People are screaming, cursing, jeering. They cast lots for his clothes and disdain his very existence. He hangs, a man so tortured that his humanity is not recognizable. He hangs, nails beaten through the flesh of his hands and feet. He hangs, thorns as long as his fingers piercing his brow. He hangs, the splinters in the rough wood of the cross like fire to his raw back. He hangs between life and death. He gasps for breath and yells with dying strength, “It is finished!”
There is Silence.
Behold your king, who bears the sins of the world.
very well written!
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