Site hosted by Build your free website today!
<bgsound src="images/awesomegod.mid" loop=infinite>
I wrote this story to try to capture as much as I can in words, the event of the crucifixion.  A lot of this is not directly from the bible, so don't believe that it is an actual account of Mary or something.  I've based the story on the crucifixion story, but some of it is from my own imagination.  It's pretty obvious what I've made up, but if you'd like to read the actual story for yourself you can check out Matthew 27:27 - 28:20, Mark 15-16, Luke 23:1 - 24:12, John 19:1 - 20:8

A soft rain fell, permeating the area with an overwhelming melancholy atmosphere.  Mary sat alone in a dark room.  Seemingly overnight, her hair had turned from a vibrant brown to dull gray.  Blessed with the gift of bearing and raising God in the flesh, she would forever be remembered as the earthly mother of Jesus, but that title did not come without a price.  Mary had stood in the front of the crowd that had watched Jesus tortured and, finally, his earthly death.

 The wife of a simple carpenter and not in the highest social status, Mary had raised Jesus just as a Christian mother should.  He was always the perfect child.  She had enjoyed watching  him grow up.  She would kiss his hand when he fell and scratched it, and she would nurse him when he was sick.  Mary praised her son when he brought home his very first accomplishment in carpentry.  It was a wooden bench that his father, Joseph, taught him to build.  She was with him through his childhood, and she wept when he went out into the world.  Now it seemed these fond childhood memories were all that was left of the greatest man to ever walk the earth.

  The crowd stank of sweat.  The sun was intense.  It bore down on the crowd with such vengeance that it seemed only God himself could be behind it.  Mary gazed through tear filled eyes as her son was forced down an aisle of people, with a great cross on his back.  When he slowed for an instant, a kick to the ribs would get him moving again.  Mary felt she must turn away or be sick, but she couldn't bring herself to take her eyes off of the child she had raised.

 Suddenly Jesus collapsed.  The cross bore down on him, slamming his face into the hard-packed dirt.  When the roman soldiers' kicks failed to stir him, a man was grabbed from the crowd and forced to bear the great burden.  Jesus limped on.  He faced what he knew must happen with a strength only one man could ever possess.  As Mary watched in horror, she saw her little boy battered and bleeding.  All that was left of his back was muscle hanging down from beared bone.  The little flesh that remained was barely clinging to his back, a swollen purple mass.  Blood flowed freely from the many open wounds.  A crown of thorns was placed on his head, causing blood to pour down his face and into his eyes.  As he came closer to Mary, she ran to embrace him, but she was thrown to the side by the guards.  She heard Jesus muttering something as he passed that sounded like, "Father, forgive them."

 As Mary watched the procession continue, moments seemed like hours as they finally reached the spot of the crucifixion.  A wave of nausea swept over her as her son was thrown onto the cross which lay on the ground.  His arms and legs were tied tightly to the rugged piece of wood.  A soldier put a giant nail to his hand and raised a large hammer high into the air.  Mary saw Jesus as a child, smiling up at her with his luminous eyes full of love.  Clang!  The hammer came crashing down, and his scream was heard throughout the hillside.  Mary's eyes exploded with tears.

 The second rusty nail was placed and the hammer raised.  Mary saw the young Jesus holding up a wooden chair he and his father had made, smiling proudly.  Clang!  The hammer struck true again, and the wailing scream of Jesus was matched only by the screams of his mother.

 The third nail was placed at his feet and the hammer ascended for the final blow.  Mary saw the young Jesus run into the house nursing a cut and bleeding hand.  He cried and she kissed it for him, still hearing the words she had said long ago.

 "Don't worry, my son.  I'll never let anything hurt you. . ."  The hammer came down one final time.  The crowd cheered, yelling 'Crucify him!  Crucify him!'  Jesus let out an unearthly scream, his pain unmatched by any other.  Mary tried to look away but couldn't.  Her eyes were fixed on his bleeding body, held by rusty nails to a rugged old piece of wood.  Her heart screamed, and she could no longer see through her tears, nor did she want to see.

 The cross was raised slowly, Jesus' broken body on display for all to see.  The multitudes let out a cheer while it seemed Mary, the mother of Jesus and Jesus, the son of God himself, were the only people not overjoyed.  Two thieves were raised beside the mighty Prince of Peace, their bodies nowhere near as mangled as Jesus'.

 The first of the men said to him, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom."
 Jesus replied, choking on his own blood, "I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise."
 The sky became dark and somber.  Ominous black clouds hovered over the entire scene and Jesus cried, "It is finished."  With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.  Mary screamed, her tears flooding her vision and nausea racked her body.  The son of God was gone from the world.  He would no longer walk the earth, bringing happiness and peace wherever he went. . .  or would he?


 On the first day of the next week, three women that were close to Jesus were walking to leave gifts at the tomb.  When they arrived, they found an angel that told them that He had risen.  Jesus appeared to them and to the disciples and to many other people before he ascended to heaven to take his rightful place at the right hand of God.  There was, of course, a point to this suffering, death, and finally, the resurrection.

 Jesus willingly sacrificed himself so that, through him, we could have forgiveness.  He loves us all and wants us to be with him for eternity, but we must first accept him.  Only then can we feel true joy and forgiveness.

 Back to Stories Page