Lash

Condemned unjustly, hate and wrath stirred up
By Pharisees and scribes in order to
Preserve their notion of a Redeemer
To rid them of the cruel Roman scourge;
The Lamb of God to fulfil prophecy
Spoken long ago by that holy seer
And prophet, Isaiah, through whom God spoke
Of healing by the stripes which were to mark
So savagely the holy Lamb of God,
Walked solemnly, and chained by Roman guard
Into a courtyard, from which no escape
From suffering, from punishment severe
Could be found anywhere in those bleak walls.
Yet He complained not, neither sought escape
But holy acceptance of Yahweh’s will.
Tormented now by soldiers’ mockery,
Raucous behaviour, taunts and jeering loud
The gentle Lamb in military snare
Was stripped of clothing and of dignity
To high amusement of his tormentors
Who relish, with sadistic implements,
Unbridled acts of barbarism which
The Lamb of God, now chained to pillar post
Bound by the wrists succumbed without a sound.
Two soldiers awaited the order to
Administer the punishment upon
The Lamb of God, no ordinary whip
Of single rope upon the Saviour’s back,
But the barbaric flagrum which would tear
To shreds the flesh of Him who for our sins
Endured the full force of such cruelty
Yet not one word ensued from those dear lips
Which spoke of freedom, liberty and hope
But with true faith and holy acceptance
Awaited the first blow, although his mind
Tortured and filled with terror surely was.
For no-one can deny their human state
When faced with such imminent savagery.
The order given, forty beatings which
Must now rain down with military might
And discipline, for even such an act
As this, must be administered with true
Precision as befits a fighting force
Assembled to enforce military
Presence and rule, and jurisdiction harsh.
Command is issued forth, the first full lash
Of searing pain straightened the Saviour’s back
With sense of shock, the flagrum that now ripped
And tore the flesh and left a gaping wound
Of several scars, that bleeding forth with streams
Of His sacred and what for all will be
Life-giving blood, a holy river red.
The count begins, a second lash was given
And counted, cruel and merciless the pain.
The steady flow of lifeblood formed a pool
Upon the ground, and yet the Lamb of God
In His great torment opened not His mouth
Save for the gasps of pain and agony.
Onlookers turn their heads and look away
For them the sight too horrible to bear
Which fills them with disgust or makes them weep
With sorrow or remorse or even both.
Yet their subconscious minds may harbour thoughts
Of innocence and goodness that once chose
In Heaven’s timeless and unsullied realm
To take upon itself the punishment
That human sin and disobedience
Of Eden which bespoiled the handiwork
Of Him who now is tethered and subject
To human barbarism, yet can He
Who left His Father’s side in Paradise
Long to return to blissful timelessness,
Perfection, joy and happiness unbound?
Is mental pain and anguish greater than
Physical pain and torture inflicted
Upon the body, torn by shards of stone
And metal? Did confusion reign within
The mind of Him who underwent the lash,
The precursor of crossbeam yet to come?
What mental images tore through his mind
As flagrum savage tore into his flesh?
The punishment severe still carried on
As if eternity had come upon
This world to torment and collapse all thought
In the mind of Him whose obedience
And purpose clear to bring salvation to
All human souls ensnared in sinful night
Unable to envisage glorious day
And glory of the Father, Yahweh pure.
The count continued, beatings thrashing down
Which flay into His flesh. Oh when will this
Vision of Hell disperse back whence it came?
Is there no respite from the gouging sharp
And penetrating whips, no help at all
From anyone or thing that might dare to
Intervene and conclude the carnage done?
Delirious with pain the Lamb of God
Half dead cannot hold to the pillar stained
With His pure life-blood, unable to speak
And raging with a thirst for which no pool
Of water is there to assuage His need.
Awaiting the next strike, dreading its sting
The Lamb of God tried to muster all that
Was left of any strength that He would need,
Yet no lash came, as He waited in fear
And dread of its harsh lacerating tears
But yet again no beating comes His way.
The count had stopped, the forty strikes less one,
Completed as the soldiers unfastened
The fetters which had held Him to the post
To take the fearful, brutal bloodletting
Of Roman lash, he then was dragged away
Leaving a trail of blood, a river which
Will in due time become a fount for those
Who wash their scarlet robes to make them white
And spotless in the presence of that same
Lamb who for all our sakes has paid the price
To bring eternal hope and salvation
In Yahweh’s presence in the heavenly realms.