Mirroring His Steps
Chapter 1: The Long Journey
If shoes had eyes, they would have been staring back at me. Maybe they were. Those running shoes were just sitting in front of me almost in challenge. My frisky grey cat, Noel, took that dare by pouncing on and attacking the laces. I could have dangled them some more to play with Noel, but I knew I was just delaying the inevitable. It wasn't going to be pleasant, but there it was. Behind the basement door, as glaring as the waiting parent of a dawdling child on the way to vaccinations, was the treadmill.
*
He almost did not want to walk away from His place of prayer, the safety of the last moments alone with His Father. He knew what lay ahead of Him, and it wasn't pleasant. No one else could know His trepidation either. Those closest to Him were asleep at their posts. That was of no matter now, though, as what was going to happen was inevitable.
*
It wasn't that I was in bad shape. I really liked running around, playing with the kids on the playground, and the occasional game of racquetball. But this would improve my cholesterol level and keep at bay all kinds of other diseases that I would never be able to see. So for my own good, I trudged down the stairs.
*
It was hard to ignore the fact that He could not see the prize in front of Him. He was walking into His physical demise to save the angry faces that were approaching Him at that very moment. A handful of them would come to know, but of course, most would not. It was heartbreaking, but He needed to focus on those who would come to know the importance of His sacrifice.
*
Everything was there. I couldn't make any more excuses to run up the basement stairs to the comfort of the living room or even the kitchen. I was already in my sweats with my ipod cued up, so there was really no turning back now.
The treadmill appeared a monster, or at the very least a really smart fitness trainer ready to mock my laziness. Nevertheless, I climbed upon it. The first step conquered.
Starting out slow was my aim. But what I had programmed as slow did not seem so after the first five minutes. Now I was looking for a consistent clip. Just had to keep going.
I had taped pictures to the cold grey concrete which faced me. Suddenly I was finding myself studying these finger paintings from my children as though they were priceless works of art in a museum. Well, to me they could be. The bright colors, the reminder of my children, they all lent me their cheers. I had an audience after all.
*
He was staring straight ahead. There was nowhere else he could look anyway without swinging the heavy wood upon his torn back. What was ahead of Him? Death, covered in rock and sparse grass. It was not a goal He was eager to reach or even gaze upon.
Eyes facing the hill of Calvary, faces peppered the path.
But, in the corners of His eyes were individuals in the crowds, each face almost child-like in its selfish, uncaring scowl. Yes, these, His brothers and sisters, so eager and angry with Him for reasons they most likely could not identify, were not smiling and cheering Him in His heroic duty of saving them. They were unaware, blanketed in deception.
As He glanced at each along the way His load lightened just the tiniest fraction. The light from knowing they could soon be in the safety of His Father's arms, lit the path in front of Him. Which was beginning to blur. . .
*
Okay, this was the whole reason I went to iTunes. I finally had an excuse to listen to one great song after another. The problem was, I couldn't sing along. Probably best for all around. Not that the cat particularly cared about my noises.
The next song was one of the best. And the beat was perfect. It was as if the very sound in my ears pressed my legs into motion. There was an upside to this business of running after all.
*
With the road in front of Him now fading into dim recognition, He focused into the sounds around Him. Truly, much of what He could hear were angry grunts and commands from the soldiers escorting Him. But this heightened sense of auditory caught the wave of a distraught wail. Its sadness was almost like music to Him. Someone cared. If just that one beloved soul understood, this entire trip would not be for nought. His body took on the energy from that cry and used it to lift each leg, one more step, after one more step. He pressed on.
*
I kept on, minute by minute, step by step. I had been going long enough now that I was no longer absorbing the energy of the music in my ears. The belt of the treadmill kept spinning and did not stop, did not feel my fatigue. How easy it would be to lift myself from the belt to the stillness of the side track. Every step had become its own accomplishment now, and each successive step a temptation to step off. I could even hear it in the pounding sound of rubber upon rubber – “Off, off, off, off...”
Yes, I had a goal. But for the life of me, I could not remember why I had set it. Such discomfort. Was it really worth it? What was the real need to run in a race? I was not an athlete by profession. I did not expect the need to outrun any dangerous creatures in my lifetime. This was not survival. So what was the worth of it?
Health. Right, need to be healthy. So I knew I must keep on. First, I was going to need to overcome this attitude of negativity. What was causing it? Fatigue. I was tired of running and wanted to stop. But what was tired? I mentally searched my body for the source of complaint. Was it in my legs? No, muscles were loose and unburdened. My lungs? No, breathing heavy, but no wheezing. Asthma was not the culprit this time. Feet? No, the cool of the basement kept them comfortable as well, and the shoes were fine. So what was stopping me, making me beg myself to stop running? It was my mind.
*
And there it was. The top of the hill. Should He be pleased to reach the beginning of the end? He was already half-dead from the beating. All the end marked was completion. His spirit had even been tormented by their mockery of this, the noblest thing He could ever do for them. As He set what was left of His consciousness for the next step of the torture – the nails – He took a quick inventory within Himself to see how long He might last. As He stopped to search within Himself, He realized that there was a good deal of damage to His outer shell. But the strength, determination, and motivation within Him told Him that this was going to be a long day.
Chapter 2: Birth and Death
The idea of labor scared me so much that I desperately wanted this first child of mine to enter the world by C-section. Hearing the screams in other rooms from other tormented new mothers solidified my desire. And yet, doctors saw no reason for that, so here I was. I was ready for a surprise labor, just a tiny bit early, but knowing it was right on God's schedule.
The pains came slowly, and mildly, as I was told they would. Assessing again, this wasn't as bad as I had imagined it. I thought I actually might be able to handle it. And after all, now I would finally be relieved of this pregnancy. It would be over, and I would finally be able to see the face of the stranger who had been growing inside me.
**
In the garden, He had suggested that this task not be given to Him. But even as He had prayed it, He knew there was no other way but to suffer. And, as they raised the cross with their “criminal” upon it, He came to realize that the pain that was now achingly dim and vague would become sharp and nearly unbearable. All this before the worst of the worst.
But then. But then, he will have opened the door for all those He knew and loved to pour through and surround Him forever.
**
At the hospital, the pains increased. This was uncomfortable, unpleasant. And the worst of it was that no one could do this but me. I could not pass the work off on anyone else. Couldn't the doctors and nurses to do the work? I was just too tired to push anymore. But my ever-encouraging husband believed differently and prodded me on.
**
This was the last place He really wanted to be. Harder still was knowing that He was the only one in the world who could say He did not deserve to be here. And yet, no one else could be there. A quiet reminder from the stalwart voice of His Father and He remembered that even though He held no responsibility for the need of being on this cross, no one else could accomplish this work but Him.
**
The thirst! This work was wearing on me and I needed to be revitalized. So thirsty, and all they could give me is ice chips? Come on!
**
The thirst! Using every fiber of His being was wearing on the Man. He needed to be revitalized. But no one wanted that. Still, a stick and a sponge was raised. Vinegar. And laughter.
**
I just could not do this! How long had it been? Hours. That was ridiculous. When would this be over? This fatigue. I couldn't finish on my own. Someone please help me!
**
When would this end? It had been hours. Even the crowd had tired of His pain and was beginning to thin.
**
I was near the end. Someone, some voice was saying that I was almost there. I had to give it all I had left in me. I could do it. I knew I could. Suddenly, it dawned on me that every mother who has ever given birth had gone through this. Every mother who has ever given birth has done this. My mother has done this. Even teenagers, mere children themselves, who had been pregnant had done this. Was I any less than they? Would this be the one special birth in all of history that actually did not happen? No! Of course not. This was going to happen, and only I could make it happen. So I dug down deep. Let's do it now! I thought. Push, push push...
That one was different. There was some relief in pressure.
“The head is out,” that voice said again. “One more and you have a baby.”
The shortest and easiest push of the whole day, and suddenly everything in my body changed. The scrunching, cramping pressure of which I had become only vaguely aware in my middle, due to its slow increase, left my body all at once, bringing instant relief. There was a feeling like the pop of a cork, and my lungs expanded with air to capacity – a place they hadn't been in months. I almost felt all my other internal organs float back to a more natural position. And I felt lighter than air. I felt as if I could also have floated to the ceiling. I did it. I was still alive, and now I could also see the new life breathing air for the very first time.
**
It was near the end. The two voices on either side of Him had ceased. They were done. Their journey had ended, and also now begun.
He thought about them. One would be full of joy; one, of sorrow. He tried to look out to the crowd. His vision blurred from the sweat in His eyes. But He needed to see the faces. He needed to be reminded why He was here. Only love, the love for these people could cover this pain.
The crowd was more sparse. So few were still there. And even the soldiers, off to the side betting among themselves, had lost interest in this event. They had seen many men die before. But, He wondered. How many of them had ever seen God die? None of them. It was the first time in history. Soon, they would realize what they had done. Love washed over Him again for these ambivalent men. They would hurt too when they realized Who it was. “My Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” He had to cover them. Every one of them.
Hours had gone by. The pain was new. Perhaps it was the collapsing of His organs. His lungs could barely hold air. Gravity had squished all His other organs on top of one another and they were losing function as well. The weight of His own beaten body was pulling Him down and slowly killing Him.
But that wasn't the pain He felt. Sure that was hard, but it was nothing compared to the loading of the sins of the world upon His very body. He was amazed that He could even contain it all within the flesh He has assumed. It would soon be over, this part of His journey. But just the beginning, too. So much more needed to be done. Once the hours of loading had finished, those transgressions needed to be disposed of too.
That was the pulling He felt. The invisible sins of each person had washed over Him so thickly it was as if they had and actual weight and density, like so much air compressed together to nearly become solid.
It dripped, it oozed over Him and through Him, weighing Him down more and more. They nearly had the consistency now of hot wax, covering His insides and suffocating Him. Drop by drop, these sins flowed over and through Him, thick and colorless like water. He was losing His grip on the air He was trying to breath. So with His final cup of oxygen, He released the words that would release our very souls, “It is finished.”
And with that, He gave in. He had given His all to assume every last sin and to save every last person. Now this filthy, wax-like sin had nearly formed a ball, chained to its Master. There was a pop, like that of a cork, and just like that, life had been sucked from His body. The weight of the ball pulled like gravity, attached to the soul of the Savior. It dripped, and plunged, until it met no resistance and fell, bringing with it the tormented soul of God, led by the evil of all people.
Chapter 3: The Survivor
I had dropped the “why me” attitude a little while ago. It really wasn't helping. But that was not to say the question didn't pop up every once in a while. Having never been a smoker, of course, it hit me whenever I saw someone light up. “And I'm the one who got lung cancer?”
But I was beyond all that now. It didn't change my situation any. It didn't even make me feel any better. And now there was no room inside my body, even for such thoughts.
Everything was getting squeezed out, little by little. I knew that wasn't really what was happening, but it sure did feel that way. No one told me that I wouldn't be just feeling pain in my lungs, but throughout my whole body. Or maybe the pain was just so intense, that I couldn't focus on the source, and it felt like all over. I didn't know. To make matters worse, I felt like I didn't have time for such trivial analyses. When actually, I didn't know how I was going to feel during the remaining time. He said it was just a matter of days now.
Sinking down, pulled by the weight of this ball of slimy sin, He felt more nervous. Dying – even as hard as that was – would be miniscule compared to this. And yet, it was a place He had never been, one of so few. It was hard to believe there was such a place, sheltered of Light. And it certainly was a place where He did not belong. Nor would He be welcome. And that was the scariest part of not knowing.
It felt like digging. But again, so vague, it was hard to imagine what it was that would be burrowing itself into my diseased lungs. And I didn't want to picture it anyway. I wanted to move my mind to something else, to forget about it for a little while. But there was no escape from the attention-seeker. It was there. And it would still be there until the end, digging deeper until it could find a life source to choke. But little did the unknown being know that this would not be his victory, but mine.
Down through the hole of the tunnel, it got darker and darker. Sight would be useless and even less desired. That was when the touching began. It was not good touching. As soon as the fingers recognized Him, it would be the beginning of the end.
True to what He knew, the fingers did suddenly stop feeling and with an excitement began to pierce and tear at the shell covering the outside of this soul. What they did not know was that they were not damaging Him, but instead beginning to free the Spirit within Him.
In my weakness, I could only think of giving up. All I would have would be gain. But clearly, it was not my time. Sure, I was ready, but God was not taking me yet. The doctor said the time was near. Not near enough for me! But still not far enough for my family. I could look at my family's faces and not hear their words. They were being drowned out by the calling of beings from another world. They were calling me to give in to just let go. I couldn't tell if they were good or evil voices. They must have been evil, because it was the voice of Love telling me to hold on until my family were ready.
The beings, the demons, who belonged to the fingers digging through the slime on His body called out to other, even more grotesque creatures. He was glad for the crust over His eyes so He could not yet see the despicable beings attacking Him. He reached the bottom of the tunnel with a sudden cold thump. Barely a second passed before he was again encountering those whose aim was to destroy Him. He was beaten, more so than just the other day, by creatures with what seemed unlimited power. But there was a limit, and He knew it would soon be reached and yanked from them. As He was pummeled, He knew He would not be able to continue without one thing on His mind. He filled His consciousness with the images of the faces He had just seen. He also found illusions of other faces, ones he had not seen, but He knew from long ago. And then there were the faces just as precious of those he knew but were yet to be. This will be what would see Him endure.
They didn't understand. And I didn't have the energy to make them understand. It was clear my family did not know what to do now. And I could not even speak to tell them it was okay. I wanted them to know that I was looking forward to peace, as much as I knew they might be pained to see me go. It wasn't that I didn't want them anymore. I just needed this to be done. There was too much pain. And knowing that there was no fight left, there was only one way to go – with longing and appreciation. At least they knew my destination. The only fear I had was wondering how much worse this could get before it fell off the cliff of the end. After that, no more fear. Ever. I was glad to be loved, but I was soon done with pleasing people. My naked spirit would devolve in front of them. A part of me wished they would just leave so I would not need to worry about a show. But there was a part of me that still needed them with me. I didn't want one second alone.
He was just hoping for someone to understand. Just one person, and it would all be worth it. So great was His love for every being who ever lived. But the loneliness beat down on Him with each stroke of the demons ripping into Him. He had never before in the history of forever been apart from His Father. And His absence was sheer terror. So it was not known, exactly, what would happen in His absence. But now, He did know. He would overcome. Even though He knew the outcome, it was not much easier. The love He had for His people would help Him withstand the brutality of His attackers, but there was nothing to help Him climb from the isolated pit where His Father would not even dare to look. The scars on His helpless spirit deepened. And yet the viscous outer shell of sin cracked bit by bit.
This was it. It had to be. It was clear my breaths were numbered. Each one, more shallow than the last, was such a chore. Never in my life had I thought this hard about breathing. But I had to make myself breathe, as the rest of my body seemed to shut down and run its closing credits. It wasn't like I thought it would be. My first thought when I heard the doctor tell the family it was only a matter of time, was a shocked and frightened, “Oh no!” But that was a mere second before my spirit calmed. My eyes had been closed now for some time, and I was concentrating too hard on breathing to notice if anyone was still in the room with me now. I did not care. Each belabored breath brought me the knowledge of greater pain, but at the same time, I felt a wave of serenity. It was as if that wave were banging against a dam that was slowly, but steadily, spilling over bit by bit. I couldn't wait for that dam to break. The drops of peace that made it over began to fill my lungs. I was no longer breathing air. I was beginning to breathe in eternity. The drops became puddles. The natural instinct of my body was to fight this liquid filling my lungs and search for air. But it was finding less and less air. Finally, there was no more air to intake. The flood of security and love washed over my body, and the darkness I had been staring at for so long suddenly met a bright light as I floated in the warm ocean of tranquility. I knew my destination.
He could hardly keep track of how long His bruised body had been suffering. But He knew it couldn't be long now. They would not defeat Him, but He felt so close to the edge of it. The beating had stopped. It was so dark, He could not tell if a new band of executioners were upon Him or if the same ones had merely exchanged weapons. Now there was a slicing. It was slow, because there was an awful thick coat to cut through for them to get at their prize. And the stifling heat did not aid their cause. The slicing was now mixed in with a pulling of the sticky flesh with sharp talons. Each gap they created in the shell did not meet the evil demons with joy. As a matter of fact, the gaps released the Light of God – so terrible to them that they expressed spine-tingling screams. And though it might have been logical for them to give up and leave that danger, they persisted, arrogantly expecting to destroy the Goodness underneath. The slicing and pulling came rhythmically now, like angry waves of lava bursting from the pending volcanic eruption. Each wave pulled a little harder, and a little harder. Amidst the screams of the antagonists was a burning desire to see the demise of the enemy. Their resolve strengthened with each pull. With one final and terrible shriek, the last of the oozing, waxy flesh was yanked from the bright light of the the Spirit of God. He was finally released from the sin of the world! It had been torn apart and was burned away so that the very ash of it was no longer but a memory. Like a flash, the lighter-than-air Spirit beamed up the tunnel. In contrast to the slow descent, not a single pointy finger was quick enough to lay a hand on this bright light. Jesus burst through the door that was so dark that the human eye would never find it. But the Father knew exactly where it was. He was waiting with His arms open wide to take His Son and hold Him, stroking away the pain that He had already forgotten.
His strength increased with each passing second, until He felt He could stand up straight. And something caught His eye. Apparently, He was in the midst of a crowd. People were bustling this way and that, seeming completely oblivious the torment He had just overcome as well as how the purpose of the entire earth had just changed. He could hardly believe their nonchalance, but neither did it completely surprise Him, as He knew the Scriptures.
What had gained His attention was across the sea of humanity. There she was, with a tear in her eye. Not every person was ignoring Him. If there was no other soul on earth to see Him for who He was, than it was worth it, just for her. He gulped down a sob of His own, knowing He had saved her. He was her hero. She was meant for the torture He endured yet hadn't a scratch on her body. But the beautiful part was that she knew it.
He loved her. He had known her always, but seeing her in this way made Him see her anew. He ran to her, quickly as He could. He approached, ready to embrace her, and she fell to her knees in front of Him, aware of only a portion of His suffering, but aware of enough. He also dropped to His and pulled her into His chest. He held her tight as she melted away into her tears. Her tears were like magic to Him, making Him thankful for the opportunity to rescue this one. He lifted her chin for her to view His face and spoke again the words that had changed humanity.
“It is finished.”
If shoes had eyes, they would have been staring back at me. Maybe they were. Those running shoes were just sitting in front of me almost in challenge. My frisky grey cat, Noel, took that dare by pouncing on and attacking the laces. I could have dangled them some more to play with Noel, but I knew I was just delaying the inevitable. It wasn't going to be pleasant, but there it was. Behind the basement door, as glaring as the waiting parent of a dawdling child on the way to vaccinations, was the treadmill.
*
He almost did not want to walk away from His place of prayer, the safety of the last moments alone with His Father. He knew what lay ahead of Him, and it wasn't pleasant. No one else could know His trepidation either. Those closest to Him were asleep at their posts. That was of no matter now, though, as what was going to happen was inevitable.
*
It wasn't that I was in bad shape. I really liked running around, playing with the kids on the playground, and the occasional game of racquetball. But this would improve my cholesterol level and keep at bay all kinds of other diseases that I would never be able to see. So for my own good, I trudged down the stairs.
*
It was hard to ignore the fact that He could not see the prize in front of Him. He was walking into His physical demise to save the angry faces that were approaching Him at that very moment. A handful of them would come to know, but of course, most would not. It was heartbreaking, but He needed to focus on those who would come to know the importance of His sacrifice.
*
Everything was there. I couldn't make any more excuses to run up the basement stairs to the comfort of the living room or even the kitchen. I was already in my sweats with my ipod cued up, so there was really no turning back now.
The treadmill appeared a monster, or at the very least a really smart fitness trainer ready to mock my laziness. Nevertheless, I climbed upon it. The first step conquered.
Starting out slow was my aim. But what I had programmed as slow did not seem so after the first five minutes. Now I was looking for a consistent clip. Just had to keep going.
I had taped pictures to the cold grey concrete which faced me. Suddenly I was finding myself studying these finger paintings from my children as though they were priceless works of art in a museum. Well, to me they could be. The bright colors, the reminder of my children, they all lent me their cheers. I had an audience after all.
*
He was staring straight ahead. There was nowhere else he could look anyway without swinging the heavy wood upon his torn back. What was ahead of Him? Death, covered in rock and sparse grass. It was not a goal He was eager to reach or even gaze upon.
Eyes facing the hill of Calvary, faces peppered the path.
But, in the corners of His eyes were individuals in the crowds, each face almost child-like in its selfish, uncaring scowl. Yes, these, His brothers and sisters, so eager and angry with Him for reasons they most likely could not identify, were not smiling and cheering Him in His heroic duty of saving them. They were unaware, blanketed in deception.
As He glanced at each along the way His load lightened just the tiniest fraction. The light from knowing they could soon be in the safety of His Father's arms, lit the path in front of Him. Which was beginning to blur. . .
*
Okay, this was the whole reason I went to iTunes. I finally had an excuse to listen to one great song after another. The problem was, I couldn't sing along. Probably best for all around. Not that the cat particularly cared about my noises.
The next song was one of the best. And the beat was perfect. It was as if the very sound in my ears pressed my legs into motion. There was an upside to this business of running after all.
*
With the road in front of Him now fading into dim recognition, He focused into the sounds around Him. Truly, much of what He could hear were angry grunts and commands from the soldiers escorting Him. But this heightened sense of auditory caught the wave of a distraught wail. Its sadness was almost like music to Him. Someone cared. If just that one beloved soul understood, this entire trip would not be for nought. His body took on the energy from that cry and used it to lift each leg, one more step, after one more step. He pressed on.
*
I kept on, minute by minute, step by step. I had been going long enough now that I was no longer absorbing the energy of the music in my ears. The belt of the treadmill kept spinning and did not stop, did not feel my fatigue. How easy it would be to lift myself from the belt to the stillness of the side track. Every step had become its own accomplishment now, and each successive step a temptation to step off. I could even hear it in the pounding sound of rubber upon rubber – “Off, off, off, off...”
Yes, I had a goal. But for the life of me, I could not remember why I had set it. Such discomfort. Was it really worth it? What was the real need to run in a race? I was not an athlete by profession. I did not expect the need to outrun any dangerous creatures in my lifetime. This was not survival. So what was the worth of it?
Health. Right, need to be healthy. So I knew I must keep on. First, I was going to need to overcome this attitude of negativity. What was causing it? Fatigue. I was tired of running and wanted to stop. But what was tired? I mentally searched my body for the source of complaint. Was it in my legs? No, muscles were loose and unburdened. My lungs? No, breathing heavy, but no wheezing. Asthma was not the culprit this time. Feet? No, the cool of the basement kept them comfortable as well, and the shoes were fine. So what was stopping me, making me beg myself to stop running? It was my mind.
*
And there it was. The top of the hill. Should He be pleased to reach the beginning of the end? He was already half-dead from the beating. All the end marked was completion. His spirit had even been tormented by their mockery of this, the noblest thing He could ever do for them. As He set what was left of His consciousness for the next step of the torture – the nails – He took a quick inventory within Himself to see how long He might last. As He stopped to search within Himself, He realized that there was a good deal of damage to His outer shell. But the strength, determination, and motivation within Him told Him that this was going to be a long day.
Chapter 2: Birth and Death
The idea of labor scared me so much that I desperately wanted this first child of mine to enter the world by C-section. Hearing the screams in other rooms from other tormented new mothers solidified my desire. And yet, doctors saw no reason for that, so here I was. I was ready for a surprise labor, just a tiny bit early, but knowing it was right on God's schedule.
The pains came slowly, and mildly, as I was told they would. Assessing again, this wasn't as bad as I had imagined it. I thought I actually might be able to handle it. And after all, now I would finally be relieved of this pregnancy. It would be over, and I would finally be able to see the face of the stranger who had been growing inside me.
**
In the garden, He had suggested that this task not be given to Him. But even as He had prayed it, He knew there was no other way but to suffer. And, as they raised the cross with their “criminal” upon it, He came to realize that the pain that was now achingly dim and vague would become sharp and nearly unbearable. All this before the worst of the worst.
But then. But then, he will have opened the door for all those He knew and loved to pour through and surround Him forever.
**
At the hospital, the pains increased. This was uncomfortable, unpleasant. And the worst of it was that no one could do this but me. I could not pass the work off on anyone else. Couldn't the doctors and nurses to do the work? I was just too tired to push anymore. But my ever-encouraging husband believed differently and prodded me on.
**
This was the last place He really wanted to be. Harder still was knowing that He was the only one in the world who could say He did not deserve to be here. And yet, no one else could be there. A quiet reminder from the stalwart voice of His Father and He remembered that even though He held no responsibility for the need of being on this cross, no one else could accomplish this work but Him.
**
The thirst! This work was wearing on me and I needed to be revitalized. So thirsty, and all they could give me is ice chips? Come on!
**
The thirst! Using every fiber of His being was wearing on the Man. He needed to be revitalized. But no one wanted that. Still, a stick and a sponge was raised. Vinegar. And laughter.
**
I just could not do this! How long had it been? Hours. That was ridiculous. When would this be over? This fatigue. I couldn't finish on my own. Someone please help me!
**
When would this end? It had been hours. Even the crowd had tired of His pain and was beginning to thin.
**
I was near the end. Someone, some voice was saying that I was almost there. I had to give it all I had left in me. I could do it. I knew I could. Suddenly, it dawned on me that every mother who has ever given birth had gone through this. Every mother who has ever given birth has done this. My mother has done this. Even teenagers, mere children themselves, who had been pregnant had done this. Was I any less than they? Would this be the one special birth in all of history that actually did not happen? No! Of course not. This was going to happen, and only I could make it happen. So I dug down deep. Let's do it now! I thought. Push, push push...
That one was different. There was some relief in pressure.
“The head is out,” that voice said again. “One more and you have a baby.”
The shortest and easiest push of the whole day, and suddenly everything in my body changed. The scrunching, cramping pressure of which I had become only vaguely aware in my middle, due to its slow increase, left my body all at once, bringing instant relief. There was a feeling like the pop of a cork, and my lungs expanded with air to capacity – a place they hadn't been in months. I almost felt all my other internal organs float back to a more natural position. And I felt lighter than air. I felt as if I could also have floated to the ceiling. I did it. I was still alive, and now I could also see the new life breathing air for the very first time.
**
It was near the end. The two voices on either side of Him had ceased. They were done. Their journey had ended, and also now begun.
He thought about them. One would be full of joy; one, of sorrow. He tried to look out to the crowd. His vision blurred from the sweat in His eyes. But He needed to see the faces. He needed to be reminded why He was here. Only love, the love for these people could cover this pain.
The crowd was more sparse. So few were still there. And even the soldiers, off to the side betting among themselves, had lost interest in this event. They had seen many men die before. But, He wondered. How many of them had ever seen God die? None of them. It was the first time in history. Soon, they would realize what they had done. Love washed over Him again for these ambivalent men. They would hurt too when they realized Who it was. “My Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” He had to cover them. Every one of them.
Hours had gone by. The pain was new. Perhaps it was the collapsing of His organs. His lungs could barely hold air. Gravity had squished all His other organs on top of one another and they were losing function as well. The weight of His own beaten body was pulling Him down and slowly killing Him.
But that wasn't the pain He felt. Sure that was hard, but it was nothing compared to the loading of the sins of the world upon His very body. He was amazed that He could even contain it all within the flesh He has assumed. It would soon be over, this part of His journey. But just the beginning, too. So much more needed to be done. Once the hours of loading had finished, those transgressions needed to be disposed of too.
That was the pulling He felt. The invisible sins of each person had washed over Him so thickly it was as if they had and actual weight and density, like so much air compressed together to nearly become solid.
It dripped, it oozed over Him and through Him, weighing Him down more and more. They nearly had the consistency now of hot wax, covering His insides and suffocating Him. Drop by drop, these sins flowed over and through Him, thick and colorless like water. He was losing His grip on the air He was trying to breath. So with His final cup of oxygen, He released the words that would release our very souls, “It is finished.”
And with that, He gave in. He had given His all to assume every last sin and to save every last person. Now this filthy, wax-like sin had nearly formed a ball, chained to its Master. There was a pop, like that of a cork, and just like that, life had been sucked from His body. The weight of the ball pulled like gravity, attached to the soul of the Savior. It dripped, and plunged, until it met no resistance and fell, bringing with it the tormented soul of God, led by the evil of all people.
Chapter 3: The Survivor
I had dropped the “why me” attitude a little while ago. It really wasn't helping. But that was not to say the question didn't pop up every once in a while. Having never been a smoker, of course, it hit me whenever I saw someone light up. “And I'm the one who got lung cancer?”
But I was beyond all that now. It didn't change my situation any. It didn't even make me feel any better. And now there was no room inside my body, even for such thoughts.
Everything was getting squeezed out, little by little. I knew that wasn't really what was happening, but it sure did feel that way. No one told me that I wouldn't be just feeling pain in my lungs, but throughout my whole body. Or maybe the pain was just so intense, that I couldn't focus on the source, and it felt like all over. I didn't know. To make matters worse, I felt like I didn't have time for such trivial analyses. When actually, I didn't know how I was going to feel during the remaining time. He said it was just a matter of days now.
Sinking down, pulled by the weight of this ball of slimy sin, He felt more nervous. Dying – even as hard as that was – would be miniscule compared to this. And yet, it was a place He had never been, one of so few. It was hard to believe there was such a place, sheltered of Light. And it certainly was a place where He did not belong. Nor would He be welcome. And that was the scariest part of not knowing.
It felt like digging. But again, so vague, it was hard to imagine what it was that would be burrowing itself into my diseased lungs. And I didn't want to picture it anyway. I wanted to move my mind to something else, to forget about it for a little while. But there was no escape from the attention-seeker. It was there. And it would still be there until the end, digging deeper until it could find a life source to choke. But little did the unknown being know that this would not be his victory, but mine.
Down through the hole of the tunnel, it got darker and darker. Sight would be useless and even less desired. That was when the touching began. It was not good touching. As soon as the fingers recognized Him, it would be the beginning of the end.
True to what He knew, the fingers did suddenly stop feeling and with an excitement began to pierce and tear at the shell covering the outside of this soul. What they did not know was that they were not damaging Him, but instead beginning to free the Spirit within Him.
In my weakness, I could only think of giving up. All I would have would be gain. But clearly, it was not my time. Sure, I was ready, but God was not taking me yet. The doctor said the time was near. Not near enough for me! But still not far enough for my family. I could look at my family's faces and not hear their words. They were being drowned out by the calling of beings from another world. They were calling me to give in to just let go. I couldn't tell if they were good or evil voices. They must have been evil, because it was the voice of Love telling me to hold on until my family were ready.
The beings, the demons, who belonged to the fingers digging through the slime on His body called out to other, even more grotesque creatures. He was glad for the crust over His eyes so He could not yet see the despicable beings attacking Him. He reached the bottom of the tunnel with a sudden cold thump. Barely a second passed before he was again encountering those whose aim was to destroy Him. He was beaten, more so than just the other day, by creatures with what seemed unlimited power. But there was a limit, and He knew it would soon be reached and yanked from them. As He was pummeled, He knew He would not be able to continue without one thing on His mind. He filled His consciousness with the images of the faces He had just seen. He also found illusions of other faces, ones he had not seen, but He knew from long ago. And then there were the faces just as precious of those he knew but were yet to be. This will be what would see Him endure.
They didn't understand. And I didn't have the energy to make them understand. It was clear my family did not know what to do now. And I could not even speak to tell them it was okay. I wanted them to know that I was looking forward to peace, as much as I knew they might be pained to see me go. It wasn't that I didn't want them anymore. I just needed this to be done. There was too much pain. And knowing that there was no fight left, there was only one way to go – with longing and appreciation. At least they knew my destination. The only fear I had was wondering how much worse this could get before it fell off the cliff of the end. After that, no more fear. Ever. I was glad to be loved, but I was soon done with pleasing people. My naked spirit would devolve in front of them. A part of me wished they would just leave so I would not need to worry about a show. But there was a part of me that still needed them with me. I didn't want one second alone.
He was just hoping for someone to understand. Just one person, and it would all be worth it. So great was His love for every being who ever lived. But the loneliness beat down on Him with each stroke of the demons ripping into Him. He had never before in the history of forever been apart from His Father. And His absence was sheer terror. So it was not known, exactly, what would happen in His absence. But now, He did know. He would overcome. Even though He knew the outcome, it was not much easier. The love He had for His people would help Him withstand the brutality of His attackers, but there was nothing to help Him climb from the isolated pit where His Father would not even dare to look. The scars on His helpless spirit deepened. And yet the viscous outer shell of sin cracked bit by bit.
This was it. It had to be. It was clear my breaths were numbered. Each one, more shallow than the last, was such a chore. Never in my life had I thought this hard about breathing. But I had to make myself breathe, as the rest of my body seemed to shut down and run its closing credits. It wasn't like I thought it would be. My first thought when I heard the doctor tell the family it was only a matter of time, was a shocked and frightened, “Oh no!” But that was a mere second before my spirit calmed. My eyes had been closed now for some time, and I was concentrating too hard on breathing to notice if anyone was still in the room with me now. I did not care. Each belabored breath brought me the knowledge of greater pain, but at the same time, I felt a wave of serenity. It was as if that wave were banging against a dam that was slowly, but steadily, spilling over bit by bit. I couldn't wait for that dam to break. The drops of peace that made it over began to fill my lungs. I was no longer breathing air. I was beginning to breathe in eternity. The drops became puddles. The natural instinct of my body was to fight this liquid filling my lungs and search for air. But it was finding less and less air. Finally, there was no more air to intake. The flood of security and love washed over my body, and the darkness I had been staring at for so long suddenly met a bright light as I floated in the warm ocean of tranquility. I knew my destination.
He could hardly keep track of how long His bruised body had been suffering. But He knew it couldn't be long now. They would not defeat Him, but He felt so close to the edge of it. The beating had stopped. It was so dark, He could not tell if a new band of executioners were upon Him or if the same ones had merely exchanged weapons. Now there was a slicing. It was slow, because there was an awful thick coat to cut through for them to get at their prize. And the stifling heat did not aid their cause. The slicing was now mixed in with a pulling of the sticky flesh with sharp talons. Each gap they created in the shell did not meet the evil demons with joy. As a matter of fact, the gaps released the Light of God – so terrible to them that they expressed spine-tingling screams. And though it might have been logical for them to give up and leave that danger, they persisted, arrogantly expecting to destroy the Goodness underneath. The slicing and pulling came rhythmically now, like angry waves of lava bursting from the pending volcanic eruption. Each wave pulled a little harder, and a little harder. Amidst the screams of the antagonists was a burning desire to see the demise of the enemy. Their resolve strengthened with each pull. With one final and terrible shriek, the last of the oozing, waxy flesh was yanked from the bright light of the the Spirit of God. He was finally released from the sin of the world! It had been torn apart and was burned away so that the very ash of it was no longer but a memory. Like a flash, the lighter-than-air Spirit beamed up the tunnel. In contrast to the slow descent, not a single pointy finger was quick enough to lay a hand on this bright light. Jesus burst through the door that was so dark that the human eye would never find it. But the Father knew exactly where it was. He was waiting with His arms open wide to take His Son and hold Him, stroking away the pain that He had already forgotten.
His strength increased with each passing second, until He felt He could stand up straight. And something caught His eye. Apparently, He was in the midst of a crowd. People were bustling this way and that, seeming completely oblivious the torment He had just overcome as well as how the purpose of the entire earth had just changed. He could hardly believe their nonchalance, but neither did it completely surprise Him, as He knew the Scriptures.
What had gained His attention was across the sea of humanity. There she was, with a tear in her eye. Not every person was ignoring Him. If there was no other soul on earth to see Him for who He was, than it was worth it, just for her. He gulped down a sob of His own, knowing He had saved her. He was her hero. She was meant for the torture He endured yet hadn't a scratch on her body. But the beautiful part was that she knew it.
He loved her. He had known her always, but seeing her in this way made Him see her anew. He ran to her, quickly as He could. He approached, ready to embrace her, and she fell to her knees in front of Him, aware of only a portion of His suffering, but aware of enough. He also dropped to His and pulled her into His chest. He held her tight as she melted away into her tears. Her tears were like magic to Him, making Him thankful for the opportunity to rescue this one. He lifted her chin for her to view His face and spoke again the words that had changed humanity.
“It is finished.”