Were you there when they crucified my lord?
Were you there when they crucified my lord?
Oh, oooh, oh, oh,
Sometimes it causes me to tremble,
Tremble . . .
Tremble . . .
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. The sky was black, the clouds swollen with rain ready to fall to the earth. There was a deep quiet. So deep that Kat could hear the beating of her heart.
She sat under the window on the couch, her eyes watching the dark clouds. Determinedly, she pushed the hard knot in her throat down, blinking her eyes. The house was empty. Mom and Dad, brothers and sisters were away shopping for Easter outfits. It was very still.
Then, little drops of rain began to pelt down from the clouds above. They became bigger and wetter until the rain was pouring down in torrents. Lightning flashed and instantly there was a loud crash of thunder. The wind picked up. Rain pounded down on the roof, filling the house with it's sound. The wind screamed, shrieking as if someone were slashing into it with a butcher knife.
Kat closed her eyes. Her senses overwhelmed in the maddening crescendo of the storm. Lighting, rain, wind, and thunder were deafening. Kat preferred it that way. No one could hear her sobs.
Kat pressed her face into the side of the couch and let the knot come undone. Deep in her chest she felt the sharp twing of pain. Her cries were as agonized as the tortured wind outside and her tears flowed like the torrents of rain. Caught up in the whirlwind of grief that surged throughout her body, her fingers were like claws as they dug into the sofa.
A strange darkness enveloped her soul. Black. . . Thick. . . Choking. . . Almost like she had the wind knocked out of her, a thick, black scarf tied around her eyes and someone holding a pillow over her face all at once. She cried in fear, in grief and in anger. How could he. . . How could he. . . Everything seemed so wrong.
Outside, the storm had spent its strength. The wind died down, freshly fallen rain dripped slowly from the leaves of the tree, thunder rumbled in the distance as the storm moved on. Kat heard a car door slam, her family was back.
She got up quickly, running upstairs before they could come in and see her. Kat closed the door to her room and through herself on her bed. Fresh tears came as she sobbed into her pillow. All around Kat were her soft and warm stuffed animals. On her dresser was a collection of dolls. The walls were a lovely shade of pink.
Outside her window the sun had emerged, smiling brightly in the newly clean. Kat turned her head and glared at the happy, smiling orb. How could anyone be happy when. . . When. . .
She buried her face in her pillow to stifle her cries, shoulders heaving. Presently, she fell asleep.
The soft glow of the moon bathed Jerusalem in a pleasant silver light. The city was quiet, sleepy almost. It was late in the evening.
Kat awoke with a start, leaning against a tree. She looked around in wonder. This was no modern Jerusalem; this looked like the Jerusalem of 33 B. C. Kat stood up slowly, hardly daring to believe that she was where she was. But here it was.
A smile spread itself across her face and she raised her eyes to the bright stars and thanked their Maker. She looked down and saw rising up to meet her, a path that led down into the valley. Kat could barely contain her excitement.
Wasting not another moment, Kat took off down the steep path. Racing down, she urged herself faster. It looked like it was late and she didn't know how long it would take Judas . . .
The ground leveled out on the valley floor and Kat slowed a little, looking around. The night air was cool, but it was completely silent. Eerily silent. The only sound was Kat's jogging feet and her noisy breath. The valley floor was a kind of graveyard, the graves gleaming ghost like in the moonlight.
A tremor of fear slid down Kat's spine and she unconsciously crossed herself in the name of the father, and the son, and the spirit. Twice, she thought she heard someone or something behind her. Turning her head with a gasp, Kat could only see shadows in the moonlight. She whispered a prayer to her guardian and then pushed her feet faster.
Up ahead was the Mount of Olives, up ahead was him. Tonight she and he would meet, face to face . . . Kat through back her head and her laughter wafted up to the stars. Then, the laugh died in her throat and Kat stopped dead in her tracks.
This was no happy time. Tomorrow, he would die. . . Die slowly, die in terrible agony. Not only agony of the body but agony of the mind. The agony of being betrayed by his closest friends, of knowing that some would never know his love for them, of knowing that his beloved mother would watch his torment . . . And most of all, his own father would turn away his holy face from the one he had sent. He would seemingly abandon his only son. . .
Kat ached terribly for him. "But I'll be there Jesus," she whispered to the night air.
No one answered.
She began to run again, faster and faster. . . Up ahead was the Mount of Olives. A few miles beyond was Martha and Mary's house. A place where he could receive provisions for beyond Mary and Martha's house. . . They would never find him. . .
"Don't you know Jesus. . . Don't you know they're coming to get you? Don't you know that they'll strip you and shame you? Don't you know that they'll whip you and crown you with thorns? Don't you know that they'll crucify you? Don't you know that they'll kill you?
"Why aren't you running Jesus? Why? You're strong, you could get away. . . Why aren't you running? You don't have to do this, do you?"
That thought. . . It made Kat draw in a deep breath.
Was Jesus so in love with me, with everyone, that he couldn't he help but do this? Could it be that he would do this just for love? Not just love for his creation, but love for his Father? Could it be that the Creator was head over heels in love with his creatures? That he would do anything, even be shamed, and die in torment, that they could one day spend eternity with him?
I'll ask Jesus. . .
Kat stopped among the trees, an awful stitch in her side, finally making it to the Mount. She looked around her new surroundings, wheezing painfully. The little forest was very quiet. Kat strained to hear.
She heard a loud snore. Her heart began to beat even faster then it already was from the running.
Kat walked quickly towards the sound.
There, laying against trees and on the ground were the apostles. There were John, Matthew, Mark, and Luke, writers of the Gospels. There was Thomas, the Doubter. . . Poor Thomas. And then there was Peter. He was the one snoring. Kat couldn't help but smile.
Carefully, she picked her way among the one-day to be Saints and then walked on. About twenty feet from the apostles she stopped and looked around.
Where was he? Kat was getting frantic, what if Judas came before she found him? What if she never got to see him? Oh please, please, please, please, please. . .
"Hello my little one," said a voice behind her.