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A Rebel Dies.

He’d played his cards and lost,
He admitted that.
The mighty power of Rome had proved too much,
And he was crucified.
But this!
To see those snivelling, wretched Sadducees,
Standing to watch him die.
It was too much.

He turned his head and cursed,
Regretting it.
The curse sent shooting agony along his spine,
Tortured by pain, he longed for death to come,
That he might know an end to bitter woe.
Those nails!
They wrenched his hands and tore his bleeding feet,
Causing him agony.
He cursed again. Alright. He’d played and lost,
But others would play and win,

Why didn’t Messiah come?
For surely now was time for God to act,
He couldn’t leave them in that wretched state,
Abandoned now to fate.
God? That was the mystery.
Where was He, didn’t He care?
Leaving His people in their misery,
Where was He?

He groaned once more in pain. Then turned.
What was that noise below?
Another wretch to die in agony?
Another victim of the power of Rome?
By Heaven!
If God Himself should come,
Those Roman brutes would crucify Him too,
Helped by those wretched Sadducees.

He gave a laugh.
And harsh and cruel was the sound of it.
This was no God, he’d seen this man before,
Behind the blood and sweat he knew the face.
The Galilean peasant preaching love,
And healing men, relieving them of pain.
What irony!
So now they had him too?

So whether men supported love or hate,
It mattered not to those who ruled the world.
They died for it.
Well, this would change his tune.
Poor fool.
He’d thought that love could win,
When only brutal force held any hope.
To smash the foe and grind him to the ground,
That was the way. No other way would do.

He winced once more.
Again his treacherous legs had given way,
Wracking his body tortured with the cramp.
Tearing his hands, and causing agony.
Those nails.
Could nothing save him from this grievous pain?
Why couldn’t he die and end his hopeless life?
How long must this go on?

He turned his head and stared.
How strange, he thought.
The peasant too hangs there in agony,
And yet,
Instead of cursing seems in earnest prayer.
What good will that do here?
His God has clearly now forsaken Him
He prays too late.
He should have thought of that,
Before.

But wait.
He’s going to speak, now we shall know his worth.
Let’s see what maledictions he can raise,
To curse his foes.
This should be good.
There is no place here for his words of love.
Now we will hear of judgment from his lips,
On those who treat him so.

What manner of man is this?
Whoever heard such words in such a place?
Father, forgive they know not what they do?
His mind has clearly gone, his brain has too.
Who is this father he is speaking of?
Whoever heard of praying for one’s foes?
How sad that such a man, should end like this.
In hopelessness and woe.

One thing’s for sure.
It doesn’t seem to move the Sadducees,
They still gaze up and yell and scream at him.
And rant and sneer, and throw it in his face.
What’s this they say?
If you’re Messiah come down from the cross,
Then we’ll accept and listen to your words,
Believe for sure.

Messiah, eh?
So that’s why he is there?
Its certainly time God sent Messiah down,
But when he comes he won’t appear like this.
Messiah, eh? That’s good,
“Say, man,
Why not get down, and save yourself?
And me.”

He turned and looked at me. Those eyes.
No one has ever looked at me like that before.
So full of love that tore my very heart,
And when I’d mocked him too.
What grace.
It makes me feel ashamed of what I said,
It makes me want to ask his pardon, too.
But what’s the use? For now my life is through.

They mock him still.
‘You said your kingdom was not of this world,
Come down you self-appointed king, come down,
Return here now you self-appointed fool,’
Well, they may mock. But one thing now I know.
That man has peace and calm in suffering,
That’s new to me,
And love beyond degree.

A kingdom up in Heaven?
Then he is fit for it, would God I were.
If only I could enter there with him.
What joy would fill my heart, ev’n in this pain,
And yet, it cannot be.
And yet, by Heaven,
What’s happened to me I must be going mad,
For I have never thought this way before,
This peasant here has touched my very soul.

What can I do?
His eyes have pierced my very heart and being,
I feel ashamed of what my life has been,
The hatred in my heart.
Its just as though,
Some power is flowing from that peasant’s soul,
To seek to make me pure, as pure as him,
As pure as driven snow.

I must take care.
For if I don’t he’ll have me praying next,
And who that knew me ever would believe,
That I’d do that? This cross has dulled my brain.

A kingdom up in Heaven?
Then there can ne’er be hope for one like me,
For I have lived each day to please myself,
With never thought for God or for His ways.
It cannot be.
Yet when he prayed,
He prayed that God would e’en forgive his foes
He prayed for them and wouldn’t he pray for me?

What’s this?
That other fellow on his other side,
Is mocking him and jeering in his face,
‘Why don’t you save yourself and save us too?’
I say,
Don’t mock this man like that,
We suffer rightly, we deserve our fate,
But he has done no wrong.

What can I do?
He looked at me again, I saw his eyes,
They seem to pierce within my very soul,
They seem to plead with me to follow him.
Mayhap he is a king.
What shall I say?
I cannot ask that I shall be forgiven,
I cannot ask that I should go to Heaven,
Perhaps though when he takes his place above,
He will remember me.
I’ll ask for that, I dare not ask for more.

What could He mean?
I asked Him ‘Lord, will you remember me,
When to your kingdom soon you enter in,
When you receive your throne?’.
And he replied,
With voice so firm, so strong and vibrant too,
As though it were an angel spoke from heaven,
‘Today you shall share Paradise with me.’

I feel as though,
The guilt of years has fallen from my soul,
That some almighty power has wrought within,
That I am whole, though broken on this tree.
And I am free,
To meet my God today, without a fear,
To meet my God today, with heart prepared,
Because He spoke theword.

I saw Him go.
He bowed His head and yielded up His soul.
And ev’n in death His triumph was made known,
Showing to all He was in truth a King,
And as for me,
They broke my legs, and left me there to die,
It mattered not, for in my heart ‘twas known,
That God had come and played His cards, and won.