Willing

By Aleta Shaheen

I watched Him as He passed me by.

I watched as He began to fall.

I did not reach out to spare His fall,

But watched as He fell toward earth.

I watched as He became oh, so vulnerable.

I watched as He lay as if dead,

The whole world on His shoulders.

I slowly moved through the crowd to be by His side.

I picked up the dark and foreboding tree.

As I looked upon the tree, I saw the sins of the world.

I gazed on His innocent face and wondered how this could be.

As I looked into His eyes I saw that He was the Messiah,

The one that I had hoped and prayed for.

I wondered how He, as the Messiah, could bear to carry this weight.

How could the Promised One die as a common murderer?

He looked me in the eyes and said,

“I am doing this for you, and I do so willingly.”

“Willingly”; how could He say that?

How can He bear to look at my sins, let alone die for them?

I did not have time to ponder this for the guard yelled for us to go on.

As I walked I thought about my sins that He bore upon His shoulders.

The lies, idolatry, blasphemy, and lust that I had committed and He bore.

Why did He do this willingly?

We crested a hill and there it lay: Golgotha.

That was where He would die.

There I would lose my Redeemer and King.

All I could do was weep as I saw the place where my Lord would be crucified.

We climbed higher and higher.

I felt Him quake as we drew near the hill.

The tree seemed to grow heavier as we climbed.

I looked back at the tree and I saw the filth that the world described as pleasure.

It seeped through the tree like water to a sponge.

Where it touched it stained, like blood on snow.

The stench of death was present on the tree.

The death was that of sinners who had betrayed God.

We arrived at the hill just as He dropped to His knees.

I could hear Him pray, “Father if it’s Your will, take this cup from me.”

I did not hear an answer, but He struggled to His feet and went to the tree.

He placed himself upon the tree as meek as a lamb.

I could not stand there and let them kill Him.

I rushed toward Him and tried to remove Him from the tree.

As the Roman soldiers pulled me back I heard Him whisper, “I love you.”

I heard these words and sank to my knees.

I realized that He did this out of love for me.

I, a worthless sinner, did nothing to deserve this wondrous gift.

I watched as one nail was driven into His body,

Then two and finally three.

He did this for me.

I watched His final hours of life.

I watched as He promised a thief Paradise.

I watched as He cried out to His father.

I watched as He died. For me.

He died willingly for me.

That day a sinner became a saint.

My name is Simon

of Cyrene.