Crucified With Him by David Streeb These chains are too tight! Damned Romans! What right have they got being here? This is our land, our inheritance. We're the chosen people, not them. That's why I'm in this place. I'm a member of a revolutionary party. Some people call us Zealots. Simon was one of us, until he joined up with that Rabbi of his. They caught the three of us in Jericho when the raid failed. (Someone must have informed on us.) They're coming for us soon. The jailers brought the shackles in at dawn; that was a little over an hour ago. At least we won't have to put up with this Roman cell any longer. We've been here a week already--just waiting for the end. Besides, it stinks in here, and I hate this pagan food. I hate these Romans! Why don't they pack up Herod, Pilot, and their whole wretched army and just go home? I hate Romans. Damn. The jailer's coming. That means this is it. Oh, God! Why don't you do something about this? Don't you know what they are going to do? Don't you care? Dear Lord please, save me! They're here. I can hear them at the door. Now it's opening and the jailer's coming through. He's sneering at us as he tells us to get up and get out. He hates us as much as I hate him. Hey, wait a minute! He's taking Barabbas aside. Now he's muttering something about someone taking his place. (I never could understand him.) Someone taking Barabbas' place? Who would want to die on a cross for him? For that matter, who would want to die for any of us? The soldiers are shoving us along, now. We're out in the courtyard and heading toward the gate. That guy over there must be the one that's going to be hung with us. He doesn't look like he's so important. I wonder who he is. The way he's walking, they must have beat him. I remember the beating they gave me. They had to carry me back to the cell, and it was another three hours before I could even move. Damned Romans. Why are they making him carry a cross so soon? What are they--inhuman? I have to give him credit. I didn't think he'd even make it this far. He carried that thing half way across Jerusalem. I couldn't have done that. Sure, he fell a few times, but you've got to expect that after the beating he took. They finally grabbed someone off the street to carry it for him. I guess they don't want him to die until they have a chance to nail him on that cross. I hear that they have to take his place on it if he dies. The guy that is carrying it for him looks like a Cyrenean--must be here for the festival. I wish they'd get someone to carry mine. Damn thing's heavy. One nice thing about having this Galilean along, the crowd isn't even noticing my partner and me. Who is this guy? The women are wailing over him and the men are howling at him. Whoever he is, he's made some powerful enemies. The guy can't be all bad; the entire Sanhedrin has turned out just to spit on him. The only ones I don't see are Joseph and Nicodemus. They wouldn't go in for that sort of thing. Rumor has it they follow Simon's preacher. This guy must think he's some sort of prophet. He just told the women to save their tears for themselves. He said something about a time coming when they would wish they were dead. Who is this guy? He doesn't seem to be the type to have done anything wrong. Their words and ridicule seem to hurt him more than the beating did, or maybe it is the rejection. Who could this guy be? We're at the hill now. They crucified my partner first. It was horrible to watch. They tied him down so he wouldn't move around when they nailed him to the cross. Then they took huge ugly-looking nails and jammed them into his wrists. He jumped so much when they drove them in, I thought he was going to break the ropes. Those Romans know what they're doing, though. They're good at it, efficient. Funny thing is, though, they don't enjoy it. Sure, they mock; they joke. But, I can tell. It shows in their eyes, especially the centurion's. Maybe I'm wrong about these Romans. Maybe they're human after all. Maybe . . . They're crucifying the Galilean, now. They offered him wine and myrrh to kill some of the pain, but he refused it--Refused! Who is this guy? Even while they are driving the nails he cringes, he shudders, but it's nothing like my partner. Even through the obvious pain, he seems . . . well . . . peaceful. Now he's even praying for these guys--for the Romans! He's looking toward heaven and asking God to forgive them. He's praying like God himself is his Father; the strange thing is, I almost expect God to answer him like this was his Son. Who is this guy? I'm next. I wonder if I'll be as strong as the Galilean. . . . Where am I? Oh, I'm on the cross. I wonder how long I blacked out for. I remember some of it--being tied, soldiers holding me down, the nail, and the most incredible pain. My whole body aches. It's like every bone is being pulled out of joint. I never expected this: My feet ache too much, from the nail, to put weight on them; but if I don't, I can't breathe. I guess that's it, then. You don't bleed to death on a cross, you suffocate! My partner's awake, and so is the Galilean. I don't think he even passed out. What a strange man he is. They're mocking him, ridiculing him. They're saying he called himself the messiah, and that he promised to destroy the temple. It isn't enough that they stripped and crucified him. It isn't enough that they humiliated him by gambling for his clothing and mocking him. Now they're telling him to lift himself down off that cross. The strangest thing is, something inside me seems to think he could! What kind of man is this Galilean? He hasn't answered one word--not one taunt. The only thing he's said was to provide for his mother. This is no ordinary man. We've never spoken, our eyes have never met, but, somehow, I feel like he has seen right through me--like he knows everything I've ever done. Even here on the cross, there's a peace about him. Who is he? Messiah? This guy couldn't be him. Everybody knows that Messiah will come to restore the kingdom. That's why we have been fighting the Romans. We want to get rid of the Romans and their governors. It's so he can come. But what was it I heard that rabbi in Jericho say about Messiah? According to the prophet Isaiah, Messiah is going to suffer and be cut off! Could it be? Something inside me wants to believe it possible. Who is he? That's Simon over by that wall! What is he doing here? It looks like he's been weeping. Simon weeping? Why? Unless . . . That's it. This must be the teacher he joined up with. He must be the one we've been hearing about. What are the signs of Messiah? The blind, deaf, lame, and lepers are healed, and demons are cast out. He's done all these things. There's even rumors that he's raised the dead. Could it be? It must be, but why the cross? They're back to ridicule him. What a pious group they must think themselves. I almost feel sorry for them. If only they knew. My partner's even joining in on their ridicule. He should know better! "Don't you fear God since you are under the same sentence? We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong." Maybe he'll keep quiet now. Jesus is looking my way now. Our eyes meet for the first time. Those eyes! The eyes that have looked upon God melt my soul. "Jesus," I say weakly, "remember me when you come into your kingdom." And in a voice that could easily have come from God, he replies, "I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise." So that's it. That's why the cross. Abraham told Isaac that God would provide a lamb for the sacrifice, and this is him. It is all so that a wretch like me could be saved from hell. It's so that I might go with him to God. What incredible love. A wonderful peace is sweeping over me--His peace. It got dark about noon--almost like night. The pain is getting worse, and it's getting harder to breathe. He's very weak now. I don't think he will last much longer. He's speaking again. What's that he's saying? He's calling upon God. Even at the very end he calls out to Him, quoting King David at that! A soldier is giving him some cheap wine. Maybe that will help. Just a sip and he says it's finished. What does he mean? That sponge is dripping. Please Lord, take some more. Ah, I understand, now. It isn't the wine that's finished but his work here. This is it, then. This is how the Son of God dies! One shout and he yields his life into his Father's hands. Oh, Lord . . . Oh, Lord! My time is very soon. I can feel it. They are approaching, now. They are going to break our legs so that we die faster. I'm not afraid, though. Then I will be with him, with my Lord Jesus. Nothing will be able to separate us, then. NOT EVER! Oh Barabbas, if you only knew who it was that died for you. If you only knew . . .

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