A path I have trekked many times in my life
My footprints litter the ground before me.
My first steps were from walking along the crowd
Focused on the show,
But never seeing what it was all about.
Unaware that every step
Takes me closer to the end.
Kyrie Eleison,
Lord have mercy on me!
A sinner unaware of the path he stumbles down!
Another set of prints in the dust
Mark a life of mockery
A man no longer content with walking
I lead the way, in front of the Christ
Sprinting towards demise
Spewing hatred and lies
The cross He bears,
It is engraved with my name.
I run towards perdition and darkness
Free of care
Full of wickedness
Unaware that he carries that which belongs to me.
As I run faster towards the end
I hear a whisper in the end
My name echoes throughout the narrow passage ways
Along the Way of Sorrows.
I turn and see Him reaching his hand out
Begging me to slow down
"Stop! Before you reach the end.
Wait! Before you break my heart!
You don't know where you are going"
Taunting turns to silence
Who is this man?
Why does he warn me of the danger ahead?
Did I not mock Him? Did I not curse Him?
I stand back,
Letting him pass.
As He walks by,
I see destiny engraved in the wood
Splinters broke his skin,
blood and sweat smeared the tree
Yet, I saw it clearly marked.
My name etched deep into the wood
Crimson stained.
He carried that which was mine.
Dread and sorrow grip me
Legs too weak to hold me any longer
I drop down to the dry, coarse dust beneath me
The sky above me is clear
The sounds of the crowd slip away
Looking up, I realize what is happening
An innocent man is being charged with my crimes.
Why? Why does He carry it for me?
Do they know they have the wrong man?
Should I man up and take back my what I own?
Or should I run away. Another man is taking my punishment.
I am free to go! I can go continue to live how I want!
I pick myself up and dust off,
Turning to walk away a soldier stops me
"Where do you think you are going?
You will help the criminal carry His cross"
"No! You cannot make me!" My reply shouts back
I attempt to escape, but am quickly subdued.
They carry me to the man Jesus,
Telling me to help Him up.
And now I am helping a man bear the burden that I solely deserve.
I am helping him walk towards His death.
MY death.
The death that I should taste.
Yet, he doesn't speak of word of accusation towards me.
He just grunts as we load the cross on our backs.
I look at him in the face,
Bloodied and bruised.
A foul stench escapes from his wounds
The heat bears down on us
and the dust dries our throats.
I wish to speak to him
But even air has trouble escaping my mouth.
He looks back to me, then past me.
I turn my head and see a woman in mourning.
Grief flows from her heart.
Her beloved son, treated as a criminal
Flesh ripped open for the trespasses of another man.
Where is the justice, in condemning this woman's son?
Guilt and accusations barrage my heart
"This should be me" I whisper to myself.
What have I done?
What am I doing?
How can I allow us to get closer to the end?
A hill rises before us,
The city fades behind.
Mere steps separate us from our destination.
I look over at him again
His eyes pierce my soul.
His gaze reaches into my innermost places
Before I even speak a word,
He knows what I am about to say.
"This is no longer yours to carry."
Stunned, I watch as His lifts the burden off my shoulders
He struggles uphill.
The soldiers push me down, out of the way
As they rush to strike Him more.
Their laughter rattles in my heart.
Their laughter, my laughter.
Their mockery, my mockery.
His innocence, my cross.
The world spins around me.
I cannot take it any longer.
"THAT IS MY CROSS! THAT IS MY CROSS!"
I rush up the hill, yelling like a madman.
"Give me what I deserve! That is MY CROSS!"
A soldier punches me, then shoves me to the ground.
My head strikes the earth with force.
I look up, the world blurred and doubled,
Yet I see Him clearly.
His lips move slightly
"I am making you free. Go and be free"
Tears roll down my face, dotting the dried dirt.
I reach out towards Him,
But soon find myself tumbling as the soldiers kick me down the hill.
"Father, forgive them!"
The words pierce my ears as I black out.
Kyrie Eleison,
Lord have mercy on me!
A sinner who now knows the price that was paid for freedom!
And now I stand looking at the path before me.
I see the steps I have walked before.
Beside them, I see a line in the sand.
Evidence of a heavy burden being dragged alongside.
Here I am,
Another morning
Another chance to bear this cross of mine.
But this is not a cross of condemnation.
It is of freedom.
I am free,
Thanks to One who bore what was mine
on the Via Dolorosa.
