Crossroads

On dusty hill, midst dirt and stone, my clothes were stripped, my hands were tied-

Then laid on wood, nails fiercely pierced both hands and feet, they crucified

3 men, condemned to die a death, so gruesome words can hardly speak

3 men alike in many ways, whose acts decried an end so bleak.

My blood, his blood, our blood flowed down, in gathered puddles down below.

The sweat, the dust, the gnats combined to salt the wounding of my soul.

And here am I, one of the 3, can scarcely breathe in agony.

I turn my head towards those with me, I scream in rage at destiny.

But to my left, I hear his groans, and yet they cast no angry roar.

I hear Him call to friends below, —I think I’ve heard that voice before!

I look again, through sweat and tears, to see if I recall His face.

But no, his body drenched in blood, could not reveal the time and place.

I heard him yell, though seared in pain, some words of comfort to his friends.

They’d gathered round a fire below; some grieving women, stone-faced men

To them He called again to say they needed all together stay—

‘Twas then my mind drew back in time to where I heard that voice one day…

I saw him once along the road, upon my way to Jericho.

He’d stopped to rest and eat a meal, with friends he sat as fire glowed

A crowd soon formed and hemmed him in, a noisy crew all set to sail.

But then a hush, and all sat down, and to their joy he told a tale.

I strained to hear, I’m not sure why— I guess to try and understand

What kind of man might draw a crowd, who, truth be told, looked rather bland.

His story came, in muffled words, told of a man who robbers stripped

And left half-dead along a road, where passerby’s upon him tripped.

Religious types were some who passed, and couldn’t be bothered with his plight

Then came a man — an enemy? — so moved and broken by the sight

He picked him up and brought him home, or to an inn —I’m not so sure—

With oil and wine he dressed his wounds, then bandaged and made him secure.

And at the point the wind picked up, the words trailed off, I missed the end.

I stood up from the place I sat, and off to Jericho I went.

While on my way I came upon an old man resting on his back.

I first looked left, back to the right, then knocked him out, and stole his pack.

3 men condemned to die a death, so gruesome words can hardly speak

3 men alike in many ways, and yet quite different underneath.

My breaths are sharp, each like a knife, my body screams in horrid pain,

A thief am I, condemned to die, beside the One I saw that day.

And just like me, he now was hung, a crown of thorns upon his brow

Above his head they hung a sign, “King of the Jews”, —who is He now?

And on his other side there hung a fellow thief caught just like me.

I stared at him and saw his shame, his anger mixed with agony.

He turned to him, the one I’d seen upon the Jericho road that day.

“You claim you’re God, then save us now!” He cursed and turned his head away

……..

King of the Jews, a cross, a crown; no thought or reason could I trust.

What King would hang upon a cross, what God wouldn’t fight to make things just?

And as I hung there soon to die, I could not help but look His way.

To watch and try to make some sense of what this prisoner groaned to say.

While body writhed, my mind went limp, no logic could explain the maze,

A thousand voices from my past flowed from me, to me, through my haze

Can dignity and love survive such ruthless torture on a tree?

Can logic speak with justice gagged? Can truth be told in tragedy?

And then a flashback filled my view, my thoughts went back towards Jericho.

I saw the one who drew the crowd, I heard again the tale he told.

And as his story played once more, I saw the man robbed on that road.

So beaten, bloody, left for dead, I had a glimpse what this foretold.

……………………

While soldiers jeered and many mocked, I looked at him right next to me

The world walked by him but for some, who now were weeping on their knee.

I wanted badly off that cross, to tend His wounds with oil and wine,

But I, so helpless much like Him, in anguish sobbed for all my crime.

It happened then, he turned to me, and through his pain I saw such love.

“Remember me” I cried to him, “I see it now, you’re from above.”

His voice so soft I strained to hear, but then the words my soul longed for:

“Today you’re coming home with me, to Paradise forevermore.”

3 men condemned to die a death, so gruesome words can hardly speak

3 men alike in many ways, yet one who chose to save the weak.

Though still mid-day, such darkness came, the sun was hidden from our sight.

And then the One hung next to me, gave one last gasp, and gave His life.

The earth did shake, the rocks cried out, the temple curtain tore in half

And even those who caused His death, were shaken off their stoic path.

And though in agony I lived another hour or two that day.

The love that Man had given me restored my hope from deep decay.

I felt such grief for those I’d hurt, yet as the memories came back

His love, like oil, poured over me, the blood He spilled filled every crack.

And from my place in Paradise, I cried as Christ was laid to rest.

His tomb was sealed, while soldiers watched, as Evil thought it won the test.

But on day 3 again earth shook, great love had overcome the strife.

Yes Life defeated death that day, my Father raised His Son to Life.

3 men condemned to die a death so gruesome words can barely speak.

3 men alike in many ways, yet one who lived his life to seek

and bring the many back to God, to see His Glory now unfurled;

1 man unique in every way, the Son who Rose to save the world!