The Cost of Light
Darkness resided deep within the black waves. There were no crashes of light, no glimmer, no glitter, no sun. No hope. No life. All was rocked by stillness, all but the molecules pulled in and out by the subtle, gentle waves. The galaxy was black, still, silent. But finally, the time to create had come. The Maker had decided it to be so.
A peal of thunder ripped across the inky canvas of the heavens. The waters began to stir. The waves swelled. The tide crashed with higher frequency. All of the creation knew something big was to take place.
A voice, deeper than the sea and richer than the thick darkness boomed across the expanse of the black canvas, “y’hi ’ôr! Let there be light!”
Waves swelled, electricity surged, perilous waves began to glisten with sparks. Heat shot across the blank sky.
Rays of brilliant light exploded. Indigo, yellow, orange, green, turquoise… colours emerged and with them, warmth set in. All things were waking. Another great peal of thunder ripped across the sky. Melodious, deep, rhythmic. The Father was laughing. Joy! Joy! Joy! His plan was so good, so good. His Son stood at His right-hand side, observing. Flashes of light exploding in his smiling eyes. Holy Spirit spun around them, his laughter was light and gentle, just as diamonds of the earth brushing against one another. Sparkles burst across the land and settled into the newly formed dirt.
The sound of strings filled the air and circled the Three, the Trinity, bound as Love. Fresh scents rushed in as a wind, perfuming the land with the smell of freshly fallen rain, violet, jasmine and roses. Everything was being made new.
Many other colours emerged from the canopy above the lightened sea. They sliced through the waves and spread out beneath the waters, the first watercolour portrait. Blackness faded, only left as shading. The Creator’s smile shone over all that He had made, further accentuating the deep, light and pastel. The beginning of the world He loved had commenced. The Trinity danced over the world that had been created. The three danced together, forever intertwined in their love. They sang a song that rang across the waters and spread through all the land, “Beauty. Beauty. Beauty! It is good! It is good! It is good!”
Thousands of years later…AD 33
Long splinters dug their claws deep into his flesh, pricking like misplaced needles and drawing large drops of crimson blood. Torn flesh hung from both sides of his back, the pain he felt was further exacerbated by the roar of the massive crowd. The cross weighed heavily on his shaking shoulders and back.
Just keep walking. Father, give me strength. Oh, Father.
The man forced one foot in front of the other. The sand shifted and he lost his balance. The huge wood frame twisted towards the ground, taking his bloody shoulders with it. Everything in his body cried for relief. His knee cracked as it smacked against the earth. Sharp pains shot through every muscle, nerve and tendon.
Father, father, father!
The soldier’s whip whistled through the air and smacked against exposed flesh. Yeshua gripped the cross with white knuckles. Splinters dug under his fingernails and into his bloodied hands.
A man edged his way through the crowd, his eyes frantic. He lifted his arms in surrender and waved them in front of the Roman, “Stop! Stop!” The man stopped beside the convicted criminal. Without making eye contact he grit his teeth and shouldered the burden.
With the man’s strength, Yeshua made it to the top of the hill.
As the nails were buried deep, through his wrists and into the wood a violent shaking spread through his body. The searing nerves worsened as he was hoisted off the ground and into the air. The cross lifted then dropped. The nails in both wrists and in his feet pulled down, stretching and ripping tendons. The open skin on his back scraped against the wood. Pain. Pain. Pain. He tore attention from the pain and onto those his death would save. They are worth it. They are worth it. They are worth it. Humanity is worth it. Faces of those from past, present and future flipped through his mind. Smiling, frowning, in pain, laughing. They all belonged to the Creator and the Creator wanted them to know His love for them. So perfect. So perfect. So perfect.
Yeshua would suffer for them. He would die for them. He would give everything for them, no matter what the cost.
Yeshua squinted and gazed up towards the afternoon sun. Heat scorched his body and burned raw flesh. He felt a pair of eyes on him and looked down. Soldiers sat at a table beneath him rolling a dice, gambling away his clothing.
His mother glanced at the laughing soldiers then at her son. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Her face twisted in a grimace. John stood beside her, his face white, his head shaking. The man’s eyes dropped to the ground.
“John…” Yeshua gasped. His friend looked up to listen but Yeshua’s air was running out. He hoisted himself against the nails tearing his flesh and took a short breath.
He stared into Miriam’s dark eyes, the ones that had seen his first breath would now see his last. “Mother, here…” he tilted his head in John’s direction.
“Here is your son.” Yeshua raised himself once more then dropped. The pain was great, so great. With each laboured breath, darkness fell. Hours passed, pain intensified, organs failed the time drew close. Death was imminent. The time arrived. Pharisee’s stared, Romans jeered, his mother and sisters wept bitterly, his siblings stared angrily and muttered under their breath, “you’re such a fool.”
What Yeshua had come to do was worth it all. The man on the cross tilted his chin towards the sky and opened his mouth. “Eloi… Eloi!” His voice cracked and broke, burdened by dehydration and the lack of air to his lungs, “lama sabachthani! My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?”
With laboured breath and shaking body he cried, “Tetelestai! It is paid in full!” The light, the breath exited his lungs. His bruised, bloodied body fell limp against the tree. Miriam’s sobs intensified as darkness, black as sin, descended heavily on the hill of the skull. The cranial shaped earth trembled. The cries of onlookers pierced the air.
What he had come to do, pay the price for man’s sin.
He had done it. It was finished.