Scene

September 15, 2010

I have an image, a scene I must write.

I am on the ground, and there is only dirt. There is an occasional plant, but dirt surrounds me. The skies are black with clouds, and I am fallen on my face weeping. Pouring out so many sorrows in my tears.
I pull myself off the ground. I am barely covered with clothing, naked before my God. The skies open up, and light pours onto me. It’s so bright, but I cannot look away.
“My daughter, where have you been?”
My body shakes again with sorrow.
I involuntarily place my hand over my heart. I am speaking to my romancer.
“My love, where have you gone? Why are you still trying to run from me? I love you, and I am longing to protect you.”
My eyes cannot bear to look from this light, but I feel so ashamed.
I fall on my knees, I know it hurts but I feel no pain.
“Oh, how unfaithful I have been!” I cry out.
I feel a hand beneath my chin, pulling my eyes toward His. As I turn, there is no one there. But I know my eyes are locked on His.

I am taken to a new scene.
I feel His hand holding mine, but I don’t look because I know there is still no one there. Instead, I try to find where I am. People are all gathered around shouting. I feel myself being pulled to the front by the man that is not there. As I am going up, I try to make out the words being shouted. I can hear nothing. I’m frightened. There are people all around. Raving about something. Angry faces. My heart is pounding. I break open at the front of the crowd and I am immediately locked eye to eye with a man. I make out what they are shouting.

“Crucify Him!”

My body seems to break, but the man who isn’t there holds me up. I know where I am.
I am locked eyes with the man, a crown of thorns on his head. His body is bloody, and split open. His back is shrugged over, but the only pain I see in His eyes is not pain for Himself.

“Jesus!” I cry.

The crowd begins to shift, and I get lost. I cannot find where I am. The hand pulls me back to the front. So many angry faces are still screaming. We are lined on a hill, with only a path between. Jesus is at the bottom, they place a cross on His back. Tears fill my eyes. I know of nothing to do. I pull on the hand that isn’t there and beg to get out. He tells me no.
As Jesus passes, I cry out, but He can do nothing but focus on the road ahead. He is so broken. His body is so physically torn, and you can see the battle inside of Him.
We go to the top of the hill, where they begin the process of nailing him on. He still does not cry out.
I am held back by the man. Tears have begun to pour as I pull off my shoes, and fall to the ground. Few others join me.
Days pass as I am on the ground, and he cries out one time.

“Forgive them Father, for they know not what they have done.”

I cry as He is gone. There is nothing I can do.

I find myself back on the dirt ground, sky still black as the one light pours out on me.
My throat hurts, my eyes will not stop pouring tears, my nose runs.

“My girl,” the man says to me, “Look up at me.”
I look up, and He is there this time. I am on my knees, looking up at His face that pours peace into me.
“Do not forget what I have done for you. Years ago, this was done, so that you may have freedom. I have forgiven you long ago. Now, do not fret of the things you have done against me, because you are forgiven. My blood, my body, were broken and poured out for you. For this very day. You have been forgiven before you even asked. My love for you is not jaded or changed in any way.
But-you must know-my forgiveness is not to be taken for granted. Repent, my love. And your slate is wiped clean.”

-affectionsstirred