He had never seen a day like this. It was darker then any night he had ever experienced and it was just mid-afternoon. Something different was taking place, something strangely ominous. Whatever it was, he was sure it had nothing to do with him. He was just doing his job, which was to execute people, serving Caesar with loyalty and without question. And Caesar had ordered this execution. His occupation was to execute outlaws in Palestine. The breastplate that covered his heart bore the seal of his allegiance to the Emperor of Rome. He would gladly slice the throat of anyone who stood against the Emperor, for Caesar was like God to him. There was honor in being a centurion, a mighty warrior in charge of 100 brave "fight till you die" soldiers trained to defend the Roman Empire. He knew how to make his heart like a stone as he watched foreign soldiers die by his hand. It was his profession.
Today it seemed as if everyone was screaming. The prisoners, the temple officials, even the centurion's own men were jeering at one of the criminals unmercifully. An immense crowd had turned out to witness the execution of a man whose crime was written on the notice above His head. He was not a thief or a murderer but a "King of the Jews". This man was a Galilean and like no one the centurion had ever seen. Stripped, whipped, bleeding, and with a crown of thorns gouging his skull, actually puncturing one eye, this Galilean didn't fight as the others. Neither did he mouth off and cuss as the others did, nor shout endless threats. Soldiers tried to steal his dignity but they couldn't. Even after they had cast lots for his cloak and had coated his dry tongue with vinegar, the Man wasn't condemning and he never pleaded for mercy. Not once. That was unusual and noteworthy to him.
The prisoner was a Galilean man called Christ.
Something took place that tore at the soldiers stone-cold heart. He was forgiving. In all the years of executing prisoners and watching them die on these crosses, this Jesus was the only One who ever offered mercy to him, the killer. Now the centurion watched as the Galilean labored painfully for breath. How he wanted to call out to accept that forgiveness. But to call out would mean challenging Caesar. To speak in favor of the King of the Jews would mark him as a traitor. To ask this prisoneer for life would mean his own death. Then, finally, the One being crucified cried out, "Father, into your hands I commit My spirit". And it was over. He no longer labored.
His Spirit's moment of release led to chaos as the earth began to quake and tombs burst open. It was true. Everything the centurion had heard about Jesus' preaching, healing, and miracles, was all true. Regardless of Caesar, regardless of the centurion's own fate, Jesus truly was the Messiah. In that moment, the centurion could utter only one confession. He couldn't hold it back. He couldn't quench that truth. He couldn't restrain himself. Suddenly, as though something inside of him wouldn't hold its silience any longer, he burst forth with little regard for self or safety, "Surely this was the Son of God'. (Mark 15:39).
To be mighty in spirit is to recognize who Jesus really is. That soldier did. He viewed the criminals on crosses as you might look upon a convict on death row. Yet when he saw Jesus, he knew something was different. When he looked upon the Savior, neither his past nor his situation mattered. He simply could not deny the truth. The testimony of that warrior was that he had seen the Savior. He confessed that he had witnessed the Christ. Two thousand years later it is still possible to look upon Jesus the resurrected Son of God.
I wonder......
What will your confession be?
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