"I want to believe that I would never fling the whip
against your flesh. I want to believe I would defend you,
I would let the Roman Centurions chastise me in your
place O Christ. I am so certain I would never hurt you and
that the heathen is not like me. But in my rage, in my ...
wrath, when despair, anger, and fear hold me captive,
in those moments of deep pain I strike out and find on the
other end of my blade your back. O God! The Centurion is
I! I with unbridled pain and passion tore into your flesh to
satisfy my sorrowful soul. You became my scapegoat, and
in the trance with the wicked lash I marked your body with
the scars that are on my own soul. When I awaken from the carnage
and chaotic rage, I see your face; not fuming or fearful, but
full of peace and understanding. Your words shake the very
core of me, "Father forgive Him, for He knows not what he does."
Then I break, realizing my mistake. Suddenly it is not you that is
wounded but I. It is I that is broken and scourged. Forgive me,
for I am guilty O Lord. As guilty as the Centurions that carves your
flesh with nine tails and as tragically sinful as any soldier who
nailed you to the cross. And yet, I hear those words that ring like a bell, "Father forgive them, for they know not what they do."
wrath, when despair, anger, and fear hold me captive,
in those moments of deep pain I strike out and find on the
other end of my blade your back. O God! The Centurion is
I! I with unbridled pain and passion tore into your flesh to
satisfy my sorrowful soul. You became my scapegoat, and
in the trance with the wicked lash I marked your body with
the scars that are on my own soul. When I awaken from the carnage
and chaotic rage, I see your face; not fuming or fearful, but
full of peace and understanding. Your words shake the very
core of me, "Father forgive Him, for He knows not what he does."
Then I break, realizing my mistake. Suddenly it is not you that is
wounded but I. It is I that is broken and scourged. Forgive me,
for I am guilty O Lord. As guilty as the Centurions that carves your
flesh with nine tails and as tragically sinful as any soldier who
nailed you to the cross. And yet, I hear those words that ring like a bell, "Father forgive them, for they know not what they do."
-Jeffrey Gassler 4/1/2015 8:54pm, facebook
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