What you are about to read is a “vision” of sorts I had one spring day in 2007 as I was praying in the woods. My prayer is that it would give you a sense of the feeling that was experienced by the touch of the Master, and the depth of our guilt. -DK

I opened my eyes once more. Sand-colored stones and dirt were all I could see. Sweat dribbled down from my forehead to my nose and dripped to the ground. The sun was moving upward toward its high place in the sky. Already the heat was unbearable but that did not matter. I took another step. I had to. The heavy weight on my shoulder demanded it. I breathed heavily.

But it wasn’t my breathing I heard. No, what resounded in my ears was shouting. Mocking cries. Tzelav oto! Tzelav! Tzelav Yeshua! Foreign, halting tongues shouted too: Hinnei! Melekh haYehudim! Hinnei! One foreigner with confidence announced above the hubbub: Yeshua hazeh; Melekh haYehudim! And on it went. How I wished that I were deaf! To not hear the torments of this mob would be a blessing of the Holy One, Blessed be He. It…

The weight shifted. The burden increased. Flesh came against my side. Time slowed. I was released from my thoughts and could only know him who was against my side. Shuddering in the wind, this man leaned against me, increasing the burden of the cross. Yes, that’s what I was carrying: a cross. They had forced me to carry this curse, this shame, for a prisoner they had refused to treat properly.

This prisoner…no, this was wrong. He was the innocent one. It was these soldiers, this crowd, the voice with authority who should be carrying a cross to their deaths right now. It was I who should do the same. Every ounce of my being wanted to repudiate this cross. I didn’t want this man to die. I wanted to help him, though. Yet, as I helped him, I knew that every step I helped him make was another step closer to his death – I was as responsible for his death as this mob who cried out for it.

Tears joined the sweat. How could this go on? We began to ascend the hill. I had to focus more intentionally on my steps to make sure I didn’t fall. If I fell, it would be more pain…more suffering for the man. Oh that I could see the man on the other side of the crossbeam!  I looked down at my feet and watched as sweat and tears fell to the ground. But then there was something else: blood. Blood fell from beside me, from the man I was leading to death. It fell upon my feet. A voice cried out in my heart: “You are clean.” I would have fallen but for the call of that authoritative voice: Repha! I could stand still. Sali, Adoni, sali. Then all vision faded.

Hebrew: Tzelav oto! Tzelav! Tzelav Yeshua! Crucify him! Crucify! Crucify Jesus!
Hinnei! Melekh haYehudim! Hinnei! Behold! The king of the Jews! Behold!
Yeshua hazeh; melekh haYehudim! This is Jesus; the king of the Jews!
Sali, Adoni, sali. Forgive me, my lord, forgive me.