotha, Jesus heard the shrill pitch of their howling voices. This was their charity—their work of mercy. They would give a dramatic performance for the condemned on this holy day eve. Who knows? Maybe it would open up more business for them in the future. But the Savior would not be mocked.

      Stopping directly in front of the small cluster of woman, He spoke. “Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me; weep for yourselves and for your children. For the time will come when you will say, ‘Blessed are the barren women, the wombs that never bore and the breasts that never nursed!’ Then ‘they will say to the mountains, “Fall on us!” and to the hills, “Cover us!””

      They were stunned into silence. He wanted their eyes opened to the greater drama unfolding around them. Words of truth rang in the ears of the crowd. Weep against evil, for agony does not entomb Me! Do not allow your tears to blind you from the truth that stands in front of you. You are broken people who would rather hide behind tears than deal with the truth.

      As the Christ continued toward His place of execution, the women stood still. They were too curious to leave and too afraid to wail. Soon after, their insincere tears were replaced by genuine grief. One by one they departed, contemplating their futures and the future of Jerusalem. And not an eye was dry.

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. May I cry only genuine tears of repentance and not take advantage of Your mercy, Lord. I do not want to feel sorry for myself, so help me cry for the wounded and lost. Let me to weep because of evil, and allow that weeping to lead to action. Always let my tears be as liquid pearl, an offering of worth before Your throne. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

XXIII

                                        Third Fall

      Cresting the hill of Golgotha, the One called Jesus of Nazareth became breathless. His footing was erratic but His pace steady. It took all of His concentration to get one foot in front of the other. The soldiers imagined that they were keeping Him moving, but it was sheer will and prayer that kept the Lamb of God on His path.

      Atop the end of His journey, a fair-sized crowd was amassed. Its anger rumbled in His ears. The soldiers held the crowd’s physical presence at bay but they could not contain the throng’s hatred of Him. Some threw stones at His beaten body. Most of the people just screamed epithets of hatred. His accusers were many: soldiers, Sanhedrin, common folk, and devils galore.

      During His last few footsteps, He once again felt the agony of His body and blacked out for a brief second. His legs failed as He crumpled to the ground like a newborn calf. As blood rushed from His head, the voices became muted. He could still hear laughing.

      Angel and devil alike wondered what compelled the Son of God forward. His followers had denied Him and He was ridiculed by the religious leaders. Soldiers who hated anything Jewish had beaten Him ferociously, and now on top of all that, they laughed.

      All seemed to be casting stones and no one came to His aid as He lay in the dirt. His hands had always brought healing, tenderness, and love. Now, when He needed a hand in return, none could be found. The only thing that met Him was mockery and the lash.

      So why did He continue toward Golgotha? Love. This was a love that emanated far outside of human understanding. This love was His being. It was all that had ever motivated Him, and now was no different. He treasured these people and saw through their shells of insecurity, prejudice, bitterness, and blame. Eternal eyes broke through the masks, realizing who these individuals were: God’s children. He also knew that many of those who gathered today would one day be drawn to His throne. He had no room in His heart for hatred, no room for enemies.

      Four large hands gripped Him by His shoulders, pulling Him into a standing position. He would continue, for the end was soon as hand.

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. God, grant me the patience to reach those who are intolerant, cruel, envious, and braggarts. Teach me to pray for those who are proud, rude, and out for only themselves. Give me the grace to unconditionally love those who are angry and bitter. I want to demonstrate truth to those enmeshed in evil through trust in Your Word, hope in Your Son, and perseverance in the Holy Spirit. And Father, if I am any of those things I just mentioned, deal with my heart so I may never turn aside from Your gracious gift of love. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

XXIV

                                        Golgotha

      Born in the Garden of Eden, it was mankind’s greatest enemy. Adam—its liberator—had unleashed this beast that would devastate the cosmos. Its insatiable appetite demanded the ultimate price from every living creature. This monstrosity, Death, had become more powerful than the Prince of the Air. In fact, Death seemed itself to be more powerful than the Almighty.

      Every human on this miserable, dusty sphere was its timid subject. From the moment these souls emerged from their mothers’ wombs, they started the inevitable journey toward mortality. Of course, there had been a few occasions when the Creator had postponed the unavoidable, but in the end, all living things met Death. And they were dreadfully afraid; almost every one of them trembled at the thought of their final appointment. That is, until Jesus came along.

      This One that called Himself the Son of God was never afraid. Throughout His entire life, they had confronted one another. In fact, Death had attempted, in vain, to exterminate this One who had such a completely different origin than all the other despondent humans on the planet.

      Death’s desperation had grown to heights it never realized possible. And that despair was stimulated by something it had only experienced through its encounters with Him. Death had learned to fear. This Son had snatched back some of those whom Death had firmly in its control. Victory was ripped from its claws every time the Son revived Death’s victims from the grave.

      Who or what was this Man? This thought caused a shiver to run down its cold spine. Could this One be a God-Man? If He was a God-Man, could He die?

      Death became consumed with causing the Son’s end. And this is where it would happen. The place where the Son had carried His cross was known as Golgotha to the Hebrews; Calvaria to the Romans. The name intoned the same fate. This was Death’s terrain. The barren, stony knoll that sat just outside of Jerusalem’s gates loosely resembled a skull. Because it was considered a foreboding place to the Jews, the Romans took advantage of their superstitions and selected it as a place of execution. Sitting on a well-traveled road into the city, this hill served as a chilling reminder of Roman rule.

      Death stood atop the hill, watching its victim slowly climb the last ridge. The Son would not escape again. Death would murder Life!

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. Death entered through one man’s disobedience, and was banished through one Man’s obedience. Oh Christ, Son of God, You have indeed been raised from the dead. You have vanquished our greatest enemy, death, and in turn given us resurrection. Let us always remember that death has been swallowed up in victory. Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting? For we have the victory through Christ Jesus our Lord. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

XXV

                                   Myrrh and Gall

      “I will never forget those eyes. His gaze made me feel as if I looked into the face of god. Forgive me, for I do not wish to be blasphemous, but it makes me think the rumors are true. This Man was a prophet.” The meek woman spoke in hushed tones to her family during the Passover meal. Obviously shaken, her family moved closer around her. They were captivated by the tale of her encounter with the crucified Rabbi from Galilee.

      She had a calling that was very unique. Most thought her somewhat mad for performing her acts of mercy. She saw herself simply as an instrument of God’s great compassion. On execution days, this woman, along with a few others, stationed herself at the top of Golgotha. As the doomed prisoners crested the fated hill, these women would administer a guarded medicine to the condemned.

      The solution was a careful mixture of vinegar wine, gall, and myrrh. The wine was symbolic of the blood of sacrifice. It was to be hoped that the criminal facing imminent death would make his peace before entering Sheol. The gall came from a poisonous herb. Not only did it dull the senses—making the terrible pain of crucifixion easier to bear—but it also reminded the prisoners of the bitterness of sin that brought them to this point. Because of the sour bite of the gall, sweet-smelling and anesthetic myrrh was added to balance out the taste. Myrrh was commonly used in burial. So in a way, the liquid was dispensed to the prisoners to prepare them for death.

      Three were sentenced to death on this holy day eve. The first criminal, a common crook, drank with a ravenous thirst. Fear filled his eyes. The second thief was a man consumed with a bitter rage. He took a deep drink of the liquid, then cursed the hands that gave it to him. But as the Rabbi came forward, something happened that this worker of mercy had never observed before. He took a small sip of the medicine and immediately stopped.

      “He looked up at me. His face was marred beyond that of any criminal I have ever relieved. Blood covered His brow. He smiled at me. I was not prepared for His sentiment. He shook his head slightly as if to say, ‘No thank you dear woman.’ Those lovely, kind eyes looked deep into me and I felt like I could hear His voice in my head saying, ‘I must face My suffering with complete control of My mind. When I encounter death, I will not be numbed.’ As those three walked toward death, I knew I would never forget the gall of fear and bitterness in the two thieves and the myrrh of faith in the Rabbi.”

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. In my life, I cannot control circumstance. Neither can I control the decisions of others that affect me. What I can choose is how I allow those things to affect and change me. Keep my mind and my heart from the bitter gall that could corrupt every fraction of my life. Instead, fill me with the sweet aroma of the Holy Spirit who works in all things for the good of those who have been called according to His purpose. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

XXVI

                                         Stripped

      The deed was done. Adam’s surrender to serpentine deception had caused a detonation of death that traveled outward from the garden, laying waste to the entire cosmos. For the first time, man felt the brutal weight of shame. Purity was stripped away.
      The Lord walked through the garden calling for His children saying, “Where are you?” Adam answered in hushed disgrace, “I heard You in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid.”
      The Lord Himself sacrificed an animal to make garments for His children, covering the loss of innocence and glory.
      As Christ reached the site of execution, the guards removed the crossbeam from His neck. Standing motionless, the temporary reprieve of weight seemed wondrous. Activity continued around Him. The two men before Him screamed as they were nailed to the beams.
      Jesus waited. Two soldiers approached Him and removed His belt, head covering, and outer robe. Noticing the fine quality of His inner garment, they took precautions in stripping it off His body. To these hardened men, the prisoner’s bloodied, seamless tunic was much more valuable than His life. As they stripped it from His upper body, coagulated wounds that had drawn to the cloth were ripped open. Again, blood flowed.
      But one final act of humiliation would occur. In customary cruelty, they stripped Him of His loincloth, leaving only shame and humiliation. In a few moments, the execution squad would roll dice for His garments directly below His torn body. The Christ would be displayed, utterly exposed before all who mocked, wept, and worshiped.
      The deed was done. Christ’s obedience to God would cause a chain reaction of life and forgiveness that would travel outward from Golgotha toward the whole of creation. Through the stripping, the Son would replace the weight of the crossbeam with the weight of mankind’s shame. The Father would soon turn away from the Son. He knew His Son must pay the grave debt of mankind alone. His death would bring the garment of incorruptibility and glory back to mankind.

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. Many times, Lord, I attempt to cover my shame with something on the outside. I wear masks that hide my true feelings. I put on clothes, hoping they will cause others to accept me. I buy material possessions as an attempt to fill an empty spot in my life. I become what I believe others want me to be so that I will not feel alone. But deep inside, I still feel isolated and cut off from true life. Help me to replace my masks with the courage to be honest with my emotions. Give me the understanding that it is not what I wear on the outside, but who I am on the inside that brings worth to my life. I do not want possessions to fill the empty places in my heart, because they never do. Give me a greater understanding of my purpose and allow that to fill my time. Help me to be only what You have created me to be, and realize that You never leave me nor forsake me. Without Your death I would remain naked and alone, cut off from Your presence and my purpose. I, once again, remember that You cover me. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

XXVII

                                         Crucified

      As the Son of God was stripped, the execution squad nailed crossbeam to post. It was just after nine o’clock, and they were already weary of the morning’s activities. Before they could seize their prisoner, He moved toward the wood as if an invisible force compelled Him forward.
      He offered no resistance when they stretched His arm upon the beam. Lying face up, the first spike was carefully placed between the bones in His wrist. The hammer fell in rapid strokes, severing skin, muscle, and bone. The echo of metal and the vibration of wood could not drown out His scream, which seemed to overshadow the whole of Jerusalem. His cry intermingled with the cries of hundreds of lambs being led to the slaughter. How many blows would it take?
      Without a moment of mercy, the soldiers grabbed His other arm and pulled, separating the shoulders with a wicked snap. Spikes pierced the One who cured lepers, wiped away blindness, and lovingly held children. Torn flesh and burst arteries almost caused Him to go unconscious as the Carpenter was once again joined to wood.
      Placing His legs on the post, they purposefully aimed the nail through the bones in the center of His feet. This would securely hold the lower body in a sitting position. All three nails had been placed through major nerves in the limbs. The victim could not move without sending razor-sharp pains that traveled through the length of the body.
      Once Jesus was attached to the tree, the soldiers lifted Him into place. As the bottom of the cross slipped into the ground supports, it quickly slid into place, jarring His body with the full impact of the drop. In His momentary delirium of pain, He heard a taunting voice in the crowd that quickly gathered around the setting of His torture.
      “You who will destroy the temple and build it in three days, save yourself! Come down from the cross, if you are the Son of God!” His naysayers snickered at the venomous comment. Knowing His fate was sealed, they hushed, waiting to hear a rebuttal of some kind.
      Instead, He whispered a statement that caused the soldiers to stare, His followers to weep, and His accusers to rile in an outburst of fury. “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” Something other than nails was holding Him to this cross.

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. I have been crucified with Christ which means I no longer live. Yet, Christ lives within me! The life I live in this body, I live by faith and trust in the Son of God who loved me and gave Himself for me. Becoming obedient unto death; even death upon a cross. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.’

XXVIII

Sign

     "Excuse me, Prefect. They are back again to take audience with you." The soldier had a reason to be sheepish with his announcement. The early morning trial had set Pilate in a foul mood. "Show them in!" This had been the strangest of days. Pilate reasoned that he had done enough dirty work for these men, and he hoped his little joke was the incentive that compelled them to return so soon.
     Several principal priests of Jerusalem marched into the Roman courtyard with scowls on their brows; their robes ripped in protest. "What is the meaning of this outrage! Why do you disgrace us in this manner?"
     Pilate smiled for the first time this day. His final message to these bothersome religious zealots had worked beautifully. Roman custom demanded that every man condemned to the cross have their name and crimes posted on a titulus for all to witness. This sign was positioned as a warning. Pilate, feeling humiliated by the trap these men had set for him, decided to disgrace them publicly in return. The sign he would post over their hated foe would read: JESUS OF NAZARETH, KING OF THE JEWS. To rub salt into the wound, Pilate would write it in Aramaic, Latin, and Greek. All would gasp why this man was crucified.
     Growling like cornered beasts, the leaders fired their demands. 'Do not write 'THE KING OF THE JEWS,' but that this man claimed to be king of the Jews. "
     Pilate loosed a chortle that tinged on madness. Then he suddenly took a deadly tone. "What I have written, I have written."
     Turning around, he left the courtyard without anohter glance toward his unwanted visitors. This sign would act as his personal slur to the Jewish aspirations of independence. The game would continue, but he would no longer be a player. Pilate, representative of the Roman government and the Gentile world, had completed his role by signing the death warrant. The memory of his signature remained in the forefront of his mind, and convinced him that the sign would stay.
     Being King of the Jews was Jesus' only crime. He would be condemned by Jew and Gentile; rich and poor; religious and pagan alike. And the sign over his beaten brow would read: JESUS OF NAZARETH KING OF THE JEWS.

"Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. I am on the journey constantly looking for a sign of which way to turn, where to go. You said, Lord Christ, that You only go where the Father leads. I have committed to follow you, Jesus. Take me where the Father wills as I daily follow You. And let me comprehend the sign they posted over you: Jesus of Nazareth - King of the Jews. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me."

XXIX

Two Thieves

     I already feel Sheol’s breath on my neck, and there is now escape. I am so afraid… so very afraid. I cry out to You, Lord.

     I have run from You since I left my family in pursuit of fortune. Oh, how I wounded them with my departure. Do they know what has become of me? Do they realize that I have become a vile worm living off the handouts of others and stealing whenever I was able?

     This is the death I have deserved.   But I am not prepared to go to the grave. Would you forgive this worm, Lord? Or is this a just punishment for a prodigal son of Israel?

     Forgive me for mocking the Rabbi that hangs next to me. I have heard of His works. Even now I see forgiveness and love in His eyes. To look into them is to realize the sin that has overtaken my heart. Lord, help Him. Lord, forgive me…

     The crowd was growing around the Nazarene. A few of His closest companions, including His mother, had defied the mockery of the mob to be with Him in His last few moments of life. But the angered priests and teachers derided Him with a renewed fervor.

     Relieved that the crowd was ignoring them, the two thieves who were being crucified with Him had joined in the ridicule. But the one on His right, the one that seemed so afraid, started to cry. Closing his eyes, he began to pray quietly.

     The thief on the left, to the joy of the mob, screamed at the Man in the middle. “Aren’t you the Christ? Save yourself and us!”

     The crucified thief on the right of the Nazarene immediately opened his eyes. His fear was now replaced with a courage previously unknown to him. “Don’t you fear God,” he said with a formidable voice, “since you are under the same sentence? We are punished justly, for we are receiving what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong.”

     Turning to the One whose eyes had softened his hardened and fearful heart, he said, “Jesus remember me when you come into your Kingdom.”

     Jesus answered him, “I tell you the truth, today you will be with Me in paradise.”

     Thank You, Lord. Today I have seen the Son. Tonight the Father will embrace me. I am again a child of Israel…

     "Lord Jesus Christ have mercy upon me. There are always choices before me. Choices that lead toward righteousness and those that take me down a road of destruction. How often have I played the prodigal child? So many times I have chosen what I knew to be sin. Oh, what a wretched man I am. But when I gaze into Your eyes, my hardened heart softens. When I stop and look at Your face, I reject the path of sin and self. Father, I do not ever want to lose sight of Your eyes. I want to see Your face to face every day. Keep me on the path to Your kingdom so I may one day hear You say, 'Well done my good and faithful servant.' Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me."

XXXI

                                        Darkness

      At noon the darkness descended, consuming all light. Around the world many began to wonder if they would ever see sunrise again. What the witnesses of the crucifixion could not see was the gathering that caused the darkness. Sin, upon entering the human race through Adam, became an unquenchable beast that ruptured the fabric of creation.

      Man had forever scratched at the wound of sin that was now embedded in his psyche. He would scrape it until it bled, but relief was never found. This wound then lead to torment and eventually death. Mankind had become a zoo of lusts and inaccessible ambitions. Fear, mistrust, hatred, and intolerance invigorated man’s insatiable desire for power, and the natural outcome was wars of domination. Mankind wallowed in the vomit of its own corruption, and fought for the right to do so. The dungeon of self was securely sealed, and none could escape. Only shadows of hope remained.

      A bounty of righteousness was demanded. And the very Judge that set the bounty had sent His Son to pay the price in full. He was the Lamb of God, slain from the foundation of creation. This was the only way mankind would ever be what it was designed to become. Hanging on the cross and experiencing extreme physical torture was a meager precursor to the event now unfolding in the hidden regions that sat outside creation and the heavens.

      Across creation and time itself, the entirety of sin gathered. Every transgression, crime, and wrongdoing ever committed, or to be committed, drew together as an invisible cloud around the cross. The imperceptible accumulation of this colossal contagion was so potent that it caused the blotting out of the sun. Slowly building up momentum, the gathering tempest whirled around the Son. For three hours, this invisible cyclone escalated until it completely enveloped Him.

      In a jarring moment, the tempest exploded upward as one massive leviathan. The angels almost sighed in relief, believing this to be the end of the battle. But the entity, now hovering out of sight above the Son, shot back down like a deadly missile. As it reached the Christ, it entered into Him with a deafening roar. This monster of iniquity penetrated wholly into the sinless One, filling Him with the poison of mankind, and making Him sin.

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. My sin is ever before my eyes. And it is these sins, known and unknown, that compelled You to the cross. I pause now and take this time of solemn confession to acknowledge my sin as I freely confess it before You. I thank You, Lord, that You have declared Yourself faithful and just to forgive me of my sins if I confess them to You. Help me to go and sin no more. Hide Your face from my sins and blot out all my iniquity. Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me from Your presence nor take Your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of Your salvation and grant me a willing spirit to sustain me. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

XXXII

                                         Forsaken

      The tortures, rejection, and pain of frail humanity had come to a crescendo on the hill of Golgotha. The Son hung upon the tree. And now, for the first time, He could not sense the Father’s presence.
      Incarnation had always been in fellowship with Father and Spirit. Separation was unknown in the Godhead. But the One slain before the foundations of the world had become sin. He was not a representative of sin as the sacrificial lambs in the temple. He had become the embodiment of sin. His sacrifice would once and for all times pay the bond price for man’s rebellion toward God. This fact did not ease the horrifying sorrow of the moment. This was the instant He had cried out about in Gethsemane. “Father, if it is Your will let this cup pass . . . ” The cup had not passed, and He would drink deep of its bitter waters. The Son of God would now know what it meant to be forsaken and alone.
      In a throaty and parched voice, He verbalized His inward battle: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me . . . ” The naysayers at His feet continued to mock the One that was paying the price for their sins, even for the very mockery in which they were now engaged. One young man began to call out to the crowd. “Look, he calls for Elijah to help him! ‘Elijah, Elijah. Where are you? Your faithful servant is calling.’” The scorn and sarcasm in his voice had taken on a sinister tone.
      “I am thirsty,” Jesus said, looking at a Roman soldier holding the crowd back at the foot of the cross. The soldier took a dirty sponge and soaked it in the bucket of wine vinegar and water that sat nearby. Taking a hyssop stalk, he lifted the sponge to the lips of Jesus. The crowd railed at the soldier for his moment of mercy. How ironic that the One who opened up wells of living water would Himself thirst.
      As Jesus sipped on the sponge, He noticed the hyssop branch. He recalled a dark night over a thousand years earlier. Jewish families were huddled in their homes by firelight. They were partaking of the Passover lamb and preparing for a long journey. Throughout Egypt they could hear the wailing of families who were losing their firstborn to the angel of death. The only thing that had kept their families safe was the blood of the lamb painted over the doorposts of their homes with the branch of the hyssop.
      The Christ came back to Himself. He knew it was finished.

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. Because Christ was beaten I can be healed. Because Christ was forsaken I am unconditionally accepted. Because Christ died I will remain alive. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

XXXIII

                                          Finished

      Death had waited and watched the Son. Several times, over the last few hours, it had attempted to snuff out His life. Confused, this creature of destruction simply stared with an odd mix of curiosity and revulsion.

      Of all the cruel tortures man had devised, crucifixion was Death’s favorite. The Romans brought a person to the brink of eternity and held them as long as possible. Death fed off this torment. The long, drawn-out process of scourging, beating, and the cross allowed Death to dance with its victim.

      None had ever taken the punishment that this Son had received. Yet, every time Death moved in to suffocate Him, it was harshly repelled. The life force of the Son was unlike anything it had ever come across. So it crouched, obsessively watching its prey and waiting to pounce and devour.

      For three hours, the Son had moved His bloodied back on the post of the cross. A victim of crucifixion was placed so that he was forced to move his torso up and down to keep air in his lungs. If he stopped, his lungs would fill, causing the victim to drown in his own blood.

      The Romans placed a small seat under the sufferer, giving a sense of resting. But as the victim tried to sit he would slip off, sending shock waves of pain throughout the pierced nerves. Death smiled at the genius of this brutality.

      A moment after the Son sipped of the wine-vinegar, He spoke. “Tetelestai!”

      Death cocked its head. This strange, single word meant “it is finished” or “paid in full.” Maybe this Son was finally going to die, for He spoke nonsense.

      The Son bowed His head.

      “Now!” growled Death. As it came to clutch His neck, it was once again thrown below the cross. Consternation filled Death, pinned to the earth and unable to look away from the Son’s eyes.

      Staring down at Death, the Son spoke His last words, “Father, into Your hands I commit My spirit.” Death, now loosened from invisible restraints, lurched forward! But the instant it touched the Son’s heart, it was again thrown below the cross. Quietly, the Son’s spirit departed without the icy touch of Death.

      How could Death not destroy the Son on its terms? It was as if the Son had decided His moment of departure. A raging roar of loss was loosed from Death and the earth shook with its fury. “Where is my victory? Where is my sting?”

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. Lord, to know that even death could not hold You causes my heart to swell with faith. I ask You to make me as an ambassador of life. I want to reach the physically dying and those who are wasting away spiritually. I want abundant living waters to flow from me, and I desire true life to be a byproduct of my obedience. In a world dark with death, let Your light illuminate the darkness through my life. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

XXXIV

Torn

     The young priest-in-training was quite concerned over the events that had been rapidly unfolding around him. The only facts he knew for sure were that there was a strange meeting of the Jewish council this morning that led to the crucifixion of the false prophet from Galilee, and that the rest of the day was dedicated to celebrating the Passover. After a morning of deliberations, most of the chief priests returned to the temple to fulfill their duties, but many were strangely quiet and some seemed to be brooding.

     About noon, as the Jewish men were bringing their sacrifices to the temple, a dark cloud mass, covering as far as the eye could see, rolled over Jerusalem and blocked out the sun with a curtain of darkness. Quickly, torches and lanterns were lit. The air was thick with tension, and some wondered aloud if Messiah was about to return for his chosen people. For three hours, the sacrifices continued.

     At the time High Priest Caiaphas entered into the Holy Place to make supplication before the veil, an echoed cry that sounded like the voice of God traveled the length of the holy city. Grabbing a nearby pillar, the young priest braced himself. He felt as if he was about to be sick.

     Then the earthquake hit. It was strong enough to make the young man wonder if the temple was going to fall and crush him.

     Suddenly, several priests came running from the inner portion of the sanctuary. Their priestly garments were torn, and some even cried, “Ichabod,” as they fled in terror.

     Stopping an elderly priest, the young man asked, “What has happened?”

     The frightened man looked as if he had seen the walking dead. “It is torn! It is torn! The high priest was making supplication before the veil and it tore from the ceiling to the floor. Why has the Lord’s spirit departed us?” It was too much for the terrified old man. He started to weep, the continued to run with an invisible dread.

     The young priest slumped to the floor against the pillar, holding his head in his hands. How could this be? For the first time since the Israelites’ return from captivity, the sacrifices would not be completed on Passover. The veil was torn, allowing anyone to view into the Most Holy Place.

     Why had God allowed this abomination? Or had the Lord caused this? The young man succumbed to the tears that had been building. Grabbing his garment, he violently tore it from top to bottom.

     “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.” We have this hope as an anchor for our soul, that Jesus Christ, our High Priest, entered the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, on our behalf and He has become our High Priest forever. He entered the Most Holy Place once and for all, by his own blood, and obtained eternal redemption. Now we may serve the Living God with unblemished consciences.   Let us approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.   Therefore, since we have confidence to enter the Most Holy Place by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way opened for us through the veil, that is His body, let us draw near to God with sincere hearts and full assurance of faith. “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

XXXV

                                        Centurion

      As I have already explained, Flavius, my tale of the execution of Jesus of Nazareth has been a great mystery to me. But now I tell you the oddest part of my story.

      As leader of the execution squad, I had been close enough to hear all of the Nazarene’s words from the cross. Seven times He spoke, and each discourse seemed to undo my heart a bit more. I can only explain this with a crude illustration. It was like removing the gear, piece by piece, from my faithful steed’s back. When he is finally free of his tackle, he can run unhindered. Slowly, this supposed criminal’s words were causing me to remove obstacles of doubt in my mind. When He cried His final words, “It is finished!” my men and I fell to the earth terrified.

      Flavius, you must understand that He did not die from crucifixion. He chose to die as if He dominated death itself. The skies darkened in mourning. The earth shook in fury. Every element of creation seemed to grieve His departure. Even those that had surrounded Him to find amusement in His suffering started to pound their chests in the Jewish custom of grieving. Quickly, they crept away, wearing cloaks of shame and misery. A small group of His followers stood back and wept, waiting for the chance to remove and bury His decimated body.

      In all my years leading this century of men and overseeing countless crucifixions, I have never observed signs like this. I stood to my feet and looked at the Man on the cross. Even in death, He possessed an air of absolute peace. All I could do was declare, “Surely this was a righteous man and the Son of God!”

      So, Flavius, as I have already revealed, I must end my commission as a centurion in the Roman army. Part of this falls on your shoulders, my friend. For it was the tale of how this Holy Man first visited your home in Capernaum that opened my heart to the possibility of His claim. Hearing about and seeing your dear child healed continues to be a point of conversation among the officers. Imagine, a Roman centurion inviting a Rabbi to heal his child. You are practically a Hebrew yourself. I still laugh at the word He spoke about you, “Surely I have not seen such a great faith in all of Israel.”

      Now, Flavius, my tale ends. I shall be departing in a fortnight back to Troas to become a simple farmer and to spread the story of the crucified Son of God. May our path cross once again in the afterlife.

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. You declared that those who witnessed and believed were blessed. Yet, You also said that those who have not seen and believed are greatly blessed. I believe in You, Lord Christ. May I pass Your blessing onto others every day. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

XXXVI

                                    Blood and Water

      The Creator, after designating First Man “Adam,” had asked him to name all the other creatures of the earth. With childlike glee, Adam named them, one by one. As the game of designation progressed, he realized no counterpart for him could be found. Where was the “she” to compliment his “he-ness”?

      On the day that he felt his heart would finally burst with loneliness, his Father walked into the garden. They discussed his aloneness in great detail.

      Even as he fell into a divine deep slumber, he knew his Father would mend his incomplete heart. The tender, celestial hand of an Omnipotent God entered into Adam’s side. What Adam did not realize was that there was a gift the Creator had hidden very close to his heart. Reaching for this hidden treasure, the Creator of all seen and unseen removed the masterpiece of creation that was hidden in His child.

      After Adam awoke, this secret legacy would be revealed. The Creator would present to Adam a bride that would bring him completeness and overwhelming joy.

      The day was rapidly coming to a close, and the soldiers knew the victims must soon be removed and buried according to Jewish law.   They had a special process of final elimination they called the crurifragium. Going to the first thief on the right of Jesus, they smashed his legs. The prisoner screamed in agony, but quickly expired of shock. The guard noticed that this one seemed to smile in peace during the last few seconds of his life. The thief on the left shrieked as they crushed his legs. He thrashed so violently that his life ended with a gurgling scream.

      Already recognizing His departure, and not wanting to inflict any more damage on the body of Jesus, the soldiers opted for another form of proof to testify of His death. One of the guards grabbed a spear and thrust it under Jesus’ ribs, straight into His heart. As blood and water flowed, an invisible gift also emerged. For in this Man’s heart, there was a hidden secret. A bride, that would bring Him completeness and overwhelming joy, would very soon be revealed.

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. I come and fall at your feet in awe. For what other way am I to respond to Your call: “Come forth, my bride.”? Your blood covers my sins, and Your water of life engulfs my spirit. You have cleansed me, and You have prepared me to be a spotless bride. So now I await the great anticipation, the wedding feast of the Lamb, and I imagine beyond imagination what that day will bring. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

XXXVII

                                             Taken

      “It may be a foolish move, my friend, but it is necessary,” Joseph spoke in hushed tones. In full agreement, Nicodemus replied, “If only we had been as fearless while He lived. But I will not cower again.” The two men were rapidly approaching Pilate’s presence.

      They had both argued for Jesus’ release, but received only the jeers and antagonism of the council. Heartbroken, they watched His trial, torture, and death, all from afar. Shoulder to shoulder, they wept as they saw His head slump in a final breath. At the moment of His expiration, something awoke in both men. The respect and place of honor they had both possessed were now bile in their throats.

      Joseph of Arimathea was a wealthy and reputable member of the Sanhedrin. The first day he heard Jesus in the temple, he was convinced that the long-awaited Christ had arrived. But the fear of losing his position of authority kept his love for the Rabbi shrouded in secrecy. Nicodemus was one of the most educated and respected teachers in Israel. His study of the Scriptures had convinced him that Jesus of Nazareth was Messiah, and he quietly awaited the day of His disclosure.

      When Jesus entered Jerusalem a week ago, they were both prepared to bow their knees upon the revelation of His sovereignty. But circumstances had taken a tragic turn.

      They now determined together that the death of their friend would not be the departure of their faith. Boldly, they asked Pilate for the body of Jesus. “An odd request,” thought Pilate. These men were not family. They were not afraid of entering Pilate’s home, nor of defilement upon handling a dead body. It was a daring if not foolhardy request. To honor their audacity, he would grant their boon.

      Hurrying back to Golgotha, they spoke a few words of comfort to the grieving women that stood at the foot of the tree. Another man, the young disciple of Jesus, helped lower the body from the cross. With rapid and willful purpose, they washed the gashed corpse and wrapped it in a layer of cloth. After applying the aromatic spices, the body was wrapped again. Though their prior actions were born of cowardice, their present open confession left no doubt about how they would now and forever view the Prophet from Galilee.

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. I can think of too many times when I have kept You hidden from those that needed a word of Your love. Forgive me for my times of cowardice, and fill me with Your Spirit. Let true boldness be an integral part of my character. Open wide the gates of opportunity to share Your truth, and help me to embrace those You love. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

XXXVIII                                          Entombed

      In the rush to entomb the body before sunset, the women and men set their grieving aside until the task was complete. They prepared the body to the best of their abilities, and carefully placed Him on the cold stone shelf in the fresh-hewn tomb. Mary Magdalene, standing on the outside of the garden grave, thought it odd that such a dismal place should be so beautiful. The setting sun, finally breaking through the day’s dark clouds, shone off the semi-polished rock that had not had time to gather dust or feel the effects of age. The men carefully released a flat circular stone from an elevated track in the front of the tomb. The rounded stone boomed as it locked into place. Firmly planted, it would take a large group of men to roll the several-hundred-pound rock away.

      The crash of the stone caused the small gathering to shudder. The reality of their loss descended upon them in a sudden deluge. Their beloved Master was dead. Mary Magdalene fell to the ground as if to faint. Quietly, almost imperceptibly, she wept. As her tears became a tempest, she remembered the day they met.

      As a woman filled with self-rage and insane lust, her existence had been filled with the pain and distress of an unsavory lifestyle. Her hometown of Magdala, on the coast of the Galilean Sea and known for its prostitution rings, was a cancer to her soul. She had been a woman with no control of her mind or body. Mary was entombed inside her head, having the ability to see out, but with no control of her actions. This would often manifest itself in multiple personalities that arrived and departed as they saw fit. That was until He arrived.

      When she first noticed Jesus, all she wanted to do was throw herself into the sea and end her misery. He was so lovely, so holy, and this caused her to feel the weight of her sin and shame.

      He spoke a simple word that brought her to her right mind. In an instant, she was free. He had seen the invisible demons inside her and addressed them with unmitigated authority. The insubstantial woman of torment became the tangible Mary.

       From that moment, she followed Him. Mary Magdalene would serve Him as long as she was able.

      Sitting in front of His grave, she wiped her eyes and prepared to leave. Mary determined to tend His grave for the rest of her life, so that none would forget God’s Son.

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. There have been times in my life, Lord, where the loss of control has ensnared me with dread, fear, and tormenting anxiety. My inability to dictate the circumstances that have affected my life, such as health, finances, or the decisions of others, has created in me a madness that hides in my head like a stinger. But You always remind me that if I trust in You and do not lean on my understanding, You will direct and steady my steps. Help me to put the direction of my life into Your hands and to not foolishly grasp for it myself. Set me free from the tomb of my mind and draw me into the freedom of Your guidance and peace. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

XXXXIX

                                 Questions Revisited

      “Lucis, the charge I now give you is the most important of our creation.” Gabriel spoke with urgency, but he also seemed ready to explode with joyous anticipation. “You are to be present at the Unveiling and record all that you witness. This chronicle of the Mystery Revealed will be passed down for eternity. Before you depart for the garden, I would like to open your eyes to a variety of dramatis personae who have been part of this story.”

      Lucis was as apprehensive as a heavenly being could be. He knew this was the moment for which he was created, and all creatures from time without end would hear his account.

      Instantly, Lucis found himself in a sullied back alley in Jerusalem. A man huddled against the wall, shaking. Rocking back and forth, he mumbled the same phrase again and again. “It should have been my cross. It should have been mine . . .”

      Fading away, Lucis found himself in the bedchambers of the high priest. Caiaphas was in a fitful sleep when he suddenly awoke, sat straight up in his bed, and let loose a terrified scream, “Crucify him!”

      In a moment, Lucis stood in the writing room of the prefect of the Judean Province. Pilate was agonizing over a letter he was composing for Rome. Of course, he did not intend to send the dispatch unless asked, but a good defense was better if it was well prepared. Slamming his fist to the writing table, he cried, “Damned be that manipulative council and the trouble they’ve caused me!”

      Whisked away again, Lucis found himself in the home of a centurion. Endless tears flowed from the centurion’s face as he composed a letter.

      Lucis traveled to several sites over the next few hours. He saw this narrative from a multitude of perspectives. His next-to-last stop was a darkened, small upper room, where the disciples who had abandoned Him hid. Their only covering seemed to be an all-enveloping depression. Even with angelic understanding, he was stunned at the vast amount of emotions the Son’s death evoked in these tender humans.

      While still caught in his thoughts, Lucis found himself in front of the garden tomb. The sun was cresting the horizon while a few sleepy guards stood at half-hearted attention. As the earth slowly began to tremble, Lucis pulled out his parchment and pen. “Ready yourself, Lucis, for the world is about to erupt . . . “

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. I wait for You, Jesus. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”

XL

                                 The Unveiling

      Lucis stood near the tomb, watching and recording the most important events of history as they unfolded around him. The heavenly host had gathered en masse to witness the Unveiling. Suddenly, with an explosion exceeding that of creation, the detonation of resurrection poured forth from the tiny tomb in an ever-widening sphere. First, it hit the surrounding garden, causing a shudder throughout the entire planet. The sudden flash revealed an angel of awesome proportions to the terrified guards. Reverential fear rendered them instantly unconscious. Even as they fell to the earth, the angel rolled back the stone from the tomb and sat upon it with a childlike glee.

      As the sphere of resurrection continued to expand, it plowed through the earth, reaching the depths of Sheol. Dark angels and their evil lord crumpled into the small mounds in an attempt to avoid destruction. The roar of life that tore through them masked their screams. As the explosion increased, it picked up greater momentum. Before the flinch of a seraphim’s wing, it had consumed the solar system and the entire angelic host. In veneration, they fell prostrate before the blast. Farther and farther it grew, until it overtook all of eternity. In a move that only the Godhead could carry out, the explosion broke through the fabric of eternity into the All in All.

      In an omnipotent backdraft, resurrection unexpectedly turned inward, contracting back toward the source of the discharge. As the ball of life now imploded, it sent a second wave inward until it reached the Incarnation. Resurrection would be contained in One Being.

      All became still, except for one hidden being that seemed unscathed by the explosion. Death, initially taking cover, now cautiously appeared as a triumphant victor. But before it could open its mouth, it froze in terror. In the tomb, it observed the astonishing countenance of He-Who-Was-Now-Alive.

      Death became immobilized as its Antithesis approached. Touching Death’s brow, the Son spoke, “You are forever castrated of your power. From this point forward, you will decrease and I will increase. Your reign is done.”

      But Lucis was far from finished. A new age was beginning that would make the first age seem a simple foreword to the history of eternity. Lucis smiled, knowing the next few weeks should prove quite interesting. In that moment, he wrote the first words that came to his spirit. “Alive, He is alive. The mystery is revealed.”

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me. Death has been swallowed up in victory. Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting? Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me.”