Jesus hung on the cross. It wasn’t the first time, but he never quite got used to dying for sentient races to be reconciled with his Father. Jesus is a god mind you so a few hours of crucifixion is like a hangnail or a stubbed toe to us. He actually kind of got bored dying a martyr’s death after the first few times. And it wasn’t always crosses. If a sentient race didn’t have any limbs they’d usually drown or boil him. There was an occasional burning, and a few very clever but wicked races managed to kill him with electricity. But this time it was a cross. His hands hurt from the stupid nails. They could just strap him to the cross but usually they wanted to immobilize the hands. At least this time it wasn’t an impaling. Those were always really uncomfortable. He let out a little sigh and someone laughed. His Dad always wanted him to give a little “Lama Sabachthani” but it wasn’t time for that. Being a god took a lot of patience.
But today he just wasn’t feeling it. The race involved was bloodthirsty for sure, but some of them were quite nice. Of course, this group was also strictly monotheistic, so telling them he was a god pissed them off. It almost always did. The ones that were open to the concept of more than one god still ended up killing him for not being the right kind of god. And a few were just murderous heathens. Those were the most creative about killing him, so the memories of being drawn and quartered or on having his skin peeled off were the ones that really stuck. At least it wasn’t being buried alive. Coming out of the dirt just confused people about the holiness of his resurrection.
His eye twitched. His face was covered with blood, or at least what passed for blood in this race. Beaten and naked and hanging on a cross again, he wished there were a better way. Merging his Father’s immortal perfected will with creatures of flesh was troublesome in the best of circumstances. There was always a death involved, and he was the only begotten son, so this was his job every time. He tried to think of the last planet he went to before this whole Plan of Salvation started. He missed dying of old age. It had been billions of years since he died peacefully in his sleep. Sentient beings weren’t so sentient back then so the whole Plan wasn’t necessary.
Intelligence made life difficult. The knowledge of good and evil and the agency to act on that knowledge challenged his Father’s sovereignty. That was part of the plan too. His Father wanted His creations to both know and love him, but he wasn’t going to force that on them. Life wasn’t meant to be mere meat machines. He put a spark of divinity into it. With love and wisdom that spark would grow. Heavenly Father couldn’t do it for them. But somehow they couldn’t do that for themselves either. That where Jesus came in. He was there to bridge the gap between the machine and the divine. Well, gaps that is. There was always another race that got just close enough to need his help. So he became “god with us” and died again and again to bridge those gaps.
Crosses make it hard to breathe. He coughed up a little blood, and a guard started cursing at him. “Forgive them Father for they know not what they do.” But he was pretty sure they knew what they were doing this time. They were killing a god to prove he wasn’t a god. It was all part of the Plan. A god takes on mortality, dies and rises from the dead with the offer of eternal life for those with the sense to take it. Sentience doesn’t become immortal and perfected by accident. There are steps these people would have to take. The steps were mystical, but the mysticism got covered in bizarre and occult rituals so that it was more accessible. All part of the plan. Wards and churches and temples as a substitute for direct contact with Him. Looking at the scriptures so they don’t have to look at the man. Looking at the man so they don’t have to look at the God. Looking at the God so they aren’t completely obliterated by ultimate divine truth. But the last of that is supposed to be the goal of the Plan if people didn’t get confused during the process.
They always got confused. The history got mixed up. Legends grew in place of fact. They gave themselves back to the rituals they had made. They cursed their agency or worse yet simply denied it. They ignored their own divinity and lost touch with the divine around them. The Plan was supposed to fix that but all too often it took the place of inheriting the spirit within them. Ritualistic mumbo-jumbo and slavish devotion came to replace real union with the Father as Jesus is united with the Father. The Plan was difficult but developing love and wisdom was even more difficult to do. It was easier to just show The Plan. to endure it, and to work for the words, not the spirit. He was able warn them of all of this before they became bloodthirsty and murderous and killed their own god. Jesus was more tired of getting killed by the ones who wanted union with the Father than the ones that didn’t believe the Father existed in the first place. The former should have known better than the latter since they really didn’t know what they were doing.
One of his arms hurt more than the other. He flexed it a little and the nail popped out of his hand. He felt divine power rush and heal the wound. The hand was whole and alive and as perfect as a mortal hand could be. Crap his Dad would be pissed at an “extra miracle.” But no one noticed the nail fall. He was getting tired of this Plan anyway. He flexed his other arm and the nail shot out and knocked a guard unconscious. They all noticed that. He was still strapped to the cross, but he’d started to glow a little. Almost everyone started running in panic. This was not going according to The Plan. He couldn’t help it now though. He flexed again and burst the straps. Sadly, he had forgotten about the nail through his feet, and he fell face first into the dirt still nailed to the cross. “That’s going to hurt in the morning,” he thought.
There was widespread running and screaming at this point. Guards running to escape the wrath of an angry god. The disciples were running to see what had happened to their Lord. There were other people on other crosses. Some of the running and screaming was to get them down and some of it was to keep them up. Fighting started to break out. As Jesus flexed his legs to delicately remove the last nail, he also put a sphere of protection around the disciples that had made it to him. He got up and looked around and realized he’d have to live with the consequences of his decisions. He used his holy power to clean his body and heal his wounds. He sent out a little wave of peace and comfort to the people in his little sphere. He extended his awareness outward to assess the situation.
Mass panic reigned. Rebels and soldiers fought. All the crosses got knocked down pretty quickly. The cross that was in Jesus’s bubble was the only one standing in all the tumult. The whole sphere glowed a little and occasionally attracted the attention of a fighter or two. But if they stopped to stare they would get cut down in battle. There Jesus was on a hill in a small but divine radiance looking at all the people he was supposed to be saving by dying first.
His disciples were a little less stunned and feeling a little more safe. They began to ask Jesus questions. “Was this The Plan all along?” “Was he the political Messiah that he had just denied being hours ago?” “Could they learn to do this?” No, No, and Yes. The last one made him lose his concentration for a second but his disciples took up the slack. The next wave of peace didn’t make the bubble much bigger though. A couple of soldiers were pushed at the sphere. They bounced off because they were being so violent. Splatters of blood came in though. Jesus refocused and sent a cleansing wave against the fresh blood. But the disciples stopped asking questions at least. How was he ever going to fix so much murder without dying? He’d need the Father’s help. So, he prayed.
There was a groan from heaven and a firm command from the Father, “Stop it.” A quiet came over the whole hill and people stopped running. They stopped fighting. They stopped screaming. A few of them even stopped breathing before they realized that was probably a mistake. Jesus looked around trying to decide if he’d made a mistake. His father certainly wasn’t pleased. This sort of thing is what Jesus was supposed to fix. But in all honesty, he knew that the reconciliation process was long and difficult. Even with all his deaths most of the races he had “saved” didn’t act much better than they had before.
People started cleaning up. For the moment they had lost their will to kill. That was progress Jesus thought. Sadly, he knew it was very localized and very temporary. He relaxed his sphere of sanctuary and his disciples began to look around at the carnage. For the rest of the day, they all raised the dead, healed the sick and comforted the mourning. Then Jesus walked back to the city with his disciples.
Word had gotten out but most of the people that welcomed him to The Holy City a week before and then cried for his crucifixion today were deathly afraid of what their betrayal would mean. The Imperial soldiers were all too busy trying to maintain general order to start placing blame yet. Jesus and his disciples were able to slip quietly into the upper room where he had what he thought was going to be his last supper the night before. It was not that he had to pretend that he needed to eat any longer but he really wanted to eat. Some comfort food sounded good. One of his disciples asked the host for some figs and a little lamb. The host obliged.
Jesus ate. He had so many difficult things to decide. He was sure he didn’t want anyone to get close to “killing” him again. But that lead to the question of how to live. Word would get out about a miraculous exit from a cross. He couldn’t long hide that he was the one. He didn’t really want to hide it anyway. He could fend off the crowds and the legion handily, and was making up his mind to do that. He could protect himself well enough, but there were fourteen man and women in this little room who would also rely on his protection. They would always be at risk if they stayed with him. He would offer them the choice: stay close and safe, or go out and preach the Gospel. He explained what should have happened, and started making plans for a long stay.
Eventually he married one of his disciples and they had a single son. God now had an only begotten grandson and Jesus hoped that he wouldn’t get into the family business.
Amen
Mark F. Crist is a husband and a father, an artist and a lover, a gamer and a priest.
