March 31, 2024
The blood is dripping. Redemptive raindrops. A crimson storm. Dusty soils splotchy and darker, patches of grace here and there. Ribbons of flesh hang. Wheezing moans resound on bitter winds. Those who hear will be haunted on a thousand nights by the ghastly figure of this beaten man. It is ugly. Who can bear it? It is nauseating. Who can leave the scene and have an appetite? Yet, in contrast, it is morbidly beautiful, contradictorily amazing. For in the shredded muscle and flesh one finds a miracle; in the torn and ripped, gashed and gaping, one finds something greater than medicine; a Divine prescription for the diseased and gruesomely sick. “By his stripes ye were healed.” I Peter 2:24
Slap. The scourge has found its aim. Slap. Guttural moans escape the Healer’s lips. Slap. Gasps and sickened oohs and aahs fill the air. Slap. The ragged cords like razor sharp teeth of leviathan dig in, catch and tear. Slap. Blood spatters the ground, the guards, and the splintery column to which he is bound. Slap. And the flesh tearing bite takes another hunk of his mortal body, while something otherworldly is being sewn into the fabric of eternity. If this man had been a criminal even then it might seem too gratuitous, this macabre form of punishment, torturous and borderline sadistic. Maybe a mass murderer deserved this, but not a Messiah. Maybe a pirate captured from high seas of plundering and thievery might deserve this, but not a Giver of love. But he wasn’t going through this because he deserved it; he was going through this because he desired it. Listen now…
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