I couldn't do anything. I couldn't do anything for him. Useless. I was useless. I couldn't even protest a little. I couldn't move. I had simply frozen to the spot while the very reason for my existence was being whipped by crooked hooks repeatedly on the back. My eyes threatened to snap shut, to block out the traumatizing image of the man of my life having his robes unjustly ripped to shreds, his back cruelly scarred streaks of red.
I wanted to scream, shout, tell him somehow I'm there for him when others demand his death, but my lips wouldn't move. They remained cracked and parched, tears that have ever touched them as rain long gone, depleted. The earth I was standing on suddenly felt so inviting, it was suddenly so tempting to simply give in to lethargy and heartache and crumble into a heap to rest on the uneven ground regardless of the hygiene of the act.
Eyes exhausted, I stumbled blindly as they dragged him crudely off the post. Every step I took toward him only served to increase our distance, every unheard cry muffled through the crowd. I saw him take one last look at me then turn his head away in shame, unwilling for me to see him in that vulnerable a state. It wasn't something fit for someone his stature.
My heart ached with longing and the knowledge that this may very well be the last time I would ever lay eyes upon him ever again. A hoarse whisper escaped my lips. I wanted so badly to reach out to him, to cradle his head and tell him everything is okay, to hush his gasps of pain with my words, to forever be in his loving embrace. I wanted so badly I pushed the crowd apart, denying my body the rest it longed for after the forlorn verdict had been passed.
Deformed as he may be now, still a magnificent young man he will forever remain in my mind, a smile so gallant it could melt the hardest hearts of even man, a love so sacrificial it could grant forgiveness to those who did nothing to protect him their king. A word from his mouth could sooth even the most troubled of minds, a touch from his hands enough to send one off into the most sedated state of calm. Those very hands picked up a long wooden pike and he painstakingly lifted it.
What had I done for him to earn his love? Nothing. Yet he gave it freely and willingly. What had I done for him to make him love me as he did? Nothing. Yet he loved me all the same, understanding my silent wishes even I wasn't conscious of. What had I done for him to make him die in my place? Nothing. Yet he walked along the path of hatred and endured jealous spites to relieve me of the taking the same route.
He slowly inched his way to his death, hauling behind him a wooden stake almost twice his height. I could almost hear his torn and aching body crying for help, but no one offered any, only hateful spits. I let out a strangled outcry and leapt forward with my arms stretched out in front of me ready to receive him into my embrace. Just a little more, please. Give me a second, a fraction of it, that is all I require. I have yet to say something. I have yet to tell him my deepest longings. I have yet to express to him what he was to me. I pray for just this second, please grant it to me.
My fingers brushed his sweat glazed skin and I wasted no time to grasp it tight. My king and my lord, how did you end up like this? Your royal birth has decided your death. What have you done to deserve this? Your smile could light my days for years to come, your kindness overflows abundant into the lives of many and bringing them out of poverty, yet why have you been condemned to such a death fit for a criminal? What is it that makes you take the rap?
I pulled myself to him and brought up a hand to push his load up slightly and relieve his burden, and for that he repaid me with a smile more dazzling than the sun even in the state he was in, battered and all. My eyes once more found tears to spare and let them all out. I sobbed silently into his broad shoulder, whispering the words I have longed to say the moment I met him and his eyes, mine. Shaking my head at my own procrastination, I finally relieved myself, "My lord, I love you. I love you so much. Why? Why'd you have to go?"
"Because I love you too. Because I have to. Because my kingdom needs it. Because I am king," he stated so simply and with so much conviction that it left no place for doubt, smiling genuinely for all he was worth even in the predicament I had placed him in. I was so lost for words I couldn't do anything but try to further lighten his load intuitively when my mind left its stumped state. As I moved to carry it with him, I was roughly pushed back by a roman senator who growled, "Out of his way, missy. No acquaintance of him is to come close." and spat in my face.
But I hadn't time to pay attention to his words. All I could see was him, he was the only one in the world. No matter how many times his people betray him, no matter how many times I have turned away, he still came back with a determined pride and welcomed us in with open arms. No matter how many times his people despise him, no matter how many times I have ignored him, he still returned with a gentle smile to indicate he loved us despite.
How could one man be so loving? So selfless? So flawless?
"I'm not an acquaintance! I love him!" I yelled to the soldier. He dismissed me disinterestedly with a well toned arm. I tried desperately to push against it and rejoin him but the arm wouldn't budge even a centimeter.
I shouted a final request, "My king! Don't forget me! Don't forget me! I love you so, so please don't forget me!"
All he responded me with was another simple smile, innocent and full of holy passion. I did not know whether to rejoice or to cry.
The current of the crowd steered me to a low hill overgrown with grass and weeds. They flipped him over with the weight still on his back, pulled him up, stripped his garments off him and threw him back down. I stifled a yelp. Why? Why was the world so cruel to judge this man guilty of something even the most blinded of persons could tell was right and just? Why was the world so prejudice to the ways of this one king? Why was the world so blind to his righteous intentions?
Mourning had never wrenched my heart as it did now. I watched with lungs constricted and eyes fearful as he lay down tensely. I could see the apprehension in his eyes of being pierced but he remained down with all his strength. His life course and destiny had been laid out for him and he was to follow it. He was to follow it to death.
A rusted nail dug into his wrist and his blood curdling cry pierced the tension filled air. My head turned away instinctively and my eyes squeezed shut. How could I bear to stand and look on as a spectator when he was there bleeding? How could I bear to remain as I was and watch him fight the urge to thrash due to the pain? How could I bear to be still and see him arch his back in agony and his breathing turn to raspy gasps?
It took all I had to return my gaze to him. I felt the trickle of a tear race down my cheek as the second nail punctured his other wrist. Who was I that he needed to suffer such humiliation and pain for me? Who was I that he needed to throw all his pride as a king for me? My heart twisted as a third nail was driven through the arch of his feet. He may be a king, he may be of royal linage, but his body was still human and human flesh could experience physical pain. His mind has already had enough distress throughout his years as an adult, yet why must his physical body be inflicted by pain too? Why?
My knees gradually gave in. If I could just be by his side to comfort him and ease his pain, if I could just be there to mop the sweat off his tangled hair, I would be, but my legs did not seem to agree. Perhaps they had learnt their lesson from the roman soldier, perhaps they were just weak from exhaustion, but the fact remained that they would not move. I cried out for him amidst the crowd roaring their approval of his death. My sisters beside me sang a different tune, a symphony orchestrated by their pained sobs and agonized weepings.
It was time. They levered the stake till it stood upright on the ground and he was breathing raggedly while hanging off it. The only piece of clothing left was a linen cloth wrapped limply around his waist, and perhaps that thorny bracket on his crown. His eyes screwed shut to refrain himself from groaning at the sudden stress on his limbs, his lips grimacing in silent prayer.
This was it. I may never get to see him alive again.
With all I had, I let go of a name. His name.
"JESUS!"
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I was given feedback to cut it off here, so I am. I'm keeping the part after this still for more closure. I'm ending at "JESUS!" for more impact, so says Kimberly.
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A man came up from behind me and scowled before knocking me unconscious. My blurry vision met his eyes again, this time barely open in a squint. He shouted something to the sky and a clap of thunder fell, followed by a heavy torrent of pelting rain. With what was left of my ability to observe, I read aloud the sign hung above his head right at the apex of the cross.
"The King of the Jews"
I smiled into darkness.
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CRUCIFIXION OF CHRIST
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Lol. Bet you guys thought I was writing some mushy romance story.
It's not very accurate, there's quite a number of other things that happened, but I was trying to narrate dramatically from a woman's point of view. 'He' refers to Jesus, Kings of the Jews, King of the World, God etc. 'Sisters' refer to sisters in Christ, any daughter who believes and trusts in him.
Don't you think this was a pretty good attempt?
What is a senator exactly? Oh wait, it's a member of some high coucil. Crap. I used it wrongly. I thought a senator was some kind of soldier. Oh well, who cares.
This was wholly inspired by today's church service where Sister Gwen preached about the meaning of the symbol of the cross. She showed us this video with short clips taken out of Passion of Christ (or something). It wasn't as if it was voluntary but I cried anyway. I don't know why, probably I love him so much I can't bear to see him in that much pain and agony.
I mean, they literally whipped him until his back bled, pressed a crown of thorns on his head, made him carry his own cross on his broken back to his 'deathbed' and then impaled nails in his hands/wrists (depends on which you believe in, personally, I'll take wrists) and feet and then brought the cross perpendicular to the ground and left him there to die.
What had he done to deserve all that? All he did was try to save the people, heal them, preach about the coming of his kingdom and perform miracles. All he did was with the intention of giving them a chance at a better life, yet look what they did to him!
He was king, yet treated like a common criminal.
He was God, yet treated like a begger.
He was the creator, yet they proclaimed death upon him.
He created them, yet they killed him.
Now I ask you again, what had he done to deserve all that humiliation and pain? All that suffering and torture of knowing he was to die on the cross for everyone's sins?
Then I started asking myself.
Did I deserve such a great sacrifice for my sins? I mean, he was son of God, for goodness sake! He was God himself too! Why had he to go through so much pain for me and for this world which had forsaken him?
...you probably won't understand until you truly cry simply because of the pain he had went through, until you cry from the bottom of your heart when you hear his outcry of agony and it hurts you so much to know it was for you that he went through it all.
That I did.
I'm becoming such a softie...
But hey, if it's for God, I'll cry even in school in front of everyone for him. =D
