THUD. One. The fierce bite of the whip sunk into Jesus' back.
THUD. Two. A 350-pound Roman guard, unleashing the power of every muscle in his body.
THUD. Three. A short pause, to let the blood ooze and the pain sink in. Forty times would surely kill Him, so they went one less. Then the nine tails. Nine ropes holding the sharpest things they could find. Rusty nails. Baked glass. Jagged razorblades. They all plunged into Jesus' back, mercilessly ripping Him apart and tearing His skin to shreds with force no NFL lineman could hope to muster. They found the roughest thornbush with thorns three inches long pointing in every direction, and they forced it onto His head and ground the thorns into his skull.
That was the easy part.