The Scene

When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride

 

                                                                                        Isaac Watts

 

I had read the bible and was fully assured in my heart that I believed its every word. I had avidly testified that I was following its instruction, but when I was called upon by the Holy Spirit to step out on it alone and prove my claims by laying aside any works or deeds that I had done, trusting only in the grace of God for any hope of salvation, I was terrified. I found that I didn’t believe it as much as I professed.

 

With my hands emptied of my labors and having been stripped of my cloak of self-righteousness, I was suddenly standing before God naked, realizing that I had absolutely nothing on which to claim any good in my life. I searched and poured into the depths of my soul, but to no avail. I could find only darkness and the ugly scars of a sinful life.

 

Frantically I began to seek and search for something, anything whereby to stake my claim. It was then that I caught a glimpse of what looked like a tiny silhouette on the distant horizon. There was something about this sight that I could not ignore. It was almost as if I was being drawn to it. I nervously began to move in the direction of the scene. Everything within me told me to turn around; to go back to the place from whence I had come, but there seemed to be a force that continued to draw me ever closer to that horizon. After traveling for some time, I finally began to come near to my destination. I could see that a crowd had gathered around the base of what looked like a small knoll. From my vantage point, I could not yet make out what was taking place. As I drew even closer, I could hear and see that some within the crowd were weeping, but most were shouting obscenities.

 

I had yet to see the object of their emotional outbursts. There were just too many in front of me, so I began to push my way though the throng. When I finally stepped through an opening, I found myself looking upon a scene that will forever be seared into my memory. There before me was a man writhing in the throes of death. His body quivered with uncontrollable spasms. He shook from head to toe as one might react from being chilled on a cold wintry day. I could see that his feet did not touch the ground; that his body was suspended above the earth. It was then I saw in horror that he was impaled upon a tree with what looked to be large iron spikes. Each wrist had one of these spikes driven through it. Another spike was driven through both feet, which were placed one on top of the other. The foot that was visible was blackened from the bruises caused by the hammer as it missed it mark and crushed the flesh below it.

 

There were two other men that hung on either side of him but my attention was drawn to only this one man.

 

He was bloody from his head to his feet. The crimson fluid dripped from his elbows and from his toes; carried there by gravity from the many, terrible wounds that covered his body. Some of the droplets had coagulated, which, when caught up by the wind, were spun into what looked like tiny wisps of scarlet threads stringing out in the breeze.

 

His face was marred beyond recognition; swollen and disfigured from what seemed to be many beatings. His hair was matted looking as if molasses had oozed from his scalp. Around the perimeter of his head was a band of intertwined thorny vines. Due to the blood, I could not see where the tiny spears entered his scalp, but many of the longer thorns were visible through the exit wounds on his forehead. He had on no clothes, which went unnoticed at first, since his skin, which looked much like a torn and tattered garment, was hanging in shreds from sinew and bone.

 

When I looked into his face I saw that he was looking down at me through barely opened eyes. Swelling had all but closed them leaving only tiny slits through which he gazed. 

 

I had never met this man or at least I had no memory of him, but there was a strange feeling of guilt within me; that I had something to do with the cause of his misery, but stranger still was the sensation that he knew me. As he looked intently at me, I saw on his bloody face what seemed to be a look of pity; yet it was not for himself but for me. Why would he look at me in such a manner? Should it not be the other way around? Should I not be the one pitying him?

 

I stared in stunned silence, wondering within myself with what type of heinous crime he was accused of for him to be treated in such a manner. Why was no mercy shown this man? I could not explain it, but somehow I knew that this was an unjust sentence delivered to an innocent man, but I needed to hear it from his lips!

 

It was then that I cried out, “Why is it that you hang there?” “Why are you in the condition?” “What is it that you are accused of that would deserve such torture?”

 

I heard a faint sound, which at first I thought to be the wing of a bird in flight. Then I noticed that his lips, contorted from the impact of the many fists that pummeled them, were moving, but only barely. I could not make out what he was saying. I began to cry louder, above the din of the crowd. “What is it you are saying”, “Tell me”, “Why is it that you suffer so?” “Why have you been placed in this position of such agony?” “I must have an answer!” “WHY?” “WHY?” I found myself no longer worrying about the crowd or that anyone might notice me.

 

It was then I heard his voice, which was barely audible, yet it echoed through my heart, piercing my soul asunder. He said only seven words. Seven words that shall ring in my heart for eternity!

 

He said,

“For…you…!” “I…do …this…for…you!”

 

My heart gave way, as a cave may implode upon itself.  I realized fully now that he was indeed innocent. It was I who was the guilty party. Somehow I understood that he was dying FOR ME; that he had somehow taken my place; that He somehow had become me.

 

I wept bitterly as I came to realize that my sins were so great as to require such torment and suffering, and that another would take this suffering upon himself rather that watch me bear it. I was reduced to nothingness.

 

With what little strength he had left within him, he slowly lifted his head, then cried loudly,

 “IT IS FINISHED”!

 

His head quickly dropped, and then with the last breath he had taken, he quietly whispered,

“Father into thy hands I commend my spirit”.

 

A moment later a soldier walked up with spear in hand. He prodded him and cursed him for a moment just to see if there may be any movement. After finding no response, the soldier placed the spear on the skin between two ribs and with both hands “shoved” upward with all his might. There was no reaction. The only movement of his body was caused from the force of the soldier’s spear. As the soldier jerked the blade from its mark, there came forth from the wound, water with a little blood mingled in. I realized that by the time, the soldier used his weapon, there was very little blood left in the body of this man. The only fluid left was a clear plasma that had gathered in his chest cavity.

 

I heard, to the left of me, a man cry out “Surely this was the Son Of God”.

 

When I looked to see who it was that had said these words, I saw another soldier, on his knees, face wet with tears begging for forgiveness that he had helped carry out such an unjust act.

 

When I looked back to the tree I saw that this man’s eyes were again fixed on me, only now it was a blank stare. As I thought on what had just taken place, I began to sob uncontrollably, but at the same time, I felt that the world had been lifted from my shoulders. Somehow I knew that all the sins I had committed and the guilt I carried were gone as he breathed his last breath of humanity.

 

I still have not yet come to understand love of this magnitude or how that one can love another when there is nothing lovable! I do not how this transaction was done, nor can I understand why it was carried out!

 

When I now have doubts as to the power of God’s love, or when I find myself doubting His love toward me, I return to this scene where I find that I was allowed to live, for the simple reason that another took upon him the punishment I deserved.

 

I am still full of errors and my many mistakes cause me to stumble often, but I know that my sin debt has been paid. My life has been forever changed by what happened on that terrible, precious day.

 

I can never repay my Lord for what did FOR ME. I can only try to live by the philosophy that since he died for me, it should be only reasonable that I live for him??

 

Sam Everett