Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own the Bible, or God, or Jesus, or the crucifixion, or anything in this story. I own my Bible. Does that count for anything?
Author's Note: I was digging for some papers that I needed for school and found a lot of stories that I had worked on over the years. This was the only completed one. Keep in mind that I wrote it years ago, so it does not follow my usual writing patterns.
What had I done? I was standing before a judge, who was facing the large crowd behind me. The crowd was not quiet. They were yelling over and over again, "Crucify her!" but the judge ignored them. Once they quieted down, the judge asked the question none ever answered.
"I sentence this woman to crucifixion. Will anyone take her place?"
The crowd was silent. Tears streamed down my face as I realized that I was going to die. That was when he stepped forward.
He was a simple carpenter, but he had kind eyes. He had claimed to be the son of God. He looked at me for a moment and I heard a voice in my head that simply said, "Be still and know that I am God". Then the man spoke.
"I will take this woman's place, for although she has sinned against me and my father, she is precious to us."
The crowd turned their anger and mocking on this kind man. He had done nothing to deserve it. I wept as he stood, silently taking their mockery. There was nothing I could do for him. It was beyond my control.
Soon, my savior was given a purple robe and a crown of thorns. I cried as he took my place. The man was innocent, but they spared him nothing. They sarcastically called him, "King of the Jews" and all manner of other cruel things.
Then they moved on. They stripped him and whipped him until he looked like a piece of raw meat. I had to turn away. I could not watch.
I could hear his cries of agony as the whip fell on him again and again. I would have tried to stop them, but I could hear his voice in my head.
"For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son, that whosoever believes in him shall not perish, but have everlasting life."
I was quiet. For all of the yells from the crowd, all I could hear were my frantic thoughts. This was indeed the son of God? Dying for me?
When I turned to look at the Son of God, I found the cross being built. I looked at my savior and he looked at me. An inexplicable peace fell over me.
A man was pulled from the crowd to carry the cross. That this man should also suffer because of me caused me a renewed grief.
The man carried the cross and my savior followed. At any point in time he could turn me back over to the crowd and save himself but he did nothing of the sort.
When the procession reached the top of the hill, the cross was laid down. He lay down on top of the cross and a man approached with large nails and a mallet. I wept as the nails were driven through his hands. Another was pounded through his feet. He cried out in agony, but I heard little over that voice in my head.
"I will rise again in only three days. I will be gone only long enough to ensure your eternal freedom."
I looked at the mess of a man before me. Even like this, he was beautiful. Don't get me wrong, he was by no means handsome, but he was… beautiful.
I turned away, knowing what came next. I also covered my ears. The cross was raised and there were cries of pain as many of my saviour's bones broke. I wept loudly, wishing over and over again that I had not sinned. Then none of this would be happening. That's when I realized that if it wasn't me he was dying for, it would have been someone else.
I uncovered my ears and turned toward the cross. There was no way to change it now. This wonderful man would hang there until he died.
I stood there for hours, watching that man die. Out of pure spite, someone had stabbed him in the side. For hours I watched his blood run down; precious blood; blood that flowed for me. Tears slipped down my face. This man would be a hero.
Finally, at around midday, the sky darkened. It was so dark it could have been night. His voice cried out, "My God, my God! Why have you forsaken me?" and then he slipped away into death. His body was taken away. He was prepared and taken to a tomb. I watched as the stone was rolled across the entry way and the tomb was sealed. I walked away, trying to hold back the tears.
"Jesus wept."
I lost it. This man I had been saved by was called Jesus of Nazareth. He had wept. Surely if he could weep, I could, as well. Who would have thought a person could cry so much?
Three days later, I rushed back to the tomb. He had said that he would rise on the third day. Sure enough, I found the stone rolled to the side and the tomb empty. I was ecstatic! He lived!
I was rushing down the road to my home when I saw a man walking down the road towards me. It was Jesus! I rushed forward and hugged him. When I backed up, he smiled and said, "These holes are proof that I have purchased your eternal freedom, that you may live with me in paradise." He showed me the holes in his hands and feet. I laughed and danced in the street. He was alive and I was free!
Later, I went to my home and recorded all of this. What you see is a true account of what Jesus did for me! He came and died for my sins, so that I could live forever with him and our heavenly father!
I only hope and pray that you realize that he did it for you, too. Touch the holes in his hands and feet and see for yourself what he has done for you!