But here he was in the depths of hell; being called a liar, a weakling and a scoundrel
Goes to Hell an odious melodramatic chant heaved all around, the sound of victory and celebration that had long been overdue. The raging clashes of heated celebrants reverberated across the walls, the air now filled with the feelings of expectancy from the unseen onlookers, gazers that gaze from deep within the dark. As Fingers fiddled with neighboring pairs, impatiently waiting to land the first blow on its unsuspecting victim. The tension now so impressive on the target, that he could have sworn that he was alive and not dead. A chaos only Moses could encapsulate in words, “a darkness that could be felt.”
I call to you, O LORD, every day; I spread out my hands to you
The experience was so real more real than his entire lifetime on earth; He was once called Rabbi by many and Rabonni by a few. But here he was in the depths of hell; being called a liar, a weakling and a scoundrel. The repugnant smell of burning sulphur swept right underneath his nostrils as though being choked in the clutches of death to die. There he knelt amidst the congregation of an innumerable company of night walkers; creatures acquainted with the offset of darkness. A tailed beast scurried passed his back, leaving nothing but the trace of a diminishing sound print; chills of all sorts found its way through his spine. The pain at the cross would not be compared to that which was before him. The mounted waves were coming; he couldn’t see them, but he could feel every last one of them. As though compelled by the onslaught before him, he took to his knees and offered the following prayer to the God who could save: “For my soul is full of trouble and my life draws near the grave. I am counted among those who go down to the pit; I am like a man without strength. I am set apart with the dead, like the slain who lie in the grave, whom you remember no more, who are cut off from your care. You have put me in the lowest pit, in the darkest depths. Your wrath lies heavily upon me; you have overwhelmed me with all your waves. You have taken from me my closest friends and have made me repulsive to them. I am confined and cannot escape; my eyes are dim with grief. I call to you, O LORD, every day; I spread out my hands to you.
for the transgression (sins, guilt and every wrongs) of my people he was stricken.
Do you show your wonders to the dead? Do those who are dead rise up and praise you? Is your love declared in the grave, your faithfulness in Destruction? Are your wonder known in the place of darkness, or your righteous deeds in the land of oblivion? But I cry to you for help, O LORD; in the morning my prayer comes before you. Why, O LORD, do you reject me and hide your face from me? From my youth I have been afflicted and close to death; I have suffered your terrors and am in despair. Your wrath has swept over me; your terrors have destroyed me. All day long they surround me like a flood; they have completely engulfed me. You have taken my companions and loved ones from me; the darkness is my closest friend.” – PS88:3-18 From heaven the Father’s heart breathed words that we should hear, “by oppression and judgment he was taken away. And who can speak of his descendants? For he was cut off from the land of the living; for the transgression (sins, guilt and every wrongs) of my people he was stricken.“ – Isa53:8
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