Jonathots Daily Blog
(2350)
Dead … as a doornail.
Please, no mention of nails.
Ironic: a carpenter terrified by nails. Leave it to the Romans to murder a tree and use it to kill me.
Dead … that last frantic, frightened gasp for air as the brain dims away like a flickering flame.
Extinguished.
Then … yes, then a victim of cruel-cified. Very cruel.
Waiting to see if suffocation, heart attack from extreme pain or bleeding to death occur first.
- Constantly cramping
- Constantly thirsty.
- Constantly bleeding.
- Constantly … trapped.
Some watched. Some mocked. Some busied themselves earning their daily shekel.
A few mourners.
I prayed for Mission A and ended up with Plan B–a sacrifice to stupidity to end stupidity once and for all.
For here is the reasoning:
To gain resurrection, something must die. To die, someone must risk, by faith, that there is more. To believe in more requires a zest for life that despises death.
Yes, John, pull me down.
Mother, take the thorns from my head.
Joseph, carry me to your tomb.
I shan’t stay long.
Set the alarm for 6:00 A. M. Sunday.
I will wake up.
The good news is …
So will you.
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