I Saw Him Dead—The Centurion by Alan Anderson

“Now the centurion, and they that were with him watching Jesus, when they saw the earthquake, and the things that were done, feared exceedingly, saying, Truly this was the Son of God.”—Matt. 27: 54 English Revised Version.

Please allow me to discuss with you a few of my thoughts about Christ’s crucifixion. I must ask you to not mention this to any other soldiers. They would not be pleased with me.

I’ve been a Roman soldier for a number of years and more than I can remember. As a Centurion I have men I am responsible for and who are to obey my commands. These men know better than to disobey me.

There are parts of my work I do not like. I hate crucifixions the most. I’ve seen men and women being crucified. I have witnessed them lingering before they died. Crucifixion is a brutal way to die. Roman law deems it for some people therefore we carry it out. My men would rather crucify someone than disobey Roman commands. They would suffer themselves at the hands of the state if they disobeyed.

I have to say the crucifixion that bothered me most was that of Jesus Christ. I was there when this man was arrested. I even saw Him heal someone. At the time we arrested Jesus one of the men with Him sliced off the ear of one of my men with his sword. Just as I pulled my sword out of its sheath Jesus stepped forward. He placed his hand over the man’s bloody ear and healed it. Now, that I will never forget.

Jewish priests and members of the Sanhedrin made a huge fuss over Jesus when He was brought to trial. They acted as if He was the vilest criminal they had ever laid eyes on. They don’t shut up until they have a chance to make their terms known. They were determined to have Jesus punished.

My men and I agreed Jesus didn’t seem threatening at all to us. He didn’t scream or yell back when charges were made against Him. He stood there kind of like a sheep waiting to be slaughtered.

As you know, Jesus was sentenced to death by crucifixion. People even cried out to have Him executed. I didn’t know religious people can be so cold and heartless until those Jewish leaders witnessed His punishment. Some even had smiles on their faces.

I remember His face most of all. As He hung on His cross Jesus looked right at me. It felt like He could see into my soul. I wanted to look away from Him but I just couldn’t. Jesus died. I was there when a few of His friends took His body down from the cross. I saw Him dead.

I also witnessed that one morning after His burial it was discovered His body was missing. There is no way His body had been stolen. He had come back from the dead. I couldn’t believe it at first but there was no other explanation.

To have a Man so brutalized, betrayed and killed, come back from the dead, staggers my mind and changed my life. For something like this to happen shook my conscience just like the earthquake shook my world. I realize now I have been a walking dead man.

Through His resurrection Jesus paved the way for my resurrected life as well. He truly is the Son of God. He has given me a peace I’ve never known. This peace is strange to me yet it is real.

There is an urge within me to inform other people Jesus came back to life. Perhaps I’ll find opportunities to tell my soldiers and officer colleagues about what I witnessed. He has risen! Indeed He is risen!

https://scarredjoy.ca/

Through the Eyes of a Child – Denise M. Ford

As I let my thoughts dwell on the Easter story, I kept seeing images of Jesus with children who although they aren’t mentioned in the scriptural Easter story, are surely there, wondering and observing what was happening. Listening and hearing, on the periphery of it but part of the story. I read the scriptures to understand how Jesus fully immersed himself in protective and tender loving actions when he became aware of children who needed him. I pictured myself as a child next to him being gathered close to him, at his feet, by his side, in his arms. Just as our loving Lord often sends his comfort to children today as they try to make sense of death, I believe Jesus drew near to those children of his time and explained his death to them in a loving and tender way.

                                                                       

Through the Eyes of a Child…

I squeezed through the doorway and nearly bowled over a woman kneeling in prayer as she sobbed. I tucked myself amongst the robes of a group of tall men so I could move unseen with them. I had to cover my ears as the shouting and crying rose in a crescendo. I felt dizzy as I strained to see what was happening. Then I heard his name, Jesus, Jesus.

Untangling from the robes I felt myself falling backwards. I rolled into a ditch and pulled myself to its edge. At least I no longer could be wrenched inside by adult hands. In fact, no one seemed to notice that I had disobeyed the firm command my father had given this morning, “Stay inside today, no matter what you hear, stay inside, do not step beyond our doorway.”

He had thrust my hand into my sister’s, grabbing ours together in a firm clasp as he inhaled a long steady breath. His hands rubbed over ours, his head bent over us. I thought he would pray, but instead he breathed heavily again, embracing my mother as she came near him with my baby sister against her shoulder.

“You will stay inside today, and I will return as soon as I am able.”

Then the pounding on our door had begun. My older brothers had thrown it open and practically dragged my father through it. That’s when I had quickly made my escape. I didn’t want to stay behind with the women. Now outside in the ditch, I wished I had followed the command to stay inside. For here before my eyes struggled the very same man who I had seen riding on a donkey a few days before. I had happily weaved in and out of its plodding path joining with the joyous songs of our people. “Hosanna, Hosanna!” had rung out loud and clear. I had waved a palm so close to his face it had seemed that he may have laughed with me as he looked my way. He motioned for me to come closer and I eagerly ran next to him, swishing my palm alongside the donkey’s hind legs. He had glanced behind and nodded as he gave another hearty laugh.

Could this be the same man?  This man dragging a wooden cross before me. I scanned his face for any resemblance, but all I could see were streams of blood trickling down from a crown of thorns. His eyes, if only I could see his eyes then I would know if this man recognized me.

But people ran in front of me, mud splattered my face and stones began to bounce as they scattered beneath a multitude of sandals. I remembered my father’s warning, “Stay inside today.”  I closed my eyes because I no longer wanted to understand what was happening. I let the stones pummel me for a few more minutes, and then I slid from the ditch. Still trembling, I stumbled through crowds of people to make my way home, dodging past Roman soldiers, ducking under moving carts.

Back inside I found a quiet corner, and I closed my eyes. In my dream I saw him. He reached for me with a palm branch softly brushing my cheek. He nodded and gave a hearty laugh, one that I recalled from the other day. Then it felt like I was rocking gently in his arms, like he was lifting me and raising me up and up and up. I could only hear his laughter; I could only feel his love. In my dream we were next to each other, we laughed together. He stayed with me; he did not disappear underneath the weight of a heavy cross.

When I awoke again, I heard sobbing. My older brother, their wives and children had crowded into our home. Although the voices were familiar, words that I didn’t understand echoed around me. “Brutal crucifixion, it is finished, we will all die. He’s gone, it’s over.”  I suddenly wished I could return to this morning’s commanding words, “Stay inside. I will return when I am able.”  Oh, how I wanted to return to my dream. I wanted to stay inside my dream to hear the sounds of laughter and feel the reassuring love.

So many words of death. So much weeping. No one cared where I was or even if I were still here. But somehow, I knew this man would stay with me. I had dreamt of being next to him; I had laughed with him. I had been comforted by his love. But I couldn’t tell them, I was only five. I was only a child. But I knew, I knew Jesus was the man who had laughed with me, who had motioned for me to come close to him. Whose look of love I had seen again in my dream. I could only hope that he would return when he was able and that his love would stay inside me.

  

When I was five my Nana passed away suddenly. I found myself amidst grieving adults who spoke of things I didn’t understand. One night I dreamt of Nana reaching out to me, sending me a loving look while at the same time laughing with genuine joy. Even though our minister came to answer my questions regarding death and heaven, it was this dream that brought me great comfort during this time.