There are days in my life that I ponder the thought of what was in the mind of the man or men that nailed my Darling Savior to the Cross. As the hammer came crashing down on the Spiked Nails, did they stop to look into His eyes?  Did they sneak a glance at whether He was lying there willingly, without being held by force?  Did they notice if Jesus was uttering any words through His pain, while the nails were driven with force through His hands? Were they at all curious as to what His face appeared to look like? Did they notice if His head vigorously moved from left to right, trying to shake the horrid pain? I can see that day, as I incorporate the action of the man that nailed my FORGIVING Savior to the Cross. IT WAS I, that held the Spiked Nails in place, and this is what I see as I roll back the scales from my eyes and envision myself there that day. Please go with me as I paint for you a horrible picture with, Spiked Nails and a Calvary Hammer". 

I can see Jesus try to walk as He staggers out of the courtyard and down the street. There are scores and scores of people to His left and right, beside of the road. I heard a couple of people yell out as to poke fun and say, "Aah, is your Cross heavy?" And then laughed a hateful laugh. Stumbling from the weight of the beam, a man was chosen and forced to help Jesus carry the load of the Cross up the hill to Golgotha. Jesus had no shirt on, just His loins girt about with a cloth. I could see the Cross was pressing against His back. I could see His face was in pain, as the beam was pushing splinters and pieces of wood into His back. He groaned as He lifted the heavy beam from off His back, it gave Him a little reprieve. From the beating in the courtyard, His entire back was covered with dried blood, and cuts of flesh just lay open for everyone to see. His hair was matted together around the crown of His head with dried blood. There was dirt all over His body. His knees were scraped up with a couple of pebbles embedded into His knees where He fell onto the ground because of the weight of the Cross. He couldn't wipe them off without freeing an arm from carrying the 150-200 lb. Cross.  As He staggered and walked passed the people, their jeers and their rude comments could not move Him to stop or turn around.  Oh, the look on His face as He passed by the crowd that day. His eyes full of compassion as each face he passed on the way up the hill to Golgotha.  As a sheep about to be slaughtered, He KNEW what was about to take place. Knowing this, He WILLINGLY climbed anyway. The cross was so heavy. The ground was so uneven, making it almost impossible not to lose your footing, trip, or even stumble. He was so tired. You could see He was drained of energy. There was almost none left.  I heard Him say something, but wasn't close enough to understand or make out what He had said. So my curiosity nudged me closer. I did not know I would be the one, the soldiers would chose to give the spiked nails and Calvary hammer to. They turned to me and placed the tools into my possession. They said, "You know what to do". If I had committed only one sin in my entire life: like tell a little white lie, speak an unkind word, sneak my favorite cookie, or worse maybe murder someone, or committing adultery, in my mind and heart, or lusting. THIS IS WHY I would be the  person doing the nailing. This is why I carried the spiked nails and Calvary hammer to the hill. I was the OFFENDER! I am the one that sinned-NOT HIM! Yet, He was about to take MY destiny and bare my pain-for my sins. What manner of love a person could have for another. It was inconceivable to me. He knew no sin, and was about to take my pain so I would feel none. Each little sin, big or small was about to: crucify Him from start to gruesome finish. Each sin, (can you imagine with me), how often you and I take this walk up the hill with the spiked nails and hammer to crucify Jesus? Every time we commit a trespass against Him and His law! Many times when I am so wrapped up and caught up in myself and what I WANT, I nearly beat the nails through His hands and out his hands and through the wood and out the other side.  Oh, what a wretched person I am. As I approached closer, I could see three men take the Cross from off Him. They laid it down onto the ground. There was a hole already prepared and waiting for the Cross and the man on it. There were two other crosses on both sides of the hole that had been dug. They had been there for quite some time. As they took the Cross off Jesus, from his bent crouched position , he grabbed his aching back. He stood completely straight and stretched His tired aching body. He had been slumped over for nearly 25-30 minutes carrying the Cross. I could tell it was a relief for Him to stand straight. Two men, one on each side, took Him by the shoulder and arms and walked Him backwards and laid Him down on the Cross. They weren't being very gentle. They hurriedly putting Him on the Cross.  As I approached Him, I could not look at His face. I purposely chose to look at the brown wooden beam under His body. I couldn't believe I was about to do what I was about to. His body was soaked with perspiration. He had gashes on His arms and sides from the end of the whip lassoing around and hitting Him. There was dried blood mingled with sweat and dirt on His wrists and arms. His hands were dirty from being thrown into prison and from being beaten in the courtyard.  He wasn't given and opportunity to get cleaned up. As they tied the rope to His right wrist, they went to the other one. They had tied it so tight, that He let out a moan of hurt. They were so rough with Him. The crowd loved every minute of it. They tied His feet to the bottom of the Cross. His right foot on top of the left one. I knew it was my turn to do what was  next. In harmony it seemed, the crowd started chanting, "Crucify Him! Crucify Him! They must have screamed it loud 5 or 6 times. I got lost in the thought of what the mood of the crowd was and what they were doing that I had lost all track of where I was and what I was chosen to do. Someone tapped me on the shoulder. It sent me back to reality. I then realized, they were waiting on me. I noticed for the first time the size of the spiked nails and Calvary hammer. The spikes were about 6 to 7 inches long, and about a inch wide. The color of them was a gun medal gray. They were heavy. The end of each spike was a sharp as a pencil, only unbreakable. I looked at the Calvary hammer in my left hand. It looked like a short sledge hammer. The head of the h hammer was about 4 inches in diameter. It weighed about 2-3 lbs. The handle had just recently been made. It was a yellowish topaz color. I took a deep breathe. The crowd was in a frenzy. I took a couple of steps closer to where He lay motionless. He was looking right at me, but I didn't catch His gaze, I looked away. I stooped down in front of His right wrist that was tied tightly to the wooden beam.  My heart was pounding so hard, I couldn't hear anything else. I was struck it seemed with fear!  I still could not find the guts to do this.  About the same time I was thinking this, someone to me, "Your sin has done this, you have no choice.  I could not muster up the guts to look at His face.  I took the pointing finger of my left hand, (the one that held the spiked nails), I laid the other two down, because I couldn't hold all three at the same time. I took my finger and wiped away the dirt and smeared blood. I felt around for the place to position the nail. I raised the hammer high above my head. What if I miss?  What if I can't go through with this? Since the crowd is in a riot, will they crucify me to if I don't go through with it? I hope one strong hit will do it. I brought  the hammer down onto the nail! It sank deep into H is wrist, probably two inches.  But I noticed that His wrist was not fastened to the beam! Oh no! I have to hit it again! I had failed to hit the nail hard enough the first time for it to go completely through the wrist and through the wood. I didn't hear the nail rip through the flesh and bone as you would hear it through a piece of wood. But, I did hear a pain riddled moan as the nail sink into His flesh. I noticed that He clinched His hand into a tight fist. His fingers turned white from being so tight. He didn't try to move or pull away. The crowd loved it. It was like someone had made a touchdown. They were yelling with excitement. They were so full of hate. They were glued to me, awaiting the next blow of the Calvary hammer. Still, He did not move or pull away. HE FREELY TOOK the blow of the hammer. I raised the hammer one last time, and with all my might I came down with one jolted hard blow. I made contact with the spiked nail and beam of wood. It embedded itself deep inside the wood, securing His wrist in place.  I could see His blood of crimson red drip out, as a faucet trickles water out its spout. As I felt the nail to make sure it was in place, some of His blood got onto my hand. I immediately wiped it back onto His arm. I looked up to sneak a glance at His face. My curiosity got the best of me. I have never seen such a pain filled, sad look in all my life. His eyebrows were squinted together. Their were lines made and fixed in His forehead from the pain He was feeling. I could see the extent of His pain written all over His face. His eyes were very unusual that day. I seen something in them that made that day unforgettable for me. I could see His tears running down His cheeks. I'm sure from physical pain, but the thrust of His pain and concern was not for Himself, but for Me. I know this because I heard Him say, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do".  He watched me drive the spiked nail into His already riddled body and yet, He STILL HAD MERCY on me. The just of His pain, was not for Himself or what I had inflicted on Him. His compassion WENT BEYOND HIMSELF. What mercy and compassion He had for me---the one causing Him such indescribable pain. This was probably what He had said earlier when He was walking down the street, although I could not hear Him. I felt guilty, I have become a murderer. His voice was pleading and begging for mercy, NOT for Himself to be rescued out of such a plight, but for me and those standing there that day. Over and over heard him say, as if in a fixed trance or state of mind, Father, Forgive them, for they know not what they do. "Oh how I longed to leave this place. I walked around to the other side of the cross beam. He turned His head and followed me, waiting for what was next. I wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. I hurried and found the spot for the nail for His left wrist. I positioned the spiked nail and thrust it deep with the Calvary hammer. I did not like for Him to continually say with a begging cry, "Father, Forgive them, they know not what they do. I felt miserable enough without hearing this plea from an innocent man. The mercy and love in His eyes engulfed my mind. His eyes burned with love and compassion. No one could kill the love HE WAS AND DISPLAYED. Truly, this man was different that any other I've ever seen. I fastened and nailed His feet in place. My task was finished. I couldn't stay there another second. I tossed the hammer down beside his body and fled away. I knew they would jar Him roughly into the hole. It would rip His already torn flesh even  more. I could not stand it any more. This man truly was, "The Son Of The Most High God.  I hope you see with me what I so vividly seen. Each sin as presently as even today or the ones in the unforeseen tomorrow, will force Jesus' life blood from His body. Each sin will force you and I to take a trip up a Hill to Jesus' awaiting, tied body. awaiting the sin blows of a Calvary hammer.  We literally crucify Him with each sin we partake of. It would do us good not  to just merely confess each sin and go our merry way. But, we need to visualize ourselves walking up a hill. I hope each sin you and I commit is worth this story just read. I hope this story has inspired each reader to carefully consider each sin before they take a trip up a hill.   

author: Darlene Palmatier  

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Copyright 1996, David Naquin

You can also call or write:
David Naquin/Creative Arts
3305 Gardenia Avenue Orlando, FL 32805
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Copyright 1995, David Naquin

Please do not use without permission.

This Picture can be purchased at David's Site without the lake applet.  This picture comes directly from David's site.  Take the time and look at it.  You can see the marks on Jesus' body where he was whipped.  You can see the weight of sin  of the world in His eyes.  This picture has touched me more than any that I have ever seen.  The Artist has captured  what Jesus must have felt like.  Please visit his site.  He has permitted me to use his   picture.  Many people have taken this picture without permission.  If you see it on any other site, please do us a favor email  David. Naquin or myself.  It is a privilege that David has shared this picture with all of us.