Good Friday: The final hours (WARNING...THIS GETS GRAPHIC)

Jesus comes to the final hours and the agony of the cross:

My knees are torn and bloody from falling to the ground. My strength has left me and I can barely lift my legs at each step. There are crowds of people lining the street screaming insults and spitting on me. I see someone step out of the crowd just ahead. It's my mother. My mouth is so dry that I cannot speak. I look into her eyes and see the anguish she feels watching her son on his way to die. Her body shakes as she silently sobs. I remember the story she told me of when her and Joseph brought me to the temple as a baby. She spoke of the person who approached her and said, "a sword shall pierce your heart." She reaches out a hand to touch me but a soldier steps up and moves her back to the crowd. Another soldiers shoves me forward away from my mother.

I struggle to stay standing up after the soldier has shoved me but I cannot. I fall to my knees for the second time. Blood is seeping from my wounds. I have blood and sweat in my eyes and my face is covered in dirt. A woman steps forward with a piece of cloth. She wipes my face and carefully dabs the blood from my eyes. A soldier grabs me by the arm and drags me to my feet. The woman steps back. Her kindness will not go unnoticed by my Father.

I see a soldier push a man forward from the crowd. He looks terrified but he walks up to me and takes ahold of the beam of the cross. Just his slight touch on the cross gives temporary relief to my body. I give a weak smile of gratitude to him. He nods his head back to me. I whisper, "your reward will be great in heaven, my son." We trudge on.

We have come to the foot of the hill. The man helping me is taken away by a soldier and I feel the full weight of the cross on my shoulders again. The sheer weight has dug into my shoulders. Blood flows from the deep gashes that the cross has made there. I begin walking up the hill but as I near the top my body can go no more and I fall face first into the ground. Rocks cut into my cheeks and I have a mouthful of dirt.

The soldiers have decided that this is far enough. Three soldiers take the cross off my back and lay it beside me. Another soldier rolls me over onto the beam of the cross. I am too weak to move on my own as a soldier barks at me to stretch out my arm. He grabs my left arm and yanks it so hard that he partially dislocates it. I feel something cold against my palm. I see the soldier's arm rise up into the air and when it comes down excruciating pain shoots through my body as a nail drives through my hand. The pain is so overwhelming that I nearly pass out. I can feel blood flowing from the torn flesh of my hand and down my arm. Another soldier pulls on my other arm and I turn my head. This time I watch as he places against my palm an iron nail about 10 inches long and 2 inches thick. Father, forgive them...they do not know what they are doing. He swings and again unbearable pain as I see the nail rip through the my hand. I feel someone at my feet placing one foot on top of the other and then indescrible agony as the nail tears through both feet an into the wood. The cross is being lifted off the ground and waves of pain run through me as my pierced hands and feet support the whole weight of my body. The sacrifice of my body has been made.

Until 2:30 PM...God bless.

posted by: crossman at 10:25 | link | comments |
blog