But he was pierced for our trangressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed. We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to our own way; and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all.” Isaiah 53:5-6
I’m in a daze, dreaming of nothing in particular. The Oilers in the Final. Eating Spaghetti and chocolate. Sitting in the Oval Office as the President. I keep switching back and forth from different situations until I find myself in a room. A room with nothing in it except a television. Beside the television is a DVD. A normal DVD, except for the fact that it says my name on it. I put it in the TV.
Instantly I am transported to situations in my past, situations I would like to forget. The time I cheated on my math test, the time I punched my brother in the face, the time I took an extra cookie from the cookie jar. A sudden realization hits me—I am watching all my sins in my entire life.
As I stand, pondering this with shame, I am transported out of the room and onto a hill. On the hill are three crosses, each with a man nailed to it, suffering, close to dying. I focus on the man in the middle, with no apparent reason. I ask the person next to me, “Who is that man in the centre?”
“He is a man,” she replied, “a man who claims to be the Messiah.”
I start to put the pieces together and ask, “What is his name?”
“His name,” she answered, “is Jesus.”
A gasp comes out of my mouth instinctively. This is Jesus. Tied to the cross, blood streaming down his body. His body is hardly recognizable; it is all red, with gashes all across it. I hear people laughing around me, but I do not know from who. I watch him closely. He gasps for air, it comes, barely.
A few moments pass, then I hear a whisper. “It is finished.” Then his head slumps, and he dies.
I cry. Jesus, the Lord, the man I thought I knew, is dead. On the cross. I notice many people around me crying as well. I move to comfort them, but I disappear, and move to a room.
Inside are many people, seemingly scared. Every noise around the house puts a frightened look on one more person’s face. I ask the man nearest me, “What happened?”
He replies, “You don’t know. Ever since Jesus died, everyone is out to get us. We’re going to die. We…”
At that moment, a silence fills the room. In the middle of the room, stands a man, who seemingly came out of nowhere. It is Jesus. “Peace be with you,” he said.
Nobody moves, so he says, “Why are you troubled, and why do doubts rise in your minds? Look at my hands and my feet. It is I myself! Touch me and see; a ghost does not have flesh and bones, as you see I have.”
I look just long enough to see holes in his hands, and then I am transferred back to that first room, with the television. The DVD has ended, so I eject it. It’s cracked. I ponder this for a moment, wondering what just happened. I then start dreaming again about the Oilers winning the Stanley Cup and me eating a 20 pound container of Peanut Butter M&M’s.