THE CENTURION

I knew it when the earthquake came. The day changed its face completely.
The darkness forced the birds to go to roost! People carried lanterns
to light the pathways. I had never seen midnight any darker, and I
had never seen midnight in the middle of the day! Over two hours already
and no sign of daybreak in the east.

So now what? All those tales these superstitious people told had been
true! At the time, I had barely listened but had retained what I had
heard, and this was too much! What do I do? I never uttered the name
of God except in an expletive, and this guy looked so ordinary—so like
any other man. How could I have known? Should I stop the whole thing?
I’m a soldier and I’ve earned my way up the ranks. Though I hold some
power, that position was gained by obeying orders. I knew I couldn’t
take it upon myself to undo what they had ordered. I am only a
centurion.

Trembling, I sat down and watched. The lightning flashed,
illuminating His face. In the flickering glare, I saw the suffering,
but I also saw the love. I even heard Him say, "Forgive them, for
they know not what they do." I had never heard that one before. I
was used to filth spewing from these criminals’ mouths, but…love?
This was something new.

Now the darkness became even blacker. It wasn’t just that the sun
was gone, it was really dark! Suddenly, the wind arose and the rain
gushed in torrents. The roaring wind, the cracking lightning, the
blinding flood—it seemed as though all of nature was in mourning.
The thunder came again. Lightning flashed, illuminating the sign above
his head: "Jesus, King of the Jews." My heart pounded. Was I
executing a King? It was more than that! Caesar himself could not
have called down this storm and certainly not the earthquake. That
realization settled it for me. He was more than a King. That had
been an area that I’d completely avoided in all my studies. I
preferred not to clutter my brain with those superstitious lies.
What did it matter how this world came to be? Who really cared?
I was here, and I would do the best I could with the one life I had.
But if someone created it, controlled it, cared about it, well,
that’s something I had never toyed with, but now I wanted to know
everything about it. Where had God been all my life?

The night hadn’t been a good one anyway. I’d been called to oversee
the collection of some guy that had hanged himself. The Jews take
this week too seriously, killing all those lambs, letting blood until
the Kidron is drenched in red. What a strange people! And what a
waste of good meat.

I had thought today would just be to oversee the execution by
crucifixion of two thieves. Sometime in the night, though, they
had thrown this fellow in. So, I thought, what’s one more? Three
wouldn’t take any longer than two. But, it turned out, this was no
ordinary man. We divided his few possessions. His robe was seamless.
Woven in one piece—quite a masterpiece—no way to divide, so we cast
the dice.

He spoke to no one until that thief said, "Remember me when You come
into Your Kingdom!" and then He said, "Verily I say unto you, today
you shall be with Me in Paradise!"

The day had grown so dark that I couldn’t see His face, but I heard
Him cry out, his voice choked and gasping: "My God! My God! Why have
You forsaken me?"

I gripped my spear, feeling His agony twist my heart. For a long
moment, I thought I’d never be able to get my own breath again.
Thoughts raced each other through my brain. When things got back
to normal, I promised myself to find out more about this Man.
Through the next hours, sitting huddled in the rain, and trembling
at the trembling earth beneath, I watched it all. He had directed
His last words to only a few—that thief, His friend John, his mother,
and some unseen force.

Finally, He lifted his head. Blood streamed from the plaited crown
of thorns, mixing with rivulets of perspiration, tracing a checkered
pattern down His bruised cheeks. He strained upward, His back arched,
and looked toward the sky, "Father," He said, his voice loud,
triumphant, “into Your hands I commend My spirit!"

I had never overseen a crucifixion like this. We had Him down
before the sun set, having made certain of His death by thrusting
a spear into his side. We didn’t break His legs. Suddenly, I didn’t
want anything rash to happen to this man. His soul was gone (do we
possess a soul?). No matter, I would pursue that later. I told my
soldiers to be careful. Let Him down gently—not the way we put Him up.

Already two men were standing by with proper papers to take the body.
I signed Him over to them. No one needed to tell them to be careful.
They handled this Man as if He were Precious Stone! These men were
in that high court the Jews have—the Sanhedrin—I had seen them both
at the temple grounds and at the palace.

The storm let up and the sky lightened. It was strange, like having
daybreak from the west. We took our spoils and left. Never having been
one to appreciate ignorance, I knew I had a lot of questions to be
answered, but that would come later.

I just thought I was through with the Man. Only a couple of hours
and the call came to send guards to watch His tomb. "Why would we need
soldiers to guard a tomb?" I had asked. They told me because of some
tales passed around by this Man’s friends, and they were afraid of
someone stealing the body and then telling that He had risen from the
dead. What a riot that would cause! It would have been better if they
had left this Jesus alive! Well, the men assigned that job weren’t
thrilled, but orders are orders. I dispatched them, knowing they would
complain and be bored for a few days. Meanwhile, I had plans for my
free time.

I had stuffed the sign that had been above His head into my pouch at
my belt. I pulled it out, dusted it off, and read the carved
words: "Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews." Strange words for a
criminal. Strange day. Strange feelings in my heart, heavy and
calloused by the "orders" I had followed.

I felt that I was beginning a great adventure for it had grown quite
dark again, and a definite chill filled the air. I wrapped my cloak
around my shoulders, tucked the carved board under my arm and started
out in the night. Nicodemus had said I could come any time. He’d told
me that he once made a midnight visit that had changed his life. I
would chance it, for I had questions too great not to pursue! Stepping
out in the night air only brought back the events of the afternoon. I
really expected the earth to tremble….

Then came the first day of the week. My guards answered to me, but I
answered to Pilate. Even the Jews had set a guard at the tomb, and
the body was gone! I never saw such scurrying! Money flew from all
directions—pay for us all to say His body had been stolen! We knew
better, for we knew the penalty, but better to take the bribe than
to face the truth.

Someone had made a serious mistake, and for my part, I knew I would
never be the same. Nicodemus had revealed some answers, and I was on
my way to learn more.

What would you have done if you had been there? If you had seen the
signs and heard the jeers, felt the earth quake and seen the day
disappear? Heard kind words from a man dying because you did your
job? What would you have done if you had been in charge of the guard?

The door to my soul was open, and I could not but follow, for He had
truthfully said, "They know not what they do....Father, forgive."

I know I need many answers, but until I get them all, I will
repeat what I said on that hill, on that dark day:

"TRULY, THIS WAS THE SON OF GOD!"

Joan Clifton Costner