Never Leave You Nor Forsake You

"Guilty!" The voice was loud, harsh, and cruel. It brought me out of my misery and into the fear that was the present. I deserved this, but that didn't mean I was ready for it. Death is never something one looks forward to. Having one's head chopped off is even less pleasant to think about. I took a deep breath, hung my head, and resigned myself to my fate. I had killed a man: this is what I should have happen to me. What did I think? That I would get off, no consequences, no nothing?

It was a long walk to the execution block. I walked slowly, dragging my feet, unwilling to walk to where I was supposed to be. The guards pushed and shoved me, poking me with the butt of their guns until I staggered on another step. I fell once, and with my arms tied behind my back, it was very painful. I was pulled roughly to my feet and shoved on again.

The walk dragged on and on. The path stretched before me, seeming longer with every step, and with every step my dread become more pronounced. My fear grew to a level I had not known was possible, but it was not until I saw the block that I realized true fear. The block was rough, un-sanded wood. It was hard, cold, and unmoving. The worst part, however, was the blood. All around it, there was a stain, a deep, scary, dark stain--red.

When I got up close and looked down at the last place I would lay my head, I saw one thing: a notch. There was a deep groove in the wooden block where the ax had come down many, many times over. Around the whole area, there was a feeling of a constant scream--like someone was still there, still weeping, still seeking reprieve. Still trying to escape. I, however, was nearly resigned. I had fought this too long already. This was where I was going, this is was I deserved. I fell to my knees and bent my head to the bloody block.

Suddenly there was a commotion around me. I looked up, startled, and saw a man with a dark, hooded jacket on. He was enveloped in shadows, so I could not tell who he was, but I could tell the people around me were astonished by him. What had he done?

Then I was grabbed from behind and pulled to my feet again. What was this? What were they doing? I was so afraid that I simply stepped away from the block. The man in the jacket bowed his head and bent his knees. As he lowered himself to the ground and bared his neck, throwing back his hood, I saw his face. Oh! What a face! It was full of peace, beautiful beyond anything I had seen, yet homely at the same time. It was humble, full of love, and yet there were tears in his eyes.

What was he doing? I deserved that spot. He had done nothing wrong!

As he put his head on the block, I heard him whisper: "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."

My jaw dropped. This man--this perfect, free man, was giving himself for ME! He was taking my place! I fell to my knees and covered my face with my hands. The love of this stranger was incredible.

The hooded executioner stepped up. He raised his ax high above his head and brought it down quickly, effortlessly. I pushed back, away from the man, as the ax came down and ended his life. This man! Killed for my faults!

I had found new love. I had found a purpose. I had found the one man that would die for a random stranger in trouble. I had found my savior.