Calvary

Pontius Pilate asked Centurion to command an escort of guards around Jesus to take him to Calvary, or Golgotha, which means The place of the Skull. One of Centurion's men put the beam on Jesus' bleeding shoulder as they left the yard and went into the crowded street. The already large crowd continued to grow, some of them followers and friends, others bitter enemies, and yet others who were just confused and angry. Jesus staggered and buckled under the weight of the beam but he continued to drag it behind him. It was the custom to write a description of the crime on a clay plate and fix it to the top of the cross. Pontius Pilate had written an inscription that read, “THE KING OF THE JEWS”
An angry voice called out above the crowd “Who wrote that stupid inscription?”
One of the temple priests shouted back “It should say ‘He said he was king of the Jews’”
Pilate stepped forward “I wrote that inscription and it stays as it is,”.

A few paces further on Jesus staggered again but this time fell headlong to the ground. Some women rushed forward to help him and Centurion recognized Mary, as she tried to reach out and help her son. Centurion was seized with compassion as he touched her sorrow. He could see blood flowing freely from Jesus now and he knew that he had to keep him on his feet. He must not let Jesus die here on the street. A burly lumbering man who, by the look of his clothing was visiting from some other region, kept close by Jesus as he stumbled forward, and the man balked now and again, as if to reach out and grasp hold of the beam, only to pull back. Centurion called out to the man.
“You, help him. He is too weak to carry that on his own.”
The man from Cyrene leapt forward and took the beam. The peace that surged through his heart overcame the strain of the heavy burden, as he strode on into endless time. The trek to Calvary, with its frequent stops took just under an hour from the time Centurion picked Jesus up in the yard. The process of crucifixion had begun, but it would take many more hours on Calvary for Jesus to die.

John saw Mary walking falteringly up an incline with her companions and he went over and helped her. She saw him coming, and turning, she held out her hand for him to help her up the slope.
“Will you stay close by me John?”
“Of course, that's what I was meaning to do.” “Where are the others?”
“They are about, but they are hanging back a little.”
“Are they fearful, or just disappointed?”
“A bit of both I think. But it's much more than that. It's hard to explain.” They walked on slowly and John told Mary that it was more than disappointment. It was more like dismay and bewilderment, a paralyzing bewilderment.
“And what is it that you feel, John?” asked Mary.
“Well, all I can say is that I was quite confident that I understood him a little while back, but now I know for sure that I don't understand. I believe and trust in him, and I love him, I know that, but I just don't understand. None of us do. We have no idea where he is going, I mean in the sense of what he actually wants to achieve. We don't know how to even begin to follow him. He is too far ahead of us, our leader whom we don’t know how to follow.” He shrugged as he walked on. Mary could understand what was happening in this innocent man's heart that held such great love for her son.
“We can’t go where his is going, but I am sure that one day very soon he will show us,” she said to him.

As John and Mary reached the flat terrain at the top of Calvary they could hear the dull clink of hammers beating against metal, bone, and timber, mingled with the muffled sound of agony. Two other criminals were already hanging on crosses either side of the hole where Jesus pole was to be fixed, but these two men were tied to their crosses, not nailed. Jesus was finally hoisted up and then the pole was crudely dumped into the hole prepared for it. Some time was spent securing its placement so that it stood erect and stable in the rocky ground. A range of utterances rushed from the mouths of people standing watching when the cross fell into place and when the nails tugged on the body they were pinned into. Some of the sounds were stifled cries of shock and dismay while others were more like startled yells of alarm. But overriding these noises was the swelling chant of taunts and slogans coming from the crowd.
“Hey, look at you! Weren’t you going to pull down our temple and rebuild it again in three days? Well why not get yourself down from that cross?” Then the priests and the leaders of the Jews joined in the chant. “You were pretty good at saving others, but you can’t even save yourself. If you are the Promised One, our Messiah, then come on down from that cross and prove it to us.”

John winced when he heard Jesus splutter as a soldier tried to push a sponge of sour wine and myrrh into Jesus' mouth. Jesus turned his face aside and refused the swab. Centurion ordered the soldier away and the man joined the other soldiers who were throwing dice to see who was going to keep Jesus’ robe. Dust was spitting itself into peoples' faces on this strangest of days and gusts of wind blew as storm clouds raced faster than usual across the sky, causing a flickering of sunshine and deep shadow. As Jesus hung there the criminals beside him were weakening, groaning in their pain, when one of them turned to Jesus. He had earlier on joined the choir of obscenity, picking up the ugly chant with gusto. He now wanted to have his last few words of bravado heard in this dark prison of life and death he had made for himself.
“They're telling you to get yourself down, but how about us? That would be a real miracle, even I would believe you.” He was delighted with the impression this made on the crowd, as they clapped and cheered him, but the man on the other side shouted at him angrily.”
“Are you mad? Don't you even fear God? Don't you know who this is? We deserve to be here but he doesn’t. He has never done a wrong thing.” He then turned to Jesus and said.
“Lord, will you remember me when you are in your mighty kingdom?” Jesus turned his head and looked at him with love and said,
“Today you are coming home with me. I will see you soon.”

John put his arm around Mary's shoulders as she looked on, with tears rolling down her cheeks and her countenance numbed from all expression. “Mary you shouldn't be watching this,” he urged her.
“Yes I should, I have to”, she said, pulling away from him. “I tended that body when it was… so tiny. Don't you understand that he is part of me?” It was then that Jesus looked down at his mother standing next to John. He spoke to her through parched lips.
“Mother let him be your son.” His head then turned towards John. Mary looked at John and clung on to his arm.
“Son let her be your mother.”
John stood with her and watched her son's life draining from him. As they stood shielding their faces from the biting dust that came in bursts, and their eyes from the intermittent dazzle of the sun, they were astonished to see the sun dimmed and the dazzle become a weak gleam. High noon surrendered to a deep darkness which remained for three full hours. Darkness has an authority that can intrude into any company and announce that it is now taking over whatever else is happening. It will put a stop to things. If there is noise and commotion, sudden darkness will announce silence. People who thought they were in a crowd suddenly feel alone, and they look into the gloom for one another and move closer together. Darkness took over that day, in those hours. Shouts of bravado that just moments ago would have roused audacious echoes now hung hollow in the still air. Those mockers that had stood close to the action at the foot of the cross now slid back into the crowd, and nervous fear could be seen in many eyes.

Lucifer was watching from the headquarters of darkness above, waiting impatiently to hurl darkness at the one who was the sum of all goodness and light upon the earth. That darkness would have to wait its turn in the gloom for three more hours. Even the carrion crows and the ravens hung in the air queuing up to eat, because it was the tradition to leave the bodies hanging on the crosses to rot. Lucifer walked about agitatedly in just about the highest degree of tension he had ever experienced. He was exhilarated with the absolute certainty of this impending triumph, and he desperately wanted to close this chapter, shut the book and throw it into the vast domain of refuse he had accumulated over his destructive existence. This was to be the treasure of his trash.
He called his three archons into his quarters.
“We will lead the charge. His will has surely been weakened by the torture, so he cannot summons that faith thing he talks about. Are you listening?” he commanded.
“Yes,” they all acknowledged respectfully.
“Now - I will go first and wrench all hope from his heart and plunge him into despair.” He pauses.
“Next, you three follow with your hordes creating images of horror in his mind,”
“What will happen then?” asked a chief Archon, excited.
“He will have no way back into his faith, or his hope, let alone his love - all that will be forgotten.” Satan smirked.
“He will hang there as a warning to all the other poor fools who trust God,” said one Archon in a monotone.
“It will work,” said another. “But when do we attack?”
“When I say.” Said Lucifer

Michael and Gabriel sat quietly in the grief and sorrow of the throne room with Father and Spirit God. Angels were suspended within this pall of sadness that shrouded the desolation below. It was something like the tranquility of that first day of creation, when darkness covered the earth and The Three spoke light and life into existence. There was the same unmoving basin of profound energy poised to create all light, beauty and movement, into the darkness below.
“We will wait,” said Father. “My Son has accepted the cup, and it is now full, for him to drink.”
So heaven waited in eternity and three hours of darkness passed on earth.

“Now!” roared Lucifer, and shot himself like a dart into the one that hung between two criminals on a lonely plateau of the place of the Skull. The gigantic spirit of Jesus absorbed the full impact of Satan as all hell's hateful fury hit him, and as every vile thing ever done by countless millions of crippled hearts down through the ages and for the ages to come assailed his being. Thunder cracked and the earth began to shake. The magnitude of this kind of collision, the sum of all sin hitting the sum of all innocence, shakes all created things. Jesus felt that all hope of overcoming that bank of injustice was futile, but he hoped against all hope and steeled himself to go on. He then sensed what seemed like a swirling sea billowing somewhere beneath the faculties of his mind and will. The feeling clawed at him. It was the swirling sea of fear, and it came from the armory of Satan. The fear sought to pull him under but Jesus hoisted the banner of his faith above it and kept it flying there with absolute trust in his Father's love, while phantom images of horror assaulted his mind and imagination. His great spirit swallowed every vile accusation that Satan hurled at him, and he took them all into himself and locked them safely within the vault of his love. He owned it all. He had become the reservoir of all evil in one moment of time, and he was completely innocent of any one wrong deed.

He rallied his strength once more, but a missile of horror careened into him more powerfully and more deadly than anything before, sweeping over him and submerging him into an impotence and a canceling of all hope. But this was not from Lucifer, it was from his home in heaven. It was black and fathomless, nothingness. It was like annihilation, `This was the cup that he told Father he would accept. But he did not know it would be like this. He called out to Father.
“Father, Father, why have you forsaken me?”
He knew the answer to his question. He had become forsaken for a moment so that no living soul from this time on would ever have to feel forsaken by God again because of their human weakness. As he hung there he embraced the tragic weakness of humanity and touched the feelings of every human soul throughout all ages. The vast bank of love that filled heaven filled his heart and went out to a beloved humanity. He looked at the mocking faces standing round the cross and he loved them. He sent his voice into a waiting heaven and cried out.
“Father forgive them – they don’t know what they are doing.”
He had done it. It was finished. The Plan could now be put into effect.

Jesus had something more to say but his throat was parched and he wanted to speak with strength.
“I'm thirsty,” he croaked out.
Centurion, who was ever there on duty, called the soldier over who had shoved the sponge in Jesus' face earlier.
“Give him the wine sponge” he ordered.
The soldier jumped to the command and put the sponge up on a pole to Jesus, who could now say loudly and clearly what had to be said in his last moments.
“Father into your hands I now offer my Spirit.”
Then in one last gasp he shouted loudly for all about him to hear. “It is finished!”
Then he died. And he and we were placed securely in The Father's loving hands.

Who brought about the death of Jesus? – His Father, The Jews, The Romans, Our sin.
All of these played very significant parts, and there are Scriptures for each of their roles. But it was finally Jesus.

John 10:15… and I lay down My life for the sheep… 17. Therefore My Father loves Me, because I lay down My life that I may take it up again. No one takes it from Me, but I lay it down of Myself. I have authority to lay it down, and I have authority to take it up again. This command I have received from My Father.”
John 12:23 But Jesus answered them, saying, “The hour has come that the Son of Man should be glorified. Truly I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it produces much fruit.