I walk onto the streets to hear the laughing and screams of a large crowd. The desperate cries and the cheering mixing as one, becoming another voice. Puzzled at the commotion, I start to follow the crowd down the road. Pushing past the people to get a better view of the source of all this, I quicken my pace. Slipping through the thick crowds, I see the whips of Roman Soldiers flying in the air. A garrison of them surrounding the soon-to-be-dead. A loud crack is made as the whip hits something familiar: a sound of torture. “Who is today’s entertainment for these dogs, now?” I think to myself, rolling my eyes and shaking my head in annoyance.
An execution I instantly saw. But this was not like the others. This wasn’t entertainment, this was inhumane. I wanted to see the tortured man. Who was he that had made these people hate him so much? I made my way through another section of the crowd. A woman I see shouting in agreement with this mans punishment. “Crucify him! Crucify him!” She began to mock him, as if he hadn’t endured anymore, “Where is your Father now ‘King of the Jews’?” His entire body, beyond depiction of a human being, grotesque in every way. A crown of thorns placed upon his head only continued their mocking.
Limping , spewing his own blood on the dirt road only to trip on it soon afterwards. This man was turned inside out. I could hear him hacking, coughing and attempting to breathe through the gurgling of his own blood. Gasping for air seems to be excruciating. And his sweat became as drops of blood, trickling down upon the ground. He carried a cross, embracing it almost. “Why does he embrace his cross? Who desires to be crucified? Who is this man?” I think to myself.
I see two other men alongside him, who suffer the same fate. The heavy beam of the cross is then tied to their shoulders as the slow journey to Golgotha is made. The man with the crown of thorns I see stumble and fall. The rough wood of the cross gouges into his lacerated skin and muscles of his shoulders. This mocked ‘King of the Jews’ attempts to rise, but human muscles have been pushed beyond their endurance.
The Roman garrison began to notice this man could not walk anymore nor could he carry what he embraced. They look into the crow of people and search for who will be this mans aide. They compelled me to bear his cross; so I did.
My name is Simon of Cyrene, and this is my story.
I see His hand touching the hearts of his people. A brush of his presence over their faces is a windy breeze that lasts forever. It sends a cold shiver down their spine giving them an inclination that “He” is there.
Their prayers answered.
Their mourning, no more.
Their pain, healed.
A presence not so mysterious to those looking for it. A presence that brings safety and comfort; a secret place.
It is He: The One, The Prime Mover, Elohim, Adonai…
“Enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise…”
Our silence is for but a moment in the midst of our fellow sheep. For there is nothing to establish, nothing to confirm, nothing to utter but only “Glory be to God in the highest!”. Let Him raise up the man, who will be a governor of His glory. Let the Ancient of Days raise up the woman, who will prophesy in His name. Let us shout unto Him with a voice of triumph, “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty!”
As we come into one accord with Him, so shall we be in communion.
Let it be so.
“Honestly God…tell me, what do you want from me?”
I just need you to understand and be still, now is not the time for questions. I know you’re frustrated, but you have to follow my lead. “Why should I? Haven’t I been through enough? Haven’t I lost enough? And I’ve gotten nothing from it.”
You asked me to change you, you asked for our relationship to grow closer, you asked for me to bless you—-that’s what I’m doing.” “This hurts. All of this hurts. I thought my life was going to be great and peaceful. But I feel nothing but pain, confusion, and I’m exhausted from all of it. I’ve had enough.” Nobody said it was going to be easy. Following me comes with a cost. But you need only trust me, acknowledge me in all that you do, and I’ll make your paths straight. “What does that mean?” It means if you trust in me, I will order your steps. You won’t ever have to worry about making a decision you’re not sure about. You won’t ever have to be hopeful of whether you’ll be successful or not—-I will make it happen. I only ask in return that you remember me.
“Okay God, I understand. This hurts still.” I know. But I want to strip you of what you knew so that I can impart something greater in you. I can’t have all this extra filth in the way of your destiny. I love you too much. “Thank you God, I’m sorry for complaining.” It’s okay. I understand your hurts and pains, but do not doubt my ability. I always finish the good work that I start. I love you.