an un-fair savior Luke Myers the un-god. the un-man. un-recognizable savior. beaten. scourged. made to carry a cross -one he didn't deserve -- stained with my blood. my shame. carried up the black hill of my death. suspended with a criminal on both sides. one of them to enter paradise, but not because he deserved paradise, but because the god-man is an un-fair savior: robbing punishment not his own. like a criminal, he takes what isn't his. he's not afraid to cross over into death because death is powerless. the hill is powerless. nothing contains him. his blood is the only thing that has real power. life blood: refined by death: the admission into paradise. so there he hangs: on a tree planted on a hill. the soldiers spit. mock. call out, hey savior, who’s going to save you? get off that cross. come on down here. but he stays put. one criminal rebukes the other for laughing. he ain't a criminal. he ain’t a thief. he ain't a killer. our blood flows from our crimes, but his blood and his cross are un-deserved. remember me in paradise lord. agonizing angels hold their breathe as the savior flickers out. an eyelash, a finger wiggle, and the hill would be overrun with all the hosts of heaven. the hill would be wiped from the earth. but he is a criminal, the religious cry out. stole honor from god. savior my ass. can’t even save himself. bitter blood flows from his wounds. forsaken. alone. paradise lost? no abba father? no friends? is it a cross holding up the weight of the world? or just a cross holding up a dead man, on a back-alley hill, in a middle nowhere place of the world? paradise was the stakes, but was he just a mongrel? a criminal? is the hope that flowed in his veins just blood on the ground? was he really the savior? the back-door into paradise has been pried wide open. just cross over the mangled savior’s body lying in the doorway. from there the hill is manageable. even a criminal can do it with just a little bit of spilt blood.
55