One… the flagrum struck the Jew’s back.
He was bound; he could not twist around to avoid the blows.
The one who had loosened the chains of the madman of Gadara and expelled a legion of demons into a herd of swine was bound. He whose garment had healed the woman with the issue of blood was laced with the markings of the whip.
Lucifer curled up in laughter. ”So this is the so-called Messiah, the son of God?.” he hissed.
This was more fun than the massacre of Babies 33 years ago.
Much more fun than the decimation of the seed of the woman by the torrents of rain from the belly of the deep. He mocked as he snarled and pointed… “Now behold the lamb”
Two … Three … The jeering crowd was oblivious to the mass of demons baying for blood. Their screams could be likened to the frenzied orgies that emanated from Sodom’s halls.
The soldier seemed urged on by unseen forces, he wiped the sweat off his face, a smile forming as he angled the whip towards the naked insurgent.
Lucifer smirked. He was shocked that no angels from the realms of glory had been dispatched to halt the public humiliation of God.
Four …Lucifer pointed his fingers at the bare-backed beloved son of God. How could Majesty have condescended to the point of wearing the rags of these mundane worms called mankind?
Five … He was still startled by the Love. He didn’t and couldn’t understand the Divine Infatuation. He spat at the one who claimed He was the Light.
He laughed at Mary’s favorite son.
Six … He remembered well.
How that accursed Star shone on her face as they traveled to the little town of Bethlehem, she was frail yet he couldn’t break her heart.
She had fought the fear and threat of shame and carried the baby in her womb without flinching.
Seven … Eight …the clouds gathered as the braided leather thongs whistled in the wind. The accuser could still remember her song. Be it unto me according to your word.
How could he forget it? In the lyrics was a sense of simple surrender. She wasn’t struggling, she was simply resting on the Word of God committed to her by the angel.
If only he had known. He would have killed her then and there. But she was protected by her worship. He felt a pang of jealousy. She sang so beautifully. ”Such worship should be directed at me” he had thought.
Nine … Ten …the strokes swept through the air, licking the dusty wind fiercely, each time biting deep into his flesh. The Pharisees wanted more. They had the most to gain from this execution.
After all they had quelled the insurrection. The businesses in the temple would once again thrive.
The people would respect them for taking such a decisive step towards silencing permanently the blasphemous bastard of Bethlehem. “Shebi! he called us whitewashed sepulchers” – they wouldn’t rest until the soldiers executed the orders for his crucifixion.
Eleven … Mary stared speechless. No songs. No words.
All she could see was her son Yeshua.
The angel Gabriel had announced his birth, yet he was nowhere to be found minutes to his death. She had held him in her hands.
He was not a criminal. All he did was bring joy to homes, JOY TO THE WORLD.
Was she not there when he turned water to wine? Did she not hear of Jairus’ daughter or Lazarus? How could his own countrymen be so callous? She fought back tears. Where was the kingdom, the salvation that was spoken of in prophecy? if only Joseph were here to comfort her.
Twelve … Thirteen
…
Pilate could hear the screams. Washing his hands had done little to satiate his raging conscience. The incessant nagging of his wife was a problem. But he could not at this time reverse the order. They would whip the Jew and then crucify him.
His wife was livid. HOW COULD YOU? She had yelled at him. He had a job to protect.
She was so naive. The empire would not tolerate a revolt because of his wife’s dream. But she had a dream that he would be governor over the Jewish state and it had happened. He shrugged.
How would he have faced the generals if they heard that he released an insurgent on the whims of his wife? No! he’d rather damn his conscience that listen to her. But that was not all.
The Jew was actually guiltless. There was no guile in him. In all his years he had never met one quite like him. The question he asked raged in his mind. “What is the truth?”.
But he had been too impatient to listen. What would the Jew have answered to such a riddle that even the great Roman sages battled.
Fourteen …
Fifteen …Mary fought back the tears. The iron balls on the tip of the whip caused deep contusions, every laceration tearing into his muscles.
Quivering ribbons of bleeding flesh could be seen. She sensed the evil with every crack of the whip. It was also there on that silent night but God’s presence kept it away.
Sixteen …The inns – She remembered the fully packed inns. Joseph had frantically searched for accommodation for them. Every inn owner had turned them away with a look of disdain. Joseph had hastily complained “why couldn’t God make accommodation arrangements?”
Seventeen … Eighteen …Lucifer still saw the same look in Mary’s eyes. He really couldn’t understand it. It was the look in Yeshua’s eyes. It was QUIET ASSURANCE. Why were they so calm? Yeshua’s screams raged in the air yet there was calm in his eyes.
Nineteen … Mary gripped John’s hand. The youngest son of Zebedee had chosen to stand by her side. Yeshua’s screams reminded her of when he was born.
Away in a manger – the savior of the world, the savor of heaven was born in a stable. She didn’t understand. He was meant to be king but his cradle was filled with hay.
Twenty …
The winged ministers gathered. Their flames burned brightly as their King was assaulted by soldier.
Michael and Gabriel stood above the scene. Michael was perplexed. Gabriel understood but there was still an uncertainty that all angels experienced. “Why would God do such for man?”
Twenty One …
Just like that day when the essence of Elohim was lavished on a pot of clay in the garden of Eden. They wondered. What exactly was the Potter’s plan? One thing was sure this would not be the end of the story.
It wouldn’t.
Twenty two … Gabriel saw the same look on Mary’s eye that Lucifer saw. He wanted to understand.
She was a special one, He had seen in it in the eyes of the shepherds who watched their flocks at night. There was peace emanating from the recesses of their souls.
They seemed unburdened by earthly barter. They had been frightened initially but they had accepted the message, looked for Yeshua and then gone to tell it on the mountains…
Twenty four… demons called God a consuming fire, they would not dare come close. Yet there they were. The angels regarded him as Lord of Hosts but this one who was beaten was no lord!.
The mountains and clouds saw him as Creator but how could they consider this criminal as such? Then there was man… the only one who could see him as Papa… for man the Consuming fire, the Lord of Hosts, the Creator was enduring such humiliation.
Twenty Five
… Yeshua screamed. No human could have endured such. The whip seemed laced with the toxicity of a thousand souls. The whip ravaged his back side. In that moment eternity stood still. There was a silence that pervaded the atmosphere. Sickness, Sin and Sorrow stood alert, ready to latch onto his broken flesh.
Twenty Six …this event was meant to be about him. Not Yahweh or Yeshua. He would win this fight even if it was the last thing he did.
Lucifer remembered his failure to kill Yeshua earlier. Herod had been ruthless but the wise men had failed to fulfill their part in the deal.
The scream haunted him. There was no way he was going to lose again. The Seed of the woman had been eluding him for centuries now.
From the first murder where the farmer Cain had slain his brother Abel to the beheading of John the Baptist.
Twenty Seven … Twenty Eight …
Yeshua screamed. Lucifer stood up with a start. That scream wasn’t ordinary. Something else was happening. It wasn’t just the routine scourging of a lowlife criminal. He asked his lieutenant to stir up the soldier. “Increase the force. Strike harder”
Twenty Nine …Finally! Lu cifer thought the Morning Star would fade into oblivion. He hated that star. The one who had trounced him soundly in the wilderness. The one who had claimed Lazarus, dead after four days, from his hands.
Thirty …still no angelic orders. Lucifer had already seen Gabriel and Michael. He glared at Michael, quickly spotting the archangel’s sword. It was the same sword that had kept his demons from killing the baby on his way to Egypt.
Thirty One
…Mary managed a smile. It was either resignation or reflection. A thought stole across her mind. Yahweh always had a plan.
She had told Yeshua stories while he was younger. Memories of those nights under the stars, telling the Creator of the World stories of how He created the world, flooded her mind. She smiled.
Thirty Two … Thirty Three
…Michael’s sword glowed fiery gold. He wanted to end it all but he couldn’t. They only responded to the Word released. They could not act without orders.
Here was the WORD stripped naked in front of the whole world.
Michael wanted to swoop in and terminate the charade. He was there when the eastern kings, the kings of Orient, brought their gifts. He had seen the star. He had heard the song of angelic choir. He watched over the couple as they journeyed to the House of Bread.
Thirty Four …Death was poised. Sickness grinned. It was time. With every stroke, their hold on the Anointed One strengthened. Hell was ecstatic. The grave jumped for joy.
Thirty Five … Thirty Six …Mary gazed at her son, his bloodied fingers, his marred back, his naked torso. She was his mother; she had carried him in her womb for 9 months. She had journeyed all the way to Bethlehem not for the edict of Caesar but to fulfill Micah’s prophecy.
Thirty Seven … She had escaped Herod’s onslaught late in the night in fulfillment of Jeremiah’s lamentations. She winced in pain. Her baby was the subject of tragedy all his life. They had called him Man of sorrows.
Thirty Eight
…This wasn’t how they had imagined it. Mary buried her head in John’s chest, the noise of the crowd burned through the air. In the shadows the rest of the disciples stared on confused. Meanwhile in a field newly purchased, the lifeless body of the treacherous treasurer hung from a tree.
The kings of the world did not know. ow could they? They had met behind close doors, plotting the downfall of the L rd’s anointed. Lucifer rejoiced as the last stroke fell. The last stroke was the herald to the crucifixion. The last stroke signaled the death of God.
But how could they have known the implication that by His stripes we would e healed? If they had known they would have halted their plans to scourge and then crucify Him.
The strokes, the stripes then the Cross – that was the very essence of His birth that He would die and rise for your sins and mine.
By His Stripes you WERE healed. As He lay broken and battered, I suspect that there was a quiet assurance of victory in His eyes. Christianity is a glorious celebration of this victory. Your healing s not just bodily but also mentally.
The healing provided by the birth, death nd resurrection of Christ is full body! It is a body-soul-spirit package. This is he great gift of God’s grace!