This vision in my mind came to me a short while after I prayed that I might see Jesus more clearly.
I saw Him clearly today. I followed the crowd wondering what was attracting all these people laughing and jeering. Jostling each other to get up front, I felt as if there was a riot about to break out. I pushed myself to the front and there He was. It was just another criminal going to the cross. But He was different. The other two seemed in fairly good physical condition but not Him.
It was as if he was epileptic or drunk. He could not stand straight and was flailing his arms about to catch hold of anyone or anything for support. His legs were like those of a straw man. His knees were too weak to support his body. The guards were not helping at all. Rather they were pushing him from one to the other like a ball in a pinball machine. When he fell they yanked him up to continue their game. Not one of us in the crowd reached out to help him. Rather, the raucous laughter and jeering got worse, The more He lurched from side to side trying to stay on His feet the more they called Him names. I too, laughed at some of the shouts that seemed funny. Suddenly the game was over. The guards grabbed Him and began to pull the clothes of Him. It was then I saw all the blood seeping out of the cuts and bruises as the scabs stayed stuck to the clothing. They each laid claim to whatever piece they had grabbed. The full-length robe they threw aside as they agreed to roll the die for it.
Wearing only a crown of thorns, his naked his body convulsed every which way. Floundering about, try as he may he could not still the movements. The guards held him up as they stood him in front of the cross that lay where he had last fallen. In the crudest of words they mocked him as the naked king of the Jews.
Then came the moment, frozen in my memory, that will haunt me as long as I live. For an instant he turned his head and our eyes met. His were watery but clear. They said, “It’s alright, You can’t do anything to stop this. I forgive you.” He was looking only at me-----only at me.
The trance was broken when the guards threw him backwards on the cross and held his uncontrolled limbs as they nailed him to the cross. As they raised the cross and dropped it into the pre dug hole, his body was still convulsing uncontrollably. Now his arms and legs only shivered as nails held them stretched out.
I understood. The flogging and beatings he had taken were so sever that the pain eventually destroyed all nerve mechanisms such that no thought control signals reached their destinations.
As they yanked His clothes off of Him where was the man we see in icons and paintings, standing tall and still with the perfect hair and trimmed beard? This man should have died from the torture long before he climbed that hill with the aid of a man forced to help him.
Now I realized, such a death would not have been seen by the multitude and any claims of his resurrection would not have carried any validity. No. He had to be seen dead hanging on the cross.
By sheer dint of will, He had forced his body to live until he chose to say, “It is finished.“ Now, all saw him die on a cross. Friends placed him in a tomb and those who had forced his death placed guards so that no one could steal his corpse and claim he had risen.
Now, those who saw him die and return alive three days later in their midst, could believe.
