The Redeemer (30 page)
“That’s right,” Satan interjected. “His blood will be on your hands, Pilate. If He’s God, you’ll be cursed throughout eternity. Let Him go now!”
“You have nothing in your hands,” Jesus said. “Any power you have comes to you from My Father for this purpose.”
“Liar! Imposter!” Satan screamed at Jesus.
“It has begun,” Jesus said to Satan. “And you can’t stop it.”
Pilate thought Jesus was talking to him, so he threw up his hands and turned to the crowd.
“I wash my hands of this man’s blood.”
“His blood be upon us and all our children!” the crowd yelled back.
“Take Him away,” Pilate relented. “Let Him be crucified.”
I was devastated, confused, a total wreck. Although Jesus had told His disciples this would happen, they hadn’t believed it, and I suppose I hadn’t either. This was my worst nightmare. There was no ram in the brambles. All my hope rested on Jesus. What if He was wrong? What if He were no different from the others God had used to try to save the Jews? What if He died and stayed dead like Abraham, Moses, Joshua, and David?
They led Jesus away to the streets where the soldiers hoisted a heavy cross onto His back and ordered Him to carry it. One of them braided a thorn bush into a circle and smashed it down on the top of His head.
“Hail, King of the Jews!” he mocked Jesus.
Crowds of people lined the street. Some were crying. Others shouted obscenities at Him as He stumbled under the weight of the cross. I looked around for Satan. When I didn’t see him, I flew to Jesus’ side. It was my last chance to talk to Him.
“Jesus.” I mopped His head with my wing as He staggered toward a hill called Calvary. “What is it You and Satan know that the rest of us don’t? Will You escape in the end?”
He stumbled again for the last time.
“You, there,” a soldier yelled at a bystander named Simon. “Pick up the cross and carry it for Him.”
“Why me? I’m just here to bring my sacrifice. I don’t want to get involved.”
“Do it.” The soldier cracked his whip.
Simon told his young son to keep an eye on the cart that carried the sacrificial lamb they’d brought for an offering.
“Where are you going, father?” The boy was frightened.
“You heard the soldier. I have to help the man with the cross.”
“What shall I do?” the boy asked as he took hold of the cart.
“Keep your eyes on the lamb.”
At last we reached the hill where two other crucifixions had already happened that day. The men hanging on the crosses cried out in their agony, begging God to let them die quickly. I couldn’t watch as they nailed Jesus to the cross and stood it upright alongside the criminals. One of the victims called out to Jesus.
“If You’re the Son of God, save Yourself and us.”
“Shut up,” said the other. “Have you no fear of God? We’re guilty and deserve to die, but this man is innocent.” He leaned his head toward Jesus. “Son of God, remember me when You come into Your kingdom.”
I wasn’t expecting Jesus to answer.
“I promise you this very day, you will be with Me in Paradise.”
When I heard His voice, I raced to the top of the cross where Jesus hung, took His face in my hands, and begged Him to look at me.
“Jesus, remember me when You come into Your kingdom.”
I barely got the words out before from out of nowhere Satan appeared and grabbed me by both wings and sent me crashing to the ground.
“Traitor!” he screamed at me. “I should have destroyed you long ago. I cast you out of my kingdom and out of the earth. I curse you. You will wander aimlessly over the abyss until you collapse to the unquenchable fire below. You will find no resting place, no solace, and demons greater than you will follow you and torment you until you are consumed, and it will be as though you never existed.”
I lay stunned and motionless at the foot of the cross as Satan loomed over me kicking me. With each curse he spat at me. I know Jesus uttered a few last words, but I couldn’t hear them as Satan stomped my head and smashed my ears. I was almost unconscious when he suddenly shrieked and grabbed his own head. Through my blurred vision, I saw where a gaping, gushing rupture had erupted like a small volcano in the middle of his skull. The wound smoldered like an acid burn. At first I couldn’t make out what had happened until the second drop of Jesus’ blood dripped down on him. The prince of evil screeched and tore at his head like an animal trying to get the blood off when He heard Jesus say his name.
“Satan, it is finished. I’ll be going now.”
Jesus lowered His head and died.
The fallen archangel slumped to the ground and thrashed about the way a snake does when its head has been crushed. He slithered away as the day turned to sudden darkness. The thunder rolled and lightning bolts slammed into the ground as the terrified people ran for their lives.
“What have we done?” The priests panicked and grabbed hold of Caiaphas’s arm, but he shrugged them off and ran away like the others.
I could barely move. I knew the hurricane winds were about to blow me away. I summoned all my remaining strength and struggled to wrap myself around the bottom of the cross as the earth turned upside down, the winds howled, and lightning strikes split the ground apart.
“Jesus!” It took all that was in me to get the words out. “Let Your blood drip down on me.”
Then it was silent.
I drifted in and out of consciousness after that, unsure of what was real and what was a dream. I thought I saw a Roman soldier kneeling down beside me.
“Surely this was the Son of God,” he said.
“Yes, I know.”
Waves of light and dark swept over me as I resisted unconsciousness.
Then I thought I saw Jesus, standing over me.
“Oh, hello, Jesus. Did You die?”
He was radiant with a crown on His head and a sword in His right hand. In the other hand He held a ring with keys, which He dangled in front of me.
“What are those keys for, Jesus?” I struggled to stand but could not.
“You know, don’t you?” He smiled at me.
“You’re going after them, aren’t You?” I tried to stand again. “You’re going for the ones waiting for You in Hades—in Abraham’s Bosom.”
He smiled again and nodded.
“Wait,” I tried to crawl toward Him. “Wait. Take me with You.”
“You stay here.” He winked at me. “I’ll be right back.”
I
WATCHED THE FIRST
rays of the morning sun rise over the temple in Jerusalem. All night long I’d sat at the foot of the cross waiting to see if Jesus was coming back. The crowds were gone. The prisoners who had hung on the other crosses had been taken down, buried somewhere, I suppose. I felt so completely alone. I didn’t know what to do and had nowhere to go. There was no reason for me to stay on the earth, but I dared not chance going back to my perch in the second heaven.
I wasn’t sure whether or not Satan was still alive. If he was, he would follow through with his curses against me, and I would be destroyed in a horrible way. If he was dead, who would be in charge? Not that it mattered; all the other demon gods hated me and would make a sport out of annihilating me. I decided to look for the disciples.
I flew all over the city searching for them. I went to every place we had ever spent the night. I went to their homes. I went to the jails. I went to Mary and Martha’s house. They were nowhere to be found. Since they hadn’t been imprisoned, I knew they had to be hiding, but where? I searched all that day but found no trace of them. As a last resort, I went to Pilate’s palace; maybe I would overhear something that would tell me where the disciples had gone. I arrived just in time to walk in with Caiaphas and two other chief priests.
“Now what do you want?” Pilate wasn’t in a cheery mood.
“It’s about Jesus,” Caiaphas was curt. “I want you to post a guard over His tomb.”
“The man is dead. Why can’t you just leave Him alone?”
“My associates here reminded me how He said He would die and rise again in three days.”
“And that means what to me?”
“We are concerned that His followers might try to steal the body and claim that He rose from the dead, needlessly stirring the people all up again.”
“I doubt it. From what I’ve heard, His men disappeared the night He was arrested and haven’t been seen since.”
“Nonetheless, we can’t take the chance that—”
“That what? That He was God and is coming back to haunt you?”
“Will you post the guard or not?”
“Guards!” Pilate called out, and immediately two soldiers came into the room. “Station a couple of your best men at the tomb where they buried that man Caiaphas had crucified yesterday, the King of the Jews.”
“What?” Caiaphas protested. “He was no such thing, and I did no such thing. I don’t have the power to order an execution.”
“Save it for someone who cares.” Pilate cut him short and continued giving orders to the guards. “Make the tomb as secure as you know how. If anyone tries to steal the body, kill them. If anybody
does
steal the body, you’ll wish you were dead. Understand?”
“Yes, my lord.” Both soldiers saluted and left.
I followed the soldiers to the tomb. All the way I fretted about what I would do when we got there. If they went in to check the body, should I go in with them?
I don’t think I could bear to see Him dead. I must hold on to the vision I had of Him with the scepter and the keys.
I was so relieved when we got there to find a massive stone had been rolled in front of the opening to the tomb. The soldiers were impressed with its size.
“Is Pilate kidding?” asked the first. “It would take more than you and me to move that rock. No one’s getting in.”
“Did you see the look on the high priest’s face? He wasn’t worried about someone getting in. He wants to be sure no one gets out.”
They laughed and then each took a position on either side of the stone. Nothing else happened for the rest of the day.
The soldiers didn’t sleep that night, and since I couldn’t sleep, I was glad to have the company. I decided to stay there as long as they did. It was barely daybreak when one of the guards jumped to his feet and readied his spear.
“Who goes there?”
Where? I don’t see a thing.
As the sun rose a little more, I could see the silhouettes of three women coming toward the tomb. I recognized them immediately as being friends of Jesus.
“What’s your business here?” the soldier called out, somewhat less fiercely when he saw they were only women.
“We’ve come to anoint our Lord,” Mary Magdalene answered.
Before the solider could respond, a blinding light exploded all around us, and a huge warrior angel in all his armor stood between the women and the guards.
Michael!
Michael drew his swords and faced the guards, who were so terrified they fainted right there on the spot. I must say I was surprised. Fainting is what I was just about to do, but I expected more grit from Rome’s finest.
“Don’t be afraid,” Michael said to the women. “I know you’re looking for Jesus. He isn’t here.”
He isn’t? He isn’t!
With one finger, Michael rolled away the stone.
“See for yourself.”
He stood aside and let the frightened women enter. I didn’t wait for ladies first. I rushed in ahead. Where the body should have been was an empty shroud. A separate, napkin-like cloth was folded and laid to the side. There was nothing else. The women were distraught.
“Where have they taken Him?”
“It is as He told you. He has risen from the dead and has gone ahead to meet you. Go quickly and tell His disciples.
The women were too dumbstruck to move. Michael can have that effect on people. I’d been there more than once myself. About that time a man I took to be the gardener walked up.
“Hello,” he greeted the women.
“Jesus!” they shouted and fell down to worship Him.
“Jesus!” I shouted as I fell down with them.
“Now get up,” He said, “and go find Peter and the others. Tell them I will meet them; they know the place.”
Away they ran.
Does He mean me too?
I looked up, but Jesus was already gone. When I looked back down, I realized I was about two inches from Michael’s massive foot. He was standing right over me. The last time I was in this position with him, he was about to swing a sword at me. I lifted my head just enough to see his face.
“You too,” he said.
Then he was gone in a flash, and so was I. I flew to catch up with the women.
I hope one of you knows where the disciples are. I’ve looked everywhere and couldn’t find them.
I just hadn’t known where to look. They were hiding in the wine cellar of an old house just outside the city gate. Mary knocked three times then twice more on the wooden door. A slit opened, and I recognized Peter’s eye.
“It’s us,” Mary said.
Peter opened the door, and we slipped in quickly. They were all there, except for Judas. From the looks of them, I guessed they’d been there since Jesus was arrested.
