King found guilty. Verdict pronounced - flogging and Crucifixion.

The trial



Margaret Kazmierczak writes about Good Friday


After a night of waiting in the Temple court, shivering from the night cold a whisper circulates that my King has been tried. A group of soldiers emerge from the Temple. My King is bound and stumbling along between them. They march him straight to a short pole splashed with blood. A foot jams the back of my King's legs and he nosedives to the ground. 

No mercy



Margaret Kazmierczak writes about Jesus being scourged

Now bound to the stake, I watch in horror as the flagrum is waved in the air and slashes down with force onto my King's back. The lead tips rip off his skin and blood spurts out in all directions as the torturous instrument returns to its owner. Strike one, strike two, strike three, on and on (Matthew 27:26). 

I choose to stand in front of my King and attempt eye contact. I feel sick as I can do nothing to ease the pain. As the whipping continues, open wounds grow and form trenches down my King's back. His hands in fists shaking, eyes tight shut with life draining away. Finally, he collapses and lying in his own blood the torture finishes. The soldiers watching laugh, how little life seems to mean to them. The sense of evil wandering around the courtyard chills my bones.

I try to reach my King's outstretched hand but a soldier stamps on it. I say nothing as the pain is minimal compared to such a shredded back.


The Crown of Thorns

Margaret Kazmierczak writes about the Way of the Cross

To add insult to injury once my King has raised himself up and is struggling to keep upright, one of the soldiers rams a crown of thorns on his head. Another slings a red robe around his mangled shoulders (Matthew 27:27-31). The material is instantly drenched with blood and I see a grimace on my Saviour's face. 


The final journey begins



Margaret Kazmierczak blogs about Calvery



Scarcely able to put one foot in front of another, a burly soldier points to a Crossbar and demands that it be carried to Calvery. Two soldiers heave the wood onto his shoulders, the splinters digging into the muscles on his back. With steely determination, wiping the fresh blood out of his face my King slowly drags his decimated body towards his destiny. 


On the road to Calvary




The crowds hustle on either side of the road eager to see what is happening. Running behind the onlookers I jump periodically to keep an eye on the progress of my King. Three times he falls, smashing onto dust and stone, the crown of thorns piercing his head each time. I felt he wouldn't make the journey with such horrific injuries. On the third fall, I see soldiers seize a man from the crowd and command him to help (Matthew 27:32).


The King's final resting place



Margaret Kazmierczak blogs on the Crucifixion


On the ground ready for the Crossbar lies the upright post. My King places his piece of wood in the groove. Still, the Cross is incomplete, its arms desiring a victim. My King without any force surrenders to the inevitable and collapses onto the wooden surface. I sob, can a man endure anymore? Then three soldiers hammer nails into his hands and feet.

The Cross is now dragged over small rocks bumping my King and creating spasms that surge through his body. The soldiers raise the Cross up and crunch it into the dry stony earth. The jolt wrenches his hands and feet moving them against the iron nails. 



Margaret Kazmierczak blogs on the Crucifixion


I am not worth



Watching my King die in excruciating pain tears me apart. I see him gasp and I plunge to my knees - I am not worthy, forgive me, Father. His eyes fade and all is gone.


Margaret Kazmierczak blogs on Good Friday




The wind is blowing up a storm and clouds darker than the night roll overhead. The earth is shaking and as I look towards Jerusalem I see the Temple split in two. My King's prophecy has been fulfilled (Matthew 24:2). 

An eerie silence descends, and my world turned upside down - now what? My King is dead....




This week is Holy Week a time to ponder on the events leading up to Christ's death and Resurrection. We too are on a journey not necessarily to the same grotesque end, but nonetheless to a place that requires sacrifice, forgiveness and love to walk there.  

Come and join me each day as I accompany Jesus on His journey.

God bless,

Margaret


https://www.facebook.com/MargaretKazmierczakAuthorBlogger/

www.margaretk.co.uk 


(Note: This is my expression of Holy Week, the order of events may have been a bit different.) 


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Friday, 14 April 2017

King found guilty. Verdict pronounced - flogging and Crucifixion.

The trial



Margaret Kazmierczak writes about Good Friday


After a night of waiting in the Temple court, shivering from the night cold a whisper circulates that my King has been tried. A group of soldiers emerge from the Temple. My King is bound and stumbling along between them. They march him straight to a short pole splashed with blood. A foot jams the back of my King's legs and he nosedives to the ground. 

No mercy



Margaret Kazmierczak writes about Jesus being scourged

Now bound to the stake, I watch in horror as the flagrum is waved in the air and slashes down with force onto my King's back. The lead tips rip off his skin and blood spurts out in all directions as the torturous instrument returns to its owner. Strike one, strike two, strike three, on and on (Matthew 27:26). 

I choose to stand in front of my King and attempt eye contact. I feel sick as I can do nothing to ease the pain. As the whipping continues, open wounds grow and form trenches down my King's back. His hands in fists shaking, eyes tight shut with life draining away. Finally, he collapses and lying in his own blood the torture finishes. The soldiers watching laugh, how little life seems to mean to them. The sense of evil wandering around the courtyard chills my bones.

I try to reach my King's outstretched hand but a soldier stamps on it. I say nothing as the pain is minimal compared to such a shredded back.


The Crown of Thorns

Margaret Kazmierczak writes about the Way of the Cross

To add insult to injury once my King has raised himself up and is struggling to keep upright, one of the soldiers rams a crown of thorns on his head. Another slings a red robe around his mangled shoulders (Matthew 27:27-31). The material is instantly drenched with blood and I see a grimace on my Saviour's face. 


The final journey begins



Margaret Kazmierczak blogs about Calvery



Scarcely able to put one foot in front of another, a burly soldier points to a Crossbar and demands that it be carried to Calvery. Two soldiers heave the wood onto his shoulders, the splinters digging into the muscles on his back. With steely determination, wiping the fresh blood out of his face my King slowly drags his decimated body towards his destiny. 


On the road to Calvary




The crowds hustle on either side of the road eager to see what is happening. Running behind the onlookers I jump periodically to keep an eye on the progress of my King. Three times he falls, smashing onto dust and stone, the crown of thorns piercing his head each time. I felt he wouldn't make the journey with such horrific injuries. On the third fall, I see soldiers seize a man from the crowd and command him to help (Matthew 27:32).


The King's final resting place



Margaret Kazmierczak blogs on the Crucifixion


On the ground ready for the Crossbar lies the upright post. My King places his piece of wood in the groove. Still, the Cross is incomplete, its arms desiring a victim. My King without any force surrenders to the inevitable and collapses onto the wooden surface. I sob, can a man endure anymore? Then three soldiers hammer nails into his hands and feet.

The Cross is now dragged over small rocks bumping my King and creating spasms that surge through his body. The soldiers raise the Cross up and crunch it into the dry stony earth. The jolt wrenches his hands and feet moving them against the iron nails. 



Margaret Kazmierczak blogs on the Crucifixion


I am not worth



Watching my King die in excruciating pain tears me apart. I see him gasp and I plunge to my knees - I am not worthy, forgive me, Father. His eyes fade and all is gone.


Margaret Kazmierczak blogs on Good Friday




The wind is blowing up a storm and clouds darker than the night roll overhead. The earth is shaking and as I look towards Jerusalem I see the Temple split in two. My King's prophecy has been fulfilled (Matthew 24:2). 

An eerie silence descends, and my world turned upside down - now what? My King is dead....




This week is Holy Week a time to ponder on the events leading up to Christ's death and Resurrection. We too are on a journey not necessarily to the same grotesque end, but nonetheless to a place that requires sacrifice, forgiveness and love to walk there.  

Come and join me each day as I accompany Jesus on His journey.

God bless,

Margaret





(Note: This is my expression of Holy Week, the order of events may have been a bit different.) 


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