REMEMBERING....

The Hill

I awoke this morning to see the dawn creeping over the ridge of mountains, the hard earth against my body did nothing for the ache inside, I wrapped the linen more tightly around me, as if to take away the sudden chill, knowing it was not the morning air but the happenings of the past few days that made it so,  surely...today will be a different day.

Stirring myself I remember our  journey  together and wonder what will this day  hold, how will it be now that our Master is to be crucified on a Cross and  treated like a common criminal.  I rise to go and mourn as many will for generations to come.    

I walk slowly up the hill hoping desperately things had changed—that somehow during the long dark night something miraculous had happened and our Master will not have to go through this valley of death—but it was not to be,  already in the dawns early light He hung there and my heart twisted with the reality that nothing would ever be the same.

The sudden silence—as if all creation, even the universe, is holding its breath, waiting…will man survive;  will this unseen war reach its bloody conclusion soon.  The time ticks by, how long will the silence last?  His chest suddenly heaves again and the silence is broken, life as we know it continues for yet another immeasurable moment in time.  As the chest falls, ripping and tearing the broken flesh and the dripping blood staggers the mind…He was to be our king...All around us  this strange fading light screams at us of dissolving dreams, shadowing hopes—those desperate desires that things could change and be different.  Wickedness, and her spawn evil laughter, chuckle gleefully as  anger gives way to despair and all around women weep and men turn their faces away from such defeat. 

I remember another hill not many days past when children laughed, and parents listened to the wonder filled words that  seemed to flow from His lips.  And now…what now…can I really absorb this reality and live?  I hear the crack of a whip, probably the same one that struck his back gouging and ripping open the flesh that now hangs in raw agony against the wooden post he’s nailed to. 
My mind is full of words, words of truth spoken by men of old in ages long past—who was it? –yes, I recall, it was Job who said "He marks out the horizon on the face of the waters for a boundary between light and darkness!"  [Job 26:10]

Between light and darkness---could it be this strange fading light is being marked by this man that claims to have owned the horizon?  Another sharp crack and I stir myself—“what did you say”—I ask of the man mumbling his words beside me, this soldier standing by watching his assignment of death by crucifixion,  his words are lost to my ears as wind and gathering storm carry them away.  He mumbles again a little louder this time, —“who is this man,?  he asked, as if baffled by the sense of impending wrath of God, for surely this untimely roaring cloud, crushing wind and rushing darkness has never been seen on such a bright and sunny day. 

I listen now to the One who suffers so—hanging on a roughly hewn Cross silhouetted against the darkened sky.  This Cross is stark and cruel, rough and raw,  like a bridge hung between heaven and hell.  I am undone by the sight of such cruelty and struck dumb by compassion as He speaks. “Father, forgive them. For they do not know what they are doing.”  Surely this is no human response, no man can draw from his own well this all consuming, unconditional love.

There are no children on this mountain—and many adults have left, only a few remain, drawn perhaps by something beyond their knowing yet gripped by their own sense of loss and shame.

 I move forward slightly as He turns His head.  I wonder what He would say to those whose life also hung in the balance, those hanging on their own cross beside Him—paradise He says to one of them, “…today you will be with me in paradise…” The other made no sound but smirked, I suppose at such a thought.

A sudden and wrenching cry escaped from deep within His brokenness and His words  echo around the mountain and a piercing pain almost tangible touched my ears —“My God, My God why have you forsaken me?”  Such depths of agony weaving through His cry made my soul shudder and my eyes weep in utter abandon to such hopeless, helpless suffering. 

There are muffled sounds of weeping coming from the small crowd and the atmosphere is one of deep sadness and unbelief that this could be happening.  An undeniable anger stirred within me when I remember the last three years—yes we had failed Him many times but we were human…here in this gathering darkness hung the Son of David the Messiah, heaving, shaking with pain, void of power—no miracle worker this—and we are left to stand or fall in the wake of such defeat.
Just as suddenly I return from my spurious journey and settle into my place beneath an empty Cross—I smile to myself as praise floods my soul, looking back has brought me unbelievable Joy.  He is no longer on the Cross neither is He in the tomb but faith assures me He sits beside His Father and intercedes on my behalf—what power this love is that would defeat death, hell and the grave and make a way for me to journey home to Him.

~DINX~  March 2012