History

The Roman Centurion

by Dale Buchanan 
06/04/26
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Historical Fiction

 They called me a battle-hardened, tough Roman centurion.  I had fought in a lot of battles.  I had seen many killed in battle.  I had killed many.  Death didn’t bother me anymore, yet I realized that I might be one of the dead tomorrow.

 Now, I am stationed for duty in this awful city of Jerusalem.  The Jews hated us, but we hated the Jews too.  They didn’t seem to recognize that they were under Roman authority.

 As I lay on my bed, I contemplated tomorrow’s duties.  I was to lead three other soldiers in an execution detail – by crucifixion.  Crucifixion was “old hat” to me because we had helped with many such duties over the years.  The criminals were all “bad guys” or insurrectionists or guilty of some other stupid misdeed.  Our attitude was  “good riddance.”.  They either cried for mercy or cursed us as they awaited their demise.  But tomorrow would be easy.  There were only two to be dispatched.

 I pondered over my life path to this point.  From my youth growing up in Italia (or Italy), I had always wanted to be a soldier.  It would be so exciting fighting the battles, winning victories and glory, and new territory for Rome.  A soldier in the Roman Legion had status and became a respected citizen.  Shortly after I attained the age of 17, I was deemed worthy and was selected to be a soldier.  I took the oath of allegiance (sacramentum) and changed from the citizen’s white toga to the blood-red tunic of the legionary.  After taking the oath, I returned home to put my affairs in order.  When that was completed, I made my way across the country to the assigned location, where the legionnaires were already fighting.

 I learned how to fit into the Roman legion or military machine.  The legion itself was a machine.  “This machine would feel nothing and flinch from nothing.  Being such a machine, the Roman soldier would neither feel cruelty nor mercy.  He would kill simply because he was ordered.  Totally devoid of passion, he could not be accused of enjoying violence and indulging in cruelty.  Far more, this was a form of civilized violence.”

Due to my courage, skill, and leadership in battles, I was eventually promoted to the position of centurion, with 80 to 100 soldiers under my command.  For someone who was not of Rome’s senatorial or equestrian social class, the centurion was the highest rank possible. 

 The years rolled by.  I was now 32 years old and a recognized warrior, a Roman centurion.  Tomorrow would be just another day in the life of a soldier.

  Very early in the morning, I arrived at my place of duty, the governor Pontus Pilate’s judgment hall.  There, I learned there was to be a third person to be crucified, a man called Jesus Christ.  Pilate found no fault in him, but the Jews said he claimed to be the king of the Jews and that he was the son of God.  Well, that shouldn’t be an offense.  There were many gods, and there would always be some lunatic claiming to be a god.  What I didn’t realize was the Jews said he claimed to be the ONE AND ONLY SON OF THE ONE AND ONLY GOD.  That still didn’t mean much to me - yet.  I knew there were many gods.

 I had heard a little about this Jesus.  From what I heard, he spoke to great crowds and healed the lame, the blind, the deaf, the mute, and the leper and had even fed a crowd of over 5,000, starting with only five loaves and two fishes.  I knew all of that couldn’t be true.  But was it right to crucify a man who had only done good?    That didn’t make sense to me.  Nevertheless, Pilate yielded to the crowd pressure and ordered Jesus to be crucified.

 We soldiers are trained to be without feeling and are taught to kill when so ordered.  So, we scourged Jesus with the whip until his back was one raw, open, bloody mass.  Then we compelled him to carry his cross to Golgotha, but since he was too weak, we drafted another man to carry the cross for him.  We laid him down and nailed him to the cross and then dropped that cross into a prepared hole, jarring and pulling his bones out of joint. 

 As we did all of that, Jesus prayed – not for himself, but for us!  “Father, forgive them, for they know  not what they do.”   That was unbelievable!  How could he do that?

 I watched as the religious leaders, the crowd, and my soldiers mocked him.  Off to the side, I noticed his followers watching, grief-stricken and unable to believe what they were seeing.

 At about noon, it suddenly turned dark, like the darkness of midnight.  This was not the dark of an eclipse because it was totally dark, and unlike an eclipse, it stayed dark for three hours!   And this was the middle of the day.  I had never seen or heard of anything like this before.  We had to start fires and light torches so we could see and stand guard during that time.  I was wondering and afraid.  Was there genuine truth to all the things I had heard about Jesus?

 As the three-hour darkness lifted, Jesus spoke loudly and with full strength, “Father, into thy hands, I commend my spirit.” And then he died.

 Suddenly, the earth began to tremble and groan like the ground was going to open up beneath us.  There was an awful noise like the destruction of an entire building by lighting.  I could see rocks splitting.  My knees trembled, and my legs felt like jelly!  Where could I run – if I could even run!

 Then reality struck me, and I cried out, “Truly this was the Son of God!  (Matthew 27:54 KJV)

 This single event transformed my hardened heart and life.  I saw the evidence of Jesus rising from the dead.  I saw the hypocrisy of the Jewish leaders as they bribed us to tell a lie about Jesus’ body being stolen by the disciples.  I joined the crowd of 500 that saw the risen Christ and heard him speak.  (1 Corinthians 15:6 KJV) Jesus completely changed my life, and I chose to live for him the rest of my days.

 What about you?  Have you trusted the crucified and risen Christ who died so you could live eternally?  Turn to Jesus today!