By His Wounds: The Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ

Jesus Falls the Second Time

Hey guys! I decided to have Simon's POV this time around. Also, in the Gospel of Luke, it states, "As the soldiers led him away, they seized Simon from Cyrene, who was on his way from the country, and put the cross on him and made him carry it BEHIND Jesus." See how Luke writes behind? We as disciples of God should follow behind Jesus. We should watch his examples and his actions towards others and strive to do the same. I have Simon behind Jesus for this part, but then when Jesus falls and is being beaten, I have Simon run in and stop the "madness", as I figure Simon would do. Then, I have Simon carry Jesus' cross and this time, stay BY Jesus. Not behind him. Simon was watching Jesus from a distance before--from behind him. But after he saw Jesus, saw how he was being beaten, and had observed him, he carried his cross BY Jesus. Personally with Jesus. He wasn't shy now to stay behind. He want to be with Jesus on his journey, as we should strive to have Jesus with us on our journey. Enjoy! Review!! I struggled a bit with the ending words. I was unsure how they should go. I had what I wanted to say in mind, but couldn't get it right out in words...how'd I do?

Jesus Falls the Second Time

Simon was angry that he was forced to carry this criminal's cross. He had just arrived in Jerusalem after a long journey and this had to happen. It made no sense that he would have to carry the cross. Let the Romans help! Let this man carry the cross by himself! If he died along the way...well, then that would be three nails and a lot of trouble saved.

Not only that, but it was embarrassing to Simon. He didn't wish other people to see him as...as a criminal. He wasn't a criminal! He was a man—a passer-byer—who just happened to be plucked out of the crowd and forced to carry this cross that weighed as much as him.

He wished he didn't have to walk behind the Nazarene. He would have preferred to walk in front of him, that way he didn't have to stare at the wounds on his back, the thorns in his head, and the blood everywhere. But that wasn't an option. He couldn't just stop walking and switch places. He had to walk behind and look at the man's bloody crown. A crown of humiliation and of mocking. He had to gaze at the stripes upon his dirty tunic. He had to—

The criminal—Jesus, as Simon heard was his name—stumbled. His legs weakened beneath him and he fell on the ground, face smashing into the dirt and thorns digging deeper into his skull.

Simon's body immediately shifted downward as he struggled to grasp the cross. If he dropped it, it would land directly on the criminal. He groaned, using all of his strength to push the cross up and away from the bloody figure.

The Romans laughed as Simon's arms ached. He managed to lean the cross on its side against a large wall. He gasped for air and rubbed his back where the wood had dug into him. He didn't deserve this.

Simon then noticed Jesus lying on the ground, unable to stand. He almost appeared dead—not moving, not breathing. The Roman soldiers, white-knuckle gripping their ropes, whipped him continuously. The crowd jeered and hissed, shouting out rude comments and curse words.

Yet the criminal said nothing. He didn't moan, didn't move, didn't even try to stand. He seemed utterly and totally exhausted. The knotted ropes hammering into his back didn't help his situation.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Simon saw a bystander grab a rock. He threw it at Jesus' limp body. It cracked against his skull, sending a sickening echo throughout the area. Simon gritted his teeth and continued to watch the bullying. The soldiers were now kicking Jesus, laughing and calling out insults.

"Rise, King of the Jews! Rise!"

"Kneel! Kneel to your father! Pray for strength! Pray to live!"

Simon's breathing quickened as he continued to stare. His fingers curled in a fist each and every time a foot landed in Jesus' gut, a rock was thrown, or evil words were yelled.

Yet throughout all of it, the criminal did nothing. Jesus did nothing. That man—bloodied, beaten, and led away to die—did absolutely nothing. He took all of it. Simon watched in astoundment as the soldiers did not seize their kicking, nor the crowd their rock-throwing, nor their spitting.

Simon couldn't watch it anymore. As if a devil or a spirit had entered him, he charged past the bystanders, all the while yelling, "Lo!! Lo!!" He grabbed a whip out of a soldier's hand and threw it on the ground. He shoved another man away, screaming in his face to stop this madness. He stood near the Jesus man, protecting him from any more blows that were to come.

Breathing heavily, Simon shouted, loud enough for all to hear, "Stop this now! I don't care what you do to me. I don't care if you beat me or kill me along with this man, but leave him alone!"

The crowd was silenced. They stared at Simon, some weeping, some frowning, and some sneering at him. They seemed astounded, and they should be. Simon was astounded in himself.

One soldier grinned madly at him, then nodded. He took a swig of his water, then spit it on the ground next to him. "All right. You heard him. Let's go." As he walked past Simon, he whispered, barely audible, "Jew."

Simon gulped at that comment—for he was not a Jew—and hurried to help Jesus to his feet.

When Jesus was placed under his cross again, Simon decided to reposition himself. He hooked his left arm under the head of the cross, his right grasping the arm. Jesus did the same as him but on the opposite arm. Now, Jesus and Simon where side-by-side. Simon could look directly into that criminal's face. He could now see every wound, every blood and sweat droplet, and every bruise the man had endured. He could see every thorn hammered into his skull. He could see the dust and dirt particles stuck to his beard. He could see the exhaustion written all over him. Simon was literally now being forced to assist this man "personally." He was being forced to wrap his arm near Jesus' shoulder—due to the positioning of the cross—and almost stare into his face.

This would have bothered him minutes ago, but now for some odd reason, Simon didn't care.