Chains: by water-bearer
It felt like someone was tightening a rope around me. My stomach wrenched, for I knew what was to be. I lay there in the sand, bound by chains unforgivingly heavy. With glaring condemnation they looked upon me from above. I had done so many wrongs, so many things that deserved what I was about to be given. Hope began to leave from my soul as through a drain. There was no place for it anymore. They led me to the post and put my chain over it to keep me from moving then took my shirt so it wouldn't hinder any of the pain. They drew the whips above their heads and brought them down hard, but, to my surprise they were stopped before the barbs felt my flesh. A man had stepped in between us.
I twisted my body so that I could see Him. He looked back at me with eyes full of mercy, full of grace. He looked back at them, and from his lips came the words, "Take Me." I was speechless. Someone so obviously innocent, offering to go instead of me? No, it couldn't be... could it? My arms, still in the chains, were pulled away from the post as they pushed me back on to the ground. I was free to go. I started to run towards the exit but then stopped and turned. The first blow fell.
The barbs tore through His flesh. Then again, then again. With each strike I cringed, knowing it was meant for me. When they had finished they led Him out. I could see the stripes upon his back; they were my lashes.
When I came to from the daze I had fallen in to, I realized they were gone. I ran after them as fast as I could dragging the heavy chains along. When I reached the large courtyard, a crowd stood there. Then as from nowhere, and everywhere at the same times came a roar, "CRUCIFY!"
My breath no longer came. This couldn't be happening. I turned to see them shove a thorny circlet upon His brow; they were my thorns. His face and body were bruised from being beaten; they were my bruises.
A large wooden cross was shoved on his back, and He was forced to carry it. With each step His exhausted body buckled underneath the enormous weight. How was He still moving? How was He carrying that cross, my cross?
I tried to reach Him through the crowd, but my chains were too heavy and the people too many. When I arrived at the hill, they had laid Him down upon the beams. I saw them drive the spikes through His hands, through his feet. I saw them drop the cross down into the ground and heard the popping joints; they were my nails.
He took my nails, my thorns, my beatings, my lashes. He cared so much for someone who deserved it so little. Just the thought made me weep, literally fall down and weep. Everyone left, but I was still weeping. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder. I reached up and touched it. There was a scar on the wrist. Could it be?
There stood Christ, the One who had taken it all for me, the very Son of God. I tried to stand up but couldn't. I could only fall down, kneeling before him and weeping. He nodded to my chains, and I held up my hands. Producing the nail which had pierced him, he put it in the keyhole. It fit. The black links fell, leaving lines on my wrists from being there so long. My soul filled once again with hope, and I knew that I was free. He took me in his arms and held me, told me that it was going to be okay.
The world will say take an eye for an eye, a hit for a hit, but Christ didn't have to say anything. He gave a life for a life.
"Foul Beast"
