When the Sun Rose

The Crucifixion

A small, wooden door opens. I, across the dirt path, am trying to see who is coming out from the door. Three tall wooden crosses lie beside the door, and unfortunately, I know who will be on one of them. People are joining together on the streets waiting for Jesus to emerge. After what seems like forever, I spot him. His blood drips down his head. Bruises pound on every portion of his body. Huge gashes sit open across his stomach and back. With swollen eyes and trembling hands, his body sways from dizziness. A crown made of thorns jabs into his head. A guard instructs Jesus to pick up the cross, but I know (and they know too) that he will not be able to carry a huge cross. He can barely pick up himself.

    More people start lining up on the sides of the street when they catch sight of Jesus. Mary holds a soft piece of linen in her hand. She weeps beside me for her child. Salome comforts her as they both walk through the people to get closer to Jesus. He struggles even more to carry the cross. The guards push Jesus forward, and he stumbles. 

    "Help him!" A guard yells at a man standing close to Jesus. The man lifts the wood onto his own shoulders, removing most of the object's weight for Jesus. We continue until we get to the outskirts of Jerusalem's walls. A small sign reads, "Golgotha: Place of a Skull." The ground elevates up, like a hill, and Jesus collapses onto the ground. The man carrying the cross sets down the large piece of wood and goes to help Jesus stand. The guards dash over to Jesus and whip him to stand back up. They restrict the other man from going any closer. Jesus's eyes roll back, and his mouth hangs open. The guards roll him onto the cross and tie ropes around his arms. A huge nail is driven into his right hand and then the left. Blood pours out and drips onto the ground. They cross his feet, and a nail is clobbered through them. Jesus screams out in pain. I move in closer to Mary, and she burrows her head into my shoulder. The sounds of her cries echo in my mind.

    The cross is raised high in the air after a sign is placed over the head of Jesus. It reads, "This is Jesus, the King of the Jews."  Blood seeps down Jesus's face and down his body. The linen cloth wrapped around his waist is drenched in sweat and blood. A short man passes in front of us. He turns to me and says, "He can save others, but not himself." He shakes his head with a grin on his face. I whisper a prayer out loud, "If this is what you want God, let it be done." My whole body trembles, and Mary holds me tighter.

    "Are you not the Christ?," someone yells from above. "Why don't you get us down from here?" A man on a cross next to Jesus says.

    "We deserve this, but he... does not," another criminal, on another cross, speaks out, and then turns his head to Jesus, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom."

    "Today you will be with me in Paradise," Jesus says. He could barely walk, but those words come out so clearly. The criminal's words ring in my head. Jesus truly did nothing wrong. I throw my head down into my hands and cry.

"Why does this have to happen?" I whisper. I open my eyes and look up at Jesus, but the darkness never releases. My hands begin trembling even more. A clear vision comes to my mind of when I first met Jesus. I was in a bad place, but I remember when I first saw Jesus, I felt the need to go to him. He healed me of the demons that controlled me. He gave me my life back, so I knew I had to give everything up. I was no longer living for myself, but I am now living for God. I know God sent Jesus, and he wants me to share what I have seen.

"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Jesus cries out into the air. My heart breaks. "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit." He's gone. I know people are speaking, but I can not hear them. I realize I have not taken a breath since Jesus spoke his last words.

"No..." Mary runs up and sits below the cross. Her hands hold her face, and she cries. It begins to shake underneath me, and I hold on to the ground.

How did we get here? I look up to the huge cross towering over me, "Jesus. It shouldn't have happened. Why?" I shout, "God, why did you take Him away right when He was saving lives?" A small, still voice comes to me, "This is only the beginning."