Cold, dark, wet, raining. A wind drives the rain against him. He would like to place his hand up in front of his face and block the rain but he cannot move his arm. There were people around before. Some where here as friends, others were here to taunt. But now, neither can be found. A group of women huddle together and every now and then a mournful eye is turned his direction. But still their presence doesn’t help.
He would like to appreciate their presence. He would like to draw some strength and courage from their courage but he can’t. It has been too long. He has not had any sleep in over 24 hours. He has not had anything to eat in over 12 hours. The cold rain splashes against his body and chills him to the bone.
He begins to shudder as his body gives a futile effort at creating warmth. As he begins to shake uncontrollably, pain rushes through his body. He wants the shaking to stop, he wants the pain to stop, he wants to be anywhere else but here. He closes his eyes in the feeble hope that this might be a dream. But, no, when he opens his eyes, he can still see the rain and the clouds.
Breathing has become difficult. The weight of his chest keeps pushing against his lungs. If he could only stand, if he could only take the pressure off of his aching shoulders, his throbbing wrists. But every time he tries to stand, an electric jolt of pain races from his feet, up through his leg, and on to the top of his head. And with the searing flash of pain, his knees buckle and he falls back down, sending agony through his arms, through his wrists, and collapsing his lungs even more.
The rain does provide some blessed relief to the angry wounds that score his back. The water gently washing away the dried blood that began to pull at the wounds. The cool water takes some of the sting away. But it is a two edged sword, the cool water causes his body to convulse in a wave of uncontrollable shaking.
The women are still out there. The men on either side of him have quieted. A centurion stands at his post looking bored, making sure no one tries to rescue the condemned. And still the rain falls…
Where is God? How can God allow so much pain to be endured? In the past, thoughts of his Father brought comfort and hope. In the past, God had seemed near. Now…He cannot even feel the stir of his Father’s love in his aching heart. Maybe it all was a dream. Maybe it all was an attempt by his brain to stem off the pain he was feeling.
A chilling thought crosses his mind, “Father! Where are you? Why are you not here? You can make this pain go!” A feeling of utter abandonment begins to descend upon him. The pain of this one thought is almost more than he can bear. The pain of this one thought is greater than the whips, the spikes, the thorns, or the rain. He cries out in a loud voice, hoping to be heard above the rain, the wind, the storm. “My God, My God! Why have you forsaken me?”
Then the thought crosses his mind, “Why must I die?” That thought has a chilling effect on him, even greater than the rain that splashes against his skin. “Why God? Why must I die?” He frantically searches the land for an answer. He looks at the small group of women huddled together. They seem to be lost in their own search for comfort. The cloth of their meager clothing clings to their bodies. He looks to the centurion. The centurion is looking down to the ground, almost as if embarrassed to have witnessed the painful outburst of the condemned. His search now becomes frantic. Why is he here? This has to have some meaning! This pain cannot be just empty pain!
He continues to search. To hold his head up causes the thorns to gouge his back, each movement of his head tears at his already painful flesh. But he must find a person; he must find a reason. The rain runs off of his hair and into his eyes. It stings. He blinks to clear the water. He searches the muddy fields surrounding the hill on which he has been lifted.
Wait! There is something there in the distance. He strains to see. It is a person! He strains to see who is standing there.
Suddenly you realize that his eyes are locked on you! You look back. It hurts to see the body racked in pain. But you have to look, that gaze compels you to look. But as you look into those eyes, as you look at the face of him, the one condemned, you are surprised to see the expression change. As he finds your eyes and searches your face, a calm comes into his eyes.
You feel a searing heat from those eyes. Suddenly the rain doesn’t feel so cold. The wind doesn’t feel such a chill. There is love in those eyes, love for you! You hold this gaze, not wanting to let it go. Those eyes become the whole world. Those eyes soothe all your pain. From the face of one suffering the distress of the whole world comes a look of healing, understanding, and love.
Then it strikes you, SUFFERING! He is suffering! Suffering for YOU! All the pain, all the loss, all the abandonment that is embodied on that cross; all of that is for YOU! All of that is because a love greater than you can understand surrounds you.
And still, his eyes hold yours. His eyes soften momentarily and there is almost a smile that crosses his face. You feel that all the worry and pain of life is meaningless in the presence of this love.
And then…
And then… He grimaces in pain. His face contorts in pain. The rain pelts his body and yours. A shudder shakes his body and a moan of understanding escapes from you lips. The wind whips and the lightening flashes…
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