We live in various places. We have followed differing paths. Each of us has lived the life that has unfolded before us. We have done what was right in our own eyes. Each decision that we have made has added to the sum total of our lives.
It seems as if we do a lot of living. We do a lot of living and breathing, laughing and crying, in triumph and in disgrace. So how can it be that nothing truly starts until we deal with the cross?
The centurion had spent his life in the service of Rome. He lived his life an obedient servant of the Roman crown. He had made his way up through the ranks. He had proven himself in battle and as a leader. He had proven that he could keep his men out of trouble and under his watchful eye he groomed them into an elite fighting regiment.
Everything that he was ordered by his superiors to do was carried out with consummate skill and efficiency. Every order was carried out without question. He was at the vanguard of every charge; he was nine time more likely to lose his life in battle than any of his men. Battles hinged on the prowess of the centurion. To get his post as centurion he had to pull every political favor that he and his family had and to keep his position he had to be the best at what soldiers do, break things and kill people. He was good at his job and business was good. The centurion would never do anything to compromise the position that he had worked so hard to obtain. So why was the day at the cross so different?
What was so important about the Galilean? Everyone had heard the stories. But the man that they had nailed to the cross that day was nothing special. He was just an ordinary Jew. Besides, by the time that they got him to Golgotha he was hardly a man at all, more blood and pulp than anything, barely enough to crucify anyway. The whips had seen to that. It was a miracle that he could stand at all. They must have really hated this one.
But something was different about this one. Most people facing crucifixion start screaming that they were innocent. They beg for their pitiful lives crying that they did not want to be nailed to the crosses and when that fails they cuss a blue streak.
But this one was different. It almost seemed as if he had moved his own hands into place so that they could be nailed to the cross beam. He did not plead for his pitiful life. No protest came from his mouth, in fact he prayed for the soldiers that were nailing him secure to the cross. He said,”Forgive them Father; they do not know what they are doing.” Later while he was being mocked by another prisoner he told the one on the other side,” Today you will be with me in Paradise.” He was dying and he was trying to comfort his fellow prisoner. The most amazing came when the Old woman made her way to the foot of his cross. It could only have been his mother. The old woman was grieving so badly that this skinny young man had to steady her so that she did not faint. That man looked down from where he hung and actually made arrangements for her care after he was dead. He told that boy to take care of that woman as if she was his own Mama.
It only got worse from there. About noon something happened that no one would ever forget. It started to get dark, later people would say that it was only an eclipse, but that was no eclipse; it got so dark that it was like someone had blown out a candle at midnight. That darkness stayed for what felt like an eternity. Fear and near panic washed through the soldiers. It was all the centurion could do to keep his men in place.
When the light did finally come back, it was like a blind man regaining his sight. Everything was in sharp relief, everything was so clear. This new clarity added nothing to the uneasy feeling that they felt. Every ones nerves were on edge. There was such a sense of expectation in the air. When the man on the cross finally spoke it should have eased their tension. He said, “It is Finished!” Nothing felt finished, the dread only increased.
The centurion could almost tell you to the minute how long a person would last on a cross. He had been watching this man for hours, he was bad off but he could last for a while longer. This one did not slowly succumb to death like everyone else did fighting for their last breath till they finally give up and die. His death was different, he looked up towards the sky and said, “Father, into your hand I commit my spirit.” He gave away his life. His body could have gone on but he willed it to end. It was like a man walking out of a room, one moment he was there, the next he was gone.
The earthquake, oh the earthquake. As bad as the darkness was this was worse. It was as if the whole earth was mourning his death. It felt as if the whole of existence were tearing itself apart. The second his heart stopped the earth heaved as if it were trying to start his heart up again.
All the centurion could do is stand in wide eyed wonder and take it all in. It could have been a reflex, it could have been involuntary. The words fell from his gaping mouth, “Surely He is the Son of God!” That statement could have cost the centurion everything that he had worked so hard to achieve. He could have lost his position in the Guard, he could lose the respect of his men, and it could have even cost him his life. Whatever it could have cost him he knew it was the only thing that mattered, it was the only possible response. How he responded at the foot of the cross was the most important thing that he would ever do.
There are many things that we do that make us think that we are successful. In themselves each of these can be important in the grand scheme of things, but there is only one thing that has any eternal significance. Each of us will one day find ourselves, like the centurion, at the foot of the cross. For some, we look at the cross and see what God has done for us, we see what Jesus sacrificed in our place and that it was our sin that put him there. At that point we will utter as the centurion did that, “Surely this is the Son of God!”
For others, they will look upon the cross shrug and turn and walk away. None of what they see will make the least bit of impact. They will never be touched by what they have faced. They will never be changed. But one day, one day every knee will bow and every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord to the Glory of God.
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