There was something big going on. The Hebrew temple leadership was in an uproar, wanting to have someone put to death over some infraction of their silly religious law. But this was different somehow. It was hard to define, I could feel something much bigger and more important than what it seemed, but couldn’t quite place what it was. As a young Roman soldier, I knew I had to be a part of it somehow.
I had an idea! I’ve always had a wicked sense of humor, and when I heard them saying that He referred to Himself as the “king of the Jews”, I thought to myself, “Self....maybe we should make a crown for Him.” Like one of those victor’s wreaths in the Olympic games, only the grand prize here was death! There were some prickly thorn bushes nearby, so I quickly put my idea into action, clipping and weaving some of the nastiest looking thorny branches that I could find together. This would be hilarious, and my fellow soldiers would finally appreciate my humor and what I could contribute to the Roman empire.
This will be awesome, I thought, as I pricked my finger on yet another thorn. But it was worth it for the painful, dark joke that I was preparing in order to mock this "king" and show Him that He's nothing, belonging to the lowly Jews, rather than a Roman citizen.
This is going to be so funny, this peasant that calls himself some sort of king. Here's your crown, King Nothing!
Suddenly, that jerk, Gallus, snatched my novel crown of thorns for the King of the Jews out of my hands and slammed it onto Him. So, I added my own insult as I hit Him with the stick I was holding, driving it further onto His head. I could see some of the thorns dig into His scalp, breaking off pieces under His flesh. That would be a nasty infection, if He were to live long enough. But He wouldn’t.
We ripped the bloody rags from His body, blood clots had already started to form and scab over, the dried blood sticking to the fabric. As we ripped it loose, it started bleeding again. I could see some parts of bone through the bloody mess that had been His back. He'd had a thorough scourging, which many would not have survived.
Valens draped a purple robe over His shoulders, as we hit Him and ripped out pieces of His beard. More blood trickled down His face from the crown I had created for Him.
No one else had ever thought of an idea like this, maybe it will catch on and others will copy me against any other criminal "kings" who might consider usurping the Roman empire in the future. They will find it hilariously funny, just like my cheerful name - Hilarius.
I'll probably be famous for this!
I whacked Him on the head again with my stick, asking Him to prophesy, as Fabius and Brutus spit on Him and mockingly bowed down in front of Him before gleefully hopping to their feet and punching Him straight in the face.
"Prophesy, who hit you?" I yelled as I placed a broken reed in His hands, hoping He'd try to lash out at us with it, giving us more reason and opportunity to beat Him senseless.
At that moment, His eyes locked onto mine. I mean locked, I could not move or look away. I saw the pain there, but there was more, so much more. I could see a sorrow, but it wasn’t for what was happening to Him. It seemed to be an expression of grief directed toward me! How could He feel sorry for me at this point? His eyes pierced through my very soul and I realized this was no mere rebel that we were mocking and putting to death. My face flushed as I felt the hot flash of embarrassment and shame at my part in all of this.
It wasn't funny any more. Suddenly, my wicked sense of humor was no longer humorous, but only wicked, a disgusting sickness within myself. As tears of shame welled up in my eyes, I wished that I could turn away, but I still could not, as His gaze held me fast.
The look of love and compassion towards myself and the others, as we painfully mistreated this Man was beyond comprehension to me.
This was a strength that I had never known, and I had no idea how He could handle such a severe punishment such as this without even an angry look or word. I only saw love and true mercy in His eyes.
I finally broke away, disgusted with my part in all of this. None of my fellow soldiers seemed to notice as I quietly retreated from the room to be alone with my thoughts and contemplate what this was and exactly what I had been caught up in.
Although you and I were not physically there at the time to press this crown of thorns onto His head in mockery, we did contribute our own sins. We might as well have been there, mocking, berating and ridiculing. That is what we continue to do when we don't esteem the sacrifice and think we can continue in our sins
("If we deliberately keep on sinning after we have received the knowledge of the truth, no sacrifice for sins is left, but only a fearful expectation of judgment and of raging fire that will consume the enemies of God. Anyone who rejected the law of Moses died without mercy on the testimony of two or three witnesses. How much more severely do you think someone deserves to be punished who has trampled the Son of God underfoot, who has treated as an unholy thing the blood of the covenant that sanctified them, and who has insulted the Spirit of grace?" - Hebrews 10:26-29).
But this was only one small part of the torture. And He willingly accepted this, out of love, in order to atone for our sins, to pay the penalty that we deserve.
The worst part wasn’t the physical, it wasn’t the scourging that sometimes brought the victims to death in itself, nor was it the mocking, spitting on, plucking out His beard, stripping Him naked and nailing Him onto a cross, then raising it up so that He could barely breath as He hung there, naked, bleeding, humiliated and mocked. No, none of that was the worst part.
The Son of God, who had always done exactly what the Father wanted Him to do, always in obedience and loving fellowship, was suddenly abandoned and alone as He took on the sin of the world and the Father could not even look at Him. To suffer the wrath that each of us deserves, breaking that fellowship that He had always known with the Father, was a much greater pain that any of the physical pain that He endured and something beyond comprehension for us.
And He took on the entire cup of God's wrath, full strength, leaving nothing for us to atone for, if we will just repent and trust in Him alone.
How great a love is this, that He would lay down His life, His perfect, sinless life - the torture, the humiliation, the pain - as a payment for our rebellious sins against God?
