The morning sun had been up for some hours over the City of
David. Every strata of society filled the narrow streets that day,
vying one with another for items they would need.
The morning sun had been up for some hours over the City of David. Every strata of society filled the narrow streets that day, vying one with another for items they would need. It was not easy to make your way through this crowd, but it was especially difficult for a procession that had started out at the governor’s palace. Between two rows of legionnaires staggered three condemned men, each carrying the heavy crossbar of wood on which he would be executed.
The procession moved forward from the courtyard of Pilate toward one of the gates leading out of the city. A group of women followed, their faces half hidden by their veils, but their grief could not be hidden. Some were sobbing aloud, others praying, still others moaning in that deep grief that knows not what to say or do. One was overheard to say, “What harm has He done? Why should they put Him to death? He healed my child.”
And there were men, too, who followed – men who walked like little children just taking their first steps, fully grown men who somehow seemed as if they had just began walking. There were still other men who followed with sticks in their hands, but did not use them as once they had, to tap their way through villages and towns. Men who had been blind, and through habit still carried sticks. And who strangely enough were blind again, but this time they were blinded by tears. Lining the streets were thousands of men and women with violence in their eyes and hearts. They cursed and taunted the prisoners as they passed, particularly the one who was called Jesus.
And so they came to Calvary, which the people of the city called Golgotha. It was a place to be avoided, for in the valley of Hinnom below it arose the terrible stench of constantly burning garbage, and the foul smelling smoke of this place the Jews called Gehenna constantly rolled over Golgotha hill, the place of public execution. There the procession stopped at 9 in the morning.
Only as the large iron nails were driven in did the crowd quiet down. Those present, even the most hardened, were stunned by the sound of the hammer meeting the nail, for it is not pleasant to watch nails being driven through human flesh. But as soon as the cross was lifted and had fallen with a thud into the pit they had dug, the shouting broke out again. There were some who had followed him once, who had been attracted by the charm of this wonderworker. Many who had accepted loaves and fishes from his hands now shouted taunts at Him. They remembered what He had said and now used it against Him. Promises He had made, predictions he had given they now hurled back at Him with venom:
“He saved others, Himself He cannot save!” “You who would tear down the Temple and rebuild it in three days. Mr. Carpenter, your nails are in your hands and feet, not in your pouch! Where is your hammer? You can’t build a Temple from up there. Come on down from the cross and we will believe you.”
They shouted until they were hoarse, and the noise was so great that only a few of them heard Him as He prayed, “Father forgive them for they know not what they do.”
The sun rose higher and higher. At noon, as the sun was highest in the sky, a darkness moved over the land and many thought a storm was coming. But it was an unusual darkness. Never had it been so dark at noonday. Many of the townspeople scurried back to their homes in fear. Those who loved Jesus wept and prayed. The soldiers, having finished their gambling games, stood around waiting for this rotten assignment to be over.
At about 3 p.m. they heard Jesus give a loud cry. The gladness in His voice startled them, for it sounded like a shout of victory: “It is finished! Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” Across town, in the Holy Temple, the force of Jesus’ words tore the curtain in half that separated man from that area known as the Holiest of Holies, the dwelling place of God. “It is finished,” he proclaimed in triumph, and then He died.
Who was there that day on Golgotha Hill? The deniers of Christ were there, the doubters, the mockers. Atheists and agnostics alike stood on that hilltop. The self-righteous were there, the “holier-than-thou” people. The people who claim Jesus with their mouths but in their hearts are far from him, they were there. The believers were there, too. But some felt helpless, as if all hope was gone. And others felt condemned in their souls because they had once promised to follow Jesus anywhere, only to turn back when the going got tough. Those who had once followed Jesus but had been distracted by the thoughts and cares of this world were there. Those who got so involved in home and work and family that they had no time to devote to a growing relationship with God, they were there.
Were you not there?
