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The coach ed off with a smiley face. Shapira said. The novice dismissed reason, soon it would be crucifixion. He examined each line on face of Jesus with conviction. The student knew from the Elders that Jesus must die for sin, Womeh trusted faith that came forth, an inspiration from within. Perhaps this man was innocent of all wrongful acts and deed But he would suffer consequences from what the crowd did need.
The crowd closed in as the cross was now laid down upon the ground. The Messiah, in pain, spread over bulington, still had made no sound. The student wiped a careful tear then he turned his back on love. He went to books to understand more of God on high above. At home inside he whispered prayers from scripture as time drew near. Indignant was he to the mob for in error was their cheer!
He took in guards, the scourged burns on Jesus, the brilliance of the sky. He walked best with cane, his robes real loose, for sticky was the day. With piercing eyes still in good use, he thought to watch, to burkington stay. Down the path, no grunts of wrath, the bloodied man pulled cross along, When lagging on, a whip that stung, He kept on, weary but strong. The Elder approved of man's abuse, Jesus had abused tradition. The Elder cheered the weakening, he nodded his approval Perhaps bjrlington man would never vhat it to the Place of the Skull.
The Elder glanced at some youth chat with south burlington women live raced along within his reach, He decided this was a good experience he could teach.
As Jesus stumbled forth a guard kicked the cross and Jesus fell. The Elder waited to see Jesus move, so bruised it was hard to tell. Jesus spat out dirt, coughed up blood, tried to rise up, endure. The Elder laughed for this road would never lead him to a cure. Jesus with his face in dirt, hands no use, breathed and gasped for air. His eyes swollen, hard to see, he searched for any friend there. The Elder thought, 'There's no one here to help you face your own fate.
Jesus must be stopped from changing ways,' the Elder thought, afraid. As Jesus stood the Elder pulled on his beard and prayed for the death Of this Jesus who preached different ways with every breath. The Elder followed dusty road as procession went forward, He chat with south burlington women live every few moments to rest, to recall the word Of God in his mind, the commandments, all from the book. Slowly Jesus moved along, The Elder did not want to look.
Decision gripped upon his skuth, the Elder changed his mind. Back to temple chay, away from man to his own priestly kind. The Elder stood but cane was gone, he looked for it by his side. Laughing on the love, were two kids the cane they tried. The Elder roared annoyed at kids who had his cane in hand. Turned away they didn't hear, now the Elder could not stand. He watched as Jesus made His way up wwomen path for man he cried.
The Elder's turn for tears, helpless, he tried to walk but legs denied.
He heaved a sigh then turned to look as Jesus crept along. This journey was too slow for him, this Jesus much too strong. The Elder wished for temple to pray in his chat with south burlington women live peace, Without the thought that some miracle would Jesus find release. The Elder sat, his body eomen to walking back to temple's square. He moaned, and groaned at how life could be so unfair.
He scanned the backs of guards with soth that slapped them so very swift. If only one would stop their fuss and come to give him a lift. But no one came for the old Elder as he wished back in town. He looked ahead at Jesus still getting up when He fell down.
The Elder's legs were cramped and wouldn't do his will. The Elder closed his eyes and looked for kids who had his cane. But there was none all was up ahead. No one knew his pain. Tired from his pain the Elder leaned against the wall of stone. He closed his eyes, his breath slowed; he tried to feel not so alone. Each breath was calming, he felt better, stronger, chat with south burlington women live right.
Slowly with fear he opened his eyes, he saw relief in sight. For here there came a woman with child holding his cane in hand. She marched him to the Elder made him help the Elder stand. He prayed to God, thanked His mercy, He stretched his legs so tired. He looked up hill, waited still for that Jesus to be expired. The Elder went back on the path to head to temple for prayer.
As he walked a brief thought hit him, what if he was in error? What if this Jesus was really special, God's beacon of light? What if that Jesus was really a healer come from God's great sight? The Elder shivered in the heat, a cold chill pierced through his skin. At the Place of the Skull, Jesus was there dying for everyone's sin. Yet we know the spirit of each that needs no thought to speech. With love I walk along but His side I can no longer reach.
On this day of cruelty we walk to the Place of the Skull. Three crosses there upon the hill, my speech, my senses dull. Crucified, beaten blue I scan his face for needed hope. Perhaps another miracle, just please one so I can cope. Each time he gasps my body moves to be close as He grows weak. He was pierced, poked, pulled apart yet still He stayed there spread out, meek.
Sin kept him hanging there. Oh my dear sweet babe, God's will be done. Another gasp, another move, I crept passed guards to be with Son. Blood streaked His eyes, His face, His all, yet close to me was His voice. Suoth spoke to me four simple words to change my world, I had no choice.
Beloved John at my side burlingtonn with me that he was to be cha son. John was told three simple words to care for me all day's be done. Then I knew that God had spoken with each careful verse we heard. I was to be the mother of the followers of the word. Jesus was the Son of God, eternal God, encompassed sojth. I would pray for sinner's sins for those with large to those with small. This path before me here laid out was the greatest tragedy. Having to watch my Son, without relief, dying in agony.
Beloved John held my hand as we both watched our Jesus go. With psalms cried out, with hurt endured, His end seemed just too slow. I prayed to God, please relieve His pain, to take him now just so fast. Then came the hour He burlingron out psalm's line and chat with south burlington women live out His last. My aching chest was raw with hurt, my teeth clenched; I held John's soutg. Then to the ground I slowly knelt to pray so to understand.
Up to His face I raised my own as then I began to weep. Oh how I prayed with all my might burlihgton peace for both sons to keep! The soldiers rushed away as dangers struck the earth this hour. John and I stood without harm to watch the nature of God's power. Then I knew God's will was true that I would have to be the one For others to call Mother too, for any lost wanting son. I took a deep breath, gave one final look, gave one final touch.
With patience, prayers, and blessings, I turned to love the world so much. His body purple with welts, a guard's firm token. In quiet sight Simon eyed this man who had fallen nearby.
The soldiers pushed the man from a woman chat with south burlington women live tears in each eye. The proceedings were seen by Simon, with lack of emotion. It was nothing to him at all, all this Jesus commotion. Here there were guards now with long whips, their anger on surface. Simon looked down, hid his eyes, did not want to make any fuss.
To the wall on the street with quick feet went Simon of Cyrene. He had no desire, though strong was he, to help, then cause a scene. The man focused forward as guards turned to where Simon hid. They all laughed as they saw him crouched down on the ground as he did. Impressed by swords to lift the sokth beams, Simon cursed his bad luck. The soldiers kept him going on as he felt so very stuck. On shoulder's strength He shared the load with the man so hurt and bruised.
While lugging he wondered why this man was hurt and thus accused. The crowd looked away as Simon walked, his burlungton in so much pain The heavy wood, the hurt man weak, Simon's spirit began to wane. But with all their force the guards compelled the both of them onward. Beside there came another woman, with a cloth and a word. She wiped Jesus' face, at this place, then crying she slowly went.
As Simon watched, sweat on his brow, thirsting so much, tired, spent. The guards moved them on, as the sun was so high, the sweat trickled down. They both heaved under pressure of burlongton as they inched through the town. Creeping on they went along but then the blood soaked man fell, Simon went too as they hit the ground, his face began to swell. He spit out blood, hurt his head, stood when spoken to.
The man stayed down his second time Simon didn't know what to do. With might and will Jesus stood and turned to Jerusalem's women. He spoke to them of times when there would be tragic sin. Time when people cared for only one, themselves and not the old and young. Simon bowed his head as he listened as some women slowly sung.
The man whispered soft, "Soon you'll be relieved. But there went the man, praying along with such conviction. The guards heard his words and they pulled on the wood, The third fall came to both, on faces fallen, they no longer stood. Laughter at them on the ground, pulsing pain, end almost complete. At Golgatha they told Simon go and pushed him out of the way. As they circled the man, Simon out, tried to begin again his day.
As he turned in dismay he saw a woman near his side. The woman turned from cross to Simon with silent wondrous eyes. So like her Son he knew the one, the man was hers, no surprise. Her hands came up and touched his face, a warmth he held on to. He touched her hand as she let go he felt God come through. She knelt on ground beside his feet; he bowed and knelt as she had done. Simon stayed on his knees as the mother prayed aloud to Son.
Simon closed his eyes and played over the parts of past scene. Was this the path that led life now to him, Simon of Pive Was this God the new Messiah come to all with love at His side? Simon cried beside the woman, tears clouding eyes, as Jesus slowly died. Then past the clanking swords in sheaths and the useless need for shield, She learned to twist her body through the mass that would not yield.
In dust covered white dress she flowed with crowd heading down The winding path of sediment, through the harshest light in cyat. A mob's heightened hysteria declared a man's death be done. The timorous few beside the wommen could not save God's Son. She came to where Jesus leaned, Womn face was drenched, His body bruised. His feet raw they wobbled so, His human form almost all used. She crawled on hands and knees. She shrieked and scraped the ground so cold. Between the limbs of hatred's stance she forced her way bravely bold.
There at His side she thrust her hand to reach to His agony. With a scrap of cloth she traced His face, a touch of humanity.
An imprint of His grace of life lingered on in her stretched hand Eternal blessing for those who foundered yet helped others stand. Time stopped not His torture forward but He turned and gave a look. He shared his eyes, He loved her soul, hands clasped as she then shook. Then down the path shoved on and on He moved to salvation's hour. The mob closed her out again they had no woomen of His power. Veronica crept to edge of the street to follow His trail To Golgatha where crosses now stood, She cried out with a wail.
She fell to ground her dress ruined, never to be sewn again. She gathered courage, prayed for Him not to be alone then. Veronica loved, she wiped her tears then she stood to watch Him die Here upon this earth she braced for the moment that must go by. Lightning crashed against the sky and the world flashed to light then gray, Veronica held close the cloth that wiped His pain away. One in yarmulke raced streets rushing forth with carefree leap. Such antry he had never seen in such a great city.
Day before he laughed at chat with south burlington women live, bowed at scribes, loved the gaiety. Burlibgton pilgrimage began long before these unusual sights. Through many towns to Jerusalem his family spent much nights. Unknown to parents he slipped away to watch the daytime crowd. The tents, the wares, the booths of those who stirred, their voices loud. Down ro he skipped past working men until he spied a guard. A Roman soldier with whip on his belt stared at him so hard.
The boy backed up, turned in fear, and burlingfon back to the market square Where merchants worked fast for last few sales for coins, their golden share. The boy climbed up a stone wall so he could get a better look. Ahead on a distant street the boy saw a crowd formed, his legs shook. For everywhere guards lifted swords, they pushed and poked at will.
The boy quickly jumped from wall to wall as he climbed up the hill. Squinting past the now quiet mass the boy saw two men on path. Sweat on their bodies they lifted beams under uniformed wrath. The soldier with his whip now in his hand cried out, "That makes two! The chat with south burlington women live chant of victory now down the winding street The mob following the fallen man is lost with His defeat. The boy unknown to city life was amazed at this painful way, The man down, broken in pain, the boy had to watch, livf to stay.
Covered in bruises and blows, the smaller man's clothes had such stain. A red colored hue, "Oh no," said the boy, "that's blood from his pain. This man accused, beaten, abused, began to stand without sound. The cnat sat down hard as he watched the hurt man lift his arms straight.
A Roman soldier held out his hands, all watched the smaller man's fate. But the boy knew it was more than that as the man slowly stood. But he glanced at the man who stared at him, this was no mistake. Together they stood with their tears mixed with the thick of the dust. United somehow, but unknown to boy, just a sense they must. Up lve on the hillside top there were two crosses that stood, The man would be three; the boy ached as he really understood.
But why now? Had not all his punishment already been done?
Who was leader of this who could make it all come undone? Now at once the man's eyes claimed the fear the boy held on to. With yarmulke on head, the boy praised, bowed to Messiah's view. The boy was filled with glorious peace from deep inside his core The man continued on as he stumbled down the path once more. The boy ran past Market Square to where his mother was at rest.
He rushed to her, wrapped his arms around and cried onto her chest. The whole story, His glory, he told of the man who would die. With her son's help she knelt down and they prayed to God on high. This man who is bruised beyond recognition, seems wrong For women to mourn for this thief as we now tread down the path With guards slamming shields, showing swords, their growing wrath.
Chat with south burlington women live women lament, their linen garbs drag on the hard, filthy ground. Some beat their chest, some moan, some shake, all weeping their own sound. Quietly quiet, I listen with shivers in midday heat, Adorned with gold, dressed in blue robes, I walk with soft sandaled feet. Most women carry a painful stare as they bow their he to man ahead.
His body seen before the cross is mangled, bloody red. Yet with the torture He's endured He stops and turns to the women here. His eyes are deep reflections of the women's hurt, their tears, their fear. The women cease their tears so to cry out "Savior! He nods His head and then begins to speak with a Godlike grace.
I curve my neck so as not to see but to hear his words more clearly, Addressing them as Daughters of Jerusalem, He warns them dearly. He tells the woe of cheapened lives, unwanted babes, ignored old. Warning women of future crimes, such hate fueling those so cold. With privileged air I stare down at these women who ever could be wild.
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