A Roman Crucifixion
Hebrews 2:11–16 “For both he that sanctifieth and they who are sanctified are all of one: for which cause he is not ashamed to call them brethren, Saying, I will declare thy name unto my brethren, in the midst of the church will I sing praise unto thee. And again, I will put my trust in him. And again, Behold I and the children which God hath given me. Forasmuch then as the children are partakers of flesh and blood, he also himself likewise took part of the same; that through death he might destroy him that had the power of death, that is, the devil; And deliver them who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage. For verily he took not on him the nature of angels; but he took on him the seed of Abraham.”
Beloved,
Refresh my soul Lord, for I am in the depths of despair, and my heart is broken. The Cross was everything my Lord, and I am in your debt. My imagination cannot conceive or calculate the cost of your walk up Via Dolorosa to that place on Golgotha. To know how far you would go, to save me from hell, from my sin, and from my self.
The thirty-nine lashes of a whip corded with bone chips and tack, one lash shy from killing you then and there. Shards of your flesh ripped from its tissue, the pain from each strike worse than the last. Shock and faint, you stood your ground bound to a post with leather thongs. Falling to your knees, but unable to lie down or stand back up. Your lungs gasping for breath as each intrusion screamed for attention. Lack of blood that was pouring out on the ground, soaking the soil and the boots of the soldier inflicting the punishment. Splatters of your blood flying through the air, touching those watching, even far away. At the 39th, silence except for the punisher who was gasping for breath, having spent his energy in each strike upon your body. Would this of been enough, for the sin I carry in my heart to be wiped away? Still there was more to be done.
Father God, said there was more. The evil from the past, and the present, and the future must be dealt with and the thirty-nine would not be enough, or the blood lost in that event. So the soldiers covered you in a garment, in ridicule speaking to this injured body as to the king He truly was, but laughing at His expense, this man who was truly God. The blessings that we experience, from the bottom of our feet to the crown of our head, was the result of the crown of thorns shoved down upon your scalp, penetrating to the bone and lacerating flesh that had not been torn by the whip. Soldiers bowing to you, mocking you as a jester king, not realizing the Truth of who you were and are. Maybe, the one soldier whose ear was healed in the garden, held back and did not partake in these moments, letting his peers stand in the blood invoked by their punishment.
Then a beam of wood laid upon His shoulders, even while he was unable to rise from this position of jester king, truly God. He rose with a song upon His heart, the beam steadied by His hand. Perhaps, it was Amazing Grace, a song to be written hundreds of years later, that He heard and hummed. The soldiers, stood watching this spectacle, a ridiculed king now standing after the 39 and the crown of thorns, confused as to what was happening. But, then they pushed Him down the trail that would become known as Via Dolorosa, but now was just a road through His town, His beloved Jerusalem, who He considered His daughter, His Bride. The crimson path, covered by His blood exceeded the normal amount that a human being could lose, but still it ran down His body and onto this road. At times, He struggled physically with the weight of this wooden beam, and He fell only to be tortured more, being pushed to rise again. And He did, standing and walking more than any other person could ever do under these circumstance(s).
At one point, after collapsing, the soldiers grabbed a strong man out of the crowd to carry the wooden beam for Him. He was shocked at the condition of this man, this King before him. His eyes penetrated his very soul. He took the beam from the ground and walked along side of the man who was enduring this for him. At the top of a garbage heap, they stopped between two other crosses, that were inhabited by two thieves being punished for their deeds. They looked down upon this broken man, this King with a crown of thorns on His head. One thief felt sorry for this man’s pain, who unknowingly, he was soon to meet in paradise, totally restored. The wooden beam was laid on the ground and ropes were used to bind the King’s arms, so He could not move when they drive the iron spikes through His hands. Those amazing hands that healed the sick and raised the dead, now being nailed with forceful blows of a heavy mallet. Still the blood poured out, and the soil was covered in red. His pain was acknowledged in the sounds that the crowd heard, for many had gathered there on this garbage dump, both friend and foe.
Throwing the ropes over the vertical piece of wood, the soldiers began to raise this King up into the air and as His body weight sagged, more horror was experienced, as spasms racked His body, pain ripping at His hands and His lungs being stretched below. As the Cross was set in its hole, a soldier hammered a seat/pedestal toward the base, where His feet would be nailed. At this point, this King could push up from the pedestal and gain some rest from the pain in His arms and hands. But then, He would have to intentionally let His body sag down again, to enable His lungs to inhale. The seat/pedestal had been intentionally set at place where this action would have to take place, not only causing horrendous pain, but the asphyxiation of His lungs, rapidly increasing the advent of death. Once the Cross was posted, the soldier drove the spike through His feet to ensure He would not slip off this execution’s pedestal. And there they watched the death of the King.
And the blood continued to pour out from a ravaged body, taking sin upon Himself and experiencing a death that was intended for us. In the midst of these few afternoon hours, He was heard to say, “Forgive them, for they don’t know what they are doing,” and to the thief that felt pity for Him, He said, “Today, you will be with Me in paradise,” and to His mother and disciple He said, “Behold your son, behold your mother,” and in the agony of the Cross He cried out, “Father, why have you forsaken me?” and later, “I thirst,” and of the work He had been assigned by His Father including this Cross, He said, “It is finished,” and lastly with a loud voice He cried out, “Father, into Your hands I commend My Spirit.”
The sky darkened and ground shook. The temple altar cracked and its veil torn from top to bottom. Wise men who had died years before, were seen out of their graves walking around. One soldier, perhaps the one whose ear was healed, said, “Surely, this was the Son of God.” As a last step, before His body was allowed to be taken down, Pilot ordered, “Ensure He is dead!” With one motion, a soldier took a spear and punctured this King’s side, where then, water and blood poured out separately, having been divided by the body’s death. It was a moment, that can never be forgotten, why we are who we are.
it was this Cross and His death, of a God, who became a man, with all the weaknesses that a man can have, He was and is and forever will be, God! What a wonderful mystery this is, that God would become a man, so that we could be reconciled to the Father, and the heart of this man, this True King was generous to a fault, having taken all of our sin, past, present, and future upon himself, and allowing it to be nailed to a tree. My words cannot describe the sadness in my heart, at the image of the Lamb of God upon the Cross, tortured for me, but I know it is His promise that “Joy will come in the morning.” And God never fails to keep His Promises, and they are yes and amen.
