As He stood before Pilate I screamed from the crowd, "Crucify Him!"
And as the Roman soldiers mocked at Him and spit on him I laughed like all the rest. The loud SMACK of the slap that went across His face excited me towards even more lust for violence so I made sure I had a front row position to witness His flogging.
As the soldier chose his whip I was already screaming for blood, "Do it! Hurry up... and peel the skin from His bones!"
With every swing of the whip I cheered for more at the top of my lungs, and when it was over my lust for blood and violence was not nearly satisfied.
I followed Him as He carried His cross all the way to Golgotha, all the while mocking, cursing and spitting at Him. At one point I ran up to Him and tore out a fist full of His beard.
When we reached the place of His crucifixion and I watched Him crawl onto the cross on His own I felt a moment of confusion.....but it passed. Then He offered His wrist to the Centurion who held a large spike and hammer and again I wondered at that. Most resist and struggle and this blasphemer goes to His death on the cross willingly? I was perplexed, but then I saw the blood and heard the cry of extreme agony and my bloodlust was brought back with a vengeance!
Again I mocked at Him and yelled up to Him, "Ha! You see? He isn't The Son of God, He has no power! He cannot even take Himself off of that cross!"
Then as I watched for His reaction hoping to see fear and pain and shame, or maybe even anger or hatred, His eyes met mine and I heard Him say, "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do!" and at that moment something entered my mind....just a thought but this thought questioned everything I had ever done and especially what I was doing now. Could this truly be Him? Could He really be who He said Himself to be?
He said more while He hung on that cross but all I can remember was "forgive him" He was asking God to forgive me....Darkness! Wha....what is this? Earthquake! I'm terrified! I see a spear thrust into His body and blood mingled with water gushes from His side and I am struck with a new kind of fear. Something I have never before felt, it came from deep within me. I have sinned, not just now but I was aware of all of my sin. What have I done!? "Forgive him" I hear Him say. Over and over I hear Him say "forgive him".
Grief overcomes me, shame and guilt overwhelmed me. I fall to my knees as though driven there by a burden I cannot bear. And there I remain, sobbing and begging God for His forgiveness and then peace surrounds me but grief remains. He was here with me all along and I never knew, I grieve over the lost years in His presence but peace because I have received the forgiveness He prayed for for me while He hung on that cross.
As He is lowered down from the cross I rush to give assistance, His body is limp and lifeless, His skin is peeled back from the muscle and the muscle from the bone. As I reach upward to help lower the King of the Jews down form that rugged and splintery cross His blood covers my arms, then my clothes and for a brief moment I hold this Man close to my body all the while wondering why. Why did I want so bad for this to happen? Why did He not come down off the cross Himself? Why did He not speak up for Himself and stop this whole thing?
Then it accord to me, if He had done any of those things I would not have been forgiven. When I tell others how I became a Christian I will tell them of His sacrifice, and I will tell them, I was there.
