The Crucifixion Of Christ

PARRC Research, Inc.

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THE CRUCIFIXION OF CHRIST

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Throughout the long and bloody history of man, there have been many methods for

the terminal punishment of crime.

Hangings, garrotings, burnings at the stake, beheadings....

In recent times, the gas chamber, and that marvel of modern technology, the

electric chair.

All horrible. All too terrible to contemplate. And all relatively quick.

There is one method which has been widely used in Roman times—and which is not

mercifully quick.

That method is crucifixion.

Our sins, whether we believe and accept them or not, are so heinous, so grievous, that

it is not surprising that when the Lord Jesus gave His life for the remission of those crimes

against God, that it would be in perhaps the singularly most horrific and agonizing method

of all time.

We do not contemplate, in the course of our everyday lives, the magnitude of His act of

mercy towards us. Not as much, at least, as we contemplate the traffic every day, or our

next vacation.

We do not consider, and in some cases even believe, the ultimate, mind-bending sacrifice

He made in His human existence--for all of us, who think less often of it than we think to thank

Him for it.

Crucifixion. We think of it as a twice-removed, sometimes fuzzy event, devoid of details,

save the picture of Him hanging there.

This deals with the reality of it; the harsh, stark reality of what He went through--for you, and

for me.

It is a fictionalized account of actual fact. It is not fiction; it is arranged so that it is more

understandable from a comfortable vantage-point--but the acts, and the facts, are real.

We should familiarize ourselves with what He did; maybe then, it will mean more to us--and

we may thank Him for it more often.

We should face His sufferings; we should understand how He could have, and maybe did,

feel. He went to the cross as a man--albeit a Divine Man. He suffered as you would have

--and much, much more.

In His Divinity, He did not comfort Himself. In His ultimate act of sacrifice and justification,

He did not reduce His pain; did not argue with his accusers; did not plead with His jailers; did

not beg His torturers.

He was a man. More man than has ever lived, died...and rose again.

This is the account of those acts, in perhaps a different perspective.

In a more humanly understandable one. It is the greatest ending to the greatest story

ever told.

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"Jesus had faced Satan before. He knew Satan with an understanding unsurpassed--

and Satan knew it. When Jesus commanded him to leave the man, Satan had to obey.

He was compelled to obey. He knew Jesus was Divine...he knew who He was.

Jesus faced him again, and forced him to reveal his name in this endeavor---"Legion" it was,

in his multiplicity. Again he was forced to do Jesus' bidding; he could not stand before

righteousness.

In the wilderness, Jesus rebuked him with scripture; turned away the most insidious and

torturous temptations ever to enter the mind of Satan, for forty days and nights. Jesus

faced these temptations, more than any man had ever even seen, and could never conceive

--as a man, armed only with the Word Of God--and was successful. Satan failed again.

But now, as Jesus stood in the Garden of Gethsemane, looking into the cup of His future--

into the cup of iniquity--Jesus' human self doubted whether He could withstand what He saw.

His human self reacted exactly like any man's would--with rising panic, and the urge to

turn away, to flee for His life. But His Divine Self kept Him rooted to the spot, more than a man.

Like a man in a dream He wandered across the orchard of olive trees. Once again He t

urned in the direction of the burning walls of Jerusalem and blessed the city. In the

moonlight His sandals threw up showers of silver dust until He reached the freshly running

stream and waded through it, and then, turning past the wicker gate, he climbed another path

through the olive trees leading to a cave where the jars of oil were stored--a cave with a tip

of rock jutting over it and steps cut in the side of the rock. He climbed the steps and threw

Himself on the rock.

Lying there with His arms outstretched, He felt the coldness of the rock pouring into Him.

He was dissolving into the rock, becoming part of it. He was being broken on the rock, and

there was only the darkness of the rock.

God had abandoned Him, it seemed. He had placed all His trust in God, and now there

was only the certainty of

His death, the knowledge that He would be split asunder on a rock, and no angels would

attend Him. As He lay there, the moon fell below the battlements of Jerusalem, and where

there had been a blinding whiteness there was now only the darkness and silence of the

long night.

From out of the darkness, Satan smiled...

The darkness thickened. There were no stars. Only the black, engulfing night. He was

sinking into the darkness; falling deeper and deeper into it, lost in the silence of despair, as

frail as a dead leaf, at the mercy of a terrible weariness. The strength, which had supported

Him over so many years, had left Him. He was alone with the alone, alone with the bare rock,

in the silence and horror of the night. All that had gone before--the long journeys, the visions,

the miracles that had come about at the touch of His fingers, all those powers He possessed

and scattered so prodigally, the roaring of the storm of God in His ears--all these things

seemed to have happened to someone else, at another time, under another dispensation.

It was as though they had never been. He was falling through the darkness like a dead leaf.

He would die soon, and His death would have no more significance than the death of the

leaf, and soon He would be forgotten by men; and if He came back from the grave, this too

would have no significance. One day, they would not even believe it, nor His Spirit-inspired

conception of a virgin. He was spinning through the darkness, falling forever away from the

mercy of God. Everything was falling, falling.

Never before had He known this agony, this sudden overwhelming onrush of despair, this

shuddering of the spirit. It did not appall Him that He was thoroughly unimportant and helpless:

what appalled Him above everything else was the knowledge that God had seemingly

forsaken Him.

Let God speak to Him, and even if the words came in the faintest whisper he would leap

with gratitude.

In a fever of despair He cried out to be saved from the outer darkness.

"Where art Thou, O My God?" He cried out. "Why hast Thou deserted Me? Why art Thou

hidden from Me?"

There came from Him a cry of despair, but the cry died on the wind, in the darkness:

died as though it were never uttered. On this rock of betrayal He had come in loneliness to

speak with God, and neither the voice of God nor the angelic voices answered Him.

After long journeying, with the dust of the desert still on Him, He had come to His triumph

in Jerusalem; He rode on the foal of an ass and the people threw palms of victory

before Him; He had entered the Temple, and taken possession of it; He was a King,

indeed; and now, from kingship, He had descended to a small, desperate, quivering man

lying on a dark rock against the dark skies--and all His strength was taken from Him.

Somewhere in the darkness, Satan chuckled...

In His loneliness and despair, He cried out: "Father, all things are possible to Thee.

Take this cup from me."

He was still falling in the darkness as He uttered these words.

"Shall I drink this cup?" He repeated. "O God, take it from me!"

All space had assumed the shape of betrayal. Space wore the dark face of Judas, and the

countenance of Lucifer. He was spinning into the endless void of betrayal, a dead leaf

at the mercy of the winds of God, and the leaf was fraying away, turning to powder,

turning to nothingness.

From out of the darkness, Satan laughed out loud.

He was gripped by the terror of annihilation, the extinction of everything that gave

meaning to His life. He sighed and groaned, and clung desperately to the rock.

Satan had known defeat in the wilderness; but now he sensed victory.

As he watched from perdition's darkness, he squealed an infernal cackle of gleeful

and uncontrollable laughter...

When the night was darkest, when Jesus’ flame seemed to be going out forever, there

came from somewhere in the vast spaces of the night a voice saying:

"THOU ART MY ONLY BEGOTTEN SON."

At that moment, He knew God, His Father, had not deserted Him. He was with Him, even

unto the total darkness of utter despair. At that moment, His eyes opened again, and

the Eternal Vigor of Omnipotence blazed in them once again--the vigor that had raised

a man from the dead due to its good and perfect will. At that moment, His strength

was miraculously restored to Him; He stood up from the Rock, His Divine Self scintillating

from His body, and the darkness was eaten away instantly by the Divine Light flooding

from Him.

The Light went out, symbolic of His strength and renewal. "Not My Will, Father, but

Thy Will" came from His lips like thunder, and rolled across the plain.

Satan screamed, an agony of pain caused by contact with Divine Light, and the Voice

of Power. He tumbled back into the chasm, brimstone exploding, screaming an awful,

blood-curdling wail of defeat, despair, and anger--and hate. Screamed, and as the intensity

of it was lost by distance as he fell back, the desperation and hate increased to a rising

crescendo. The light followed him, hastening his acceleration, and finally shutting his mouth

as the ground closed over him.

Jesus stood. Victorious again. This time, victorious over the fear that clutched his heart

this night--as a man.

Ready now to march to His death in courage. For mankind; for all God's children to have

one last chance.

The "trial" was a mere formality to Jesus; he already knew the outcome three ways: through

His own Divine Omniscience, through Scripture, which He was fulfilling, and through

foreknowledge--before He even left the Right Hand of His Father.

Now it begins, He thought...

And He was Alone. All alone, at the table of His enemies....

....Countless people, including many Roman soldiers, had been scourged in this damp

courtyard, and many had died as a result of the scourging; but it was never regarded

as a matter of importance. There were no laws or regulations concerned with scourging.

Unless a commanding officer had given instructions for a certain number of blows to be

delivered, they gave as many as they pleased, at whatever intervals they pleased, in

whatever manner seemed most suitable.

If for some reason they took a dislike to the prisoner--if he screamed too much, or too little;

if he showed too much courage, or none at all; they would tear his flesh to ribbons and

continue to lacerate him long after he lost consciousness; but if it happened that a prisoner

was later to be crucified, they would generally be lenient with him, giving him no more than

twenty or thirty blows. In such cases they were usually careful to avoid aiming their thongs

of bull hide, in which small pieces of bone had been inserted, at the eyes and neck. A good

scourger could kill a man with a single blow.

The scourging pillar was set against the wall near the fig tree. It was about seven feet high,

stained with rust-colored blotches, and was evidently the broken column of some long

abandoned temple. It was chipped in places, and here and there were to be found strange

purple marks, shaped like leaves or arrowheads, for which no one had any explanation.

Behind the column lay a tangle of thorn bushes, which at this season of the year were beginning

to flower.

Jesus was limping a little as He crossed the courtyard. He knew He was to be scourged,

but He had expected it to happen in some public place. His human self was dominant;

otherwise, He could comfort Himself too much with knowledge of the future; not knowing

is the most frightful thing of all--and He was not to be comforted now. He thought it would

be in view of the Sanhedrin, and a jeering mob. He had imagined there would be an officer

in charge, and perhaps a doctor. He had not expected a small, evil-smelling courtyard,

buzzing with flies and brawling soldiers. They walked Him to the column and left Him there,

then marched off to the barracks to fetch the whips,

and cords, and other implements of torture.

He shivered there; alone and dreading the violation of His body as any man would. Tears

welled in His eyes as He prepared for the torture of His body and mind.

He turned to gaze at the thorn bushes with their small white petals no larger than fingernails.

He blessed them, and blessed the pillar. He did not see the smiles of the guards as they

approached.

The soldiers went about their task deftly, expertly, like soulless machines. They removed

His robes, bound Him with thin cords to the pillar, and then stepped back smartly, each

grasping a ten foot bullhide whip, studded with barbell-shaped metal bolos, and chips of

bone. The whips gleamed in the air as they descended in long arcs to

His shoulders and back....

They took turns whipping Him. They didn't want to tire themselves.

The first blow curled around His shoulders and curled around His face. He groaned and

locked His teeth, while the waves of pain broke over Him, threatening to drown Him. He

felt that He was suffocating under the immense weight of the burden of pain. The worst

blow was always the last, for each successive blow was an added increment of pain. He

writhed and twisted against the cords. As His human self hung there and suffered, thinking:

"I'm dying for them, and they do this to me,"

His Divine Self persevered, thinking, "I forgive them, for they know not yet who I am, nor

what they do."

He could feel the breaking of the flesh, the bony claws, and the blunt impact of the metal; He

felt the wet, warm blood pouring out through the cracks in the skin. As the blows increased

in fury, due to His silence, they also increased in frequency. He became no more than a

nerve ending, His body instinctively twisting under the force of the blows.

As the pain grew more intense, spreading over His entire body, as He sucked in His breath,

as the air around Him turned into fire--as the earth gave way under His feet and He hung on

the pillar as the thin restraining cords cut into His flesh--He was aware that He was entering

another landscape. The walls of the terrible courtyard fell

away. There were no thorn trees; there was no well. The fig trees had shriveled into nothing.

There was no damp straw, no cobblestones, no flies. He had entered the world of the

whip—the world of agony. It was a world dominated by the colors black and scarlet: a world

in which the whistle of a strip of falling bullhide became the only intelligible sound.

The count went far beyond where it should have gone; most men would be dead now. But

Christ had a mission: to die on the cross. Therefore, His stamina kept Him alive, for the

prophecies must be fulfilled...

He felt that His whole body was being cracked open like a walnut; underneath the hard

and breaking shell there was only a small kernel of white nerves underneath. These too

were being torn apart, disintegrated, reduced to small specks like thistledown, and each

of these blades of thistledown was capable of proliferation, and each became the center

of increasing pain. The sun went out, the world died, and a faint smell of brimstone came

to his nostrils...

The cackle of laughter met His ears, and Jesus knew where His senses had taken Him.

To a world of pain, where His adversary dwelt, and found sustenance from suffering.

The adversary, the devil, undaunted, cackled his sadistic laugh, and watched...

In this world without light or shape or sensible sound, He knew Himself to be a stranger.

His human self recoiled in fear, as His Divine self simultaneously recognized and

understood. He was being torn apart, as a flower is torn apart by the wind, and at the

same time He was being carried unwillingly into a strange landscape where nothing was

recognizable.

He heard the laughter, and the sound of His own blood falling to the cobblestones...

Then, after an interminable time, it was over.

Painfully, slowly, with His eyes closed, He was coming back to life--to a cold, sterile

life of monstrous shapes and frightful sensations.

They had cut Him down, and were pouring water on Him.

He lay on a rough blanket, panting for breath, his wounds burning on its surface. He was

naked, and scarred, and flecked with blood. He was not in pain now--that would come

later when His tortured nerves awakened.

"So this is the man who calls Himself King Of The Jews!" the guards exclaimed, mouths

like wicked slits, eyes hard. "Then He should be dressed like a King!"

They propped Him up at the foot of the column. They then threw a red military cloak

around His shoulders, and fastened the clasp. One soldier had fashioned a caplet of

thorns, and forced it down upon His scalp. Deep into His flesh the thorns pressed, a

housand red-hot needles, as all His nerves were awakened by the pain. Tears flooded

His eyes as He sat on the ground, blood streaming down His face, in agony. He looked

up at them, His sad eyes imploring their humanity; there was none, as a cackle could be

heard in the distance...

A kick in the side was His signal to get up; He struggled to His feet, blood blinding His eyes,

and staggered away, tears mingled with the blood on His face...

Before He left the courtyard, He looked back. Pain, fear, and sorrow racked His body.

Then His Divine Self came forth; He painfully raised His Right Hand, and blessed the

They prepared Him for His crucifixion. In the dungeon, one of the guards had struck Him

for moving too slowly through the door, and the blow broke His nose. He felt the cartilage

break, and tears rushed to His eyes, blinding Him. Then, when He could not see, they set

upon Him, raining blows on His already tortured body, cutting His face, and yanking portions

of His beard out of the skin. The force of the blows to His face reopened the wounds under

the caplet of thorns. Despite the excruciating pain, and His blindness from the tears and

new blood, he stumbled forward, crashing into the wall.

The rough stones of the wall gashed His cheek, and He fell to the floor, semi-conscious.

Kicking and cursing, they urged Him to His feet. Blinded, bleeding, and with only the red

cloak and a white wrap, He stumbled through the tunnel leading to the courtyard. When

they pushed Him, He crashed into the wall. His vision was still blurred as He tried to wipe

His eyes clear. Finally He was forced through the mouth of the tunnel, warm air cascading

over Him. Rubbing the tears and blood from His eyes, they slowly focused. Wearily

raising His head

He looked upon an object.

The eight-foot figure of a cross.

His right leg would not bend; He fell once leaving the tunnel, and damaged His knee. As

He carried the cross up the cobble stoned street, He had to drag that leg to walk. Every once

in a while, the leg would give out, and He would pitch forward. With His arms bound behind

Him, He would not break His fall. His knees crashed on the street, then He fell forward on His

face. The swelling was so intense now, His face was disfigured. Once again, he was partially

blinded; this time due to the swelling of His eyes. He suffered--both physically, and

mentally. He was afraid, as He struggled to rise from the ground, the one-hundred pound cross

cutting into his shoulders...

He raised His eyes heavenward; the sun was shining, but in the distance, thunderheads

were starting to form. Angry clouds, threatening to bring storms. Satan looked at

Jesus, then looked fearfully at the sky...

He fell a third time; His legs could not recover, the damage was too great. His anguished

cry rang out, echoing through the streets. Silence enveloped the crowd as the cry rang out.

People from the rooftops, and children in the streets stopped. Not even a bird flew as

Jesus' wail reverberated. The soldiers stopped, stunned, and

looked at each other.

Never had they heard such a cry.

Reacting to this, they ordered Simeon, a Cyrene black, to carry the cross.

Cutting Jesus' bonds He fell forward to the ground again. A lady rushed forward, defiant,

and wiped his face. He looked at her with His tortured eyes, and tried to smile, but His

face wouldn't allow it. Slowly, blood running out of His wounds, He raised His Right Hand,

and blessed her...His image, a mandilion, the image of His sacrifice, would remain on that

cloth for thousands of years as a testimony of courage, and a sign for the faithful church...

As Simeon gritted his teeth under the heavy load, he glanced at Christ. His head was

bowed as He tried to rise: no one lifted a hand to help Him, and Simeon couldn't. Slowly,

agonizingly, He rose again, and started to follow Simeon up the hill to His death. Simeon

looked back, then up the hill. Soon the weight on his shoulders would be

removed, and replaced upon the shoulders of Christ—but this time to free Simon from his

slavery in sin...

...and all who would receive…

He limped slowly, head to one side, ears ringing. He was dizzy in the mid-day heat, and

stumbled forward, dragging his right leg. His shoulders bowed more and more, as the

weight of the world was being placed on His shoulders with each step. He was beginning

the supernatural portion of His trial--that of bearing the sins of the entire world--past and

present--on His shoulders...

As He passed, flowers surreptitiously bloomed. His agony mixed with love calmed the rising

wind, and healed bodies in His wake. He looked as well as He could into the eyes of the

onlookers: as He did, for them that would look back, lives were forever changed. A child

rushed forward, tears in her eyes. Jesus looked down toward the cobblestones, then

up at the child; His tears mingled with the child's, falling to the ground.

He then looked up at Golgotha, "The Place Of The Skull," at Calvary. He saw Simeon put

down the cross and sadly walk away. He watched it being laid down, and the guards rise

up to meet Him. His legs failed Him, and He sat down on the cobblestones. Head bowed,

He prayed for strength. Then, in a rush of humanity and increasing pain,

He screamed again.

He screamed in agony--greater than any He had experienced before. His Father had placed

the full weight of the world on His shoulders—all of human history, for all time. He now carried

each individual who bore life, and those who had died; those who had yet to be born; with

the weight on His shoulders, He knew that if He did not get up, mankind was doomed.

The scream escaped His lips, and Satan covered his ears in pain.

Demons flew screaming from innocent people, dashing themselves back to Hell. The

scream rang through the hillside, and was answered by a crash of rolling thunder from

heaven as the storm clouds gathered.

People covered their ears in fear, looking at each other, then at the roiling sky...

Jesus prayed for strength; His Father, seeing His sincerity for the redemption of man,

gave it; He rose slowly to His feet, and dragging his injured leg, shoulders bowed mightily,

crept toward the cross...

Falling down alongside, the guards placed Him in position. The guards knew He was not to

be tied, but nailed to the cross; it was unusual, but they knew how it was to be done. The

spike had to be placed where the hand joined the wrist, or it would pull through the delicate

bones of the palm. His left hand was placed into position, and in one blow the spike driven

into the wrist. Jesus had no strength left to scream in pain; it was just one more pain. His

body strained, and broke into sweat; capillaries in the surface of His skin broke painfully;

the wound from the crown of thorns reopened; and tears again fell from His eyes--but this time,

He made no sound.

Then the right hand; then His feet. Then with a jolt, the cross was lowered into place.

He then hung upon the spikes, and they pulled through the muscle tissue, but held.

Blood mixed with tears fell to the ground, as the thunder bellowed above...

A thief, being crucified at the same time, asked to be remembered when Jesus came into

His kingdom. This small act of faith, sufficient unto the day, thrilled Jesus' spirit, and gave

Him a little strength. He glanced at the thief and promised that today, he would be with

Him in Paradise. His Divine self, Omniscient, saw the future, and knew His

words, as always, were true.

He wanted to raise His Right Hand to bless the thief, but couldn't; however, He knew that

His every desire was translated into fact by His Father, who heard from on High, and

watched His Son's sublime suffering, knowing what must be done next...

He inclined His head to look over at the thief, and forced a wan smile to His face; the glance

from Jesus was enough to tell this man that he had been saved at one minute to midnight.

Jesus then verified it by telling him that he would be with Him THAT day in paradise.

After that blessed assurance, the thief did not care if he lived or died—for he had glimpsed

his sure future in Christ.

After a time, Jesus' circulation broke down, the painful lack of it forced Him out of His state

of shock. He looked around; saw His mother, and brother, spoke to them, then looked

heavenward again.

He asked for a drink; He had not had a drink of water for days. The soldiers laughed, and

offered him vinegar. It made him sick to His stomach, and He turned his face away.

His joints began to ache as He hung there; they were beginning to come loose at the sockets.

Jesus observed the manner in which He was to die, but was no longer afraid. He wept to

see His body destroyed, but then His Divine self realized that the body was nothing; the soul

was important.

The hours went by. He could not support His weight, and the spike tore into His wrists. His

shoulders sagged, and He couldn't breathe.

He had to force Himself upright to take a breath, and could not hold it long. The time dragged

by, and once again His despairing reached the limit. During one of the periods where He

struggled for breath, He summoned the energy to utter one phrase: "Eli, Eli, Lama

Sabachthani?"

"My God, My God, Why Hast Thou Forsaken Me?

Thunder answered as it rolled in the distance; storm clouds rolled in.

He surveyed the crowd, looking in bewilderment at Him, and at the darkening skies. His

disciples denied knowing Him, for fear they would also be put to death. The followers

of Barabbas were glad it wasn't their friend that died, and reveled. The curious onlookers

simply stared, as a carnival atmosphere prevailed. His eyes dimmed, and His strength faded.

He sagged against the spikes, and bowed His head.

A Roman soldier, impatient with the lengthy process, stabbed Him in the side. He looked

at the man, eyes clouded with pain, and couldn't stand it any more. His heart broken. He cried

out the third time, blood and water passing from His side, the long wail echoed by thunder.

Looking up in anger, the soldier then retrieved a club, with which to break Jesus' legs; this way,

He would not be able to stand up straight to breathe. The man then looked into His eyes,

galvanized by what he saw; then at the club. He backed away, still looking at the club, then at Jesus.

Jesus could not breathe at all now; all His wounds were bleeding; the wound in His side

most profusely. His last thoughts were of the people He was sent to save. He then said:

"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." This was the final signal. Now, sin

would be paid for, once and for all, in the broken body of Christ. He had proven Himself worthy

--now it was to be finalized.

Clouds rushed in, and the warm air was replaced with cool, moist air.

It smelled electric, and the storm roared in. Lightning and thunder crashings were everywhere,

as people screamed and ran for their lives.

Mary and the others huddled at the foot of the cross, terrified.

Jesus' body was cloaked in darkness; they could not see the hands in front of their faces.

No man would see what happened next.

Jesus had been deserted, maligned, scourged; beaten; crucified.

But…

All of the horror of the former transpirings paled in comparison to what happened next. As

He had looked into the cup in Gethsemane, he saw this; of all that He saw, it was this He

feared most.

All of man's sins, and vices, were visited upon Him now.

They rushed in upon Him for payment. Crushing down upon Him they came, in hellish

waves. Satan jumped up and down in rage as Jesus absorbed the sins into Himself.

As the sins descended, His love expanded, and the sins were absorbed, to be remembered

by God no more.

On and on they came, this hellish energy, nullified in Jesus; on and on. It seemed to take

forever as all of the sins of the entire existence of man on Planet Earth, past, present,

and future, crashed down upon Jesus.

Visions of Hell were replaced in Satan's mind with agonizing visions of Heaven as the

members of the Church came into being, yet in the future, and fulfilled destiny. Millions

of souls were saved at that instant, and during the ordeal, the Law and the Prophets were fulfilled.

Murder, lust, covetousness...came roaring in; adultery, profanity, blasphemy; lies, deceit,

idolatry, atheism, apostasy; child molestation, pornography; overindulgence, apathy,

greed; they all blasted Jesus as Satan watched the fruits of his activity being absorbed

by Christ.

To destroy Him was the intent of this sin; but God knew that Jesus was equal to the task,

tempered by the very fires of these perversions while on earth, He even in this depleted

state, was more than equal.

To destroy all men was the intent of this sin; but because of Christ we rise, Phoenix-like from

the ashes of destruction, immortalized and incorruptible with, and because of, what is

happening here.

Now.

Black as night the sin-storm roared, buffeting Jesus with its mighty waves of destruction.

Monsters, representing the very worst of man, things unimaginable lurking in the corners of

all our minds, revealed; tearing at Christ, seeking to destroy the light He was shining. The

Divine Man withstood, the Love in His heart bursting forth in shattering crescendos of

Shekinah that protected His waning life force, and gave Him strength.

The worst in all of us, raised to new heights by Satan, attacked Christ; desperately

seeking spiritual imperfection; though small, any would be enough to signal the end of

all mankind.

God, in His Mercy, covered Christ in this supernatural darkness; He did not want to

have this battle seen, as it would drive the crowd insane; even as they were killing His

Son He was merciful.

Onlookers were battered to the ground, and knew that what they witnessed was not

of human agency; they knew, even though they could not see Him with their blinded eyes,

that this was indeed the Christ, Son Of The Living God. They cried and groveled for

mercy on the ground as the storm raged, terrified.

Christ was equal to the task; He indeed was the Worthy Lamb who was slain for the sins

of the world. Those sins assailed Him now, and He was not found wanting.

Satan saw all this, from his vantage point, and crawled away, knowing that millions had

escaped his clutches; knowing full well what the implication meant. Knowing that any man,

from now on, who called upon Jesus' name, would be saved from his clutches, forever.

He crawled on his belly like a serpent, away from the storm, back to Hell, to plot for the

possession of those souls who chose not to know Jesus--and to prepare for Jesus' visit to

his infernal realm. He smiled, in his insanity, because he knew there were plenty of souls

still for him--both now, and in the future--for Hell.

Then, suddenly, it was completed.

Christ stood one last time, on legs that the soldier would not break, as the sin-storm abated;

Soon it grew quiet, and the atmosphere lightened. He looked out at the people, knowing

that He had been successful.

"It Is Finished," He exclaimed.

Knowing His mortal life had finally been fulfilled, and was over, He relaxed on the cross. He

still could not breathe, but now it was not so important; He knew what was next. He called out

to His Father, "Into Thy Hands I commend My Spirit." Then after all His sufferings--after the

justification of man by way of His accomplishment on the cross--He finally died.

Those that saw Him wondered why He had not saved Himself; they knew who He was now,

but couldn't understand why He did what He did. The Good News of why He did it is going

out even today.

He was wrapped in a shroud; placed in a tomb borrowed from Joseph Of Arimathea. He was

left there, for He was dead, and they knew it--those faithful disciples who, in their overriding

humanity, had deserted Him. They had heard Him say that He would rise again—but doubt

is the normal and constant state of mankind.

They vowed to carry on His work--but didn't really expect to see Him again...

The Father, as always, was true to His word. He took Christ's spirit from the cross in the

twinkling of an eye, up with Him. Then, during the days that His earthly body lay in the tomb,

some other things were accomplished.

Jesus had taken away the sins of the world; He had removed, due to this, the sting of

death, and the victory of the grave. Before He would return to earth, and to His disciples,

one more thing had to be taken care of....

Satan sat, afraid. He knew that his stronghold was about to be invaded, and his prisoners

plundered from him.

His demons bristled in their numbers, at the gate, to bar Christ's way, with their master.

They waited, among the brimstone, voices crying a sad and desperate song of torment in the background. Then they saw a light...

Jumping to their feet and arming themselves, the horrible demons roared in their evil

intent and nature, dripping venom from their fangs, scales scraping along the rock. They

waited, claws extended, horrific symbols of perversion, ready to do their work for their

master, who sat back, arming himself for the fight.

The light grew, and suddenly burst upon them. Jesus did what He had to do alone; neither

Michael, nor Gabriel accompanied Him. He alone.

As fast as they moved to pour wave upon wave of hate and corruption upon Him, they

realized the folly of their actions: He was no longer human. He had passed the test on earth,

and was found perfect. Now he was inviolate and incorruptible; their waves of corruptive

force fell upon the ground, harmless, as He stood in blinding light and serenity before them.

He raised His Right Hand, and light flooded every corner of Hell.

Things of terrible countenance scuttled and scurried, looking frantically for the darkness

that was their succor, and found none.

The burst into flame, and were consumed. Jesus, recognizing in the demons the original

personalities of the angels who once walked the hallowed halls of Heaven, smiled. And

the overriding love in that smile, even for them, extinguished their evil in an instant. They

stood, for a moment, horrific of countenance but devoid of evil

intent, useless to Satan's evil machinations.

Jesus then stood before Satan himself. He walked to the gate of Hell, looking not at, nor

acknowledging Lucifer. As Lucifer screamed in rage, knowing Jesus' intent, Christ simply

cast His eyes over toward him, and the screaming was stopped instantly. Satan simply

looked, and did nothing, as the Supreme Being controlled everything around Him; His

Righteousness overwhelmed everything.

Jesus walked to the gates of Hell, past various demons who were transformed in His

presence to peaceful creatures; they stood not in His way as He strode up to the Gate,

feet not touching the brimstone on the ground. He retrieved the keys, and entered into

the inner chambers of torture.

There the Glorified Son Of Man found souls, tortured for centuries of despair. Pathetic

creatures, reaching our, pleading. According to His Divine Plan, in regard to His Will,

He freed those people that day, and took them out.

As He left, the chambers were stilled. Demonic activity, which would undoubtedly revive

again when He left, was stilled in His Presence.

His people left the way He had come, and, Keys in His Hand, Jesus turned and left.

Once again freed from Jesus' presence, Satan became contorted with unholy rage, and

cursed every name he knew, swearing vengeance upon Jesus and all His people...

As the light faded, and the fires stirred anew, Satan began his plan to retrieve unto himself

all those who he could; those who did not accept the same Christ who had just left his

chambers...

As Jesus ascended with His people, He knew there was one great work left to do...

The tomb of Joseph Of Arimathea was cold, dark and damp. The third day since the

crucifixion of Jesus passed unceremoniously. Then, suddenly, there was movement.

Angels appeared, and hovered over the body of Christ, which was still.

They knew the time had come...

The human matter that had been Jesus Of Nazareth began to change.

The reaction which was to be expounded on centuries later by scientists, the

spontaneous transition of dark matter energy through a virtual bridge and back into

normal matter, was instituted by Jesus. He was about to do exactly what He said He would.

He was about to raise Himself from the dead...

The guards looked up toward the tomb as they sat outside.

The light slowly died again in the tomb; the matter-energy resurrective reaction had ended;

the only evidence of it as Jesus left the tomb was the still-glowing Shroud, lying on the

burning-hot stone that somehow did not consume….

As He left, the light in the tomb dimmed; but the light in the world increased dramatically.

It is still increasing as Jesus commanded His disciples to spread the light of the new

Commandment, the Good News Of The Gospel, and Salvation to all mankind. He implored

them, and all Christians, to feed His sheep, and give them the Word Of God for

sustenance.

That light is still growing; and naturally, because of it, so are the shadows.

But the light, one day soon, will be so strong that no shadows will survive.

During the next days, Jesus gave his instructions to His disciples.

He then said He would be leaving again--but with one significant similarity.

He would be coming again.

In the same manner they see Him leave, He told them, He would come again to gather

the sheep that we feed unto Himself. He told them He would be with them even unto the

end of the world. And then He ascended again to the Right Hand of His Father."

There have been those who felt so strongly about the crucifixion and agony of Christ--and

so badly about their own sinful natures which necessitated it--that they wished for the agony

themselves. History has recorded some of these occurrences—accurately or not, explainable

or not, as “stigmata.”

Christ wants us to move forward from the cross, and its’ agony, into the future of salvation

and grace.

We were deeply moved by this hypothesis; it gives me knew perspective on the gravity of the

sacrifice He made for us.

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www.parrc.org