Covenant People's Ministry

He Was CRUCIFIED!

"Crucified!"

No death is so thorough. No shame is so complete. First, there was the scourging. The scourging post was two feet high. An iron ring, placed close to the top of the post, projected from two sides. Clothing was ripped away from a prisoner so that he stood naked. Roman lictors were professionals. They confined their labors to the fine, brutal act of scourging, and they could beat a victim until only the barest spark of life remained in the prisoner.

Wrists were firmly shackled to the iron rings. Then the victim was stretched, face down, with his feet pointing away from the post. The Roman scourge was a flagra, a short-handled whip consisting of several thin iron chains which ended in small weights.

Scourging was called the little death. It preceded the big death, Crucifixion. Even the tension of awaiting the first blow is cruel. The body is rigid. The muscles knot in tormenting cramps. Color drains from the cheeks. Lips are drawn tight against the teeth. As the whip descends, the chains fan out across the back, and each link cuts through the skin and deep into the flesh. The weights crash with bruising force into the ribs and curl bitingly around the chest.

When a man is scourged there is pain beyond imagination. Sweat bursts from the brow and stings the eyes. At each stroke of the flagra, a victims body twitches like a beheaded chicken. The second stroke patterns the back and half of the chest with a V-shaped network of small cuts.

ONLY The Son of Yahweh could hold back the high-pitched wails of unbearable agony.

The very juice of life is torn away with every lash. There is only the blinding, burning pain as cruel whips whistle again and again through the air and across the back and shoulders. The flagra can filet a man alive. Under the Laws of Our People, Israel. These lashes were limited to 39. Roman punishment was not so limited. There was only one rule for the lictor who scourged a man about to be crucified. He must not die. A spark of life must be sustained for the agony of the cross.

Men have bitten their tongues in two under such beatings. Only blessed unconsciousness could bring relief. The limp body of a victim was cut away from the post. His wounds were washed but not otherwise medicated. The next step was the parade to the execution ground.

Roman politicians always liked to make examples of condemned men. The long, slow parade along public streets was designed to serve as a warning to others that Rome dealt quickly and mercilessly.

A centurion usually served as the executioner. While four soldiers held the prisoner, he placed the sharp five-inch iron spike in the dead center of the palm of the hand. A skillful, experienced blow would send it through to the wood. Four or five more strokes would hammer the spike deep into the rough plank and another turned it up so that the hand could not slip free.

A small projection, resembling that of a rhinocerous horn, known as a sedile, fitted solidly through the crotch. This was fitted so as to take most of the weight off the condemned man's hands. Then a spike was driven through each foot.

It was a death reserved for slaves, thieves, and traitors. The wounds in the hands send fire down through the arms. Fainting only grants temporary relief. It is darkness and pain, then pain and darkness. The pain in the back, arms, hands, feet, and crotch is a dull, throbbing, horrible, endless agony. The pain builds up. It multiplies. It is cumulative. There is not a moment of respite. The cross is placed so that the greatest amount of sunlight wil pierce the prisoner's eyes.

Below, the curious wait, fascinated by the torture. The mocking scene is played out slowly. Dying should be a private matter, not a public spectacle. There is something obscene about having a mob of people standing around waiting for you to die.

Then the thirst begins. The lips are dry. The mouth is parched. The blood is hot. The skin is fevered. The greatest of all needs at the moment is a drop of cool water. Water is denied.

At the foot of the cross, the death squad drinks in the presence of the dying man to add to his mental torment. The sun shines directly into the eyes of the crucified. Even when the lids are closed a red glare penetrates. The tongue thickens. What once was saliva is now like unloomed wool. Swelling begins in the hands and in the feet. The sedile digs deeply into the genitals. It is impossible to turn, to change one's position. Muscles begin to twitch.

The real horror is only beginning.

What has happened up until now is child's play.

One by one the muscles of the back gather in tight, knotty, cramps. There is no escaping them, no pulling out of them, no gentle massaging hands to ease them away. They move across the shoulders and the thorax. They move down into the abdomen.

After two hours on a cross, every muscle in the body is locked in solid knots and the agony is beyond endurance. Men shriek themselves into insanity.

The pain and symptoms are identical to tetanus, or a state of a muscle when undergoing continued contraction. Death by crucifixion makes the agony last as long as possible.

Each hour is an eternity.

At times the cramps make the neck rigid and the head is held flush with the vertical beam. A man longs for death. It is his only ambition.

There are the flies, insects, and the yelps of dogs with the smell of blood in their nostrils. Birds of prey, scavengers of the skies, circle lower and lower.

Prayers seem to mock a man, but you either pray or you curse.

As the hours pass the tiny blood vessels which feed the nerves will be squeezed flat, and with the lack of circulation comes a numbing paralysis.

A new agony developes for those who linger on the cross. It is the agony of the mucous membrane.

On the cross there is no end of suffering. It is only the manner of suffering and the degree of the suffering that changes.

The mucous membrane- that thin, slippery tissue which lines and lubricates much of the human body-dries to the consistency of fine gravel in the dry heat of the day. Swallowing becomes torturous, the nostrils burn, and blinking the eyes is difficult at best.

Could there ever be more intense suffering this side of hell?

YAHSHUA WAS CRUCIFIED

He died the most brutal death ever devised by man.

He Took My Place

It was my sin that sent Him there.

Yahshua died the most thorough death ever devised.It was designed to allow the slow death-erosion of cell, muscle, emotion, bone, tissue, mind, spirit, blood, and heart beat.Thus, the victory of the resurrection is the most triumphant victory ever recorded.

Up from the Grave He Arose

With a Mighty Triumph Over His Foes

He Arose a Victor From the Dark Domain

And He Lives Forever With His People to Reign

He Arose! He Arose!

Hallelu-YAH

Yahshua Arose

Yahshua our Messiah experienced a death that we could not imagine in our worst nightmares. He endured all the pain and suffering for the sakes of His people, Israel. So often we take His sacrifice for granted and forget just how precious a gift was bought for us with His blood!!!!