This is the second part of this three-part series. If you have not read the first part, you can read it here. This was very difficult to write and capture the emotion of the unfolding events of the first Good Friday. I hope that it helps you to engage with the events and enter into the magnitude of the sacrifice that Jesus made for all the world.
-Mike
I PAID
After the meal, I took Peter, James and John with me to the garden of Gethsemane. I could sense the time was near. I was sweating and trembling.
“My heart is filled with sorrow to the point that I almost cannot bear it,” I cried.
I motioned for Peter, James and John to sit under a tree and keep watch as I stumbled a little further to pray. I fell to my knees and began to pray, my sweat like droplets of blood falling to the ground.
“Father,” I stammered, “I know everything is possible for you. Please take this burden away from me. But may only your will be done.”
I rose and returned to the place that I left my disciples. They were sleeping. I grew frustrated with them.
“Is it too much to ask for you to keep watch? Wake up and pray that you are not tempted!” I growled.
I walked on again to pray.
“Father,” I cried, “if it is possible, please take this cup away from me. But not my will but yours be done.”
I returned to find the disciples asleep once more. I shook my head and returned to pray a third time the same prayer. Following this, I sensed an unsettling presence in the garden. I walked past the sleeping disciples and through the gate to find soldiers, political officials and Judas approaching.
“Who is it that you have come for?” I asked the group approaching.
“Jesus of Nazareth,” they replied.
“I am he,” I stated.
At this declaration, the soldiers and officials fell back. I waited a while to see what would happen. The sun was almost completely set. Judas began to move forward.
“Greetings, Teacher!” he exclaimed, embracing me and kissing me, for this was the agreed sign for the soldiers and officials.
“Are you going to betray me with a kiss, Judas?” I said, with a tear in my eyes.
As I said this, the disciples came out of the garden. As one of the officials seized me, Peter drew his sword and cut off his ear. The man cried out in agony.
“No more of this!” I cried, as I placed my hand on the official’s ear, healing it. “You come bearing arms in the darkness to capture me, even though I have been teaching in the temple each day. But the Scripture must be fulfilled.”
The soldiers and officials led me away to the house of the high priest, where I was held under the watch of two guards. Once all the the officials had left for the night, the guards blindfolded me. They began to beat and whip me until my back and body was covered in open wounds. I was exhausted from screaming, crying and whimpering and I was not able to sleep.
In the morning, I was brought before the officials after another beating by the guards. I was falling in and out of consciousness due to my pain.
“We heard him say that he would destroy our temple and rebuild it without the hands of man in three days,” the witness testified.
I stayed silent even though everyone’s gaze seemed to be piercing my body.
“Have you got anything to say for yourself?” asked the official.
Again, I remained silent.
“Are you the Christ, the Son of the Blessed One?” clarified the official.
“Yes, I am,” I started, “and you will see me sitting at the right hand of the Mighty One and coming on the clouds of heaven.”
This statement sealed my fate. I could not longer hold my head up, but I knew everyone was pointing and shouting ridicule at me. I was pulled to my feet and led to Pilate.
As I was presented before Pilate, my charge was laid out that I was a troublemaker and leading people to believe that I was the Christ, a king.
“Are you the King of the Jews?” Pilate asked.
“You are correct in what you say,” I responded.
Pilate returned to the officials saying that he found me guilty of nothing and washed his hands of the issue. I could hear the officials arguing against him, reminding Pilate that it was custom that he release one prisoner at the Passover. It was decided that it would be put to the crowd to decide.
I was led out in front of a great crowd along with a prisoner, Barabbas, an insurgent and a murderer. Pilate asked the crowd which prisoner he should set free.
“Free Barabbas! We want Barabbas!” the crowd yelled back.
At this, Barabbas was set loose. But Pilate now had a dilemma do deal with me, for he thought I was innocent.
“And what shall happen to Jesus, who calls himself the Christ?” asked Pilate.
“Kill Him! Crucify Him!” retorted the crowd.
I was led away by the guards who called together some other soldiers. They took me to the palace. I was given a purple robe to wear and they twisted a crown of thorns and forced it down onto my head. I winced in pain.
“Hail! King of the Jews!” they mocked as they began to bow down to me.
Some of the soldiers struck me in the head with a staff, and others spat on me. I felt light-headed and I had lost a lot of blood. But this didn’t stop this mob, until they were stopped by the officials who wanted to keep me alive so I would die on a cross.
I feel like sin itself has taken hold of me, writhing through my whole body. The lifelessness I feel must be exactly how sin leaves a human. But I don’t give up – it is my Father’s will to see this through.
My cross was placed upon my back, but due to my condition, I could barely move it. I struggled and fell every few steps. Eventually, a man was pulled from the crowd and ordered to carry my cross. I still struggled up the hill, stumbling over my own feet, however not having the energy to cry out.
The man put my cross down on the ground and the soldiers lifted me by my hands and feet onto it. They retrieved the hammer and drove a nail through each of my hands and through my feet. I gasped and writhed in pain with each hammer hit. My blood dripped from my new wounds out onto the wood of the
cross.
I was raised up in front of all of the onlookers. I could see that I was not the only one being crucified, there were two others. I needed to push myself up with my feet to breathe, making my foot wounds tear and shoot pain throughout my body with each breath. I heard the onlookers and the guards hurling insults at me, but I did not answer. I could not answer.
One of the criminals joined with the onlookers in jeering, saying, “Aren’t you the Christ? Save yourself and us too!”
However, the other criminal rebuked the first, saying, “Don’t you fear God? This man has done nothing wrong, but we deserve our punishment. Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
“You will be with me in paradise,” I replied to him, graciously.
A few hours later, darkness fell. I was losing energy and I felt tempted. But I remembered God’s will.
“My God, my God…why have you forsaken me?” I cried out, as I wept in pain and anguish.
Some thought I was calling Elijah to save me, and ran to me with a sponge soaked in wine vinegar. I struggled away from it.
“IT…IS…FINISHED…” I cried, breathing my last breath.