Forgive them

Act 1:  "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do."

I fell headlong into the chasm of my willful atrocities.
Some subtle and slight. Under the surface. Others are so visible I must tremble. 
The level of my careless rebellion is undeniable.
Without a word of recompence I have stood, not knowing the grief I impose on almighty God.
But then
My soul is transported through time to thorn-crowned head of the dawn creator
he remains
I hear his voice from the hill of mankind’s transgression
His voice reverberates through the centuries
Through wars, idolatry, conspiracy, and flesh borne insurrection.
Like the deep voice of a billion sorrows crystalized in that one moment of suffering
Father, the voice cries above the unseen hoards of demons and  all too visible tormentors
Father, forgive them. They know not what they do. 
Bludgeoned, beaten, challenged, ridiculed
His power unparalleled
Yet he remains
Yet not only remains. He calls for amnesty in the midst of annihilation 
Father, forgive them. They know not what they do. 

We hear Jesus uttering this prayer while enduring unthinkable agony
It’s personal. It’s unimaginable. But most of all, it’s mercy.
Mercy of the greatest kind.
And when I think of God his son not sparing sent him to die, I scare can take it in. 
Father forgive them.
Father forgive the dogs that surrounded him
Father forgive the religious bigots who spewed malicious venom and mocking rebukes
Father forgive Thomas who doubted
Peter who denied him.
And disciples who deserted him
Father forgive them.
And as he scanned the ions of centuries to come 
He gazed through history.
He saw me and he saw you
Father forgive them. 
They know not what they do.

Forgive Them

Look Up Roc Collins

I was often called a “toe-head.” I still don’t know what that referred to but I spent more than one night performing a thorough inspection of my skull to make sure an 11th toe wasn’t about to burst forth from my temple. That’s not the way I wanted to join the circus.

Mtullos