On That Day | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: On That Day | Previous Challenge Entry
By Marsha Barrow
01/02/14
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On That Day

I had seen him around, claiming to heal the sick, raise the dead, and forgive sins. Even a close friend of mine from Capernaum asked this “Jesus” for help. He asked him to heal his servant who lay at home paralyzed and suffering. But when Jesus asked whether he should come to his house, my friend replied, “Lord, I do not deserve to have you come under my roof. But just say the word, and my servant will be healed.”

I did not understand my friend’s reply. This man worked as a carpenter. My friend served as a centurion, the commander of a hundred men in the Roman army; nevertheless, the faith he had in this man was great.

Soon, I forgot about my friend’s faith and about the carpenter—until that day! You see, I, too, am a centurion—the commander of the crucifixion guard. My job is to make sure that the crucifixion is carried out properly without any complications. To earn this position, I had worked my way up through the ranks by virtue of courage and intelligence. I learned to be cold and efficient, hard and strict. I carried out the orders of my superiors above all else, but on Crucifixion Day, I found myself a changed man.

On that day, I oversaw the crucifixion of three men, two thieves who deserved to be humiliated for horrible crimes against Roman citizens—and the carpenter, the healer. I was trained to not have feelings, but because of my friend’s faith, I was reminded of the kindness this “Jesus” had shown to his servant. Surely, he had committed no crime worthy of the brutal slaying of the cross, but I was not the judge or even the executioner. I was simply the overseer, and my position demanded that I carry out the death sentence.

My eyes remained on Jesus. I was captivated by His presence; on the other hand, my guards were coarse and vulgar, having no sympathy. I kept telling myself, “I’m not responsible.”

The soldiers beat him with a cat-of-nine-tails, twisted a crown of thorns and placed it on His head, struck Him with their hands, and dressed Him in a purple robe. They cried, “Hail, King of the Jews!” Jesus carried His own cross on his beaten and torn body while hundreds of observers watched—some crying and some cheering. It was heart retching, and I was supposed to be unfeeling, uncaring.

Once we had climbed the hill to Calvary, I watched my soldiers nail His hands and feet to that bloody cross. I watched them take His garments, divide them among each other, and then cast lots for his tunic because it was without seam, woven from the top in one piece. I watched them give Him sour wine to drink still laughing, still mocking this man who did nothing to deserve such cruel treatment. Not only was Jesus beaten, spat upon, mocked, and despised, he now lay naked before the whole world—this modest man, this healer, this forgiver.

Somewhere along the way I became impressed with Jesus. Perhaps it was in remembering my friend, perhaps it was the way he held up under the anguish of the cross or the way he lovingly made allowance for his mother’s care. It could have been the way He gently spoke to the thief assuring him that today he would join Him in Paradise. But the greatest revelation came when he prayed for us—my soldiers and me. I had never heard such a prayer from a cross: “Forgive them for they know not what they do.”

And then as soon as Jesus declared, “It is finished,” the veil of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom; and the earth quaked, and the rocks were split, and the graves were opened; and many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised.

Fear came upon me and I shouted, “Truly, this was the Son of God, and certainly, he was a righteous Man!” It was not in mockery. It was not in pretense. It was in Truth! And my heart broke for the man in the middle—scorned, humiliated, and hanging between two thieves.

I began that day as a Roman officer overseeing a crucifixion, but at the day’s end, I professed that Jesus was indeed the Son of God, King of kings and Lord of lords. I was responsible, yet He forgave—my sin erased.

(Retold from scriptures: Matthew 8:5-10; John 19:2-3; Luke 23:36; John 19:23; Matthew 27:51-52; Matthew 27:54b; Luke 23:47; Luke 23:34; John 19:30.)

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