The
dust settled about my feet as I paused only for a moment. The rumble of the crowd lining the street
became dim in my mind. My feet stumbled
a few more steps – dry and cracking against the uneven and stony ground. I winced as the cracks broke open and my
blood began to dot the dry ground. It
drank my blood thirstily, leaving only dark smears as I drug my feet. The tears began to trail down my face, mixing
with the sweat from the wood strapped to my back. It was my guilt, my shame, every wrong I had
ever done. They had found out about it
all. There had been no mercy as they
tied my wrists to the rough wooden post across my back. I stumbled again, the wood scratching into my
almost-bare back, the ropes digging into my wrists as I struggled to remain
standing. I gasped, but it was hard to
breath beneath the weight of the planks.
My sobs came in short, spastic bursts that blurred my eyes and parched
my throat with dust. I could no longer
make out the people lining the street.
How could they do this? How could
they watch me suffer this way? My knees
buckled and the rough hand of a soldier jerked me back to a standing
position. I yelped as his fingernails
dug into my parched skin. Sweat ran down
my back and arms and legs in streaming rivulets. When my legs decided they could hold me no
longer, I crashed to my knees. Unable to
catch myself, my face smashed into the ground next. Though my knees hurt, it was nothing compared
to the sharp pain radiating through my face.
As I struggled to rise, the warm metallic taste of blood drizzled into
my mouth. I lost my will. Let them kill me here. There was no point in getting back up. There was nothing left to live for.
Then I felt someone move to my
right. I instinctively flinched,
expecting a crushing blow. Instead, a
firm, warm hand grasped my upper arm and pulled me gently to a kneeling position. A man that I had never seen before cupped my
chin, raising my face to meet his. He
had the kindest eyes I had ever seen. I
couldn’t understand why the guards had stilled, watching with cautious
eyes. The man knelt beside me as I
watched him and began to untie the rope binding my wrists. When he finished with the first, my arm fell
to my side, numb from the pain. Then he
moved to my other wrist, carefully untying it.
As my body slumped, he grabbed the wood on my back and lifted it off
with a groan. The plank was heavy and
awkward. He set it on the ground and
then knelt before me once more. “Why?”
was all I could think to whisper. A soft
smile graced his face. “Because, my
child, you are loved. Believe in me and
you will be saved this persecution.” My brain
struggled to understand. “But who are
you?” I murmured, my voice shaky. The
man placed a gentle hand on the side of my face, wiping away a trickle of blood
with his thumb. “I am.” As he spoke those two little words, the
guards seemed to come out of their trance and grasped him roughly. I watched in shock as they threw the boards
upon his back and jerked the ropes around his wrists. What were they doing?! I couldn’t move, though. I watched as they yanked him to
standing. Blood was already coursing
down his arms from the ropes. As they
began to pull him along the dusty road, his eyes met mine one more time and he
whispered, “Believe I am.” Suddenly, I
knew that this was the man I had heard about.
The Son of God. The I am. My legs had lost their feeling and as they
dragged him away, all I could do was
watch.
By the time I could feel my legs
again, I ran after the crowd following the soldiers. I watched in shamed silence as they raised a
rugged wooden cross and I recognized the man hanging on it. Blood gushed from wounds in his hands and
feet as he sagged against the cross. I
pushed my way through the crowd and fell to my knees at the foot of the cross. His eyes met mine when I raised my head. “Father, forgive them,” he cried. Then, eyes still holding mine, he whispered,
“I will see you in paradise, my beloved.
You have been set free.”
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