The story of Yahir

 

 (A fictional story based on real life events.)

Hello. My name is Yahir. My name means “God will enlighten”. My life story, however, is sadly a stark contrast to my name. I won’t bore you with a long backstory of my childhood and all the various struggles we had to go through. But all of these and the company I kept lead me to a not so savoury lifestyle. As I grew up, I found that my calling in life was to voluntarily ease people of some their excess (in my eyes) belongings even if they didn’t appreciate it. Yes, that is a fancy way of saying I was thief. I was a very good one too. Until I got caught that is. I won’t forget that day. I was so sure I would get away. Being so good at my profession had given me an air of over confidence. It was this over confidence that lead me to be a bit tardy that day and a couple of missteps gave me away.

 

I am sure by now you are judging me for these life choices. And you are probably right for not liking what I chose to do with my life. But even you will not agree with what happened next. I was brought before the authorities. They had charges against me that were both long and true. I knew I was guilty. As the case progressed, I sat and waited for the eventuality – jail time. The only question was how long I would go away for. But nothing could have prepared me for what I heard next. The judge gave his ruling – “Guilty – death by crucifixion” Now I agree with you I am a thief and quite a low life in anybody’s books. But you must agree with me that the sentence handed down was harsh, unfair and unjust. It curdled my blood as I heard the words. I was stunned into silence. I was led away to spend a few days in jail before the verdict would be carried out. As I walked in stunned silence, I felt sick. I felt angry and I felt helpless and very alone. They threw me in the cell along with a few others. Here, I found myself crying uncontrollably. I had prided myself on the hardened criminal image that I had built up. But here I was curled up on the floor and sobbing like a baby. There was nothing to I could do but wait for that gruesome and grizzly day.

 

Then, the day came. I woke up with a weak feeling in my bones. Despair and desperation filled every muscle in my body. The darkness of that deep dark Roman dungeon was nothing compared to the darkness that was swirling around my own head. As I sat with fellow inmates and we muttered about the injustices about these wretched Romans we also praised some of those in the cell with us. These were some hardy men who had tried to overthrow the Romans a while back. Maybe more of us should have joined them. Maybe life would have been so different if we had managed to be free of these tyrannical Romans. So many maybes began to float about my head as I tried to distract myself from the thoughts of the horror that I was about to face.

 

Then from the window high above we heard the crowds. There was a lot of commotion outside and though we could not really hear what they were saying we knew that it was a large crowd. Was there a revolt? Was there some communal riot taking place? Was there anything happening outside that would delay the Romans from carrying out my verdict today? I was clutching at straws and in my mind trying to cling to any hope of delaying the indescribable pain I was about to face. Then we heard one name. It was like the entire crowd in one chorus was shouting one name. It was not mine. It was the name Barabbas. They went on and on with his name as if they were in a frenzy. I don’t know what that was about but soon these Roman guards came and dragged away a man from another of the cells down here. He was a big man, now weakened by the many days he had spent here. I hear from others that he was part of the uprising against the Romans and in fact he might have even murdered a few people along the way. If I was going to be crucified for robbing people, I shudder to think what they were going to do him. We had heard the crowds shout the word crucify. Maybe that was the plan for him. Maybe his sentence was moved up and he would be hung with me that day. Again, so many maybes. Any distraction was welcome at this point.

 

For all my attempts to distract my mind, eventually I heard the footsteps come down the stairs to my cell. My body went weak as the cell opened and a couple of roman guards seized me. I begged and cried for mercy. I was blubbering and foaming at the mouth. Fear gripped me like it has never ever done before. Despite all my begging no mercy came my way. My tears only seemed to fuel their enjoyment of this occasion. Their hearts seemed so mangled and so vile that they were taking pleasure in this moment. The hit and threw me around a few times. I was stripped and tied to a wooden beam and then I, along with a few others were told to start walking. There was another who like me was also a thief. He was cursing and hissing at them as we walked out of the jail. We saw the crowds. They were jeering at us and some were throwing things at us. But it seemed to me that the emotion and the anger of everyone was reserved for someone else. I tried to see where they were all looking. They appeared to be mocking and shouting at someone behind me. I wondered who he might be and what he had done to have earned the anger of the masses in such a way. Maybe it was Barabbas. I wanted to get a glimpse. My mind was intrigued. Once again it was a welcome distraction away from my own predicament.

 

I got my moment to steal a glimpse of him when the roman soldiers turned to give him attention. They had grabbed someone from the crowd to drag this person’s cross and that was when I got to see him for the first time. He had been beaten so badly there seemed to be blood all over him. He could barely stand let alone walk. “He must have done something pretty vile to deserve this” I thought to myself. Then a whip cracked on my arm and a Roman guard barked at me to carry on moving. All distractions were removed, and I remembered again that I was about to be crucified.

 

No words I use will ever really be able to convey the kind of pain the Romans can make a man go through on the cross. I remember trying to kick and push as they pinned me down. I remember crying and begging and screaming for mercy. Please, please. I will do anything. But they pinned me down and I felt a firm hand hold my own hand down. And then that first blow. The spike cracked through my bone. I wanted to throw up as I could feel pain that I had never ever felt before. My head went dizzy my breathing turned to gasping. They did not care, and they went about this business as if they were doing any other daily mundane task. One hand had now been nailed and the pain coursing through me caused me to faint. When I regained consciousness, they had finished my other hand and now were at my feet. I was too weak by now to do anything. All I could do was cry.

 

They finished their sickly duty and then they erected the cross I was on. The pain that went through me as my body slumped down on the spike in my feet was excruciating. I cannot describe it adequately. I leaned forward to try and bring some relief to that pain but that only made the pain from the spikes in my wrists become unbearable. I struggled to move to find some way to reduce the pain by whatever miniscule amount I could. But my breathing was becoming shallow. As I slumped down my arms were stretched out so tight and so far that my chest was unable to hold much air. I thought I was going to faint again as I was gasping for any bit of air. There was nothing I could do but push back up so that I could have some air. But that would mean putting the entire weight of my body on that spike in my feet and it was causing the most pain. What a wicked sentence this is. What a hell that I would not wish on my worst enemy.

 

The crowds were jeering at us. Some were disgusted with what they saw, and others shook their heads as if to say, “good for them.” But once again most of the hostility seemed to be directed at the man next to me. Now that I could see him more clearly, I knew he was not Barabbas. I had not seen this man before. There was something about him. He was like me, a man. I could see that. He was bleeding and his body was shivering with the pain. He too had tears like mine and his breathing was as shallow as mine. But in all his humanity there was something about this man. I heard him speak when he managed to get the breath enough to do so. He spoke to the heavens at times. There was one time when he struggled and battled on his cross and when he managed to get his breath he spoke to a woman and man who were obviously dear to him and standing at the foot of his cross. I was desperate for any distraction and this man was a welcome one.

As I struggled with own my pain, I was also watching him struggle with his. He seemed to carry a greater burden than mine. His struggle seemed to be something far weightier than mine. The thief on the other cross started shouting at him, telling him to save himself and to save us as well. I don’t know why but I knew in my heart then that this man had done nothing wrong. Till that morning I had argued that I my sentence was unjust, and that the punishment did not fit the crime. But now I found myself hanging next to a man who had committed no crime and yet was enduring a worse punishment than mine.

 

Just as I cannot use any words to adequately describe the experience of being crucified, so to I cannot use any words to accurately explain how in my heart I knew this man was more than what everyone saw. While I cannot really explain why, I know in my heart that this man was not only innocent, but he was also who had claimed to be. I remember I only spoke one line to him. I struggled to pull myself up to get that little bit of air into my lungs. I used that precious air to speak to him and all I could say was “Jesus, remember me when you come in your kingdom.” We were surrounded by a crowd of angry people and the romans who were enjoying the ordeal they had put us in. I was in the middle of a day where I had begged and cried for mercy which never came. But right now, all of that faded away. All the screaming and all the anger was drowned out as he turned to look at me. He only spoke one line to me “Today you will be with me in paradise.”

 

Much has happened since he spoke to me. Everything went dark and his cross seemed to shake violently next to us. From within that darkness I heard him cry out loudly to the heavens. Then with authority in his voice yet in a quiet whisper he said, “it is finished”. He has since died. They came and speared his side. Some people came and took down his body. The crowds have all slowly gone away. The spectacle is over. Some were muttering that they wished he struggled longer. Others were just happy to be rid of him.

 

I am still here, and as I struggle gasping for breath and bleeding out, I know that I have never been more secure. The cross that I dreaded all these days, the sentence that I had cursed all these hours – that very cross brought me to the presence of this man, this King. Here, hanging on my own cross I finally experience the reality of my own name “Yahir – God will enlighten”. He enlightened me and I found mercy where I never thought I would and in a manner that I would never have dreamt. I go now to a kingdom which will never end. I go now to a kingdom where I will never starve or be so broken that I need to resort to a life of stealing. I go now to a kingdom by invitation of the king himself. Here as he died, I found life and I can go now resting on his promise that I will forever be with him.