The Man on The Cross

A warm ray of sunshine glides across a spacious sitting room on a Good Friday morning, landing softly on the small shoulders of a ten-year-old girl. She’s seated on the wooden floor, reclining on a bright orange bean bag with TV remote in hand and eyes fixated on the large screen in front of her. She’s been there for some time, watching whatever the television’s parental controls allow her, flicking through channels whenever her mind needs more distraction; anything to keep her from thinking… remembering. She’d been dreading the holidays. At least school enables her to focus her mind on other stuff. The holidays present an endless ocean of nothingness; too much time for uncomfortable memories to effortlessly float into her consciousness. An endless space of time that will no doubt lead to thoughts about mum.

Three months have passed since she suddenly departed. She still doesn’t understand how or why. Dad says she fell very sick and that she’s in a better place, but why did she have to leave? Why couldn’t she get better here? She presses the remote button to once more steer herself away from the questions that daily plague her mind.

“Are you okay, Binks?” comes her dad’s voice. He’s hovering by the doorway, bereft of what to say or do to alleviate the tortuous grief that is surely suffocating his little girl’s heart. She hasn’t said a word to him or anybody else since his wife died. No matter how much he consoles, encourages or hugs her, he gets nothing in return. No response whatsoever. It’s as though a light has been turned off; one that even her younger brother can never switch on again. Watching her drift from one day to the next breaks his heart into a million pieces over and over again. He retreats in a shroud of melancholy, making his way down the hallway, wondering whether his precious little angel will ever be the same.

She heard his question, but the numbness in her body prevents her from answering. There are two worlds now – hers and everyone else’s. The best way to protect herself is to remain in hers and keep both forever separate. She continues to press the remote button, searching for something to seize her mind. Cartoons, game shows, films she’s seen before, more game shows, more cartoons, a man with dark frizzy hair carrying something really heavy, more cartoons…she goes back to the man with dark frizzy hair. He’s carrying a huge wooden cross all on his own. It must be really heavy, because he keeps falling down. Over and over again he falls, but gets up every time, determined to keep going. She wonders why they’re being so mean to him. Shouting at him, teasing him, spitting at him as though he’s some kind of terrible person. Something about him captivates her. He looks to be in so much pain, such suffering. Her heart yearns for his agony to cease. But it doesn’t. On and on he goes, falling, carrying, stumbling, beaten, abused, ridiculed. What did he do to them? Why the cruelty? Deep down she senses he’s an innocent man, suffering at the hands of nasty playground bullies. Much to her horror, the man’s suffering only gets worse. Tears stream down her face as she watches men and women hurl their abuse as they nail him to the huge wooden cross he’d been carrying. Her head tells her to press the remote button, but her heart dictates otherwise. She can’t. The scene has awoken something inside her. Somehow, she knows what she’s watching isn’t just a made-up story.

“Why did they do that, daddy? What did he do to them?” she asks, not realising her dad is no longer in the room.

“He didn’t do anything to them, my darling daughter. Nothing at all,” comes a reply.

“But…I don’t understand. Why did they do that to him? Who was he?”

“Because he allowed them to. In-fact, he wanted them to.”

“Why?”

“His name was, is Jesus. He’s the son of God. He allowed them to do that to him because of his love for you.”

“I…I don’t understand. What have I got to do with it?” Fixated by the sad and horrific scene before her, she still doesn’t turn around, naturally assuming she’s speaking with her dad. 

“Hmmm…how do I put this…okay, what do you think happens when people depart from here?”

“You mean…like when someone is no longer here? When we won’t see them again?”

“Precisely!”

“Everyone says they go to heaven or something; that it’s a better place.”

“Indeed it is. It’s a place where there’s no suffering or sadness. A place where you’ll always be happy. Jesus allowed them to do that to him so that you can go to heaven after you leave here.”

She considers his answer for some seconds, wondering what her mum is up to. It’s the first time she’s allowed herself to think about her; to fully consider the reality that she will never see her again. The acknowledgement unleashes an avalanche of pent-up emotions, causing her body to tremble as a violent downpour of tears descend from her eyes.

He places his hand on her shoulder, then holds her tight. “There there, my child, time to let it all out. Cry as much as you want. I’m right here. I will never leave or forsake you.” He holds her for some time, allowing the silence to realign her senses.

“But why didn’t Jesus just let her stay here? It’s not fair,” she says, sobbing profusely.

“That’s a very good question. Sometimes, in order to have something really good, we have to experience a little pain. Let me ask you a question. Which would you prefer – many more years here with your mum, or an eternity with her in heaven?”

She ponders his question for several seconds. Her heart says many more years here, but her head tells her eternity is a much better option. “Eternity, I guess,” she replies reluctantly.

“Precisely! Now, I know you must be feeling incredibly sad right now. I am too, I really am. But you can look forward to spending forever with her.”

“Like, now?”

“Sorry?”

“Can I go to her now?”

“Ahh, I see. Unfortunately not.”

“Why?”

“Because you still have a very bright future here on earth, my sweet. And how do you think Jack would feel about not having his big sister around to look after and play with him? Speaking of which, you do realise you haven’t said a word to him for three months, right?”

She loves her brother so much. Always so protective of him. She considers how lost and alone he must be feeling without her; how confused he must be because of her distant manner. All of a sudden, the sadness she feels for her abandoned brother is even greater than the one she feels for her departed mum. “Oh Jack, poor little Jack. He must be feeling terrible right now. I’ve let him down,” she says, as her eyes well-up again.

“He needs you more than ever right now. You need to be there for him; he’s very much depending on you.”

“But…what about mum? Doesn’t she need me too?”

There’s a pause as she waits for his answer, hoping he’ll find a way to appease both her worries.

“I want you to close your eyes.”

“Now?”

“Yes, right now. Close your eyes and tell me what you see.”

She does as he says, wondering how she can possibly see anything with her eyes closed.

“What do you see, Binks?”

“I see…” she gasps, “I see mum, I see mum,” she replies excitedly.

“And how is she? How does she look?”

“She looks so happy. She looks happier than I’ve ever seen her. And so bright and shiny. She looks amazing!”

“Good, now open your eyes again.”

She doesn’t, leaving them closed in order to keep her mum in full view. Only when the image begins to fade does she grudgingly oblige.

“How do you feel?”

“I feel…I feel really happy. I mean, I’m still sad that she’s not here. I still miss her and wish she was here, but I also feel…happy. Happy that she’s so happy. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, it makes perfect sense. The truth is that you will always have moments when you feel sad that your mum is no longer here. But when you do, simply remind yourself of what you just saw. She’s happier now than she ever was, and will remain so. You no longer need to worry or feel sad for her.”

“So, that’s why Jesus allowed them to do that to him? So that mum can always be happy and well?”

“Exactly! Because of what Jesus did, there is no death for those who believe in him. It’s simply a case of leaving here in order to go to a much better place.”

The heavy weight of sadness and worry begins to lift, and for the first time in a long while, she feels hopeful and at peace.

“What Jesus did is amazing! I definitely believe in him. But I still don’t like what they did to him. Oh, Jack, I need to find Jack,” she says wiping her tear-stained cheeks as she gets to her feet. She turns around and runs towards the staircase, and is somewhat surprised when she bumps into her dad in the hallway.

“Dad? I thought…oh, never mind, love you, dad,” she says, giving him a huge hug.

“Love you too,” replies her dad, shocked by his daughter’s words. It’s the first time he’s heard her speak in so long. As he watches her run up the stairs, he wonders what happened. Why the sudden change?

“Jack! Jack, where are you? Let’s play dominoes.”