The Day Heaven Cried
A short story by: HoofprintsOnWings
*Author's Note: his is the crucifixion from Gabriel's, God's right hand-uh-angel, POV. R&R please!*
We all knew that day would come; we just didn't expect it would come so quickly. It seemed only yesterday that all of the angels and I were celebrating The Son's earthly birth. Now it was all coming to an end.
Heaven was unusually quiet that morning. The usual laughter and singing of praises were replaced with foreboding whispering. As I traveled the golden streets, which had somehow lost some of their shine, a feeling loneliness seemed to hang around me. I entered the stables and noticed a significant difference. The usual bustling about of grooms and angels was replaced with a single angel polishing tack in the back room. The heavenly mounts hung their majestic heads low. Their fiery eyes dimmed with painful knowledge. I greeted the angel, Marcos, and he nodded solemnly in response.
"Today's the day, isn't it?" The question was answered with heavy silence. We both knew the answer. "I wish it could be done some other way but," Marcos rubbed an imaginary spot on the glistening gold saddle, "God's will be done." I nodded and moved on.
From the throne room you can see everything happening on earth. But now our attention was turned to a little city at the heart of a small country, Jerusalem. God shifted uncomfortably in his throne. His fiery eyes were full of thought and… regret? I took a double take. No, just sad.
With heavy hearts everybody watched as Jesus entered the garden with his disciples. We witnessed each of the disciples fall asleep, leaving Jesus to suffer alone. I made a mental note to slap each one in the face when they got here.
With feverish passion Jesus prayed for all the future generations of believers, his disciples, and even for those who may never hear of his sacrifice. He prayed until his sweat ran red with blood, until tears veiled his vision. "Abba, Father." Jesus prayed. His beautiful voice choked with agony. "Please, if you can, take this burden away from me… But let your will, not mine, be done." Suddenly darkness began to seep onto him. I instantly knew what it was. Sin. The dividing force separating God and man.
God shifted again in his throne, it was becoming hard for him to look upon his son. I admit it was hard not to see the pure, spotless lamb I was used to seeing for eternity. I could hear the sobs of other angels at the sight. But this is just the beginning; I know it will get worse.
Then Judas, the temple officials, and roman soldiers came to arrest Jesus. I tensed. This would be a challenge for some of the younger warriors.
At the sight of them arresting the Son, a young Ethiopian warrior Tanar whipped out his sword. The calm hand of Alka, an older warrior, stopped him from recklessly charging down to Earth. One look into Alka's eyes told Tanar the truth: he could not save Him. The sword dropped out of Tanar's limp hand and clattered onto the floor. Tanar fell to his knees beside it, weeping bitterly.
It got worse. The Pharisees, the poor arrogant fools they were, brought Jesus to Pilot to be killed because they had no power to do it themselves. Pilot saw no wrong in Jesus, but had him beaten nonetheless. Fists fell hard, kicks flung mercilessly, whips left red stripes, voices mocked, and salty spit stung fresh wounds. The soldiers mocked Jesus by twisting a thrown of thorns for the "King of the Jews" and placing it on his head. The put a purple robe on Jesus' shoulders. And cheered, more like jeered, at him calling, "Hail! Hail the King of the Jews!" It tore at every angel's heart to see our beloved Lord in such pain. Some couldn't bare the sight and turned their heads away, others collapsed to the floor wailing in anguish, and still others stood still as statues. Tears falling down their cheek like dew drops off a leaf.
Even demons played a part. Urging the soldiers on and spitting their vile breath on Jesus. I held myself back from leaping in and tearing each of those twisted freaks apart. "This has to be done." I told myself.
Pilot tried one more time to save Jesus but was defeated by the large crowed shouting, "Crucify him! Crucify him! Crucify him!" I felt pity for the man. He earnestly tried to save an innocent man from death. But, just this once, the innocent must die so the guilty may live.
There where no dry faces left as Jesus took up his cross. I watched with misty eyes as my Lord whom I loved painfully struggled up the dirt path to Calvary. I knew that it wasn't just the burden of the cross he carried, but it was all the sins of the world. Past, present, and feature.
Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! The heavy hammer blows and screams of pain sent shockwaves through the room. Many angels collapsed to their knees, weeping and shaking uncontrollably.
I, too, wept when I saw Him hanging on the cross. It was almost unbearable to look. The once spotless lamb was now beaten and scared with not only the sins of man, but also the wounds of man. It was then God looked away.
Jesus' eyes looked pleadingly up into heaven. "Lord, forgive them. For they know not what they do." He took a troubled, shaky breath and said, "It is finished." His soul escaped to some unfamiliar place that only God knew.
The heavens wailed, the Earth shook, the sun and moon hid their faces, and the curtain of the Holy of Holies ripped in half, reviling to the entire world the God they have been searching for.
It was finished. He had paid the price: a price too heavy for any mere mortal to bear. The most sacred of sacred tears fell down to Earth and splashed on cold face of love.
But this is not the end…