The road was dusty, dirty, and filthy but the young man pressed on. He carried that cross for his Lord even though he did not wish to play a part in His death. The man carrying the cross walked slowly but not quite as slowly as Jesus. The God of Heaven and earth was almost dead, but still on His way to be finished off like sinner would be.
What have I seen here? the man thought. There's so much that I don't understand.
Then He looked at him. The bleeding, dying man stared a penetrating look into the cross-bearer's eye. The cross-bearer looked back with hopelessness and questioning. His Lord smiled weakly before being whipped again for not moving fast enough.
What did that mean?
The next moment, Jesus hung limply on the tree, his arms outstretched, dying slowly and painfully. His breathing was more a wheezing as he struggled to push off the cross and up for air. He was going to suffocate. This poor man had done miracles not tree days ago. Now he was just…there, on the cross. A tree, most likely an ugly one held the Savior of the world. It wasn't right. How could this be?
The cruel soldiers offered Jesus a flask of wine and vinegar, but when he tasted it, Jesus spit it out. The Romans laughed maliciously.
Then one man rose up on a ladder and placed a sign above the Lord's head: "This is Jesus, King of the Jews!" They were mocking Him. They didn't believe that He was God.
"C'mon, if you're God, get yourself and us down from here!" shouted the man next to him. He was a murderer and hung from a cross as well.
"Leave Him alone!" said the other murderer who also hung on the other side of Jesus. "Truly you are the Son of God."
"Truly, truly I say to you," replied Jesus. "Today you will be with me in paradise."
But the priests and the scribes said, "If you are the Son of God then get yourself off of that cross. Look, he cannot save himself but he does this to others! He is weak!"
Jesus took a deep breath. It was time.
"Father!" he suddenly cried out. All the women jumped. "Why have you forsaken me?"
Then thunder sounded and lightning flashed across the darkened sky.
"Into Your hands, I commend My spirit!" Jesus shouted into the night.
And he was dead. The God of the Universe. Dead.
Gone.
Suddenly, a great noise was sounded in the temple as the curtains split. The temple collapsed.
"Was that man…God, Mommy?" asked a small boy, maybe nine or ten of age.
His mother didn't reply. She only, hugged him tight and hid his eyes from Jesus as they both cried together.