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I Am John Mark: The True Meaning of Martyrdom
"Are you the king of the Jews?"
Pilate
"Now Barabbas had led an Insurrection, and counted as a Murderer."
John Mark
"Why, what evil has he done?"
Pilate
"Hail, King of the Jews!"
Roman Guards
"Save yourself by coming down from the cross! Help us to Believe!"
Passer-bys
"Eloi, Eloi, lama Sabachthani!"
Yeshua
"It is Done."
Words of the Messiah, according to John the Beloved Disciple, John Mark's dear Friend.
"Truly, this man was the Son of God!"
Roman Centurion
🌈
A #WRITCO Series
📚
RELIVING A BITTER PAST
🦄
The more things change, the more they stay the same. And I guess that's the best way to describe what I am about to tell you. I have never told this in my own words before; truthfully, I've never thought one to believe them. But the horrors of my childhood past recurred before my very eyes.
I must at least recall what I'd seen, and heard.
As I said, our Messiah Barabbas was released to us, the remnant of the Essenes. This now horrid creature had been tortured beyond recognition, and we did not wish him back. It was our postulation that crucifixion would be a graceful mercy, and to this end we begged the mob not to release him, but the Nazarene instead. Not because we believed the Nazarene was the Son of God (at least at this point), but because Barabbas' torment. But the Chief Priests and Scribes incensed the mob to call out both names, and Pilate, being confused, called for Barabbas' release, and not the Nazarene (for in truth, their names were very similar).
Plus two, they were both tortured beyond telling the difference between them. Some postulated that the Nazarene indeed was released, and that Barabbas was led to the Stake.
("They slew him not nor crucified him, but it appeared so unto them."
Surah)
But I knew the markings and tattoos of Barabbas. The gapping pupils, severed tongue, and the mark of our legion. Barabbas was indeed freed, and ate the grasses of a mule the rest of his days.
The Nazarene, however, uttered no thing as he was led away to Golgotha.
Of course, I knew that the condemned had to bare their own stake. That was the nature of the punishment. It was also the Roman way to wear down the victim so as to die a quicker death because their strength would already be gone. I almost wanted to intercede on his behalf though, because not only was this Ñazarene carrying a heavy laden spike; but also he alone was being whipped, chastised and taunted.
A very debasing moment.
He fell three times (I witnessed this with my very own eyes.) Finally a strange man from a strange land offered to bear his cross. The first time, the Soldiers struck him across the bridge of his nose, causing him to bleed. But he continued his insistence, and finally they relented as the Nazarene could no longer lift its weight.
Again I wanted to help him to his feet, but I was a wanted man. I was afraid. But the attention was entirely in this poor soul, no one cared about John Mark.
The Journey from the Great Hall to the Hill of the Damned was quite lengthy, and took the better part of the morning. When finally he neared the location, the stake was untied from the back of the stranger, who then helped the Nazarene to his feet after saying some consoling words to comfort him.
"Your Place in paradise is assured," I could just hear him say to the stranger.
Then they took off all him clothes, and naked, he lied stretched across the face of the Earth.
His hands and feet were tied to the stake, palm to back of hand layered, foot in front of foot. They brought him forth a skin of some type of dark liquid which he immediately refused, but they insisted.
He opened not his lips.
They marveled and laughed as the mallet brought into his palms a thick stake.
The Nazarene screamed, and it became too much for me to bare. I'm sure they did the same for his feet, but I could not watch. Then the ropes were removed as they lifted up the Stake and set it into the Heart of the Earth.
(My God!)
How he hung there with little to no retort, I'll never know. I walked with this man, talked with him. I assure you, he was wholly human, and yet.
As I intermittently gazed at this horror, I began to comprehend why so many had believed in his words. How his very compassionate nature preceded anything that might have been said offensive, or otherwise contrary to my own way of thinking.
I believed in him there, while hanging from a tree.
And as the skies grew darker, and taunting became more prevalent, the zealot in me became hot as the sun. I ran to him, and hugged him. And he said.
"Not now, I am unclean."
I bowed my head and skulked away, glancing back only once to see John the Beloved and Mary, his Mother having words with him.
Then the skies became pitch dark, as if by a new moon. And there was a shout, both on Earth and in the Heavens. I ran inside to escape the heavy thunders and hail, and witnessed a great earthquake. I was surprised as I had only heard from Simon how the Lord caused these things for his escape. So I ran as fast as my legs could back to the cross. I hoped, maybe as Barabbas, this Nazarene could escape the crucifixion.
But alas, he had lowered his head and died.
The Soldiers, however, were not convinced. And broke into his side.
Nothing.
The horror was just to great.
*******************************
I still don't know if this Man was the Son of God.
I don't know if perhaps he was God Himself
Elohim.
But I did spend time in his company. I know he was a righteous and holy man, filled with miracles and divinations. I know he raised the dead, and heard tell he even raised from the dead (although I never saw this myself, not being counted as a disciple.)
But I DID bare witness to the day of the ascension. I did see a miracle in the heavens as a soul in the appearance of a man stripped away from this Earth and go beyond the clouds.
Those that knew him well said it was Yeshua, I could not tell.
He was transformed into an unrecognizable figure.
But traveling along with Peter and then Paul in my latter years somehow drew me closer to my belief that perhaps this really was the long prophecied Messiah after all, I just didn't understand the signs.
Yes, I received the Mark of the Spirit in the Upper Room, I suppose I am the Redeemed. But my life has become a greater challenge to understand who this Nazarene truly was, and separating the difference between what made him human; and perhaps most important, how he may have been God, in the Flesh.
🌈 📖
THANK YOU FOR READING
😇
ALWAYS BELIEVE
🤲🏿 ❌
© I Am MichAel
(Epilogue)
As I set down my quill and close my Journal, I am reminded of the death of Peter, being crucified upside down because he didn't count himself worthy of the same death of Yeshua. I remember his blood being spilt and crossing passed and through his pupils as they eventually ruptured and in his final words, I caught the phrase.
"John Mark, always believe!"
(FIN)
Pilate
"Now Barabbas had led an Insurrection, and counted as a Murderer."
John Mark
"Why, what evil has he done?"
Pilate
"Hail, King of the Jews!"
Roman Guards
"Save yourself by coming down from the cross! Help us to Believe!"
Passer-bys
"Eloi, Eloi, lama Sabachthani!"
Yeshua
"It is Done."
Words of the Messiah, according to John the Beloved Disciple, John Mark's dear Friend.
"Truly, this man was the Son of God!"
Roman Centurion
🌈
A #WRITCO Series
📚
RELIVING A BITTER PAST
🦄
The more things change, the more they stay the same. And I guess that's the best way to describe what I am about to tell you. I have never told this in my own words before; truthfully, I've never thought one to believe them. But the horrors of my childhood past recurred before my very eyes.
I must at least recall what I'd seen, and heard.
As I said, our Messiah Barabbas was released to us, the remnant of the Essenes. This now horrid creature had been tortured beyond recognition, and we did not wish him back. It was our postulation that crucifixion would be a graceful mercy, and to this end we begged the mob not to release him, but the Nazarene instead. Not because we believed the Nazarene was the Son of God (at least at this point), but because Barabbas' torment. But the Chief Priests and Scribes incensed the mob to call out both names, and Pilate, being confused, called for Barabbas' release, and not the Nazarene (for in truth, their names were very similar).
Plus two, they were both tortured beyond telling the difference between them. Some postulated that the Nazarene indeed was released, and that Barabbas was led to the Stake.
("They slew him not nor crucified him, but it appeared so unto them."
Surah)
But I knew the markings and tattoos of Barabbas. The gapping pupils, severed tongue, and the mark of our legion. Barabbas was indeed freed, and ate the grasses of a mule the rest of his days.
The Nazarene, however, uttered no thing as he was led away to Golgotha.
Of course, I knew that the condemned had to bare their own stake. That was the nature of the punishment. It was also the Roman way to wear down the victim so as to die a quicker death because their strength would already be gone. I almost wanted to intercede on his behalf though, because not only was this Ñazarene carrying a heavy laden spike; but also he alone was being whipped, chastised and taunted.
A very debasing moment.
He fell three times (I witnessed this with my very own eyes.) Finally a strange man from a strange land offered to bear his cross. The first time, the Soldiers struck him across the bridge of his nose, causing him to bleed. But he continued his insistence, and finally they relented as the Nazarene could no longer lift its weight.
Again I wanted to help him to his feet, but I was a wanted man. I was afraid. But the attention was entirely in this poor soul, no one cared about John Mark.
The Journey from the Great Hall to the Hill of the Damned was quite lengthy, and took the better part of the morning. When finally he neared the location, the stake was untied from the back of the stranger, who then helped the Nazarene to his feet after saying some consoling words to comfort him.
"Your Place in paradise is assured," I could just hear him say to the stranger.
Then they took off all him clothes, and naked, he lied stretched across the face of the Earth.
His hands and feet were tied to the stake, palm to back of hand layered, foot in front of foot. They brought him forth a skin of some type of dark liquid which he immediately refused, but they insisted.
He opened not his lips.
They marveled and laughed as the mallet brought into his palms a thick stake.
The Nazarene screamed, and it became too much for me to bare. I'm sure they did the same for his feet, but I could not watch. Then the ropes were removed as they lifted up the Stake and set it into the Heart of the Earth.
(My God!)
How he hung there with little to no retort, I'll never know. I walked with this man, talked with him. I assure you, he was wholly human, and yet.
As I intermittently gazed at this horror, I began to comprehend why so many had believed in his words. How his very compassionate nature preceded anything that might have been said offensive, or otherwise contrary to my own way of thinking.
I believed in him there, while hanging from a tree.
And as the skies grew darker, and taunting became more prevalent, the zealot in me became hot as the sun. I ran to him, and hugged him. And he said.
"Not now, I am unclean."
I bowed my head and skulked away, glancing back only once to see John the Beloved and Mary, his Mother having words with him.
Then the skies became pitch dark, as if by a new moon. And there was a shout, both on Earth and in the Heavens. I ran inside to escape the heavy thunders and hail, and witnessed a great earthquake. I was surprised as I had only heard from Simon how the Lord caused these things for his escape. So I ran as fast as my legs could back to the cross. I hoped, maybe as Barabbas, this Nazarene could escape the crucifixion.
But alas, he had lowered his head and died.
The Soldiers, however, were not convinced. And broke into his side.
Nothing.
The horror was just to great.
*******************************
I still don't know if this Man was the Son of God.
I don't know if perhaps he was God Himself
Elohim.
But I did spend time in his company. I know he was a righteous and holy man, filled with miracles and divinations. I know he raised the dead, and heard tell he even raised from the dead (although I never saw this myself, not being counted as a disciple.)
But I DID bare witness to the day of the ascension. I did see a miracle in the heavens as a soul in the appearance of a man stripped away from this Earth and go beyond the clouds.
Those that knew him well said it was Yeshua, I could not tell.
He was transformed into an unrecognizable figure.
But traveling along with Peter and then Paul in my latter years somehow drew me closer to my belief that perhaps this really was the long prophecied Messiah after all, I just didn't understand the signs.
Yes, I received the Mark of the Spirit in the Upper Room, I suppose I am the Redeemed. But my life has become a greater challenge to understand who this Nazarene truly was, and separating the difference between what made him human; and perhaps most important, how he may have been God, in the Flesh.
🌈 📖
THANK YOU FOR READING
😇
ALWAYS BELIEVE
🤲🏿 ❌
© I Am MichAel
(Epilogue)
As I set down my quill and close my Journal, I am reminded of the death of Peter, being crucified upside down because he didn't count himself worthy of the same death of Yeshua. I remember his blood being spilt and crossing passed and through his pupils as they eventually ruptured and in his final words, I caught the phrase.
"John Mark, always believe!"
(FIN)
