In December 2019 I had an intense open vision of the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. Here is my description of this vision from my book:

Then I stood on Golgotha in front of the cross. The sky above me was a raging tempest, black and purple and blood red. Lightning ripped across the sky. Thunder shook the ground. Icy wind bit into my skin. Shouting, pushing crowds of people in dirty tattered robes surrounded me.

I looked up and I saw Jesus hanging above me on the cross. His body was mangled, gashed horribly, exposed muscles quivering in pain. Rivers of blood dripped down His body onto the ground below. It was the most terrible sight I have ever seen.

He looked at me and said nothing, but His eyes pierced through my soul. He recognized me. Underneath the horrific wounded flesh I felt His stubborn embrace of impending death. He chose this. He chose to remain on that cross every agonizing second. Underneath the physical torment, He was completely God, completely aware, completely in control of His fate. He could have come down from that cross at any moment, instantly ending His horrific pain. He chose to stay there. His gaze conveyed all of this to me in an instant. He knew who I was. In the midst of being tortured, hung and murdered, He knew me. I was the reason He was even there.

I collapsed to the ground in shock. I pushed my face down to the ground. It was foul, clods of hard dirt covered with blood, guts, feces… gruesome. And I was lying in it. The foul earth was nothing compared to the horror of Christ’s dying body hanging above me. His blood flowed down the rough wooden cross in rivulets and splashed onto the ground in front of me.

I couldn’t breathe. My mouth opened in a silent scream of terror.

Mary and Teresa pulled me to my feet. I was a sobbing rag doll. They held my right hand tightly and pushed it forward and up to touch the toes of Jesus. I pulled back but their hands were hard and firm. They pressed my shaking hand onto His foot.

The moment my fingers touched his toes, a tremendous electricity blasted into me. His love instantly overwhelmed me and I willingly pushed my hand more firmly onto His foot. A hundred men couldn’t pull me away from Him now. Mary and Teresa released me and stepped aside. As I gazed up at my beautiful dying Savior, my spirit screamed out His name over and over, “Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!”