The Crucifixion - Rafiki

They killed him!! THEY KILLED HIM!!!! They killed my Jesus! They CRUCIFIED him, when he did NOTHING wrong! They couldn’t even charge him with anything. They only killed him because they’re afraid of him, even though they need him.

And I had to watch it…

I went with my family to watch the crucifixion. Mom and Dad were hoping that if the crowd expressed enough discontent and disapproval of the crucifixion of Jesus that the Romans wouldn’t go through with it. But when we got there, we realized that most of the crowd was in favor of the unjust murder of my Savior.

The four of us were in hysterics, crying and weeping and wailing for Jesus, the Son of God whom the heartless and unjust soldiers of Rome were putting to death in such a brutal way. We watched as a man named Simon had to help Jesus carry the cross since Jesus was so physically weak and weary from the blood loss they had caused him with what I can only imagine were heartless floggings and beatings. And for no reason! Jesus never sinned, and yet they punished him in this manner!

And, moreover, why didn’t Jesus save himself from this torment! Maybe he isn’t omnipotent after all. Maybe he was just a human after all. Probably just a prophet sent from God. But he was a great man, so how could anyone do this to him?!

I had to look away when they laid Jesus down on the cross and nailed him to the cross with loud, stinging blows of the hammer. Mom began sobbing even harder than before, and Dad and my older brother were doing their best to comfort her. But despite their efforts, all of us were stricken by inconsolable grief. How could I watch this anymore?

I ran off, my path blurred by my overflowing eyes. I sobbed and ran as far as my legs would take me, until I made it to a hill where I could barely see Golgotha. It was a hill where I could see three crosses with sagging human figures on them. I could see the flaming torches in the strangely-dark scene, and I caught the occasional gleam of Roman weaponry or armor. But what was most noticeable was the crowd’s shameless and persistent mockery of Jesus, calling him the king of the Jews.

Suddenly, there was a violent earthquake that broke open even rocks. I heard a giant tear coming from the temple, and screams of terror interrupting the crowd’s jeers. I knew in an instant that my Savior was dead. I threw my head back and shouted at God in my loudest of voices: “HOW COULD YOU?!” So I ignored the angry tears painting my face and ran to find my family.