Born destitute, he probably did not
have much to eat. Dad rarely came home, mom was always crying. His innocence
probably broke on the day he met kids his age. The difference between those
with power and those without was too much to cover simply from similarities.
His first rejection probably came from the rabbis saying he was not holy
enough. Without guidance, how could he learn to be a part of society? Into the shadows,
his steps led. In the darkness, questions were left unanswered. Only the cries
of hunger fueled him. It was only small loaves of bread, occasional pieces of
fig fruit that he stole. Though his poverty never could justify his actions, it
was a means to survive, not so much for himself, but for his mother. That of
course, did not last long. His last innocence shattered the day his mother
passed away. With such helpless, meaningless words of apology, his mother was
left to dissipate into the ground. Yet, not a soul was there to care for his
sorrows. Last scent of humanity now blurred, he probably became swift in his
crimes: gathering a crew, stealing in an organized fashion, bringing terror to
the local communities. One fateful night, an accident, a bystander had gotten
in the way. He panicked. Now death was no longer a stranger, and soon became a
close friend. How low could a man go? I guess that depends on how fast he could
run. The shadows could no longer hide him. Days and nights, he would be in
flight. What was justice anyways? Seemed like bunch of rules and regulations so
that those who have can have more, or at least keep what they have. Still,
thoughts faded with each passing field. Feeling so small and weak, it was only
a body that was in action. As he continued on clear across a hill, sights of
people caught his eyes. Myriads of people sat so attentively. A presence. It
was the first time to have ever felt such intimacy. He was not alone. Each step
towards the speaker was so difficult, yet, he had to get closer.
Immanuel.
That was the first and the last word
he heard until his iniquities caught up to him. Sentence of death on a cross
was no surprise, but something was different. Thirst overpowered him. His mind
was stretching ever so into humility. He was no longer alone. With each nail
piercing his flesh, fear gradually turned into awe. He was now at peace, though
only in spirit.
“Then he said, ‘Jesus, remember me
when you come into your kingdom.’” Luke 23:42
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