Bible Agony and tears

He groaned in agony as the metal of the nail intruded through his skin, wedging itself through the bones of his fingers.

_I have experienced pain before, but nothing like this._

**It must get worse, I'm afraid.**

He thought back to the first knowledge of pain he had ever experienced; his mother's as she gave birth to him. She could feel her cries degrade into a pitiable moan, but it came to an end soon enough. He was free, and she was smiling at him warmly.

Becoming human had certainly been quite an experience. He had known long before how the human body would work on paper, so to speak; he understood its processes and needs and the capacity of the human mind. But now that he had been one for 33 years, he was able to get a better appreciation for the complexity of his greatest creation.

Having to let them suffer and face death had been painful for him. They would not understand, he knew, but at least a few would obey voluntarily. The rest, however, tended to imprison themselves in one way or another.

That was why he had to be so harsh to those whom he had chosen. The ones that were willing to listen and understand had to be separated from those that would only do so if he forced them to by enfeebling their brains. And he hated to directly corrupt his creation and bring about ruin to them.

The law was a harsh and nearly impossible standard, but he had created it for a reason; without it there was no hope for anyone, Jew or Gentile. If he had not spelled it out or written it within their brains then there would be no sense of shame, no sense of right or wrong at all. And yet, command against something forged curiosity in the humans, and desire often burned within them. He had felt it once, knowing how difficult it was to break free.

Freedom, that's what all of this was about. A freedom to choose between a benevolent, nearly incomprehensible protector, or temporary pleasures that brought about death. Many wanted to choose the latter, he knew, not because he had made them more so that way than others but because they wanted life to be simple, to take things in a relaxed manner, and to tell themselves that they were not responsible for their actions.

But they were, even if they convinced themselves otherwise. And so he had created the law, to constrict them and make them realize just how dire the consequences of their actions deserved to be.

But no more. The time of Israel's punishment was at an end, and the time of forgiveness was now. He had allowed them to destroy themselves, to show them the agony of separation, even though it had pained him. But now it was time to show mercy, forgiveness, and love. The love that so many were convinced he wasn't capable of having.

And that, among numerous other reasons, was why he was here, being executed for nothing. To show them that he was willing to take their punishment for them—the punishment they deserved, but that he would be receiving instead.

. . . . .

Minutes passed, and the crowd of onlookers mocked him and expressed their hatred of him. They seemed to especially enjoy demanding that he "prove" that he was King of the Jews by liberating himself from his position.

Now that he had been a human, he could see why they'd demand such a thing. Then they would have no choice but to believe. But he could not do that; he wanted no machines in Heaven.

"Lord, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing," he muttered. The only one who seemed to show him just a bit of respect was his mother, who was certain that she was watching her own son's death.

_It's only temporary, mother. Remember the things wise people said of me that you have pondered in your heart for so long. It will hurt to think about it all at first, but soon it will make sense._

His disciples were not here, also convinced that their teacher was facing death. Despite their loyalty issues, he couldn't help but love them to death—even the traitor, for all his greed and worldliness. His plan would still be intact even if he had not killed himself. But all of that did not matter now.

He eventually grew thirsty, and when the onlookers saw this they eventually gave him some sour wine from a sponge, which of course did little to alleviate his thirst.

Finally, the darkness that had been gathering around just looked like a storm to them.

. . . . .

Time seemed to pass slowly, and the only one he could really speak to that would understand was his father.

_Soon it will be time. How can I withstand so much pain in this mortal body?_

**Because it is no mortal body, my son. It is time for you—for us—to atone them. And for that, I must leave you and send you to your punishment. But I know that you can withstand it. You are the Savior and Messiah.**

_Will it be just as you described?_

**Yes. But think of all those who will be forgiven!**

And then, his father left him. Mortality coiled around him like a snake, and it was then that he knew it was time to die.

"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?!" he cried out, but he already knew the answer. Tears streamed down his cheeks and mixed with his blood as he felt the weight of humanity bear on top of him.

And for a moment, his divinity was gone. He was nothing but a merely sinless human in a flawed, mortal body. His knowledge of the realm he had originated from was practically gone, and his only thought focused on a truth; he could still trust his father, no matter what he put him through. A memory flashed through his head of someone else in this position, even younger than him and without any divinity, chosen not to be sacrificed but to lead a nation. The same nation that he himself was in right now, although soon he would be leaving.

"Into your hands I commit my spirit," he told his father as memories began to emerge.

A man and a woman, naked in a garden. A serpent and some fruit. A man on a giant boat with pairs of animals. The boy that had almost been sacrificed. A woman that turned into a pillar of salt. A scheme that caused a young man to have his birthright forfeited. A wrestling match with a mortal in which he had had to dislocate his hip. A boy wearing a colorful coat, suddenly sold into slavery. The same boy thrown in prison and brought back out, beloved in a foreign land. A man using his staff to part waves, escaping that foreign land. Complaints, a pillar of fire and a cloud. Raining quail. Stone tablets etched with commands. A golden calf. The law, in all its glory. The crumbling of city walls. Battles, skirmishes, slaughters, corruption. These were the painful parts to watch. A king when there had really been no need for one. A boy killing a giant with a few rocks. Expansion, then conquest. Exile into foreign lands. A return. Words being written on scrolls. Men shouting in the streets. More conquest. A bright star.

If he told anyone these things, he knew, they'd think he was making it up. But if it was too crazy to be true, then where had they come from?

Then his human memories, the ones that the onlookers would find a bit more believable. His birth in a stable. His discussions in the temple. His baptism by a dirty hermit. The desert and his first close encounter with temptation. The sea of Galilee and the men fishing there. The tax collector, Matthew. His travels, his miracles. The righteous, the hypocrites, and his disciples, the ever-unconfident skeptics. He suddenly thought of them again, wondering just what they were doing now.

But then, the painful memories emerged once again. The last supper with his friends. His arrest by the traitor, and the cynical kiss he had planted on him. The mock trial, and the man who did not understand why the priests were so eager to have him crucified. And now, the present.

"It is finished," he declared breathlessly as he pieced the memories together, ready to depart. And he did just that.

. . . . .

He awoke to sounds of screaming and weeping, the smell of burning sulfur and flesh, and the sight of his enemy, who seemed to understand that he was playing right into his hands. But nevertheless, he was enjoying every minute of it.

"It's not over," the enemy rasped in his face, his breath as hot as the flames in the area. "You still have the burdens of the future. But…you could give up now."

"So that you'll have more friends to be punished with you?" he asked.

"They'd rather be with me than you!" the enemy insisted. "At least before they come here, that is. Do you actually think this plan of yours will really work? It's completely illogical to them, and they'll see it as a lie. Your own so-called followers will grow to be just like the Pharisees, but perhaps even worse. They will conquer, kill, and spew forth hatred from their mouths, just as I like, and all in your Name. They will say they love you, but they will only love their power and money. And when others try to resist, there will be conflict, and so many souls to add to my collection. How does it feel to know your plan is futile?"

"You are the author of lies," he replied. "You only spew discouragement and strife, and encourage the sin you think you can control. Do you really consider it to be your own creation, your own product? A wrench in my works?"

"You're a mortal, this isn't your work!" the enemy screamed in retaliation.

"Then why was I without sin, and why am I down here?" he challenged. The enemy growled.

"You may be free to speak confidently now," he pointed out, "But you will be crushed by the weight of future sins! Surely you don't wish to carry the burdens of those that will hate you AND those of your loyal followers?"

"I will," he promised. "Add them on." With a snap of his fingers, the enemy resupplied him with his knowledge of the future.

The first memories were pleasant ones regarding him and his disciples finally realizing who he was and what they needed to do, but those memories didn't last for long.

A young man—little more than a boy—was stoned to death. The first to suffer for him. He could feel all of his pain added on to his own as he felt himself being dunked into the fire by the enemy. It was as if the young man were here with him, taking his rightful place with him, burning along with him.

An older man, one dedicated to wiping out this new sect of Jews who claimed that the Messiah had arrived and departed. He could see himself appearing personally before this man, and the vision would change his life as well as his name, and many would come to believe over the course of a couple of centuries.

But as they did, more and more of them began to die. Because so many of them would not submit to earthly figures as well as him, they suffered. They were tortured, beaten, turned into pawns to be slaughtered for the amusement of others, and frequently killed. And yet, they never seemed to fade away like they should have. They persisted through this time of persecution, suffering just as he had, even though they shouldn't have had to. They understood that he was with them, even when things looked bleak. Their sufferings piled onto his own as his flesh was seared and burned off in the fire the enemy held him in.

"Their tenacity will be admirable," the enemy admitted. "And even though they have done little wrong, the world will despise them. If the world will hate them for doing nothing, see how much more it will hate them when _I _take control!"

"Your reign over the Earth is not eternal," he reminded the enemy weakly. But the enemy only sneered in response.

"That's not what_they_ will think. For all they know, they are free, governed only by themselves. But first you must see how your own followers persuade them of this."

And so he was subjected to more memories, painful ones of his own followers warping themselves into horrible sinners, just as they would have been even without knowing him. An emperor deliberately interfered between his people and those that thought they were his people, switching sides rapidly and giving his support to a debate that he did not even understand the significance of. But he managed to stop this emperor from ruining the faith of his people permanently.

Another emperor persecuted those that had still not been saved. While this emperor wasn't as cruel as those who had persecuted his people, the emperor callously demanded that the pagans be extinguished, without even giving them a chance of understanding the truth he preached just a few centuries before. While few were put to death, the agony of these still-unreached people hurt him greatly, and he could feel their sufferings piling onto his own in the fire as he burned with their entire belief system. Some felt even worse pain at the point of death; still others were relieved.

And soon the world of his time crumbled, and much of the land was divided by a caste system in which the lowest and the poorest had little understanding of his truths—and how could they when the teachers could barely read his words? All the while the original branches of the tree of Israel were cut down in cold blood intermittently, with little provocation.

The leaders of his people became like the Pharisees, burdening the ordinary people with a law—and worse yet, this was one of their own invention that came about as a misunderstanding of his truths. They were corrupt, arrogant, and indifferent to the suffering around them, seeing his Name and his words as leverage to gain political power and earthly prosperity.

And when others of his people suffered, they did nothing to help, letting the descendants of Ishmael rule over those they could reach, causing his own people to turn away from him just to survive in their new world, just as they had done so many times before. The pain of this rejection never dulled throughout the millennia, and he felt their sufferings add on to his own.

And when they finally set about to responding to the heresy, they did so not be being the salt and light of the world—as he had wanted—but instead slaughtered them with no regard for their souls or bodies. Their cries of pain and agony were added to his own yet again.

Then the leaders of what they thought were the only lands inhabited by his people grew even worse, coping horribly with the negative aspects of his plan, ruining themselves with corruption and indifference as people were murdered and died of diseases. Meanwhile, some of the last of his people inhabiting the place where Eden had once been were killed by an evil man that would later come to be hailed as a hero, his crimes ignored. The sufferings people went through became even worse as more and more died—but at least their lives ended with peace.

Then came a time when the descendants of the current leaders of the world sought to advance themselves by rejecting his teachings in all but name, believing themselves to be like his father. What little morality they had left was distorted under the guise of cultural advancement, and those that had followed him in the past were idolized, their beliefs all but forgotten.

But one man to the north of this land was beginning to grasp at the truth—at least part of it. Fortunately and unfortunately, he was a passionate man whose ideas sparked change—and war against those that resisted this change. All the while his people in the east were helpless as a series of wars broke out in his Name, although it was really just another attempt for a few greedy families to take over as much territory as possible and keep it stable. He felt the sufferings of this generation now, finally screaming in agony as their collective pain was absorbed into him.

As the wars were fought, others fled to new lands that had been previously unknown to them—but he had known them. Seeing its wealth and riches, they used what they perceived as their superiority to subjugate the inhabitants of these new lands, demanding that their old ways be crushed—and sometimes in his Name. He wept as they were slaughtered remorselessly now, pitying the masses that would never see his face. He could only hope that the law written in their brains would suffice, and forgave those among his followers that participated in the rape of these new lands.

Finally, all pretexts were dropped. Men who saw themselves as wise saw sin's work as that of his followers, and they rejected him, encouraging others to do so. It was now foolish to see his teachings as sound, or so it seemed. In light of everything that has happened, they declared, he has clearly made the world a worse place, and we will have to seek other ideas. And so they did.

In the next two centuries they grew more prominence until they finally threw off the legacy of his followers, perceiving it as a burdensome yoke that had to be removed for the betterment of society. They still rarely said such things explicitly, but it was written in their minds, as he could see.

And as technology advanced, the world seemed to reset to a more refined version of the time immediately following his ascension; there was now a host of ideas to follow, all while his own was rejected as having wronged the world too much to be salvaged. People freely expressed their distaste for him now, and even more so for his followers. Just as he had been called the prince of demons, so they were called by even worse names.

And as his followers saw their world collapsing around them, they reacted in such ways that they almost deserved it. They cast themselves as good and the others as evil, blind to their own sin and evil minds. They demanded that they be reinstated in their old positions of authority, all while their tongues dripped with venom for those that they should have guided into the light. But instead, they pushed them farther into the darkness, seeing them as unfit to experience his love.

And so, left to their own devices and abandoned by those of his followers that remained, they did what they pleased. They engaged in every sort of sin imaginable, sometimes justifying their actions and sometimes not. They had no care for him anymore, it seemed. Others, however, simply forgot him, going about their lives, content and unaware of their own wrongdoings so that his followers could only see them as better versions of themselves, although they never admitted it. They were born, lived, and died, all without having the slightest understanding of his sacrifice, and few that remembered saw fit to share it with them.

Jesus wept for their agony, for their suffering, for the punishment they didn't even know they deserved. He wept for all of humanity as his whole body, now no longer recognizable as human, was plunged into Hell, feeling the pain that all of them had suffered together. Whether it was physical, emotional, verbal, or some other kind of pain, it all coalesced into the decaying ashes of his mortal body. His followers only made up a small portion of his pain, as he felt all the sins that had happened, were happening, and could happen later on pile onto his back, finally tearing him apart.

"You see?" the enemy cried with a sadistic laugh. "They will hate you because they hate your followers! Among your people are hypocrites, liars, adulterers, greedy people, arrogant people, egotistical and charismatic madmen, hard-hearted fools, angry people…and finally, sinners, some even more so than any of the souls bound for Hell!"

Jesus said nothing as his corpse was withdrawn from the pit, having died a second time. But Satan knew he could still hear Him.

"Is it really worth it when you remember the future?" he asked. "Was it really worth dying for the world's sins when so few even have hope of recognizing your alleged grace? Is it really worth it if all of them see you as a mythical tyrant, and your followers as cruel, heartless, hypocritical and elitist bastards that invented all of us in a ploy to rule the world and govern it with nonsense?"

. . . . .

As soon as he had finished speaking, the very foundations of Hell shook, and Satan nearly fell flat on his face. A rush of souls whizzed past him from across the chasm—those that had faith even when there was nothing else to fall back on, not even a single word from God written down. Some had never even heard of Eden or sin or salvation, but knew without being told what was going on. They were free, finally free of the sins that had enslaved them, and they left his presence for a truer paradise.

Satan felt a hand around clamp his neck, choking him. Jesus had reappeared in His true form, a stern look of condemnation on his face.

"I have shouldered the weight of their sins," He told him. "All people, and all of their sins. I have saved many souls, some of which you did not see just now because they have yet to exist. But of course, they are included in my plan for the world. Many may join you, just as they deserve—and perhaps it is where they would rather be. But many will also join me, understanding my words as my Spirit makes them realize that there is so much more to life and eternity than what you have to offer." He then let go of Satan's neck, placing his palm on the enemy's head.

"Now I must show _you _some things," Jesus told him.

The first things seen were the faces of the faithful of the past—those who had just escaped the chasm where the good souls of the dead dwelled and had gone off to Heaven. They had only faith, rather than any words of inspiration to remember or rally behind. All they received was a promise from God, and they trusted it, without even fully understanding what it was. Next were the disciples, who were soon to believe when Jesus returned to Earth for a little while. Then came the early Christians, who spread the faith even beyond the "Roman" and "Western" worlds. And in the midst of the misguided emperors came the ordinary citizens—the unnoticed, genuine believers existing somewhere at every point in time in the future, representing the ideals of Jesus' teaching despite being surrounded by those that were not. One was a man that argued that the oppressed peoples of the New World were indeed human, and that therefore they had souls worth saving—and by extension, bodies that did not deserve abuse any more than anyone else's. Others were groups rather than individuals that took great care to preserve lost knowledge, even if its teachings went against those of the Bible. Still more cared for the sick and the poor. Others never gave up hope despite societal pressure to give themselves an easier life. One used his faith as a reason to oppose slavery, and his words began a movement that eventually ended the practice. Some were theologians, writing books arguing in favor of the faith just as others wrote against it. One in Germany died for his supposed irrelevancy, while another in Britain had his death go unnoticed despite his great legacy. One even used his faith to argue against racial segregation, despite others that claimed to share the same faith as him that argued in favor of it. Each time that Christianity was faced with a "challenge" meant to diminish or discard it, it never seemed to go away completely, even centuries after it logically should have.

"Those people that you showed me were not my own," Jesus told Satan. "_These _are my people—the ones who truly follow my teachings and understand that I do not advocate violence, prejudice, conquest, or a specific lifestyle. Indeed, my kingdom is in Heaven, and it is their home. All anyone must do to join my followers is acknowledge their wrongdoings before me and explain that they understand the way I have suffered for their sake here."

"_I know _all these things!" Satan protested. "But what about those that don't know? What of those that _never _know? Not everyone will feel the need to do as you ask, you know!"

Jesus closed his eyes in sorrow, his tears spent already. "Do you think I am not aware?" he asked Satan. "I know that not all will choose me, even if I gave them all the choice. But none can say they are innocent. They know in their minds what they have done, but they think that what I offer them will be a hindrance to their earthly lives. Even if they have not heard of my sacrifice they know of their own sins, and know of my existence, even if they choose to deny it. Many will say that I am unfair, but if they were in my place perhaps they would understand. I am under no obligation to provide fairness, and yet I am giving a way out of punishment anyway."

"It is a great tragedy, knowing that despite my best efforts, I cannot save everyone. In one sense, yes, I could. But then they would have no choice but to believe, and no free will to reject me. They could deny me no longer like some of them would wish. When I first created humans, I didn't intend on having masses of people that would obey me with no freedom of their own. I would never wish for them to be mindless slaves, on Earth or in Heaven. They must choose to accept or reject me, and love me not because I told them to, but because they have seen the difference between my mercy and my wrath. I do not wish to be feared; I wish for them to express the same love I have for them to me."

"And if they have never heard of you and cannot ever hear of you in time?" Satan challenged. Jesus did not move his head or open his eyes as he gave his response:

"All know of me in one way or another. Even if they are raised in another faith, or none at all, their mind is capable of breaking free to me. If they do not know of me specifically, then there is still a chance that they will recognize that the world they inhabit did not appear the way it did on its own. But the way I offer now—and to all people—is far easier and guaranteed to secure their souls in my Kingdom."

"Then why didn't you offer it earlier?" Satan demanded.

"In the beginning, few would have been able to see it if I came as I did earlier, as just one man. And furthermore, they would have not yet known the effects of the curse I had placed them under. Humanity had to feel suffering and the agony of separation from me before I could demonstrate my mercy and grace."

"Besides," Jesus added as he began to leave, "I have bestowed the role of spreading the faith to my followers—and soon there will come a time when none can say that they do not know of me. It is then that my people will have to work to get them to recognize me—even if it seems like they cannot. Until the day of Judgment, there will always be room for more people, so long as they express their gratitude for my grace and recognize what I have done for them. Not all will, true. But many will, and if even one person is able to understand, then I will have made all the difference."

And so Jesus left, confounding the craftiest ruler of the world as he returned to Earth for the time being.

**AN: Hey, guys. If you've been waiting for the SYOT, or A1, or The Hat to update, don't worry, I will. Just think of this as silly filler or something.**

**I had to write this for cathartic reasons, as well as perhaps divine inspiration—not that I would expect everyone to understand what that means. As much as I wish it could be so, my purpose in life was not to write fanfiction.**

**I know my beliefs ultimately boil down to just my opinion—and yes, they were inherited from my parents. But it was no simple torch-passing, nor is it that way for most Christians. I believe that God gives us free will to accept or reject Him, and for a person like me it was hard to make the decision. I ultimately decided to keep my faith, even though I had plenty of good reasons not to.**

**Here I tried to tackle the thorniest issue of all—the problem of Hell and the loving God that made it. If you're still confused about how I can think God is good, PM me, but be prepared for a long message.**

**The fact that so few people—most of them better people than me—don't properly understand the Gospel disturbs me to no end. Even worse still is the fact that so many of my fellow believers do absolutely nothing—and as one evangelist put it, "We've gone from fishers of men to keepers of the aquarium".**

**Finally, remember a few things:**

**If you were molested by a priest when you were young, God loves you, even if His followers don't seem to. Don't let one person's sins destroy your life forever.**

**If you're gay and some allegedly Christian group tried and failed to cure you, God loves you, even if it seems like His followers don't. God has a plan for you; don't ruin it by killing yourself.**

**If you've been through something horrible and feel like God has abandoned you, He hasn't. He can make something wonderful emerge from tragedy, even when things seem hopeless.**

**If you're an atheist or an agnostic and dislike Christianity due to the actions of some of its followers, remember that not all of us are bigoted or elitist, although lately some of us have been succumbing to frustration. Christianity has contributed many good things to society—and like it or not, some of its values still linger today.**

**If you're a Christian in a country that doesn't allow religious freedom, stay strong despite your suffering. God is with you, always.**

**And remember, when you—any of you readers-suffer, God does, too, whether you believe in Him or not. If you're willing, He can give you the courage you need to get through life's challenges, even if they seem impossible. Nothing is impossible to God, even if it is to our human understanding.**

**If you're curious as to how all of this God and Jesus stuff works, PM me anytime. I WILL answer.**

**Finally, go see my profile for more information on this, if you wish. You'll learn a little bit more about me, and maybe something about yourself as well.**


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Bible, Hurt-Comfort, Tragedy