His and Our Love

by Queen Emily the Diligent

This is a collection of one-shots maybe a few two-shots about Jesus and us. There might be a poem here and there. (cover art is my own work)

20. Forgiveness and Acceptance

Hello! I told you it would take a while… I thought about splitting it into chapters to post separately, but I felt it would take away from it. And well… it's fitting to post today.

Happy Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday! Glory to the King of kings and Lord of lords!

All scripture references are from the English Standard Version.

I jumped up from my chaise, excited for where I planned on heading. My classes and students did not need me today. I was free to spend some time on my own. Heading out of my drawing room into the hall, I made my way out of my mansion to my front door where I stopped, taking a breath.

In Heaven, there were so many choices to choose from when going from place to place. The light beam was the fastest; you would be at your destination the next second. Gene Roddenberry, creator of Star Trek, probably had no idea that it was originally in Heaven. Others chose to take their vehicles, such as cars, trains, etc. They obviously weren't necessary, but the Lord didn't see any need to refuse them to those who enjoy them. Another option, a favorite of kids, was riding a rainbow or on a cloud. But, I was choosing none of those today, preferring my own favorite, flying like Peter Pan.

Exhaling, I jumped into the air and shot up into the atmosphere, heading straight for the golden clouds above. Surrounded only by golden light, I breathed in the fresh air, enjoying the weightlessness. I would never grow tired of it; not something I had dreamed of all my life on Earth. After passing a few loops and feeling the wind play with my long hair, I shot off in my planned direction.

Clouds floated past me, patches of the landscape below me showing through periodically. I kept my face forward looking for the tell-tale spires. The clouds parted, and the building or should I say castle came into view. Crystal windows reflected the everpresent golden light, and white stone walls flashed. A smile came to my lips as I descended and landed in front of the large doors. I loved this building.

As this was my free time, you would usually find me in one of two places: my garden or the library of Heaven. I had my own in my mansion, but that had books that I had been mine on Earth. Where I stood wasn't simply a library. This was the Hall of Records.

As I stood there, I remembered when I first asked Jesus where it was.

Suddenly, I heard His incredulous laugh. I remember that differently. You weren't thinking about it at all. I showed you as a surprise.

I blushed at the memory. He was right. When I had recently arrived in Heaven, I had spent every moment I could with Him or in the Throne Room. All I could think of was Him; I never wanted to leave His Presence. I did not have anything else on my mind at the time.

I stepped forward, walking past the angels standing guard. One nodded and the other smiled at me, knowing my familiar face, for as I mentioned earlier, I came here whenever I had time to myself. I waved, called a greeting, and stepped into another world.

My heart stopped for a beat, and I was reminded of the feeling I had when Jesus brought me there the first time.

"I have something to show you."

I cocked my head, eyeing Jesus' mischievous smile. "Oh? Where are we going?"

He tapped my nose, and I blinked. "It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, would it?" Then, He snapped His fingers, and the scene around us changed. And, immediately, I gasped in amazement.

Books. And more books. Piled at least four stories high. Far as I could see down an enormous, long hall. They glowed with light of their own volition, and I immediately knew it was because they were written either by the Lord Himself or by a person with His help. Columns of marble held up the crystal ceiling. Tall windows lined the hall, with rows of shelves in between.

My hands came up to hide my gasp of joy. "It's a library!" I squealed with delight. I turned to Him, grabbing His hand and jumping up and down, unable to contain myself. "Is this it?! Is this THE library?!"

Jesus smiled at my enthusiasm. "Yes. It is called the Hall of Records. It holds every book ever written in Heaven or those written on Earth that have been deemed worthy. You can find every record of Creation from the beginning of the physical world and before." His eyes twinkled. "It even holds records of the future."

My eyes widened. I felt like Belle when the Beast gave her access to his library. I looked around. Where would I start?

I smiled, and I turned to Jesus. "Where do I find the beginning?"

I stepped out of the memory. I had begun with the beginning of Creation and went from there. Of course, I wasn't allowed to read every book. The Lord needed to keep some of His surprises. I giggled at the thought and even felt Him chuckle.

Turning to my left, I headed to a shelf that held records of those who found Him without being a child of Israel, like the Pharaoh of Joseph's time. I had been curious about their lives. I had even met a few of them.

The book I currently was working on was a different type of book. It actually projected the scene. If you have ever seen the movie Treasure Planet when little Jim is reading a book about Captain Flint, this book was like that, except real.

That was a specialty of the Hall of Records. There were books you could read, of course, but there were books that showed their pages. Some even read to you. But what floored most visitors was the Hall of History.

The Hall of History was a separate wing of the Hall of Records where you could step into a portal and actually go back in time and watch as if you were a bystander during that time. You could touch everything and even lean against objects, but if you wanted to, you could walk through walls. But the Hall of History had one rule; you could not interact with anyone. I had actually tried to speak to someone while in the Hall of History, but it was as if I did not exist to the person I was observing. It was an interesting feeling. A good example would be Scrooge when he went back in time with the Ghost of Christmas Past.

But, I wasn't here for that today, at least that is what I thought. As I reached for my book, I felt a pull at my heart.

"Holy Spirit?" I whispered.

He didn't respond. My eyebrows pinched together in confusion. Suddenly, I heard a hum. I poked my head out from my book aisle, looking to the right and left.

I started. Where was everyone? It was as if the Hall of Records had been deserted. I never was alone, for I was not the only one who came to read from the Records. Where was everyone now?

I stepped out to the main aisle, listening to the hum. I decided to follow it to wherever it was coming from. Since Holy Spirit was being silent, I assumed He wanted me to investigate. As I followed the sound, I recognized I was making my way to the Hall of History. In fact, I was quite sure the hum was coming from there.

"Is this where You want me to go today?" I whispered, as I stepped up to the doorway, light shining through the cracks.

"Daughter of the Most High," a strong voice sounded, and I jumped in surprise. A ten foot angel stood to my right, wrapped in a gold cloak, and he stepped between me and the door of the Hall of History. His raven hair fell past his shoulders, tied back at the nape of his neck. Large, white wings were folded behind him, but I was sure if they were outstretched they would have spanned at least about twenty feet. His arms were crossed, and his eyes roved over me, as if to judge me.

"You have been called here to step into the past. To watch a scene that you have shied away from, yet have desired. One that will cause great pain to your heart, but you must face it, if what you desire is to be fulfilled." His critiquing eyes seemed to pierce deeper into my soul. "Are you willing to step through the doors and become stronger?"

I stood there in shock. What I had shied away from? What could he be— I swallowed. I knew immediately. There was no denying it. But now? I had had no warning. So this is why You were silent earlier. But why now? I know all about it, and I love You for it. But why must I?

Was I ready? I did not think I was. I had seen it portrayed many times, but I had always watched with an iron expression so I would not… The thought of watching… My heart already began to feel as if it was being crushed by a tremendous weight.

My eyes shut tight, and my hands clenched into fists. But I wanted this. Despite the pain, I wanted it. The desire had always been there; a desire that was almost silent but was now growing in voice. I wanted to be there. I never really would, but I had a chance to be even if no one would see.

I breathed in and slowly exhaled. I raised my head to face the angel before me and set my chin.

"I'm ready."

His eyebrow raised, eyes scanning over me once more. Finally, he nodded and moved aside, and as he did so, the doors opened, light streaming over me.

"Enter, Daughter of the Most High."

I clenched my fists once more and stepped into the wall of light.

Within a few moments, the light swirled around me; stars and darkness seemed to mix in. Slowly, the swirling cosmos dissipated, and a scene began to unfurl around me. A sandy dirt lay under my feet, which I could barely see, for it was nighttime, and the moon was blocked by the trees and brush that rose up around me.

I knew exactly where I was. I even knew what day it was, but I wasn't sure which direction to look.

Then I heard it. A sound I never wanted to hear, but hear it I did.

A voice praying earnestly as if in pain. And I knew the Voice all too well.

I ran. I ran toward the Voice. All the trepidation I had felt earlier was gone. I loved that Voice. It was my Life, my Heart, my Love.

I stumbled, tripping over a root. Unable to catch my balance, I landed flat on the ground. I was about to keep running, when I saw the Source of the Voice was only a few feet from me.

My breath froze in my lungs. Never had I ever thought it would be like this. The pain in my chest grew a bit more as I looked.

Jesus was kneeling on the ground, bent over so His head touched the ground. His hands were shaking so violently, He could barely control their movements. They grasped the ground in desperation. His hair was soaked with sweat, as if a downpour had come. But I knew it wasn't only sweat it was soaked with. The metallic scent of blood was obvious.

I could not hear specific words; His Voice was too urgent and painful.

I shakily rose to my feet. I took a step closer, desperately hoping I could comfort Him. I reached out to touch Him, but my hand slipped through as if I were a ghost. The law of the Hall of History was in place. My heart cracked. I didn't know what hurt more: to watch the One I loved most be in pain or to not be able to comfort Him.

I knelt beside Him, hoping maybe… I wasn't sure what I was hoping for. I only wanted to try.

"I love You. I know I'm not really here, but I know somehow You hear it."

That moment, Jesus suddenly looked up, and I looked to see an angel had come. I turned away. I knew why the angel had come. Papa had sent an angel when no one else would comfort His Son. Then, why was I here? I was useless. Why would I be sent here? There was nothing I could do.

I heard the rustle of fabric, and I turned back around to see the angel gone, but Jesus was standing and His posture was sure, determined. Looking up at Him, my heart cracked a bit more. His decision had been made, and He would not turn back now. It had already begun. A tear slipped out and trailed down my cheek.

A new sound came to my ears, making me stand to my feet. Quiet and now growing steadily in volume. The sound of marching armored feet and clang of weapons. It was that sound that woke the sleeping disciples. I immediately recognized each of their faces, albeit older or younger than as I knew them. John's young face held eyes wide with terror. James' jaw clenched, his fists doing the same, though his eyes betrayed nothing of his emotions. Peter's eyes glinted with anger and held a ferociousness that scared me. I could already see his hand moving to his sword. I heard rustling of bushes and saw the rest of the disciples had gathered around, surrounding their Master.

A man stepped out from among the mob, and I felt and saw the disciples tense with confusion at his approach. They knew him. I swallowed, realizing his identity.

It was hard to see his face with the torchlight behind him, which only added to his aura of hostility. But his eyes glinted with evil, and within him I saw Satan, grinning with glee. It shocked me for a moment before I remembered that the Hall of History also showed the happenings of the spirit realm, as well as the physical.

It was that moment I saw them, and I gasped. Thousands of angels surrounded us, glaring at the traitor of their race, ready to step in and protect their Maker. I suddenly did not feel so afraid. In fact, I felt emboldened.

"Yes, play right into His hands," I murmured, scowling at the image of my race's sworn enemy.

"Master!" Judas/Satan greeted. And as he leaned in to greet Him with a kiss, my glare turned to an expression of horror. He, who had once been in His Presence, was acting as if nothing had changed within the millennia of time. It was not only Judas betraying His Master, but a reliving of the ancient past.

"Judas," Jesus began, even now His face expressed a deep sadness, "do you betray the Son of Man with a kiss?"

It was that moment, I saw Satan vanish from Judas, and the true soul of the man was revealed. The glint in his eyes disappeared and only horror was left. He staggered back in shock, his eyes flickering back and forth between the disciples and Jesus. Between expressions of hurt and anger and sadness. And with that, he ran. Ran to what I knew would be his death. Physically and eternally.

The mob now seemed confused since their guide had abandoned them, and all seemed to fidget with indirection.

"Whom are you seeking?" Jesus addressed them.

My lip quivered as I looked up at Him, hearing the strong, clear Voice of my Savior. How can You be so strong?

"Jesus of Nazareth," came the answer. The disciples flinched. Subconsciously, I stepped closer to Him.

"I AM."

Immediately, light and wind rushed from my Lord, and I stumbled back a step in surprise. The guards and servants of the chief priests fell back to the ground as if a bulldozer had run over them.

It was a few moments before they sheepishly struggled to their feet, obviously confused by what just happened, and Jesus asked them again, "Whom are you seeking?"

"J-Jesus of Nazareth," came the uncertain answer.

"I told you I am," Jesus responded. And gesturing to His disciples, He continued, "Now let these others go."

That was all the cue Peter needed. With a yell, he drew his sword and swung at the closest man, Malchus. Even in his staggered state, Malchus managed to dodge, saving his head. But Peter hadn't missed completely, and Malchus grabbed where his ear had been and screamed in pain.

"PUT YOUR SWORD AWAY!" Jesus shouted, and I jumped at the volume of my Lord's Voice, as He thrust Peter behind Him, kneeling beside Malchus, touched his ear and healed him. Standing, Jesus turned back to Peter. "Do you think I cannot call on My Father, and He will at once give Me more than twelve legions of angels!?"

I winced. And they are already here, but You won't use them…

Peter stood frozen in shock, as He continued, His expression softening. "But how then would the Scriptures be fulfilled that say it must happen in this way? Shall I not drink the cup the Father has given Me?"

Turning to face the mob, Jesus addressed them, His eyes still flashing with an underlying strength. "Am I leading a rebellion, that you have come with swords and clubs? Every day I was with you in the temple courts, and you did not lay a hand on Me." He breathed and sighed. "But this is your hour—when darkness reigns."

And they seized Him. I felt as if the world slowed and chaos reigned. Peter dropped his sword and fled. John followed him, and James was nowhere to be seen, nor any of the others. They were all gone, and I saw His face, as He watched them flee. There was no anger, only sadness. The realization of being alone. A small hope that had wished they would stay, now vanished from His eyes. And then I could not see Him due to the surrounding mob.

I couldn't move. I wanted to follow, but my legs failed me, as I collapsed into a pile of sobs.

Feeling as I would split from pain, I screamed into the dirt, my nails clawing in anger, frustration, and sadness. "What am I doing here?!" I sobbed. "Why?"

As my sobs began to lessen, I began to hear another sobbing not my own. I raised my head and I gasped in shock, for it was Malchus. I had not even realized he had not left the place.

"Who is that Man?" he cried, brokenly. "He– He– I – I came to arrest Him and He –." He raised his hand to his healed ear and another burst of sobs broke through. Suddenly, he gasped as if to break for air. "I must stop them. He is innocent." Staggering to his feet, he turned in the direction of the mob but froze when we both saw a movement by the trees.

Malchus stiffened. "Come out! I see you there! If you are His friend, I won't harm you."

The movement which I could now see was the black shape of a person. It did not come out but kept closer to the tree.

"I… I can't," the figure said, sounding embarrassed. The voice sounded like that of a young man. "I'm… I do not have any clothing."

My eyes widened, realizing who this was. I had missed him earlier, but I remembered the Book of Mark speaking of a young man who appeared during the Lord's arrest and ran away naked. I peered at him in the dark, curious to see who this mysterious character was.

Malchus cleared his throat. "I have an outer cloak you can use." He shook off his cloak and stepped up to the shadows handing the dark figure the cloak. A hand reached out and took it shakily. Cautiously, he stepped out from the shadows and faced Malchus.

"Thank you," the young man said gratefully.

"Are you one of the Nazarene's followers?" Malchus asked.

The young man looked down, "No… but I think I'd like to be." He looked in the direction of where the mob had gone, his face distressed.

Malchus gave a small smile. "I believe we are the same."

The young man looked up at him. "I saw. He healed you."

Malchus looked away, ashamed. "Yes, I was given mercy where I never expected."

The young man opened his mouth to speak, but then seemed to change his mind, going silent.

"If you are not one of His followers, how did you come to be here in your state?" Malchus asked.

He was silent for a few more moments. "I don't think you'll believe me."

Malchus gave a broken laugh. "I've seen a lot in the past hour. I saw all my companions fall back under that Man's power, I almost died, and I was given a new ear. Tell me."

I leaned in closer, determined to learn this young man's story.

The young man breathed deeply. "I… I was dead…" My eyes widened as he continued. "I had fallen ill and I…" He looked around himself. "We are in the Garden of Gethsemane, correct?" Malchus only nodded. "My family owns a burial plot here. I fell into darkness. I feel as if I have been sleeping but suddenly, I heard a Voice say, 'I AM', and the light came back into my sight, and I found myself here. And then I saw Him, and I knew He was the One who had spoken. I tried to stop them from taking Him, but they grabbed at me and took the burial sheet I had been wrapped in, thus my state of dress."

I froze, understanding. Oh my Lord, You… You… raised him from the dead when You said Your Name. Tears began to fall again.

The young man began to cry. "I'm alive… I'm alive! He brought me back from death." His face fell into his hands, and he sobbed. When he calmed, he asked, "Who is He?"

Malchus stared at the boy for a moment, before placing his hand on his shoulder. "His Name is Jesus of Nazareth." He paused. "And I had come to arrest Him and bring Him before the High Priest this night, but instead I was shown mercy." He touched his ear absently.

The young man's eyes widened. "But, He… He is a Man of God!"

Malchus sighed. "Yes, which is why I must hurry back to the city."

"What do I do? My family is going to die of fright," the young man cried.

"Come with me. I will bring you home," Malchus said firmly. "I am a witness." Then his face hardened. "Then, I must return to my master. Maybe I can stop this madness that is about to begin."

The young man nodded. "Again, thank you."

My tears continued to fall, as I watched as the two of them headed in the direction of what I assumed was the city. Even as the Lord was in the midst of His arrest, He had helped not one, but two people.

"You love us too much, Lord," I whispered. Finally, gasping, trying to compose myself, I rubbed my eyes, preparing my mind and heart for what would come next. "I'm ready to see what comes next. I am ready to see Your Love."

As I turned to follow the mob, and as if to answer my statement, the Garden of Gethsemane faded from view and was replaced by a large courtyard with stone columns, lit only by firelight. Guards and servants were moving about in their usual patterns. Some people were gathered around the fire pits, attempting to warm themselves from the night's chill. Unaffected by the cold, I began to make my way around the courtyard, curious to find out exactly where I was. Suddenly, whispered voices came to my ears.

"Come with me, Peter, " a voice urged. "I can get you in."

I blinked realizing that Peter and John were right by the wall, and they were the ones talking in low tones.

"No, I'll stay out here," Peter disagreed. "They don't know me; I'll only get you in trouble. And we need to lay low right now."

John sighed. "All right, fine." With a flick of his hood, he turned and disappeared into the building.

I realized I had a choice, I could follow John to where Jesus was, or stay with Peter. I swallowed, turning from Peter. I knew what would happen if I stayed outside, and I didn't want to watch. I entered the dimly lit building, making my way through the corridor, looking for where I would find my Lord.

As I made my way through the building, the sounds of men arguing grew louder, and I knew I was headed in the right direction. Peeking through a tall entryway into a large room, I could see tiered seating arranged in a semicircle facing the main entrance. About fifty men stood or sat in their seats facing the same mob I had seen earlier. They were similarly dressed, and I deduced I was seeing the Sanhedrin, sans certain members. Of course, He wouldn't be tried fairly.

Currently, they were arguing with each other, but now realizing who they were, I removed my attention from them and looked for my Lord. It took me a moment, for the mob was between me and Him, and I could only see the back of His head. I stepped out gingerly from behind the wall, and staying close to the outskirts of the room, I made my way around toward the front.

I listened and realized the elders were arguing over the accounts of witnesses who had come to testify against Jesus. My fists clenched. Another piece of evidence of a phony trial. No real witness had come forth, and the ones they did have all conflicted each other. And they were angry with each other for not being able to fabricate a case against Him.

You're all just jealous, I thought, my blood beginning to rise in anger. But as my temper rose, my eyes landed on Jesus once again, and I immediately deflated. He stood there, silent, looking at the ground, nothing to say in His defense.

It was here the high priest, who had had enough of the arguing, silenced everyone and addressed my Lord.

"Are you the Christ, the Son of the Blessed?"

Slowly, Jesus raised His head and looked him straight in the eye, and my breath froze in my lungs, for they did not see as His eyes suddenly burned like flames and His glory surrounded Him. And He answered, "I AM, and you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of Power, and coming with the clouds of heaven."

The crowd erupted in anger, but I ignored them, as I was enthralled before Him. How could they not see? How could they be so blind? They knew every single prophecy. They knew every hint in the book. Why were they so —, my thoughts stopped and my mouth dropped, turning to stare at them.

They simply did not want their Messiah to be Him. They might have deceived their own minds, saying He was an imposter or every excuse they could come up with. But if they were truly honest with themselves, it was simple jealousy. The oldest sin to exist. I understood now why He had told them, "You are after your father the devil." Satan's sin was jealousy, and so was theirs.

How petty. They would kill the Son of God simply because they weren't happy with who He was.

THWACK! A loud smack interrupted my thoughts, and my attention was brought back to my Lord. One of the Sanhedrin had struck Him. It was the first of many, for that strike broke the palpable tension, and they surrounded Him, out of my sight.

I wanted to run and stop them, but this was still the Hall of History. This was only a projection of the past. So I turned away and slid to the floor, hiding behind a pillar, only able to fist my hands in anger and even hatred… hatred at those who hurt the One I loved most and at myself for not being able to do anything.

Eventually, their anger was spent, and the high priest ordered Him to be brought to prison until the morning, when they would bring Him before the Roman governor. I did not move from my spot, as my anger and hatred still boiled. It was only when everyone was gone, and the lights had gone out, did I stand, and taking a deep breath, I let out a scream.

"I HATE YOU ALL!" I screamed, my voice echoing off the stone walls. "You horrid, evil people! I hate you!" My face contorted with more anger than I had ever felt. "MAY YOU ALL BURN IN HELL!"

As the words left my mouth, my heart shattered, breaking my anger. I… I was just as evil as them. I began to shake, strength leaving my legs, and I collapsed on the cold stone. Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I cried like a baby.

It was a long time before I was calm again, as I laid still on the ground, eyes almost dried shut from tears. Slowly, I began to notice the ground beneath me was no longer cold stone, but dirt, and something warm was at my back.

Sniffling and rubbing the salt from my eyes, I looked around. My surroundings had changed once more, and I was outside again, about mid-morning. The warmth was from the morning sun, and the dirt was the road under my feet. I was in front of a tall, open, wooden gate to a Romanesque stone fortress. People surrounded me, mumbling or murmuring in various tones.

"They've taken Him to Herod."

"Pilate wouldn't have anything to do with Him."

"I don't understand what is going on."

"Well, I always thought He was suspicious."

"What are you talking about? You were waving palm branches and shouting that He is the Messiah just a few days ago!"

"I just heard Herod sent them all back to Pilate! He didn't want anything to do with Him either!"

"What is this?! Has everyone gone crazy?"

"The chief priests all think He's a blasphemer."

"It's true! I heard Him myself!"

"They're gathering the people in Pilate's courtyard."

"Pilate must want us to choose a prisoner to release."

I blinked at all the commotion, standing to my feet. The crowd around me was moving through the open gates and gathering at the base of a long straight stairwell. Many had already gathered, waiting to hear anything that would clear the confusion.

My eyes followed the steps and at the top I saw a man dressed as a Roman noble. He stood still but his eyes looked as if they squinted too much. He seemed frustrated, as he gestured for someone to come forward. Two prisoners with guards at their sides stepped out from the shadowed balcony. One was Barabas, one of the most heinous criminals of the time, and the other was my Lord.

A knot in my throat appeared as I looked up at Him. He looked as if He could barely stand on His feet, exhaustion obvious on His face. He clearly had taken more physical beatings; His clothing torn, and His face a mess of bruises.

Pilate glanced at Him, and I could have sworn I saw concern on his face. Pilate then slowly scanned the gathered crowd, but for a split second his eyes went up to the far wall. I followed his gaze, and I saw a Roman noblewoman standing by a window. My eyes widened, remembering how Pilate's wife had warned him about Jesus because of a dream she had had. This was her.

"During your festival, it is my custom to release to you a prisoner of your choice," declared Pilate, his voice echoing off the courtyard walls and shaking me from my thoughts. "Which of these do you wish for me to release?"

Immediately, I shut my eyes in preparation for what I was about to hear.

"BARABAS!" the crowd screamed. "Give us Barabas!"

I shuddered, my eyes opening as I looked around me, and that is when I saw Pilate's face. His eyes were wide. He was shocked. He knew Jesus was innocent, so he had agreed to bring out Barabas, expecting no one to ask for him. He was not only an enemy of Rome but of the Jews as well. Pilate glanced at my Lord again, but Jesus didn't even react, silently accepting His fate.

The knot in my throat was growing larger, knowing what was coming.

"Don't do it," I whispered. "Don't say it. Please don't say it."

"I will chastise Him and then set Him free."

Chastise! my mind screamed, as my body shook. You mean TORTURE! Most die from this! I looked up at my Lord, and He did not resist as the guards led away Him out of my sight.

I panicked.

I ran straight through the crowd of people. I did not know where I was going. Nothing made sense. I just needed to see Him. To know He was still there. It was in a dark hallway I finally caught up, and I saw Him stumble over a lifted stone, while the guards laughed and roughly pushed Him forward.

Following just behind, I reached out my hand to Him. "Don't do this. You don't have to do this. Not this. It's not even necessary to save us." Tears streamed down my cheeks, as I staggered after Him. "Stop them, please. I can't bear to watch." I continued to try to grab at Him, despite the futility, begging Him to stop them, as I followed through the dark fortress. I was blind to everything except Him as my voice rasped with sobs. My attention was only redirected when daylight shone through an open doorway, and my heart stopped as I froze with dread.

A small courtyard lay before us, and in the center was a stone pillar, with iron manacles fastened to it. Dried blood decorated the floor.

The guards continued to move, leading Him forward, but I could not move my feet. In one last effort, my hand reached for Him, trying to grasp Him, but nothing. I could do nothing.

I stood there frozen in the doorway as I watched them strip Him and bind Him to the post. I did not even react as one soldier took a nine tails in his hand and raised it high.

For a moment time stopped. This entire time, since I had come to the fortress, His eyes had been hidden from me. I had not seen what He was thinking, until now as He lifted His face and looked straight at me.

His eyes were clear, bright even. In that moment, I felt more than heard, I do this for you.

And I ran. Away from those eyes. I understood now why the disciples had left. Here I was, asking to be here, knowing what would happen, and I still couldn't even bear watch. Not when He looked at me like that.

I do not know how far I ran. I ran until I was away from the noise, away from everything. Away from Love.

Collasping against a wall in a darkened alley, I curled into a ball and cried.

"I'm a coward," I whispered. "How prideful of me to think I could even try to be of some comfort. I can't even stand with Him. Pathetic. I – " my words stopped, and truly for the first time, I understood something.

I deserved nothing. This Love, I deserved none of it.

How could I have never seen this?

"I am nothing," I whispered.

"Nothing."

And I cried all the more.

Time passed, how long I did not know. I only began to stir when I heard shouts and jeering. They were coming closer and closer.

I tried to stand but my legs failed me, once again feeling pathetic. Forcing them to move, I leaned against the wall, looking toward the end of the alleyway where the sounds were coming from, where another alley intersected where I was. People began to move into view, screaming, yelling, and waving their fists, then passed by the entrance. Due to the tightness of the alley, I had a clear line of sight for what happened next.

A wooden beam slowly came into view, followed by the stooped visage of my Lord. His steps slow as He carried the heavy beam. I looked on in horror for nothing could have prepared me for His appearance. Words could not describe.

Suddenly He tripped, and He fell with a splattering noise. I gritted my teeth, my body understanding what my mind did not want to accept. The cross dropped and it echoed through the alley, crushing His shoulder. I flinched. His words from earlier rang in my ears. I turned away.

The sound of a cracking whip snapped the air, and instinctively I spun back to look.

A Roman guard was using it as motivation to hurry Him to His feet. But He was exhausted. And the longer He took, the more the guard used it.

With every strike, I shuddered. And slowly, my voice came back to me.

"...stop it…" It was only a whisper, but it was enough to get me to my feet.

"Stop it." My voice was louder. Stronger.

I pushed myself off the wall. How dare I lay here as He laid there?

Shaking, I stumbled forward, my feet now knowing their purpose. To get to Him. I did not even think of the rules. He didn't deserve this.

But I did. That should be me. Not Him.

"STOP IT!" I screamed, breaking into a sprint. "Leave Him alone! I'll go to—"

Two arms wrapped around me and pulled me to a chest. The shock of being able to touch someone after what had seemed like years silenced me. I froze against the embrace, which even to my shocked mind, was slowly beginning to feel familiar. The arms never loosened, as I turned to look at who was holding me.

And I bawled.

My Lord, my Savior. Perfectly whole and shining like the sun so everything else faded away except for His omnipresent glory. No blood streamed down His face, His skin clear. But His eyes were the same burning pools of Love and concern. For me.

Crying, I tried to push Him off of me. But He would not let go.

"Let go of me!" I cried, fighting against Him. He did not heed me, but instead pulled me hard against Him, His arms around me like pillars. His right hand on my head buried my face in His chest, silencing any protest from me.

All was silent for a moment, before He spoke for the first time.

"Never."

He only whispered, but the word rolled like thunder.

"I will never do that."

He paused, as He squeezed tighter.

"So don't let go of Me."

For a moment, I stood there frozen in His embrace, and despite every fiber of my being screaming at me, I listened and sank into Him. I clutched at Him, my fingers gripping so hard, I could have torn His sleeves. Everything I had felt since I entered the Hall of History came crashing down on me, and even though I didn't deserve Him, His Love, I clung to Him for He was the air I breathed.

I continued to cry, for I was so ashamed of myself. Here I was taking more, when He had already given so much.

"...please…" I whispered, ashamed of what I'm about to ask, my legs shaking.

"Please no more. I… I can't."

My knuckles turned white.

"I can't watch You die…"

Just to say the phrase was enough to send me into another fit of sobs, and I would have fallen to the ground if He had not scooped me up. I felt Him carry me a few paces before setting me down on pillows. I opened my eyes in confusion, as He sat down next to me, and I realized we were no longer in the Hall of History. He had taken us to my - our - garden.

My bottom lip quivered. My hands gripped the cushions, desperate to hold something. To ground me.

"I… I'm… sorry…"

As to what I was apologizing for, I was not even sure of. There were too many things. Too many to count, and He had taken it all.

His hand touched my chin, gently lifting my face to look at His. I did not fight Him, but I could not exactly meet His eyes. Yet, Jesus' smile was soft as He said, "It was never your burden to bear."

When He said this, the verse rang through my head, the Lamb who had been slain since the foundation of the world.

It was then I noticed every scar. Even ones I had never seen before. Without thinking and trembling, I lifted my hand, and brushing His hair aside, touched the scars on His forehead. The ones from the crown of thorns.

"Does– does it hurt anymore?" I whispered, almost afraid to ask, and of His answer.

"The memory does at times," Jesus admitted with a sigh, yet His soft smile returned, "but no."

His hand had not left my face, and His thumb stroked my cheek. Drawn by the motion, I glanced down at His hand and saw — I bit my lip — it was not a scar as so many had thought, but a hole. At that moment it felt as if I was seeing it for the first time. My hands embraced His hand, and turning my head, I kissed His wound.

"I – I did this to You," I whispered into His wrist, as tears streamed down my cheeks. The thought came again and gritting my teeth, I began to voice it.

"I would rather I was sent to h–"

"Don't say that," Jesus said fiercely, startling me, and His eyes burned with blue fire.

"Never say that," He added as He pulled me close again, holding tightly; my face buried in His chest.

"Would we have this?" He continued, and I could feel Him shaking as He spoke. "Would you be here with Me? I would not give this up. I wanted you and every human being I have made. I would do it all over again if it meant I would make sure everyone came to Me."

His Voice lowered. "But it is their choice or it would not be love.

"It would not be real.

"So do not wish for anything different. It would break My heart all over again."

Jesus pulled back, and His hands came up to cup my face, and I looked up into His eyes of Love once more.

"This," He said. "This is why I died. You. I kept thinking of what I would have with you when all of it was over. A few hours compared to eternity. I would choose no other option."

Jesus smiled once again. He was so beautiful. My broken heart began to mend.

"You are Mine, always have been; I could not lose you." He brought His face to mine, our foreheads touching.

"And you did bring Me comfort." His eyes gazed into mine. "For I knew you would one day see.

"But My love, do you know what brings Me the greatest comfort?"

I swallowed as I shook my head. "...no…"

His eyes burned even brighter, and Jesus smiled wider and more beautiful than ever before. "It was the day you accepted Me. And every day since then."

Jesus stroked my cheeks to rid them of the tears that were falling again. "No more tears. I wish to see your smile." Leaning in, He kissed each of my cheeks, then my forehead, and then my nose. But He paused and raised my chin, and our eyes met.

I felt my cheeks heat up and my lips came up into a small, yet hesitant smile.

It was all He needed, and pulling me toward Him, His lips met mine. My arms came up around His shoulders, and I did not let go. Both our smiles grew the longer we embraced, until He finally threw His head back and laughed joyously. Then, He brought His face again to touch mine, and I brought my hands to His cheeks.

"I love You," I whispered.

"And I love you. Thank you for accepting My Love."

I won't deny it. This was extremely hard to write. I lost count of how many times I cried and dreaded writing. It also turned out a bit different than I originally planned but you know how a story will write itself.

His Love is beautiful. And I will adore Him forever.

Have a blessed Easter.