"Don't worry about the sign," an older man tells the younger. "It's an insult to him, not to us. Such a king as this, such a prophet, a messiah he says. Here his words are proven for what they are."
The man is stirred by his own words, and walks out in front of the crowd,
"Such words as his, Son of God, King of the Jews. Here is the worth of his words. Here is what happens to those who say they speak for God but do not. They are cursed."
He
yells, "They are cursed! Blessed David ruled on his throne and
overcame his enemies. This man, this man, he rules from a cross, unable to
save even himself."
Another man walks out, looks with disdain at the middle cross where Jesus hangs. He yells, "So! You say you would destroy the Temple, the home of God?! Then rebuild it again in three days?! Well, start this miracle by saving yourself! Save yourself, come down off this cross, and show yourself to be the Messiah! You do that and I'll help you grab the stones myself."
The young man joins in, "Come off that cross and I'll worship you. I'll give my life for you, you blasphemer! I'll tell everyone I know, I'll tell everyone from all the nations about how mighty and great you are. I will go out among all the Gentiles and proclaim your salvation! Is this what you'll do for us? Is this the mighty power I hear about? Shall we all gain by such a death? Live! Live and show us what it means to be a chosen one of God."
The young man runs up and spits on Jesus. A couple of soldiers turn and watch, but do nothing.
The man on the cross to his right, the first one to be crucified that day, turns and yells, "He trusted in God, I hear. Let God show his approval by saving him, by saving all of us!"
The other one looks up, and also speaks. "I heard him say he was the Son of God. Is this how God treats his sons?"
Jesus looks at all the people, turning and watching each who spoke. You see tears on his cheek, not tears of pain. His anguish from the pain was replaced by something else... pity.
"Father," he says, "Forgive these people, because they don't know what they are doing."
An older woman yells, "Come off that cross, Son of God, call down the angels, free yourself, and I'll be your servant forever. If not... die! We don't want you or your kind! God, send us the real messiah, not these fools!"
This continues for an hour, until people begin to get bored. The clouds from the west continue to close in, by noon the sky is covered. They are thick, and it looks like it is going to rain. The wealthy and angry feel they have done their part, and leave.
The soldiers, now bored, throw pieces of bread at the men on the cross, making a game of trying to get something in their mouths.
They ask, "Hungry? Thirsty? It's time for lunch"
One tosses a cup of sour wine, right in Jesus face, the stench of it reaches where you are, stinging his eyes.
It is time for lunch and the crowd goes elsewhere. Those walking on the road at the bottom of the hill still yell insults, stopping and staring for a moment. They too are becoming less and less.
By two o'clock there are only a few people left standing around, besides yourself. Jesus is hanging there, silent, though you see his lips move at times, whispering something. The other prisoners are quiet as well, feeling the weight of the misery, feeling their own deaths coming.
One of them, feeling his agony, yells again at Jesus, "You say you are the Messiah. Save yourself, save us! You fraud, save us if you are real. Show us how much God loves his people!"
The other, the one who was crucified just before Jesus, yells back in response, "Shut up! Don't you fear God even when you are dying? We both committed crimes, we knew this was going to happen. This man hasn't done anything, I understand that now. He came to help us all, and they kill him, while we kept on sinning."
Jesus turns and watches him while he speaks. The man looks at Jesus, their eyes connecting for a long moment. You see the power and authority again shining through Jesus' eyes.
"Jesus," the criminal says, "remember me when you come into your kingdom."
Jesus smiles, he smiles, on the cross, and replies, "I assure you, today you will be with me in paradise."
The man smiles back, and looks down. The other looks on with disgust, spits, and shakes his head.
Some people walk up behind you. You turn and see John, along with Mary, and some other women. He nods to you, then sees the other disciple standing twenty feet away. He walks over to him, while Mary and the women go and stand before Jesus, weeping and crying. You can't imagine what they are feeling, they who have known Jesus for so much longer than you have. They speak with one another in quiet words. You can't hear what they say.
John walks back to Mary, before Jesus on the cross. He seems so young, reminding you of the other young man from before, the one who cursed Jesus. John is not filled with the same hate. He has a presence, a love, a caring about him which is far beyond his years.
Jesus watches him walk up, a close friend who stands by even now at the end, when all is over.
You move closer, trying to hear what is being said, trying to somehow take in all of this, hoping to hear some kind of explanation.
"Woman," Jesus says to his mother, "behold your son."
He turns his head, looks at John, and says, "She is your mother."
John nods, Mary cries, the other women hold her, also weeping. Nothing more can be said. You hear the breeze pick up, a whoosh through the grass, a whistle through the trees. A raven calls in the distance, then another responds. You all stand and wait and watch. There is nothing to do, and nowhere to go.
At about three o'clock Jesus winces sharply in pain. Something is happening. His head tilts back in agony, his whole body twists and strains with some new anguish. You feel his pain up there, you see it in him, and you tense up, wincing as he does. You want to climb up, let him down, give him some peace before death.
He closes his eyes, his head droops down, shaking. His whole body starts shivering, first just a little, then more and more. He screams in pain. Again his head goes back, knocking hard against the sign. It's cold now, getting colder. Sweat, however, has drenched his hair.
His eyes go wide in some kind of realization.
"My God!" he yells, the words exploding out from him. "MY GOD!! Why have you forsaken me?!"
One of the bystanders runs up, a jar of wine in his hands. He grabs a sponge lying nearby, and shoves it in, then lifts it up to Jesus.
"He's calling for someone to save him," a soldier says, "too bad the sun has gone."
"He's calling for Elijah," a woman says, "poor man."
Jesus tastes the wine, his whole body goes limp. The women start weeping even louder, the rest of the crowd is quiet. You all know you are watching death come in this instant. John holds Mary close, tries to turn her away. She pushes him, and goes back to Jesus, putting her hands and face on his bloody feet.
A gust of wind comes, almost blowing you over. The noise covers the sound of crying, the clouds above swirl around, dark grays angry and boiling. A tree behind you is blown over, you hear the roots ripping out of the ground. Then, the wind dies, for a moment it is perfectly still. It seems time itself is in pause, and all the world has stopped. A weight presses down onto your soul, you feel like collapsing from its force.
Jesus looks up. He seems empty, his eyes look blank as they stare out over all the people.
His head falls down. In the silence you hear his last whisper.
"It is finished."
His eyes close, his body droops, his chest stops moving. You think he is dead.
But he stirs again, pulling your attention back to him. His chest heaves, up and down. His arms tense, and pull him up, a last burst of strength from some hidden reserve. The soldiers stop talking, the criminals on his side look over. Everyone has their eyes focused.
He lifts his head. Even with all the blood, all the
wounds, all the shame which has been heaped on him, you look at him and see
something which is wonderful. You can't describe it, only your heart leaps
out at the sight. The glory, the light, the hope and promise shines out
from him in that instant. His strength is restored, you see the burst of
strength come from inside of him. 
You
think, this is the moment, he's going to pull himself down now. His
hands strain against the nails. There is no doubt in your mind he can
rescue himself, he has recovered his power. The Kingdom Comes!
He looks around, at his mother, at the other women, at John, at the other disciple, at you. In his brief look you feel heaven, you see heaven, you taste of eternity, all that is good and right, all that you dreamed of and hoped for your whole life you experience as your soul is lifted to somewhere more, somewhere beyond.
Jesus looks up to the swirling clouds, In a loud, clear voice, full of power and authority, he yells, "Father! Into your hands I commit my Spirit!"
His head falls, his body droops, a rush of wind comes and blows across the hillsides. A loud rumble builds, you see trees moving, rocks fall from the side of the walls. The whole earth begins to shake, knocking you off your feet. Then... it stills. The wind continues to blow with heavy gusts.
Two of the soldiers run away. The officer in charge looks around, then looks up at Jesus.
"Surely," he says, "this man was the son of God."
You lay on the ground, crying, lost again. He is dead.
Jesus is dead.
My Jesus, many hours did You hang in agony, and then die for me. Let me die before I sin, and if I live, live for Your love and faithful service.
