The Darkest of Times

     I cannot believe what I am seeing. Someone asks the crowd a question that will haunt me forever. This man, Jesus, faces certain death if everyone responds in a certain way. A man steps up and asks the massive group, “What do you want me to do with this man?” I heard everyone begin to shout, “Crucify Him!” I never saw such hatred, but soon I found myself picking up the chant. What if we provoke Jesus to action by calling for his assassination? This event could be the beginning of hope. We will move him to act and stop this nightmare.

     Fighting back the tears, I raise my voice along with the others. “Crucify him!” I shout at the top of my lungs. I continued, hoping that this would change the trajectory of the story. Jesus does nothing. The one I perceived to be the Messiah of the world stands and accepts the punishment given to him.

     My hope turned into anger as I realized this man is not who he claims to be. We followed the wrong man because the Son of God would restore sanity. Instead, he stands there with eyes filled with compassion. I took this moment for weakness. How dare he trick me into believing what he had to say. Death is the correct judgment for causing such chaos in the city. My cries turn from hope to downright anger. “Crucify Him!” I join in louder support.

     I feel the cold, hard steel of fury running through my veins. How lost I am, and it was under Jesus’ teaching that brought me to a place of despair. “Crucify Him!” I shout. Let him suffer the weight of his sins. I changed my life to follow him. I gave up everything I had because I believed in him. In my misery, I shout, “He must die for his sins.”