CHAPTER 6
HIS DESTINY
“Your Cross is over there, Jesus, King of the Jews,” a Roman Soldier shouted. “Pick it up and carry it to the Place of the Skull where we will crucify you,” he added. It was the first time I had ever heard His name.
The man crawled up to me, and when He lifted up His head, He cried out for God and called Him Father. Suddenly, I recognized who this man was. “Oh no, not Him—this cannot be” I cried. It was Him, it was the man that prayed under my branches! The man who said God was His father. Oh, I remember Him now! I could not believe what I was seeing! I could not believe what they had done to Him!
I remembered how I had felt so much love and peace from Him when He prayed beneath my branches. It was the same man who spent hours underneath my shade, praying and teaching the men He called His Disciples about God. Many times He had brought His Disciples upon the Mount of Olives and taught the Holy Scriptures to them there. “What could He have done to deserve death?” I questioned.
“This man could not have done anything wrong. I know He could not have done what He has been accused of doing,” I shouted. “He is a good man.” “I saw this man healing the sick at the base of the mountain”, I cried. “I even heard His Disciples tell how He raised people from the dead and cast out demons from many others.”
“This was the man who healed the lepers and caused blinded eyes to see and made the lame walk. On many occasions I heard him talk to God and tell Him how much He loved everybody,” I cried out. However, no one would listen.
Many of the people started chanting “Crucify Him, Crucify Him.” The crowd that had gathered now included many people from the city from all different walks of life.
The cries “Crucify Him, Crucify Him” became louder and louder, and the crowd grew angrier and angrier. I knew it was useless to say anything. After all, I was only a tree that had been cut down and formed into the instrument of His death. I knew no one would listen to me!
Tears filled my eyes and sorrow pierced my heart and soul. “How could it have come to this,” I thought. I knew trees did not have a voice in the affairs of men, and it was useless to try to help this man who said His father was God. Many in the crowd were mourning and calling out His name. I heard some say He was the Son of God. Others continued to mock Him saying, “He claims to be the SON OF GOD.” I then remembered I had heard this man say He had come to die for the sins of all mankind.
Finally, he struggled to get up off His knees and onto His Feet. Then suddenly I felt Him grab my arm. He then lifted me up to His shoulder. He stumbled slowly towards the Judgment Gate with me on His shoulder. His blood was flowing from the Crown of Thorns which had been placed on His head and the deep wounds in His back. With each step He groaned and cried out in pain and agony.
“Oh what a heavy burden I must be,” I thought. I knew Jesus could not have done anything they had accused Him of doing. He was a good man. He was filled with love and compassion for each and everybody. He never harmed anyone. I heard Him pray for everyone in the whole World on many occasions.
Oh how distraught I was! “Why did I have to be created a tree”, I complained. Questions filled my heart and soul as I tried to understand what was happening. My heart was broken and my spirit crushed. If only there was something I could do— but it was absolutely useless. There was nothing I could do. I was only adding to His burden as He carried me up toward Golgotha’s Hill.
With every five or six steps he took towards the Gate, he would fall down. Someone from the crowd would run up to Him and spit in his face again. He fell down again and again under my heavy burden.
Each time he fell Roman Soldiers would beat him with a rod and a whip. They would kick Him until He got back upon His feet. He would then continue to stumble on towards the Gate as the crowds hurled curse words and screamed over and over again “Crucify Him, Crucify Him”.
“If I could only walk myself, I would help carry Him to the Place of the Skull,” I thought. But I knew that I was just a lifeless, useless piece of wood, having done nothing good in my life. And this Jesus who called His Father God was carrying us both to our destiny. Oh, and what a horrible destiny it had turned out to be! My heart ached as I wept and groaned in great sorrow.
My thoughts went back to the time when I was just a sapling growing up on the Mount of Olives. Many times I would daydream of being made into a Pillar in the Temple of God. Yes, I knew there were already Pillars in the Temple, but I hoped that maybe God would someday build a new Temple and I could become part of it. I thought it would be so joyous if He would have chosen me for such a prestigious destiny. Then reality would return, and I remembered how I had disobeyed my own father, turned bitter, and ruined my own life.
Finally, Jesus fell to the ground with me on top of him. He had carried me as far as he could. I felt so guilty and sorrowful that I had added to His agony. Then a man from the crowd ran up and grabbed me, lifted me off of Him and carried me the rest of the way through the Gate to the Hill above. I was so relieved that at least some of the burden I was putting on Him had been removed by a Good Samaritan.
On through the Gate we went, and up the Hill called Golgotha, The Place of the Skull. I was then placed on the ground on top of the Hill with my eyes looking toward Heaven.
The Roman Soldiers had already nailed the two men onto the other crosses and crucified them. I heard the crowds talking and found out that one of the men was a thief and the other was a murderer. One of them was standing to my right and one of them to my left. These two men were guilty and deserved to be punished, but this Man who called God His Father had done nothing but good to all mankind. I could not understand why this was happening to Him no matter how hard I tried. “I should be punished as they were, but this Jesus could have done nothing to be treated in such a manner as this,” I thought.
My heart was breaking. I knew this Man Jesus who prayed under my branches could have done nothing wrong. His only crime was to love mankind more than He loved His own life. I could hear the cries of the thieves as they hung on the crosses. I heard them groaning in pain as they hung there bleeding and slowly dying.
I looked up and saw the “Place of the Skull” in the rocks just above the Hill. It was as if the face of death was looking down on all of us on the Hill as well as the people in the valley below that day.
As I looked toward the heavens, I prayed: “Oh God, why has it come to this? I know I have not been the tree I should have been, and I am sorry for all the bitterness in my life. I am sorry for the things I have done which were not pleasing to you.”
“Please forgive me of my sins and make me a tree of righteousness that can be used to help mankind. I don’t want to be the instrument of your Son’s death,” I whispered. Yet, it was like the Heavens were made of brass. God did not hear my cries. Neither did He seem to hear the cries of the one who called God His Father. The Creator of all things did not respond. “I have gone too far and the Creator would not hear my prayers anymore.” I thought. There I lay on my back looking up toward the heavens. Feelings of despair, remorse, sorrow and grief filled my heart. I knew there was no hope for me now. God had turned His back on me because of all my short comings and sins. Yet, a glimmer of hope broke through the darkness and I thought maybe He would save His own Son!
Then I realized all hope was lost. I had fallen short of the grace and glory of God, and there was no way to remedy my situation. I was condemned to a life of strife, fear and hatred. What was left of my life anyway? There was no reason for me to live anymore. Men were about to use me as a horrible and unspeakable instrument of death. This alone would condemn me throughout eternity. They were going to use me to help kill an innocent man who had done nothing other than to help people in need. “I am the one worthy of death, not Him,” I cried. My heart wept bitterly and continually within me.
I had resigned myself to die along with this Jesus. I would hold Him up, and we would die together. “At least I can do that,” I thought. At least, I could try to hold Him up while He died. There was no other way. I closed my eyes and prayed one more time to the Creator and said, “Please help your Son Jesus. If He is your Son, He does not deserve to die this way. He called you His Father. Surely a father would save His own Son from such a horrible death.”
My thoughts then went back to my own father. He tried to save me from the things I did wrong, but I did not listen to him. “I deserve to be punished, but your Son obeyed you in everything you told Him to do,” I cried. Still there was no response from the Creator.
Then I remembered that this man called Jesus, the one who said God was His Father, telling His Disciples how God loved the World so much He would give His only Son as a sacrifice for the sins of all mankind. “Surely you cannot love evil men so much that you would allow your only Son to suffer this much,” I prayed. For Him to die such a horrible death on a Cross made out of this sinful tree is just too much for me to bear. I just don’t understand. I just don’t understand,” I cried. But Heaven was silent.
As I looked down the Hill, I saw that a large crowd had gathered below us. They were all chanting, “Crucify Him, Crucify Him. Some of the women and men who called themselves His Disciples were also standing at the bottom of the Hill. Many of them were weeping and wailing. Others were laying prostrate on the ground crying and shaking violently as they pounded their fists on the ground.
Next, the Soldiers began to strip him of what clothing remained on his bloody and battered body. One could not even recognize who He was because his face was swollen and covered with Blood. His body was beaten and mutilated beyond recognition. He stood there before the whole crowd, naked and bloody from head to toe, with a Crown of Thorns on His head.
The crowd, with the exception of His followers, laughed and mocked Him. One man ran up to Him and spit in His face again. He did not say a word. He just looked at the man sorrowfully, with love and compassion in His eyes.
Through all the punishment He had endured, the burden of carrying me on His back, and all the torture He had been through, He said not a word. All you could hear from Him up to this point were His cries of pain and anguish. Could God love men enough to allow His Son to go through all this torture? Did God not love His Son more than these horrible men who were torturing His ONLY SON? I could not come to grips with the humiliation and torture Jesus was experiencing. I just wanted to die with Him and get it over with. He had suffered enough punishment and anguish.
I heard the cries from some of the people screaming at Him as He drug himself up the hill saying: “Jesus, if you are the Son of God, call on God your Father now, see if He will help you!” As a Lamb led to the slaughter, He said not a word. Now I knew His name, it was JESUS, but what good would that do me now? He was about to meet His demise, and His name would soon be written on a Tombstone somewhere. It seemed as if all of His work and teachings among the people had been in vain.
I myself was taken against my will and made an instrument of death for Him. He was about to meet His demise, and His name would only be remembered in sorrow now. His name would be there only to remind others that He once lived, and claimed that He was the Son of God. Soon He would belong to the ages, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop His Crucifixion.
Suddenly, two of the Soldiers grabbed Him, turned Him around and laid Him down on top of me as I lay helpless and hopeless on the ground. In horror, I looked as one of the Soldiers took a rusty old spike and drove it through His right hand and nailed it onto the arm on my right horizontal beam. Jesus cried out in great pain. Blood squirted out of His hand and into the face of the Soldiers holding Him down.
The Soldier became so irate that he smashed the hammer down so hard on the spike again that His whole body shook and trembled violently in pain. Again, He cried out in agonizing pain. I cried, “Oh God, how can you endure this horrific punishment of your righteous Son?”
Two Soldiers then grabbed hold of His left hand and slammed it down on my left horizontal beam. Again, I heard the sound of the hammer slamming down on the spike. Again the sound was followed by another agonizing cry from Jesus as His Blood begin to flow from His hand onto my beam.
“Oh, God,” I cried again, “Please help your Son, and please help me!” Again the Blood of Jesus poured from His hand, splattered to the ground and covered the spike and dripped down on me.
Next, I saw two Soldiers grab the feet of Jesus and hold them together as they began to nail a third rusty spike through both of His feet into my lower vertical beam. I could feel the spike go through me about four feet above the bottom of my vertical bean.
Again, Jesus cried out in pain and agony. Blood was oozing from His head, His face, His hands, His back, and feet. His Blood continued dripping and running down my shank onto the ground. The loud tumult of the crowd could barely be heard over the loud, agonizing cries of His pain. Oh, how I wished it was me that was dying, and not this man who said He was the Son of God! I was so ashamed that I was taking part in the massacre of this innocent man called Jesus.
They nailed a sign to me just above His head which read: JESUS OF NAZARETH KING OF THE JEWS. Then five large Soldiers dragged us over near