When I was called Jesus Christ

I don’t know what made me want to change my name to Jesus Christ. 
Maybe it was the reverence with which my mother took that name. Or maybe I just liked the sound of it. Or maybe I wanted to mock those who thought that name holy. 
So I hired a lawyer, filed a petition for a change of name and marched into court. I walked in as a simple somebody and with a hit of the gavel I walked out as Jesus Christ. 
Little did I know that no men with big names ever had it easy. 
First came the cussing. “You bloody wanker!” my mother screamed at me. “Did you think I’d be chuffed if you went and named yourself after the Lord’s son? You are nothing but a nefarious ponce! Get out of my sight!” And then she proceeded to say a few Hail Marys and beg His forgiveness. 
My mother was never known for her eloquence, but I didn’t expect her to go to that extent. 
Second came the mockery. I was mocked everywhere: most often at my workplace, but most publicly on the local news channel. But I let it go, because Jesus was ever forgiving. 
Then came the false alarms. “Jesus Christ!” People would curse when they dropped ice cream on their brand new clothes or accidentally stepped on dog poop. And every time my head would rapidly turn because I thought that they were calling out to me. I think I had whiplash because of it. 
So, the joy that I initially had when I walked out of the court house was evanescent. 
But the worst part was yet to come. 

I went to bed as usual, but woke up to a whiplash- an actual whip-lash to the right side of my body. My face was in the mud and pebbles dug into my chest. More lashes landed on me and I groaned in pain. There was something on my back, weighing me down, preventing me to getting up. On opening my eyes and taking stock of my surroundings despite the pain I froze in surprise. 
Another lash landed on my thighs. “Get up you vermin,” someone screamed at me. He was wearing weird clothes, nothing like the kind we see now a days. He hit me again, making me I cry out in pain, while the throng of people cheered louder. 
With difficulty I stood up despite the weight on my back. 

That is when I saw two other men in front of me, carrying crosses, and realized where I was. Who I was. 
Another lash landed on my chest this time, the pain was starting to get unbearable. 
“Walk unto thy Father’s arms, Son of God!” They mocked. 


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