Road

The scourge most merciless now ended, yet
More torment physical and mental was
Inflicted by the soldiers who cared not
For their victim, to them it was merely
A source of amusement, of sneering harsh
To pass the time, away from drudgery
Of military duty and command.
Into the Praetorium He was led
The butt of military sport and jest
Surrounded, scoffed at by the company
Of soldiers well intent to have their way
Of ridicule, sought out a purple robe
To mimic royal kingship was their end
Yet not even the robe was sport enough.
The Lamb of God, still bleeding from the lash,
Unable to withstand the bitter jibes
Was pushed around from one guard to the next
Trodden on and abused, kicked, punched and slapped
Until a dread humiliation which
Was set to seal His kingship at its height.
A platted crown of thorns was brought to him
A final mockery, a piercing round
Of barbs that reached into His regal head
From which new wounds of red descended down
The face of kindness, mercy, goodness, truth.
Sharp was the pain, from crown of thorns that was
Jarred without mercy into his forehead
And yet still worse, repeated beatings with
A staff about his head, to the delight
Of His tormentors, blow on blow on blow.
The worst insult, the spitting which rained down
Which offered no relief to open wounds
But which sat motionless about his face
Drop after drop fell on the Lamb of God
Who did not hide his face from cruel taunt
As soldiers each in turn did ridicule
The Lamb by falling low onto their knees
With shouts of “Hail, King of the Jews, all hail”,
“Ave ave most worthy king, ave”,
“Majesty, mighty mighty majesty”
“You are our king, we worship at your feet”
Yet not one sound came from the lips of Him
Who for our sakes took all such ridicule,
Not one sound came from Him, who silent was
Just like a lamb before its shearer stays
Struck dumb, he opened not his mouth to them
But kept his own counsel, what strength is this
In the face of such ridicule and scorn?
This is to rise above such derision
A higher plane than forlorn reaction
Which only serves to worsen such a plight.
Majestic Lord, worthy are you of our
Respect and honour, you and you alone
For you have proved your worthiness despite
The evil done to your dear personage.
The mocking ended, purple robe removed
And with his own clothes dressed was taken from
The Roman Praetorium but to bear
A load so heavy for the Lamb so weak.
A wooden cross was to his shoulders bound
That rubbed against the wounds made by the lash
And crown of thorns, a stinging reminder
Of thorns that strew the path within the grove
Where He had prayed only the night before.
Thorns at His feet, thorns at His brow, now with
Rough wooden shards that stabbed in open wounds.
Two criminals condemned to die trod near
They too were forced to carry their own cross
Along the path out of Jerusalem
To Calvary’s hill, steep unforgiving climb.
We cannot know how many times He fell
Under the weight of the cross that would make
His pitiful wounds more scarred than before.
As if to offer some relief that was
A journey arduous, a man who came
From Cyrene, Simon was forced to take
The cross behind the Lamb of God, to aid
And bring relief to Him from burden sore.
The crowd that lined the path were unable
To hide their sorrow, mourning loud lament
For One in whom they had placed all their hopes
And dreams of better times and destiny
Free from the Roman rule and governance.
Who can but know how many listened to
The words of Heaven’s wisdom from His lips
As in the Sermon given on the Mount
Or listened in the Temple days before?
Who can but know how many had been healed
From sickness and disease, from demons that
From within them had taken full control
Of human faculties and reasoning
Or who had sought to utter blasphemy
Against the Triune God, how many more
Had hoped to follow Him, but now could see
A man most pitiful, a wretched state
A victim of abusive human spite
And cruelty, borne out by all the marks
Of beatings, kicks and punches meted out
With no compassion, wicked human spite.
Within the crowd, a group of women who
Bewailed the state of Him who, burdened down
With cross that on his shoulders barely could,
With strength diminished, carry that great load.
Yet even in His woeful state, said He
Unto the weeping women: “Do not weep
For me, you Daughters of Jerusalem,
But rather for yourselves and your children.
I tell you the truth: there will come a time
When you will say, ‘To those who are barren
Blessed are you, whose wombs never could give birth,
And you whose breasts could never nurse a child.
And more I tell you, as was spoken by
The prophet Hosea: “‘They will say to
The mountains, “Fall on us!” and to the hills,
“Cover us!’” For if humans do these things
When the tree is green, what will happen when
It is dry? So spake the Lamb unto them.
By this discourse even in searing pain
The Lamb of God admonished those who wept
For they and all God’s people must repent
Of their rejection of Him, or the wrath
Of Yahweh will be visited on them.
And yet more warning still of rejection
Was given by the Lamb of God in that
It will be worse for them if they do not
Repent while they still have the life-giver.
Things would be worse without Him who gives life.
So spoke the Lamb of God, remembering
The mourners turned away from Jairus’ house
Whose showy act was but a mere pretence
Of grief, of no substance or any truth
And like them, those who wept at what they saw
Had deeper meaning applied to their grief
Which, genuine, was turned upon themselves
To show a broader meaning so that they
Might rend their own hearts unto their own lives
And full repentance offer in exchange
For acceptance of holiness of heart
And precepts given from the lips of Him
Who for their sakes and all of humankind
Would be the expiation of all sin,
To turn aside from falsehood and receive
Forgiveness from His hand and so be spared
From death’s dark hand and evermore abide
Upon the shores of Paradise most blest.
The Lamb of God trod wearily along
The streets still lined with people who either
Wept at this awful scene or poured mere scorn
At what for each of them was injustice
For One so true, a rabbi who could see
Beyond the limits of the human mind
To things eternal, the fulfilment of
The Law and Prophets, and the bread of life
Or one more prophet false whose claims were but
The stuff of dreams and fantasy by which
The minds of simple folk would be deceived
By things beyond their wildest, loftiest dreams
And so deserving of the punishment
Which had begun at Roman scourging post
To be completed on a wooden cross
Of Roman origin most violent.
From stony cobbled streets to dusty trail
The hill of Calvary in distance stood
A lofty elevation for the throne
Seated on which would be the Lamb of God.
The shouts and cries of those who in the streets
Resounding in the Lamb’s ears now did fade
Until the only sound was footsteps up
The hillside and the preparation of
The place where wooden crosses would be fixed.
Urged on by soldiers armed with whips and swords
A beating still for One so drained of strength
The Lamb of God with Simon close behind
Collapsed, His strength now gone, nothing was left
Yet Roman soldiers mercilessly whipped
And beat Him, ordering Him to arise
And carry on the path to his own death
Yet no strength had he to obey the rough
And bloody carnage meted out to Him.
The man of Cyrene now intervened
In anger at the lack of mercy shown
Demanding respite for the sorrowful
Victim of hate and violence and scorn.
Initial mockery at this sad scene
Gave way at last to let the Lamb of God
Recover some strength which he sorely lacked
To carry on and trudge the incline which
For Him was like a mountainside too high
And vertical for footsteps unaided.
Eternity was in His mind as still
The hilltop seemed a distance still too far
Away for Him to reach, yet still He trod,
Simon of Cyrene trying to aid
By brief words of gentle encouragement
And his share of the burden, heavy load
To carry for one weakened by the lash
Received only hours earlier and which
Still hurt like daggers burrowing the skin
And etching scars against muscle and bone.
At last, the end in sight, the Lamb of God
Found energy anew for the last trek
Up Calvary and on to Golgotha
As if there sprang new hope and some relief
Despite what was to come, yet somehow now
New hope of His true human destiny
Beyond the limits of mortality
Welled up within His heart, a strengthening
Of His resolve to submit to the will
Of Yahweh which would bring the true reward;
Recognition of being Lord of all
And every tongue speak out His sovereignty.
But now the horrors that awaited Him
Were in full view, His strength again did wane
And pallour pale like molten wax under
Continuous flame that burns relentlessly
Until all life is snuffed out never to
Return again, the serpent hidden from
His view, began his torment of the mind
Of Him who now must suffer severe pain
The cross and nails await, the time is near.