The door to the courtroom opened.
“All rise!” the bailiff cried.
All of us in attendance
Immediately complied.
I stood at the defendant’s table,
With my counsel next to me.
My hands and my feet were shackled,
Lest I attempt to flee.
The judge entered the courtroom,
And stood behind the bench.
He looked at the prosecution,
And he looked at the defense.
He took notice of me standing there,
Looking scared and defeated.
He then announced to the courtroom,
“Everyone, please be seated.”
The judge pounded his gavel,
And said, “Let the record be shown,
That today we’re hearing the case
Of ‘The State versus Kenneth Jones’”.
After reviewing some of the papers,
That the judge needed to read,
He asked the prosecution,
“Are you ready to proceed?”
The prosecutor said, “Yes, your honor,”
While rising to his feet.
He flashed a smile of confidence,
As he glanced over at me.
I swallowed hard and looked away,
As nervous as can be.
That man had the look of someone
Who wanted to bury me.
He tapped on a pile of papers
That was several inches thick.
No doubt a wealth of evidence,
That he would use to convict.
He stepped forward and said, “Your honor,
I intend to prove to you,
That the defendant, Mr. Jones,
Is a criminal through and through.”
“He’s committed countless misdeeds,
Over a 53-year span.
And here are the many charges
We’re bringing against this man.”
“We’re charging him with multiple counts
Of lust and profanity.
There are also many counts of greed,
Slander and dishonesty.”
“We’re charging Mr. Jones with hate,
Unforgiveness and deceit,
Gossip, envy, love of money,
Pride and hypocrisy.”
“There’s boasting, malice, covetousness.
The list goes on and on.
There isn’t an evil desire
He’s not set his heart upon.”
Every charge he’d read aloud
Was absolutely true.
I thought that I’d concealed my crimes,
But somehow, some way, he knew.
I looked in the judge’s direction.
He was looking straight at me.
He said, “You have heard the charges.
Mr. Jones, how do you plead?”
I suspected it would be pointless,
For me to deny the truth;
So I turned and spoke to my counsel,
And asked him what I should do.
We spoke for more than a minute,
And after we conferred,
I stood to face the judge and said,
“I am pleading guilty, sir.”
The prosecutor looked overjoyed.
He fought to suppress a smile.
The judge would now pronounce his sentence,
And would thus conclude the trial.
As I waited for my punishment,
I swallowed and took a deep breath.
The judge then said, “Mr. Jones,
You are hereby sentenced to death.”
His words left me stunned and shocked,
And unable to reply.
I dropped my head into my hands,
And then began to cry.
My counsel put an arm around me,
And offered comforting words.
The sentence was harsh, and yet I knew
I was getting what I deserved.
While my counsel was continuing
To offer me support,
Someone from behind me yelled,
“May I address the court?”
I turned around and took a look
At the man who had weighed in.
He had no form or comeliness.
No beauty was there in him.
I noticed scars on his hands and feet.
His clothes were worn and plain.
The judge summoned him forward and said,
“For the record, state your name.”
He said, “My name is Jesus Christ;
I come from Nazareth.
I’m here before the court to appeal
Mr. Jones’s sentence of death.”
The judge said, “Your appeal is noted,
But the sentence can’t be stayed.
The defendant’s crimes are numerous,
And the penalty must be paid.”
The Nazarene said, “Yes, your honor,
The law must be enforced.
But if I take the defendant’s place,
Will that satisfy the court?”
I watched this turn of events
As perplexed as I could be;
A man who was guilty of nothing,
Had offered to die for me.
The judge looked at the prosecutor,
And in my counsel’s direction.
And then he asked the two of them
If either had an objection.
The prosecutor did object.
The request he ridiculed.
But in the end the judge announced,
“Objection overruled.”
The judge then turned to the bailiff,
And issued this command,
“Remove the shackles from Mr. Jones,
And place them on this man.”
Immediately the bailiff
Responded to this command,
By calmly removing the shackles
From my feet and from my hands.
And as the order was carried out,
I couldn’t help but observe,
That when they bound his hands and feet,
Jesus never said a word.
He now appeared before the judge,
Innocent, and yet,
Ready to receive the punishment,
For crimes he didn’t commit.
As Jesus stood there in my place,
My punishment reassigned,
The judge said, “You are condemned to death,
For Mr. Jones’s crimes.”
Jesus had now been sentenced,
And there would be no stay.
The judge then turned to the bailiff,
And said, “Take this man away.”
I watched as Jesus was led away,
So that he could die for me.
I watched him wearing my shackles,
So that I could be set free.
With that, the judge looked down at me
And said, “You may now go home.
Your penalty has been paid in full.
You’re a free man, Mr. Jones.”
