My friends and I had been drinking beer the morning of that day. Drinking was like a ritual before we go do our job. We were somewhat prestigious, in our intimidating red and brown Roman soldier uniforms.
My wife was particularly miserable when I left the house just after sunrise. She even hadn't baked the bread I ate for breakfast every other day.
She had seen Him, you know; this Nazarene who claimed to be the Messiah and spoke against Rome. She said she saw Him touch a man with deep, heavily-stenched, fly-infested leprosy wounds and restore his skin to that of a baby. She said He showed everyone great love.
We laughed about it, my friends and I. Simeon even joked about how he hoped we would crucify all that love to a tree that day.
Later that afternoon; a huge crowd had gathered at Pontius Pilate's place, for the judgement of the Nazarene. He stood queitly, like a lamb.
Then Pilate brought out one of the worst criminals we had imprisoned, Barrabus. Even in chains that bastard spat out so much venom, flashing his grotesque, crooked smile.
We were surprised however, to hear the crowd shouting that he should be released instead of the Nazarene, in spite of all the horrible crimes they knew he had done.
And yet the Nazarene never showed an inch of loath towards him.
Where were all the thousands He had allegedly fed with two fish and five loaves though?
Pilate then ordered that we whip Him in front of the crowd as a form of punishment.
The worst of the whips had been selected.
From the very first lash, the iron hooks at the end of the leather whip tore through His back, cutting His flesh. And yet we didn't stop. Cracking His ribs, scratching His lungs, splashing His blood...
His blood splashed onto my left sandal.
I watched my friends stretch their elbows in exhaustion, afterwards, as they laughed about how weak He had been for someone claiming to be a King; and yet I could not get over the fact that his blood was on my feet. And that after all the torture, He had looked at us like... like He knew us.
When He was dragged away to be crucified; He was cursed, spat on, forced to carry a painfully heavy cross with a body already so broken.
I looked up at his bruised, bleeding body on the cross, suspended on nails and I could not imagine how excruciating the pain must have been. I turned my gaze down to my sandal, to His blood, on my dirty sandal. This was no ordinary blood.
Fear gripped me as the heavens closed and darkness covered the earth. The ground shook violently. We had never seen this before. Clearly, this man on the cross was not just another man.
When I got back home; earlier than usual, my mind still couldn't comprehend exactly what had happened, but I was sure, we all were, that something of unfathomable magnitude had happened that day.
My devastated wife fell to the ground when she saw the blood on my feet.
"His blood," she said amidst tears, "His blood washes away all the sin of the world."
I sobbed silently.
Three days later; the news of his body's disappearance spred throughout the country.
All Roman soldiers were ordered to search for the body and bring it back. But I wouldn't. I vowed to myself that these same feet on which holy blood had splashed, would never again go on unholy missions.
The One the world thought was dead; is Alive!
" It’s in Christ that we find out who we are and what we are living for. Long before we first heard of Christ and got our hopes up, He had His eye on us, had designs on us for glorious living, part of the overall purpose He is working out in everything and everyone."
(http://bible.com/97/eph.1.11-12.msg)
My wife was particularly miserable when I left the house just after sunrise. She even hadn't baked the bread I ate for breakfast every other day.
She had seen Him, you know; this Nazarene who claimed to be the Messiah and spoke against Rome. She said she saw Him touch a man with deep, heavily-stenched, fly-infested leprosy wounds and restore his skin to that of a baby. She said He showed everyone great love.
We laughed about it, my friends and I. Simeon even joked about how he hoped we would crucify all that love to a tree that day.
Later that afternoon; a huge crowd had gathered at Pontius Pilate's place, for the judgement of the Nazarene. He stood queitly, like a lamb.
Then Pilate brought out one of the worst criminals we had imprisoned, Barrabus. Even in chains that bastard spat out so much venom, flashing his grotesque, crooked smile.
We were surprised however, to hear the crowd shouting that he should be released instead of the Nazarene, in spite of all the horrible crimes they knew he had done.
And yet the Nazarene never showed an inch of loath towards him.
Where were all the thousands He had allegedly fed with two fish and five loaves though?
Pilate then ordered that we whip Him in front of the crowd as a form of punishment.
The worst of the whips had been selected.
From the very first lash, the iron hooks at the end of the leather whip tore through His back, cutting His flesh. And yet we didn't stop. Cracking His ribs, scratching His lungs, splashing His blood...
His blood splashed onto my left sandal.
I watched my friends stretch their elbows in exhaustion, afterwards, as they laughed about how weak He had been for someone claiming to be a King; and yet I could not get over the fact that his blood was on my feet. And that after all the torture, He had looked at us like... like He knew us.
I looked up at his bruised, bleeding body on the cross, suspended on nails and I could not imagine how excruciating the pain must have been. I turned my gaze down to my sandal, to His blood, on my dirty sandal. This was no ordinary blood.
Fear gripped me as the heavens closed and darkness covered the earth. The ground shook violently. We had never seen this before. Clearly, this man on the cross was not just another man.
When I got back home; earlier than usual, my mind still couldn't comprehend exactly what had happened, but I was sure, we all were, that something of unfathomable magnitude had happened that day.
My devastated wife fell to the ground when she saw the blood on my feet.
"His blood," she said amidst tears, "His blood washes away all the sin of the world."
I sobbed silently.
Three days later; the news of his body's disappearance spred throughout the country.
All Roman soldiers were ordered to search for the body and bring it back. But I wouldn't. I vowed to myself that these same feet on which holy blood had splashed, would never again go on unholy missions.
The One the world thought was dead; is Alive!
" It’s in Christ that we find out who we are and what we are living for. Long before we first heard of Christ and got our hopes up, He had His eye on us, had designs on us for glorious living, part of the overall purpose He is working out in everything and everyone."
(http://bible.com/97/eph.1.11-12.msg)
