The Hill, The Father

The Hill, The Father

A Story by TheTragicOffense

The Hill Part 1

The Father

 

In the midst of time, HE stands.

He sheds a tear. An infinite being. Capable of creating and destroying, of giving and taking, who knows no bounds, who is forever; cries. A tear rolls down his cheek. He looks at the evil in the world. Unbound by time he sees it all. No future. No past. No present. Everything simply is. The Evil of every century is before him.

He sees the crime of Cain, the deaths of people around the globe in the 21st Century, the deaths of billions in the wars spanning from the beginning of time to the end.

And he cries. Because He knows what must be done.

He looks down at His son. His beloved. His only child. In a garden. On earth.

His son is crying, because he is about to carry a weight no man could bear. The weight of the world. His son kneels in the garden and cries. "Father," He asks. "If there is any other way. Let this cup pass."

They both know, there is no other way.

"Not my will but yours be done," He says. He knows the stakes. He knows how much it will cost. He knows.

 

'I know. It will cost me my whole world. My son.

It hurts me.

Unbound by time, unbound by laws, I see everything, I know his betrayer, and even now I see him. I see the Pharisees practicing lies to tell about my Son, I see him dead.

It's early in the morning. The guards come. I have the power to stop them. So does He.

We don't.

Instead we let him be led off, bound like a criminal. They beat him. As if He can't fight back. Bruising his skin, crushing muscle and tissue. Making him bleed.

I stand by Him, wanting to hold Him.

Knowing I can't.

 

We stand together looking at the world, the void. Time has not started yet. "Father?" He asks.

"Yes son?" I answer.

"Why do I have to do this?"

"You don't have to do this." I tell him.

"I do," He says.

"I know."

"I see hope in them," He says.

"Some will Love us back," I tell Him.

"I know. That is why I have to die."

"Then you already know," I say.

"It will hurt."

"It will hurt forever," I tell Him, but He already knows.

"But it will be worth it?"

"If only one of them Loves us, it will be worth it."

"Yes," He answers. Knowing.

 

I watch them beat Him with a rod. His skin turning purple, bubbling up, swelling. And tears roll down his face. They don't stop when he cries. Instead they laugh and hit harder. When he falls they jeer and beat him still.

Then they drag him to his feet and take him before some man. Some ruler who thinks he has power. I want to make worms eat his flesh.

But I don't.

They drag him off and beat him again. Hitting him in the face, putting his head in water to see how long he can hold his breath. Slapping him, taunting him.

I almost kill them all.

"Don't father, they don't know what they are doing," He cries out.

I don't kill them.

 

"If only one of them Loves us, it will be worth it."

"Yes," He answers. Knowing. "How many will love us?"

"Few, my son, very few."

"I will die for them all."

"Even those who will hate you?"

"Even those who will hate me," He says. "I love them all."

 

They mockingly put a crown of thorns on his head. I made those thorns. Two inches long, some of them, They stab deep into his brow. Blood gushes out, getting into his eyes and his mouth. They hit the crown with clubs and laugh, mocking him as he cries out in pain.

I could make those thorns come out from their bodies. Giving them more pain then they could imagine. But I don't.

 

"I'm sorry son," I say.

"Don't be. We knew this would happen," He says.

 

They whip him, tearing the flesh from his back.

A father shouldn't have to watch his son suffer.

A man shouldn't suffer at the hands of those he is saving.

These people are wretched. Vile.

 

"We knew this would happen."

 

The tear is rolling down my cheek.

 

I speak to my son before time, I see him dead on the cross, I see him being tortured, I see the liars accusing him, I watch as they bury my son, I cry as he hangs from a wretched cross naked, covered in His precious blood. I see them pulling the flesh from his back, the muscles being torn to shreds. I see his bones, I see his veins. They laugh and mock. He dies.

 

"We knew."

 

We stand at the bottom of the hill. My son and me.

His breath comes hard and raspy. Every breath is labored and he chokes. He can barely stand, but he carries the wood he is to be sacrificed on. We look up the hill. The altar where he is going to be offered.

I look at him, tears falling from my eyes.

I look at Him and I try to smile but I can't. I want to hug him, to hold my boy. But I can't.

He looks at me through his one good eye. Swollen almost too much to see through. He smiles with what strength he has. He doesn't mean it. His cheeks are torn enough that I can see into his mouth when it's closed. See his teeth. His face is covered in blood and mud. But is black underneath from the bruises. "We knew," He tries to whisper. But instead he coughs up blood and vomits onto the rocks below him.

The guards yell at him and whip him again on his back. He starts to walk. I walk beside him. I know that before this is over I will have to betray Him. I will have to leave his side and let him die alone. Perfect Justice. He is going to suffer alone. Humiliated and alone.

Justice.

 

"Few, my Son, very few."

"I will Die for them all."

Perfect Mercy.

 

At the top of the hill he collapses. Too tired to stand, in too much pain to breathe. But he knows it is not over. Not yet.

They bind him to the wood. Everything is prepared. The sacrifice, the ultimate sacrifice. The perfect lamb. They take a nail, rusty, sharp. And place it in his wrist. Poking just enough to make him bleed, and then they take a hammer. And they hit the nail. Driving it through his flesh in one blow. Through the muscle, through nerves. He screams in pain, coughing up more blood.

They hammer the nail again and again until it is far enough in the wood to hold him. They do this to his other hand and his feet. The pain is unbearable.

He cries.

I cry.

 

"I can't be there for you." I tell him.

"I know," He answers.

"I want to be."

"I know Father."

He wraps his arms around me. The link between Heaven and Earth. The Godman. The infinite contained within a finite shell. He embraces me. And I hold him in my arms. Tears running down our faces.

 

I walk away from Him. Leaving him to die alone.

 

We cry together, and he lets go. I hold him at arms length and we look at each other. Knowing how much it will cost us both.

"Are you ready?" I ask.

"I am."

He turns, and pushes the pendulum. Time begins. Day 1.

Everything is set in motion.

 

He dies. The world brightens. Not on the outside, on the outside it dies, storm clouds roll over the skies. Lightning strikes, the ground shakes and splits. The very rocks on the ground scream.

I die, I burst into tears, sobbing. My face in my hands, my heart turned cold. Shaking.

 

"We knew."

 

My shoulders shake. The ground shakes. Tears fall down my face, rain falls from heaven. I scream in agony, the ground screams.

 

"I love them all."

 

© 2012 TheTragicOffense


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Featured Review

Wow. I'm not really going to say very much about this because I don't have anything that would could be molded into words for a decent review. All I can say is that that is one of the most powerful things I've ever read. I know we've talked about this before but watching it play out in my head was incredible. It resonates. Absolutely perfect.

Posted 13 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

Wow. I'm not really going to say very much about this because I don't have anything that would could be molded into words for a decent review. All I can say is that that is one of the most powerful things I've ever read. I know we've talked about this before but watching it play out in my head was incredible. It resonates. Absolutely perfect.

Posted 13 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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608 Views
1 Review
Added on February 27, 2011
Last Updated on January 2, 2012
Tags: God, Father, Jesus, Christ, Hill, Calvary, Time, Creation, Hope, Death, Life, Decision, Theology, Philosophy

Author

TheTragicOffense
TheTragicOffense

Jacksonville, AR



Writing