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Persecution

The cold; the pain. Both ripping at my wounded, open flesh. Both of them; unbearable.
The weight hanging from my bruised and bloody shoulders; the cross I am forced to drag to my death.
The guards; they spit on me. They whip me and abuse me. Yet, I have done nothing wrong.
The citizens; they spit many lies and insults. Yet, they don’t even know me.
I am a Christian. Christ is my Savior and son of the one and only true God. Christ rules my life .The Romans; many of them don’t believe in God. Hundreds who do are beheaded; thousands more end up with the torturous end I now share.
I reach the hill. The Romans have already dug a hole to fit the cross. After lying the cross down, the soldiers push me onto the cold splintered wood. My eyes water when one grabs a hammer and a nail. I shut my eyes when they place the cold tip of the nail on my hand.
The sound is sickening; the pain is intolerable; and my scream echoes through the now silent hill. Waves after waves of a burning fire of pain race from my now pierced, blood-covered hand.
The soldier retrieves another nail and bends down to place it on my second hand. It took all I could, but I shot my arm and slammed my fist hard into the soldier’s nose. Blood trickled from the soldier’s nose. The other soldiers held my arm against the cross. The bloodied soldier picks up a new nail; this one looks much more dull and rusty. This will be painful. I tense my muscles and close my eyes.
The first hit sends the nail halfway into my hand. A lightning bolt of pain shocks from hand to head and back again. A second hit hits water to lightning and burns a fire of pain more intense than the heat of the sun. The second hit sends the nail through my hand and the cross’s arm. The nail burns the ripped and raw remains of what once was my hand.
The guard now retrieves a new nail; this one much longer. All I can do is weep bitterly as the soldiers align my feet at the foot of my cross.
My cries echo throughout the silent hillside. The soldiers left me up; now attached to the cross. The weight of my dying flesh pulls most of my weight to my feet.
I can’t breathe. Breath has escaped me as well as any hope of survival. All of my strength has vanished. I lift up and take my now numbered breaths.
Breath has always been a gift. It’s always been easy. No one should ever have their rights to breathe taken away from them as I and any other victims of the cross suffer. I have never worked so hard for something that is instinct.
The cold; it rips at my open wounds. The pain; unbearable, as if being trampled by a herd of oxen, then stabbed maliciously by the entire Roman Legion. The splinters; they poke at the fresh open wounds on my back. The cross; my death bed and the nails holding me to it.
The Romans; the citizens; they laugh at me. How foolish of me to believe in a god I can’t see. I should ask them the same question, if I could breathe.
I take another breath. My time is close. I gaze at the citizens, then gaze at the sky.
“Lord help them!” I cry, “For they know not what they do!”
The people stare in astonishment at my intense statement and the loud, stern voice that spoke it from my throat.
On hearing such a plea, the soldiers walk to my cross with a club. I lift up and take my last breath as I feel a crunch in my knees and title waves of pain from them as the soldiers break them.

This is what happened. Thousands of people were killed and millions more are still being killed today. And we, as Americans are afraid to walk around with a Bible. What are we afraid of? Being laughed at? Some people are brutally and inhumanely murdered for having a torn page of the Bible. So what if we are killed sharing our faith. Mathew 5:10 says, “Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.” We will live in eternal paradise. Most people out there won’t’. They will live the Second Death in the Lake that burns with fire and sulfur! We all deserve being sent to eternal torture, but God wants to wipe every tear from our eyes. He wants everyone to enjoy life in Heaven, so everyone deserves to hear His Word.




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