Crucified with Christ

Crucified With Christ
By Taryn 

4/10/04

As the congregation of my church filed row by row down the middle aisle, I sat in silence, waiting for my turn. I watched as our pastor washed their feet, then as they each took a single nail and pounded into one of the four crosses at the front of the sanctuary, finishing with communion. The clinging of hammer against nail rang in my ears and my mind was transported two-thousand years in the past.

The sight of the Roman soldiers pounding nails into three men's flesh stood before me. I immediately recognized the figure in the middle. Jesus. I numbly walked forward, getting closer and closer to the one who paid for my sins. Then, as I drew up under His cross, He suddenly became some-what transparent and I could see another person on the same cross.

Look closely, My child, a compassionate Voice told me. I looked at the odd image of two people being hung on the same cross and I caught my breath. The second person was my brother! Two hands, one holding a nail and the other a hammer, came toward him. I started to cry out, but my voice stayed stuffed in my throat. I realized that those hands were mine!

Remember, My child, the same Voice told me. The back of my mind went into the present as I watched myself pound the nails into my brothers hands. I remembered a few years before this eventful Good Friday night that I’d done something wrong and had blamed my brother. I had watched as he’d taken the spanking for me, the pain in his eyes had almost made me confess, but I’d kept my mouth shut. Now, the same look of pain was in his eyes. I glanced at my Savior in desperation and saw a mirrored look of pain in His eyes, but a look of kindness also stood out.
Then, my brother’s form faded and was replaced by another familiar form. That of my best friend. I didn’t need the voice to tell me to remember. It had only been the day before that we’d gotten in a fight and become ex-best friends. Again, my hands started pounding a nail into skin belonging to some one close to me. I locked my gaze into the Savior’s eyes and saw pain mirroring that of the kind in my best friend’s eyes, a pain of a different kind of my brother’s.

This process happened again and again. My parents, my friends, and other people I’d hurt flashed before my eyes as my hands kept up a constant pounding. Each swing of the hammer put the nail through both the skin of the people I’d wronged and the skin of my Savior. Blood kept up a constant flow, spilling down my hands.
Then suddenly my perspective changed. I was now looking down on a crowd of people, all wielding hammers and nails. I could hear the sound of labored breathing behind me. I watched in horror as the same brother I’d nailed on this same cross earlier, now put a nail up to my hand. An intense pain filled me and I clenched my hands. I watched my blood mix with my Savior’s, than drip onto my brother’s already bloody hands.
The pain kept coming as others pounded in my nails. I noticed that some of them had scars in their own hands, but some did not. Even the saved hurt their own kind, the Voice spoke up. I knew it was explaining the scars, but I also knew it was telling me why I’d nailed all those close to me to the cross.
As the never ending sound of hammer against nail clanged, I felt weaker and weaker. Just as I felt I would give up on life, one last person stood before me. In my bleak state of mind, I was surprised to see it was myself! Romans 6, the Voice reminded me. I searched my brain and remembered that Romans 6 talked about dying with Christ so we can be free from sin.

If you want to live, you must die, the Voice firmly told me. The impact of the Voice’s words hit me full force. If I wanted to life in holiness, I’d have to nail my sinful self to the cross. I turned my head and met my Savior’s assuring eyes. With as much strength I had left in me, I returned my gaze to myself and nodded. I closed my eyes and waited for the intense pain. I was surprised when the clanging began, but I felt no pain. Instead, I could feel Life flowing through my body, but it wasn’t my Life. I opened my eyes and looked back at my Savior. I was shocked to see He was covered in blood. I looked down and saw it wasn’t my blood coming out of the hole being pounded into my skin, but His blood covering me. As I was strengthened, my Savior was weakening.
As the last swing hit the nail, I could feel myself being set back onto firm ground. I looked up and saw my Savior gasp for breath and say, "It is finished." The Voice came back and added, My child, you are free from your sin. And then I knew it wasn’t my life that had been restored to my body, but Christ’s. By wanting to live without sin, I passed my sin onto Someone else, killing Him.

For some reason, as this revelation dawned on me, I did not feel shocked. I knew He would rise again and be more powerful than before. More powerful because He had acquired one more soul striving to be like Him.
I smiled and closed my eyes, sending a prayer up to my Father. When I opened them again, I was back in my congregation and it was my row’s turn to go. As I walked forward, a great peace came over me and a memory verse popped into me head. Galatians 2:20, "I have been crucified with Christ and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, Who loved me and gave Himself for me." I smiled and stepped up to take my turn, knowing it wasn’t Christ I was nailing when I pounded that nail, but my sinful self was being pinned to that cross.