It was a day like any day. The usual happenings of daily life seemed to be a normal response to my usual routine. As I was walking into town on a broad dirt road that stretched between cities, I noticed a crowd of people screaming, shouting and cursing within the walls of what seemed to be the town square. The presence of evil and pain seemed to run rampant through the smoke clouds of dust that was thrown wildly into the air by scurrying feet. There was a man crouched in a fetal position against the east wall of the square, crying uncontrollably. The agony of his weeping gripped my heart and tears began to run down my face. I tried to comfort him by putting my arm upon his shoulder, but the more I tried to comfort him the more bitterly he wept.

The sounds of rage and excitement then grasped my attention as it seemed to grow in intensity. I tried to see what was the cause of the commotion, but due to the size of the crowd, I was unable to see. I tried to work my way through the crowd, the vulgarity and rudeness of the people was appalling. When I reached the front, I saw a sight that will never leave my mind so long as I have the capacity to remember. A man was standing in the center of the crowd. His body was so badly beaten that there was a pool of blood within the area that He stood. His arms were outstretched as long as they could go, two men, one on each side of Him held tightly to the length of each arm. The pain had to be unbearable. The skin on His back was ripped and torn, bones were visible through the torn flesh. A man towered behind Him, dressed in a black cloak and hood that covered his face. The crowd shouted obscenities, some threw rotten fruit at this badly beaten man, others ran up to His face and spit on Him, others just cried at the sight of it all. Suddenly, the man in the cloak began to draw back his arm, which in it held a whip. On the end of the whip there were metal claws tied to it, my God, what it going on here! As the man in the cloak whipped his arm! forward, the cry of the badly beaten man yelled with a pain that I could not begin to understand. Again the man in black drew back his arm, in a rush of panic I ran to him and caught his arm as it whipped forward. The whip lashed backward and scraped across my face.

The badly beaten man slowly turned His head and gazed into my eyes with a slight sigh and the look of love upon His face. How can He love those who unmercifully cause Him such harm! Guilt then ripped through my soul like lightning through the sky. The man in black suddenly stopped and the crowd became deathly silent. He pulled back his hood and revealed his eyes, and for the first time, I looked at a grim reflection of myself face to face.

Strength then left my legs as fear and pain weakened my body, I wept at the sight of this man who had done nothing to deserve the pain that I had put him through. I mustered enough strength to get up and run, run away from all that I had done but the pain followed me like a charging lion. For the next few days I hid as far as I possibly could from anyone who could approach me. I sat in a corner, I shook and wept because of all that I had been through. Then it happened, I raised my head and in a cloud of tears I saw him, in glimmering white robes was the man that I had bruised, he slowly knelt down and with a touch of his finger lifted my chin and wrapped his arms around me. My tears began to saturate his robe as my sobbing kept me from asking him to forgive me for the pain that I had caused. He then stepped back and I was able to utter the words in cries of sorrow, fff---forgive me Jesus. He gently smiled and with a emotion in His voice he softly whispered, "For you I would do it all again!" He stretched out His arms, which revealed his nail pierced hands and said, " I love you that much!"