by Alan Knox

Created on: May 01, 2008

The Hill

The climb up the hill was exhausting - harder than I ever imagined. Once I reached the top, I collapsed in a heap at the base of the tree and rested in its shadow. The fatigue slowly consumed me until I drifted into a much sought period of rest, peace, comfort.

When I awoke, my mission, my purpose on this hill, eluded me for a few moments. Eventually, my mind cleared from its slumber, and I turned my face toward the tree, my eyes resting at the base where it met the ground. I could not force myself to look up.

I knew this tree. I had been here before. And I knew what it held for me. I knew the significance. But more importantly, I recalled its purpose, its reason for being, and immediately, the tears began to flow as if the heavens themselves opened for another flood. And all I could do was cry.

My heart cried. Not from emotion, though there was plenty of emotion involved. And not from guilt, though guilt was present also. No, there was something more - tangible, corporeal. And I cried all the more.

I cried when I heard the echo of my own voice crying out with the crowd. Because, I had known better. Yet, I followed them. Perhaps, they could be excused, either from ignorance or fear, but I had known better.

I cried when I remembered my pride, my self-centeredness. For I am nothing, and I have nothing; and still, I lifted myself up and was overjoyed when I prevailed. "Look at me! Look at what I've done!" Yes, those were my words, dripping with the contempt and wickedness that was myself. That was my attitude. Motivated out a passion for myself and a desire to be greater than I am - greater than I could ever be.

I cried when I saw the evidence, still clearly visible on that tree. For my actions caused pain and suffering. My offenses pierced the very heart that I had claimed to love. Oh, yes, I had my reasons. And from the mountaintop I shouted them until the world knew that I was not guilty. But there is the evidence for that very same world to see. Clearly visible and completely undeniable.

I cried when I tasted the bile of anger and hatred that had burned inside of me until it burst out in an unconstrained volley of maliciousness and slander. Words that cut deeper than the thrust of the sharpest swords and infests more thoroughly than the deadliest of poisons. That kind of phrases that remain in the memory and grow, and kill.

I cried when my hands pressed the thorns into the brow, the jar of the mallet against the nails, the thrust of the spear.

And the enormity of it all overwhelmed me. My back bent under the burden. My face pressed into the dirt.

And another was crying with me.

And I looked up, beyond the shadow that fell across my face and peered at the lone figure hanging on the tree. All I could see were his eyes. Not condemning or accusing. Not shame or disappointment.

All I could see were his eyes - full of love, understanding, compassion, forgiveness.

Forgiveness? Yes, he forgave me, completely and unconditionally.

Beyond that scene of brutality and pain that I myself had caused, his eyes held warmth and concern for me.

And... joy?

Slowly, the burden was lifted and I could stand once more, but I didn't. Instead, this time, I willingly fell face forward into the dirt at the base of that tree and rested my head against its trunk.

And one drop of blood trickled from his brow, past those beautiful eyes, down his cheek, and fell through the air until it came to rest in my heart.

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