CHAPTER VI (Up on the Cross) Excerpt...

    I think I blacked out with the first spike, because the next thing I remembered was the sensation of moving. The soldiers were slowly lifting me skyward, and then when I was basically upright, the cross dropped heavily into the hole they had dug.

    The drop was excruciating.

    I couldn’t speak, or even think. It felt like my arms were on fire, and someone was tearing each ligament and muscle out of my body one by one. The word ‘excruciating’ was invented to describe this level of pain. It comes from the Latin word ‘excruciatus’ which means ‘intense torture on a cross.’ I don’t know if we should use this word unless we’re being crucified. Another thing is that they drive the spikes into where the hand and the wrist connect. Apparently when you sever the nerves right where the wrist meets the hand, it causes excruciating pain, and they’re right. The Romans have really intensified the pain of crucifixion.

    To take a breath, I had to press up with my legs to allow my lungs to fill with oxygen, and then I would drop back down to let my legs rest. I had heard that people who were crucified usually died from suffocation. They would eventually lose strength in their legs to support themselves, and their lungs would cave in. I cringed. As if the extreme pain of shoulder joints being dislocated, muscles and tendons being ripped apart, and tremendous weakening from blood loss wasn’t enough, there was an added dimension of torture – slow suffocation.

    Why did God choose this form of suffering and death for His Son? It must have been to show the extent of His humility, submission, obedience and love.

    I don’t know if I actually managed to speak, or maybe just thought to myself, “I am full of hatred.” I didn’t even try to hide my anger. Jesus didn’t say anything, but I was sure He knew. I could actually feel the blood and life draining out of my body. It was probably the same for Jesus too. I knew that our blood and sweat was flowing to the ground.
Wishing to speak to sidetrack my frenzied mind, I asked, “How long does it take to die?”
I imagined Jesus saying something like, “Look at it this way. If you just live each moment like it’s your last, it will be a lot easier.”

    I rolled my head to one side, and grunted, but what He said next really caught me off guard.
“Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they are doing,” (Luke 23:34 NLT) Jesus breathed, like a prayer.
“How can you say that? They know what they’re doing, and it’s not fair.” I mumbled.
In my dream, Jesus replied, “Do they really understand what they’re doing? And is it more fair for you to be up here, or Me?”
I groaned, and rolled my head to the other side. “Me, I suppose. You haven’t done anything wrong, but I know I have.”
    There was silence again. I thought to myself, “Are my sins so bad that I need to die? I’m a fairly good person.”
I thought I heard His reply, “The wages of sin is death…” (Romans 6:23 NLT)

    Then I realized that I wasn’t being honest with myself. Memories came flooding back of some of the ungodly things that I had thought, said and done. There are no words to describe how ashamed I felt. Not just for the bad things that I had done, but for the fact that I was trying to convince myself, and even Jesus, that I wasn’t so bad after all.
“I’m very sorry Jesus... for all my sins,” I said in a broken voice. “I don’t deserve to even be here with You, and die with You. It’s an honour to suffer with You. I want my heart and mind and spirit to be changed, and become like Yours. I ask for Your forgiveness. Please help me.”
Jesus replied softly, “Your sins are forgiven."

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