The Man On the Hill

In rememberance of what our Lord, Jesus Christ did for us.

As I fought my way through the crowd, toward the hill that overlooked the city, darkness and gloom filled the atmosphere. A metaphor of the lives represented here on this day. One thing was certain, Satan was gloating and evil was on the prowl.
Anger, hatred, shame, guilt, disappointment. Some talked about what a fool he was and how he deserved to die. Some were glad they were going to kill him because of the nonsense he spoke of. Others sat in the street holding each other, sobbing, confused.
As I pushed closer, I could hear people shouting and cursing at him. People laughing and joking. Calling him names. Mocking and pointing at him. Broken people hurling insults at someone they do not understand.
My heart pounded as I drew closer and closer. Much like the crowd around me, my emotions ran deep. Angry at the blatant evil I was hearing; heartbroken and in deep anguish over the events taking place. Tears streamed down my face as memories flooded my mind- memories of everything he did for me. He saved my life. I too was broken, filled with anger and hatred toward other people and toward the world. My soul was rotting at the core, pleasing my own selfish desires. Worshiping a god made in my own image. Self worship.
Then I met him. He captivated me. There was something about him. Something deep and rich. Something genuine and pure. He intrigued me; intrigued me to follow him. He loved me. He cared about me. He changed me. It's as if he gave me a new life.
As I made my way up the hill, the sun's glare and the crowd made it difficult to see him. A dark silhouette pasted against the pale blue sky. When I could finally see, my eyes could not bear the image they were seeing, yet they could not stay away either. He had been beaten so badly that he was hardly recognizable. The flood gates opened, and the tears flowed heavily down my face. I ran, falling to my knees at the foot of the wooden post where he was hanging. Raising my arms toward him, sobbing uncontrollably, not fully understanding what was happening, I found it difficult to speak, but able to get out a few sentences: I'm sorry for what I've done. I love you so much. Will you please forgive me? Please don't leave me. As he looked down at me, his face torn and covered in blood, love and peace enveloped me. I suddenly knew that no matter what had happened in the past, what is happening right now or what will happen in the future, he has always loved me and he always will. He will always love me, no matter what. Always. No matter what. I suddenly knew that he had forgiven me, no matter what I've done. I am forgiven. No matter what I've done. And I understood that this does not only apply to me, but to everyone. Everyone. And I had peace and understood that this could not be the end of him. That death could not contain him. That Satan will not win this war. I understood that he did this for me. That he had to do this for all of us. And that he would always be with me and I would meet him again...

Someday, I too, will meet him- face to face.

"This is the story of the Son of God hanging on a cross for me. And it ends with the Bride and Groom in a wedding by a glassy sea."- Holy (Wedding Day) by The City Harmonic