blood (part 2)

the man cringes and grimaces as the tools of torture bite at him again. the crowd roars at each crack of the flog, drowning out the cries of this man, this criminal tied to the center post. blood has just started to pool under him, and you begin to wonder how long this will go on.

~a mix of emotions welled up in you as the crowd gathered in the praetorium, the place where criminals are punished, this place that brings blood, pain, and torture. you don't even know why you are there, but you are, drawn by an inner desire to see what is going to happen and a seemingly outer force guiding you to this place. people found places to stand, crouch, sit, and climb all to get a better view of the abuse that was about to follow. the criminal was already tied to a post for all to see and the punishers were picking their insturments of pain. stipped of his clothes he clung to the post, head down in an agonized look.

a hush crept through the crowd as a soldier walked up behind this man and brought back some nasty looking device, a handle with multiple whip-like strands coming from it, and each strand had what looked like a hook on the end of it, like the lethal claws of a lion or tiger. and then it fell, or rather was hurled fiercly into the man's back.

after three or four more attacks the crowd began to cheer, chant, shout, scream for joy, simply roar in extasy with each snap of the whip. the first few times you flinched and closed your eyes, then you watched in disbelief that the crowd would enjoy this. "what has this man done so wrong that these people are so happy to watch this brutality?" you mumble to yourself.

a man close to you must have heard and turned to answer. "this man claims to be the messiah, the king of the jews. he is a blasphemer, a liar, he has committed the highest treason against the almighty God, defying our laws and costums. he claimed to be the son of God, but look, he bleeds, God can't bleed!" you glanced back and saw red streams beginning to form down his sides and back as another person turned to tell you more. "his name is Jesus, he's the peasant son of a dead carpenter from nazareth. i guess his mother and brothers are around somewhere. i heard that his mother was pregnant with him before she was married." ~

that was moments ago when it all began. looking to your left you see a women searching to crowd and finding two young children that she grabs and turns to leave. a man, apparently her husband, turns to say something at her pointing to the children, she yells something back then turns with the children and leaves. just as she is out the door three slightly older children sneak in see for themselves what the adults are acting childishly about.

you turn back to the man and see that he is now slumped to the ground, hands still tied to the post, layin in a pool of his blood and bits of his body. and he looks over at you. through the blood and hair his eyes find yours and, for a moment, it seems that you can read each others thoughts, but a moment is all it takes.

~the man looks up into the crowd and catches the eyes of someone staring back. the fists and roars of the crowd fade away as he sees into the eyes of this spectator, and a connection is made. "i love you." the man says in his mind. the pain is starting to dull as his body begins to slide into shock, and each devastataing whip is not quite as bad as the last, but at the same time worse. suddenly the man's vision explodes in a world of white searing pain, worse than any he felt before. not from the pain of the flog, but from all the sadness, bitterness, anger, guilt, and all the other horrible emotions he sees and feels in the person staring back at him. "i feel your pain," this man, the Jesus, thinks of the spectator in the crowd.

another snap of the whip and a cry comes from his mouth as he sees the hurt this person endured. "i love you." Jesus thinks again. the whip cracks again and this time he more than thinks it. "I LOVE YOU!" is screamed out, drowned out to the ears of the crowd. the whip flies out again and he feels the hooks find something solid in him, and pull him horribly to the side as the soldier yanks it free. an odd snapping and popping sound reaches his ears as splinters of bone fly free, and the pain and anguish of that spectators guilt and offences rip through his body, causing more pain than the flog ever could. and the tears begin to fall.~

"what was that he said?" you think. "was that agape (pronounced a-gop-ay) i heard? was he saying he loved me?" confusion sweeps through you from the past moment as this man's thoughts seemed to invade your own. agape is not a word you heard often. it's the purist and holiest form of love, the kind of love that does not judge you, that is always there for you, that always gives, that keeps no record of wrongs. the love attributed to a loving God.

"this man knows me," you think. "he knows what i've done, but he loves me?! he agapes me! who could he be to say such a thing? could he be telling the truth about who he is? or is he some man who's only crime was he lied, or is crazy?!" a tear begins to from in your left eye as you realize that the thoughts this man got into you were not random, but real. "he loves me." the thought causes you to cringe. you are no perfect person. far from it. and he knows everything. you saw it all in a flash from his mind. the tears now start coming stronger.

the crowd begins to quiet and you look up to see that the whipping has stopped. the flogs have been laid aside and the soldiers have released the hands of this man, this Jesus. just thinking the names sends a shiver through you. joy and sadness run through your body to your fingertips and beyond it seems, only adding to the confusion. the soldiers lift him to his feet and begin to force him to another door.

you were connected to this man. you can't leave him now. with tears in your eyes you push along with the crowd to see what happens next, as if your whole life, past, present, and future depends on him. as if your whole destiny hinges on this outcome, but you don't know what outcome to hope for. you don't know what is supposed to happen to take it all away, to make things right. but you have to go. so through the tears you make out the doorway and push forward.