Written on: 22nd of August 2013
Mary had a little lamb whose fleece was white as snow
A lamb for the slaughter so that all would know
That Yahweh yearns for his prodigal sons to return home
Mary had a little lamb whose bleat was a Lion’s roar
Sweeping through the vale of death and hell
A light to tear the darkness and the evil that surrounds
but Jesus said to them, “I have shown you many good works from the Father. For which of these do you stone me?” “We are not stoning you for any good work,” they replied, “but for blasphemy, because you, a mere man, claim to be God” – John Zebedee
Can you see the children playing in the streets? Can you? Quickly… come fast…
Can you see that one with the wild smile? He is in the center, with a zit on his face? Yes? You can! good… That is Him…
If telling about God’s love for men was a crime then he was the vilest of criminals. If restoring sight to the blind or raising Jairus’ daughter was the act of a mad man then he was of all men the most loony. If by speaking of the Kingdom not fashioned by man he was instigating a revolt then he was the fiercest of insurgents. There was no guile in him, no lie on his lips yet they flayed him and ripped flesh from bone as they displayed gross ignorance of that which was written in scriptures. Like a lamb he was led to the slaughter. He was broken and bruised, crushed by the weight of the patibulum which was placed on his shoulders.
A full Roman military guard led the parade to the site of the crucifixion. The lamb was flanked on all sides by the red and gold of the roman army. There was an unearthly rancor that filled with the air. He had once encountered a procession but of a different kind. It was a burial procession. The mother had been crying profusely. She had lost her husband only a few years ago and now her son was dead. He had stopped the procession and raised the son to life.
This was why he was being led to the slaughter, for giving life?
One of the soldiers held the titulus (sign) which contained His name and His crime. It was emblazoned in such a way that all who beheld the cross would read its inscription. The burden of the cross beam threw him to the earth. He could taste the dust as the soldier bearing the sign hurried quickly to raise him back up. The inscription read JESUS CHRIST OF NAZARETH: KING OF THE JEWS. He was being killed because he had proclaimed the message of the Kingdom.
They had almost reached the foot of the hill – Golgotha. The name was apt meaning ‘place of the skull’ and the location was indeed in line with scripture. He managed a smile. Like the lamb of sacrifice he would be offered outside the city walls. They climbed and by this time a young man Simon from Cyrene had carried the beam for him. Just as he had offered once for men to take upon themselves his light yoke, Simon took this burden for him.
Man had separated himself in his mind and here he was at the place of the skull to tear the shroud of sin that barred them from the Presence. The soldiers threw him on his back upon the craggy ground of Golgotha. The ruckus raised by the crowd increased as arguments surged through them. Some claimed that it was unfair, others bellowed about the inability of the Saviour to save himself. The Pharisees stood with feverish excitement. He could hear some argue over his seamless garment. He gazed into the heavens, tears rolling down the sides of his face.
One of the soldiers knelt beside him holding a hammer and tapered iron spikes about 5 inches long. He had taught men to forgive their enemies. He had taught about love on the Mount of Olives. He had seen friends break through a roof in an act of selfless faith. He screamed a horrific cry that pierced the heavens. The nails tore through his flesh. The soldier was skilled. The nails nested between his carpals and radius without damage to major arterial trunks and without fracture of bones.
He was in pain. He could have whispered to the angels who watched in horror and power would change hands, but he had surrendered to the will of the Father. 5 inch nails couldn’t hold him on the cross only Love kept him transfixed. They nailed his feet to the wooden beam. 5 inches of steel pierced through him. Impaled by the acrid stench of Adam’s sin he remained still. They didn’t know what they were doing. How could they?
Four soldiers gathered to lift his cross up. He knew their stories. He knew where it hurt them. His heart ached not only from the agony of the scourging or the violent intrusion of steel nails through his body but by the pain they felt. Though they smiled and mocked, he could hear the bitter undertones of suffering. They were the reason he had to die. They had nailed the titulus to the cross. This was met with disdain by the Pharisees and scribes. He looked into the crowd and felt nothing but love. Somehow his eyes met with Barabbas who had covered his face with a cloak.
Barabbas – the lost soul whose appetites were frayed by greed. The very one whose steps were fraught with fear and failure. This was Barabbas. The same person who would stubbornly argue doctrine but neglect the ministry of Life, who would clamour for the fig leaves of self-liberty but ignore the free gift of righteousness.
There was pain in his pupils. But then there was Hope. Barabbas and the others wouldn’t understand but this was why the lamb had to die. In the eyes of the rebel he saw the entirety of mankind. He saw a city that prided itself in its own garish excellence sprawling with people, a port teeming with business men. He saw a metropolis with the masses trudging under the influence of death. Death had held sway long enough. This was why He would descend into hell and take the keys from death and the grave. ‘Barabbas’ was the reason he would rise again. Love gazed into the throng and saw only beauty. Mercy would prevail over judgment at the cross. Judgment would come in leaps and bounds but at the end only Grace would remain.
Father forgive them…
I don’t want to assume any deep knowledge of the Divine. All I seek to do is reveal the Father’s heart towards me and hope that you too will see as He sees. I am still journeying and He is my guide. I pray that you will learn to dance with the Father. Please tour the site, share this post and follow by email. Thanks for your continual support.
Written By Dami