03 Tuesday Mar 2020
Posted in book review, The Soldier Who Killed a King
The following Amazon book review took me by surprise:
Best ‘Historical Fiction’ Book Ever!
‘The Soldier Who Killed A King‘ is one of the very best books we’ve ever had the privilege to read! Insightful, captivating, inspiring, historically accurate, so very satisfying and engaging… A heartfelt ‘thank you’ to David Kitz for having written this most incredible account of the crucifixion of Christ… A great read for this time of the year as we approach Easter! — Don & Jan
High praise indeed.
15 Wednesday May 2019
Posted in Devotionals, Psalm 69, Psalms
Reading: Psalm 69
(Verses 19-28)
You know how I am scorned, disgraced and shamed;
all my enemies are before you.
Scorn has broken my heart and has left me helpless;
I looked for sympathy, but there was none,
for comforters, but I found none.
They put gall in my food
and gave me vinegar for my thirst.
May the table set before them become a snare;
may it become retribution and a trap.
May their eyes be darkened so they cannot see,
and their backs be bent forever.
Pour out your wrath on them;
let your fierce anger overtake them.
May their place be deserted;
let there be no one to dwell in their tents.
For they persecute those you wound
and talk about the pain of those you hurt.
Charge them with crime upon crime;
do not let them share in your salvation.
May they be blotted out of the book of life
and not be listed with the righteous (NIV).
Wild flowers, Winfield Park, Abbotsford, BC — photo by David Kitz
Reflection
Vinegar is not the first thing I would reach for, if I wanted to quench my thirst. Vinegar sets my teeth on edge. It curdles milk. It crinkles the stomach. Why? Because it’s acid, a naturally occurring acid.
You don’t give your friend acid to drink. But at his crucifixion that’s what the soldiers gave Jesus to quench his thirst. The soldiers also came up and mocked him. They offered him wine vinegar (Luke 23:36).
Like many of David’s psalms, there is a prophetic element in them and in this portion of Psalm 69; we see that prophetic element vividly portrayed. Jesus experienced the rejection described here. His friends deserted him. There were none to comfort him. He was scorned, disgraced and shamed. As he hung dying, he was given vinegar for his thirst.
The retribution that this psalm calls for fell on Judas. In Acts 1:20, Peter references this psalm as he speaks of the judgment that fell on Judas for his betrayal of Jesus. Yet in his moment of weakness even Peter denied knowing the Lord.
When our time of testing comes will we stand true to the Lord?
Response: Lord Jesus, you suffered rejection on my behalf. Help me be faithful to you when the world mocks you. Help me stand true. Give me courage through the power of your Holy Spirit. Amen.
Your Turn: Have you always stood true, aligning yourself with Jesus?
09 Tuesday Apr 2019
Posted in Lent, The Soldier Who Killed a King
Tags
crown of thorns, crucifixion, Golgotha, Jesus, Lent, repentance
Date: Eight in the morning, Saturday, April 8, 30 A.D.
Marcus Longinus, the Roman centurion, endures a sleepless night as he reflects on his role in Christ’s crucifixion.
It was a horrible night. Horrible!
I could not sleep. The events of the day kept flooding over my mind—a constant bloody torrent. During the daylight hours you can steel yourself against another man’s suffering. But at night your hard shell dissolves from around you, and you are left in just your own skin again. Then their suffering soaks into your flesh, and it becomes your own.
There seemed to be no end to it—no end to this torment. I willed myself to sleep. But I could not find that door of escape. It eluded me.
Instead I was pursued relentlessly by the dreadful events of the day. The hammer blows kept ringing in my head. And now their pain was mine.
All night my mind was on Golgotha.
Why me? Why Jesus? Why by some cruel twist of heaven’s fate did I find myself with him upon the hill of execution?
When I closed my eyes, his face appeared before me. His gentle eyes stared down on me, boring a hole into my very soul. Blood oozed down from the stabbing crown of thorns. It pooled and dried along his eyebrows. And his pain? His pain was my own.
Once in the night Zelda put her arm around me and drew close.
I pulled away. I could not be comforted. I could not be loved, and neither could I give love. She could not reach me. I was well beyond all this.
Why did I spit in Jesus’s face? Why did all hell erupt from within me? I hated being forced into this role, the role of the killer, the executioner. Just as in Germania, I was compelled—forced by circumstances into a role that I despised. But when my moment came, with my men gathered around, I played it to the hilt. The brute lurking at the bottom of the chasm within me took full control. Today on Golgotha the horror and rage of Germania had found a fresh vent.
But this was no barbarian village. This was no blond-haired girl; this was the Son of God. The Son of God . . .
The words of my confession reverberated through my throbbing mind, over and over, until I thought my head would split.
To download a free study guide for this high-impact, bible-based novel visit: https://www.davidkitz.ca/centurion.php/free study guide PDF
For book purchases of The Soldier Who Killed a King try Amazon or christianbook.com.
06 Saturday Apr 2019
Posted in Lent, Psalms, The Soldier Who Killed a King
Tags
Date: Seven in the morning, Saturday, April 8, 30 A.D.
Annas meets with Pontius Pilate and asks that Jesus’ tomb be guarded.
Pilate was seated even as I saw him yesterday. He wore a rather haggard look, as though he had slept on the bloodstained rocks of Golgotha. He motioned for the temple delegation to step forward. I waited at the back of the room in a repetition of the governor’s late- day interview with Joseph of Arimathea.
Annas bowed and began. “Sir, we remember that while he was still alive that deceiver said, ‘After three days I will rise again.’”
A strange tingle ran through me as he said this. Pilate rubbed his hands.
Annas continued. “So give the order for the tomb to be made secure until the third day. Otherwise, his disciples may come and steal the body and tell the people that he has been raised from the dead.” Then he concluded by lifting a bony finger and saying, “This last deception will be worse than the first.”
On hearing this, Pilate sighed deeply, then beckoned me forward. There was worry in his eyes. “The centurion here, Marcus Longinus, is fully acquainted with the case of the Galilean prophet. He oversaw his crucifixion.” Then he addressed me directly. “Is that not so?”
I nodded. “Yes, sir. It is as you say.”
With that he raised his hands and motioned both parties together. Then, speaking directly to all of us, he said, “Take a guard. Go, make the tomb as secure as you know how.” Rubbing his guilt- stained hands once more, the Badger got up and skulked off. 
Annas was jubilant. With eagerness in his voice, he turned to address me. “How soon can you have your troops at the tomb?”
“We should be there in about an hour.”
“Excellent! These two gentlemen will meet you there. They will ensure that all is in order. Understood?”
“Yes. Understood,” I said. Then I addressed the Pharisees. “Do you know which tomb? Do you know where it is?”
Annas answered for them. “Ah, they know it well.” He gave a contemptuous snort. “The traitor’s tomb, Joseph of Arimathea!”
“I will bring my men and meet you there then.” I gave a slight bow with my head. The chamberlain saw us to the door, and then I was off, back to my home.
I shook my head several times in disbelief as I trudged back. Every time I tried to extricate myself from this Messiah pit, this kingdom of God affair, this abysmal hole, I would find myself sucked in even deeper. And now it had happened again. Was there no escape?
Would I ever be allowed to speak my mind before Pilate?
To download a free study guide for this high-impact, bible-based novel visit: https://www.davidkitz.ca/centurion.php/free study guide PDF
For book purchases of The Soldier Who Killed a King try Amazon or https://www.christianbook.com
03 Wednesday Apr 2019
Posted in Lent, The Soldier Who Killed a King
Tags
Date: About noon, Friday, April 7 30A.D.
The crucifixion of Jesus.
Now there was movement on the Mother’s Hill. A middle-aged couple came down. Their heads were hanging. They clung to each other, supported each other, every step an anguish. They made their way before the encircling pikemen.
I knew who they were—knew why they had come. Here were the broken parents, broken beyond this world’s repair. I met them at the base of the hill, told them they had some time.
They advanced up the Skull. She fell, fell whimpering before her son. Thaddaeus. Boisterous soldiers fell silent and then walked off, right off the hill. The family was alone with their grief.
Having witnessed this grim but welcoming reception, another party stepped off the Mother’s Hill and advanced to Golgotha. This was a group of five. The women clung to one another in couples. They were shepherded by a tall young man. His fresh face and scant beard bore witness to his youth. I recognized him. He had been with Jesus, had stood closest to him.
He introduced himself. He said his name was John. I received his party—ushered them by the outer ring of soldiers.
They were bowed by the sight. They clung to one another afresh, repulsed by the horror of what met their eyes.
After a few moments the young man came before two of the huddled older women. He stooped to speak with one of the women—the Christ’s mother, I assumed. Then with his arm about her shoulder, John advanced up the rock mound.
Jesus saw them.
He struggled.
“Woman . . . behold your son!”
There was a double- edged meaning here, almost too painful for words. At first I thought he was simply referring to himself—to his own wretched state. And perhaps on one level he was.
His body sagged. But then he thrust himself up and forward for another breath, and with his next words his meaning became clear. To the young man, to his disciple, he said, “Behold your mother!”
He had committed his mother into this disciple’s care. She fell to her knees. She trembled, unable to speak. Only wretched sobbing was heard from within the circle of the hill.
In due time I led both families off. They left willingly. This was too much to bear, too much to watch.
From his cross Animal watched the Mother’s Hill. But no one came. That’s when he broke—broke like a clay pot dropped onto the hard rock of the Skull.
He sobbed. He moaned.
His tears flowed like rivers into his dark, young beard.
But no mother came. No one came at all.
The wind picked up. The sky grew dark. Then it grew darker yet. The horses began to neigh and paw the ground. In the distance a dog barked. It was a bark that changed to a howl but ended in a whimper. I looked about. I could see it on every face. It was fear. Raw fear. This was not the dark of cloud or storm. This was the sun covering, hiding its face from what it saw upon the earth.
A total darkness descended, as black as any night.
There was a discord here—a discord utter and complete. If heaven and earth had come into some perfect union—some perfect harmony—on the day Jesus arrived in this city, it was in blaring dissonance now. Blaring dissonance echoed off the empty chambers of my soul.
It was a deafening darkness.
The mocking crowds fell silent. The highway traffic stopped. All was still.
Silent.
Only the three men were heard. Heard in the darkness. Three men working to maintain this perverted thing called life.
Working.
Pushing up.
Up to catch a breath.
To download a free study guide for this high-impact, bible-based novel visit: https://www.davidkitz.ca/centurion.php/free study guide PDF
For book purchases of The Soldier Who Killed a King try Amazon or https://www.christianbook.com
02 Tuesday Apr 2019
Posted in Lent, The Soldier Who Killed a King
Tags
Date: Nine thirty in the morning, Friday, April 7 30A.D.
The crucifixion of Jesus.
I tipped the bucket to one side to get enough swill to fill the dipper. I offered it to Jesus. He took a sip, worked the liquid around in his mouth, discerned the true nature of this bitter potion, and then spit it out. It left a dark stain on the dull gray rock near his feet.
“It will dull the pain,” I said emphatically.
He raised his eyes. They locked with mine. I saw in him the same look, the same determination I saw on the first day I set eyes on him, the day he rode the donkey into this city. I could still see he had a destination in mind. Some mystical purpose he somehow felt compelled to fulfill.
I dropped my gaze. He must be a fool. In his condition, in this situation, he must be a fool. A fool who unnerved me, but a fool nonetheless.
Once more I offered the drink.
With lips pressed tight, he shook his head.
He was a fool. An arrogant fool! A fool who thinks he’s tough—who can handle this—who can take it straight.
We would see who’s tough. I would show him who’s tough!
Let the big show begin.
“Now, boys!” I called out to the crew. Still wearing the purple robe, he was snatched like a young child and slammed down onto the crossbeam.
A cheer went up.
My right hand seized the hammer from Octavio. My left fumbled, then dove into, the nail pouch.
I dropped my knee onto his fingers.
Stabbed the sharpened point of the spike into the base of the palm.
Raised the hammer.
Xchuuuung!
An enormous cheer went up from the crowd.
Blood spurted across my thigh.
Xchuuuung!
Xchuuuung!
Xchuuuung!
One in.
The Christ was silent. Still . . .
Octavio urged me on. “That’s it, Marcus!”
I sprang to my feet, remembering the full rush of battle. Then scrambled to the other arm. From just off the hill, in the throng, a chant began and established itself. “More. More. More. More.”
Knee on fingers.
“More!”
Spike jabbed in.
“More!”
Hammer raised.
“More!”
Xchuuuung!
“More!”
Xchuuuung!
“More!”
Xchuuuung!
Two in. The Christ was silent.
Still . . . He was still beneath the piercing blows.
I rose, panting. Heart pounding. Bloodied hand dripping. Seeing a stainfree area farther up my hairy arm, I wiped it across my sweat-drenched brow.
Octavio saluted me with a smile and a thumbs-up signal.
The crowd roared their approval.
This time it was Octavio who yelled, “Hoist him up.”
The Christ was dragged gasping—desperately gasping—to an upright position before the death mast.
Now they could see him, and the crowd went wild with frenzied excitement. Cheering. Clapping. Hooting. Bloodlust took hold.
The props were applied to the arms of the crossbeam.
A new chant went up. 
“Raise him up!”
“Raise him up!”
“Raise him up!”
Octavio signaled, and the men in back lifted the beam on which the Christ was pinned above their heads.
Then we all saw it—saw the obvious. He was still clothed. The purple robe billowed out as it was caught by a sudden cold gust of wind. The sight of it brought all my frenzied demons to the fore.
I stepped before him, looked into his agonized face, and said, “You won’t be needing this . . . king of the Jews.”
Then to the cheers of my men, I spit into his face. I added my spittle to all the rest that had dried and was clinging to his beard.
I untied the royal robe and dropped it in a heap to my right. Finally, with a wicked smile, and to cheers all around, I snatched his breechcloth from off his loins.
I tossed it to Octavio. He held it up. A trophy!
We laughed. We all laughed. It was a laugh not our own.
I recognized it. It was Herod’s laugh.
When he had regained some composure, the head jailer started the final count.
“Ready . . . one . . . two . . . three . . . now!”
To chants of “Raise him up, raise him up,” the Christ, the Messiah, the king, was lifted up—up before the world.
His head twisted from side to side in writhing agony. His whip-sliced back slammed against the upright as he was dragged higher.
Then with a flesh-tearing lurch, the notch in the horizontal beam found its match in the vertical. The rope was flung around, then drawn tight, securing the two cross members as one.
The silent Christ hung. He hung naked and bleeding before a jeering world.
Only the last spike remained. Awkwardly, I fumbled for it.
But a creeping unease overshadowed me. I glanced over my shoulder. Claudius stood alone, off to the side. Silent . . . He was ghastly pale and silent, transfixed by the sight before him.
I handed the last nail and the hammer back to Octavio and said, “You do it.” He snorted his surprise, but then set quickly to his task.
To download a free study guide for this high-impact, bible-based novel visit: https://www.davidkitz.ca/centurion.php/free study guide PDF
For book purchases of The Soldier Who Killed a King try Amazon or christianbook.com.
25 Monday Mar 2019
Posted in Devotionals, Psalm 50, Psalms
Tags
crucifixion, God's judgment, judgment, justice, summons, the LORD
Reading: Psalm 50
A psalm of Asaph.
(Verses 1-6)
The Mighty One, God, the LORD,
speaks and summons the earth
from the rising of the sun to where it sets.
From Zion, perfect in beauty,
God shines forth.
Our God comes and will not be silent;
a fire devours before him,
and around him a tempest rages.
He summons the heavens above,
and the earth, that he may judge his people:
“Gather to me this consecrated people,
who made a covenant with me by sacrifice.”
And the heavens proclaim his righteousness,
for he is a God of justice (NIV).
Balmaha, Scotland — photo courtesy of Jan Jablonski
Reflection
Psalm 50 begins by reminding us that Judgment Day is coming. A great summoning will take place. We will all gather before the throne of God. Rich and poor, the powerful and the weak, the living and the dead—all will gather before the LORD. None are excused. The Mighty One, God, the LORD, speaks and summons the earth from the rising of the sun to where it sets.
On the day before his crucifixion Jesus elaborated at some length on this great summoning. For some it will be a day of joy and gladness; for others it will be a day of dread and sorrow. “When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his glorious throne. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left” (Matthew 25:31-33).
What kind of day will it be for you?
It will certainly be a day of justice. The world is crying out for justice. All too often in this world—in this life—there is no such thing. The innocent suffer, while the perpetrators get off free. They gloat in their pride, while swaddled in luxury. On that great day—that Judgment Day—the tables will be turned. The great Judge of all the earth will see to that. And so He should. Since the fall of man, the world is crying out for justice.
It is well worth noting that in his account of Judgment Day, Jesus decides if we will enter into bliss or torment based on how we treat others. He states, “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me’ (Matthew 25:40).
Response: LORD God, help me to live my life in joyous preparation for that great summoning when wrong will be made right. Help me to be merciful so that I will receive your mercy in Jesus’ name. Amen.
Your Turn: How can we prepare our hearts and live our lives aright in the knowledge that Judgment Day is coming?
06 Thursday Dec 2018
Posted in Bible, Devotionals, Psalm 22, Psalms
Reading: Psalm 22
(Verses 27-31)
All the ends of the earth
will remember and turn to the LORD,
and all the families of the nations
will bow down before him,
for dominion belongs to the LORD
and he rules over the nations.
All the rich of the earth will feast and worship;
all who go down to the dust will kneel before him—
those who cannot keep themselves alive.
Posterity will serve him;
future generations will be told about the Lord.
They will proclaim his righteousness,
declaring to a people yet unborn:
He has done it! (NIV)
Gatineau Park — photo by David Kitz
Reflection
This final portion of Psalm 22 signals the ultimate triumph of the Lord Jesus Christ. In the first half of this psalm Christ’s humiliation, suffering and death by crucifixion are vividly portrayed. With stunning accuracy and detail, David depicts these events from Christ’s perspective. Only God-breathed prophetic insight could reveal such truth through a human vessel. For prophecy never had its origin in the human will, but prophets, though human, spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit (2 Peter 1:21).
With today’s reading we discover the worldwide impact of Christ’s redemptive death and resurrection. All the ends of the earth will remember and turn to the LORD, and all the families of the nations will bow down before him, for dominion belongs to the LORD and he rules over the nations.
Christ’s gospel—the good news of the Kingdom—has been voiced abroad. Death, hell and the grave have been conquered. Jesus Christ is Lord over all! Keep in mind that this turning to the LORD by all the families of the nations was an alien concept to the people of Israel during David’s time. Yet again, David spoke prophetically of the time when the gospel message would burst forth from its Jewish cocoon and be declared and received by ready hearts all over the world. Our Savior’s commission will be fulfilled. “Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age” (Matthew 28:19-20).
We have the promise of the world-wide spread of the gospel from generation to generation. Posterity will serve him; future generations will be told about the Lord. They will proclaim his righteousness, declaring to a people yet unborn: He has done it!
Response: Father, thank you for the good news of the gospel. Jesus is alive and reigns forever. Help me to do my part in bringing the message of your love and redemption to the world. I want to see people from all nations turning to you in repentance and faith. Amen.
Your Turn: How can we spread the good news? What are you doing to tell His story?
Final Note: This concludes our meditations on Psalm 22. This psalm is ideal for consideration during Lent and Easter, but currently we are beginning Advent. Nevertheless, I believe it is appropriate at any time of year to reflect on the redemptive purpose for Christ’s mission to our corner of the cosmos.
Be blessed as you look forward to His second coming.
03 Monday Dec 2018
Posted in Bible, Devotionals, Psalm 22, Psalms
Tags
blood, crucifixion, Dieppe Raid, Jesus, redemption, Savior, Suffering
Reading: Psalm 22
(Verses 9-15)
Yet you brought me out of the womb;
you made me trust in you, even at my mother’s breast.
From birth I was cast on you;
from my mother’s womb you have been my God.
Do not be far from me,
for trouble is near and there is no one to help.
Many bulls surround me;
strong bulls of Bashan encircle me.
Roaring lions that tear their prey
open their mouths wide against me.
I am poured out like water,
and all my bones are out of joint.
My heart has turned to wax; it has melted within me.
My mouth is dried up like a potsherd,
and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth;
you lay me in the dust of death (NIV).
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
Reflection
As we continue this meditation on Psalm 22, it is essential that we bear in mind that prophetically this is the crucifixion psalm. As stated in my previous post, the crucifixion is portrayed from the victim’s point of view—Jesus’ point of view. Through the poetic medium of this psalm, Jesus is speaking. He is describing his thoughts amid the horror of his excruciating affliction.
I recently read an account of the disastrous Dieppe Raid of 1942. In one scene from the carnage on the Normandy beach, a horribly-mangled, mortally-wounded young man is trapped in coils of razor wire. With his last desperate breaths what does he do? He cries out for his mother. In the pain of death the thoughts of grown men often turn to the soothing remembrance of their mother’s love. For our Savior it was no different. But from birth Jesus put his trust in God. Yet you brought me out of the womb; you made me trust in you, even at my mother’s breast. From birth I was cast on you; from my mother’s womb you have been my God.
As Jesus hangs pinned to the cross, he is encircled by his accusers—strong bulls of Bashan—who hurl insults at him. Peering down at his mangled and bleeding body he laments, I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint. My heart has turned to wax; it has melted within me.
As the heat of the day builds, the trickle of blood continues and severe dehydration sets in. He cries out, “I thirst!” (John 19:28). This is our Savior’s confession—his stark reality—a reality he endured for our redemption. My mouth is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth; you lay me in the dust of death.
Response: Father God, thank you for sending your Son Jesus to this cruel world to suffer on my behalf. Your unconditional love for me was demonstrated on the cross for all to see. I thank you. Amen.
Your Turn: What does Jesus suffering mean for you?
30 Friday Nov 2018
Posted in Bible, Devotionals, Psalm 22, Psalms
Tags
crucifixion, David, forsaken, Jesus, messianic, messianic psalm
Reading: Psalm 22
For the director of music. To the tune of “The Doe of the Morning.”
A psalm of David.
(Verses 1-8)
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
Why are you so far from saving me,
so far from my cries of anguish?
My God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer,
by night, but I find no rest.
Yet you are enthroned as the Holy One;
you are the one Israel praises.
In you our ancestors put their trust;
they trusted and you delivered them.
To you they cried out and were saved;
in you they trusted and were not put to shame.
But I am a worm and not a man,
scorned by everyone, despised by the people.
All who see me mock me;
they hurl insults, shaking their heads.
“He trusts in the LORD,” they say, “let the LORD rescue him.
Let him deliver him, since he delights in him” (NIV).
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
Reflection
Do you believe in prophecy?
Psalm 22 is the most graphic description of Christ’s crucifixion found anywhere in the Bible. Yet here it is—tucked away among the Psalms—written roughly 900 years before the birth of Christ. How can this be? During David’s time, crucifixion as a form of execution had not yet been invented. Furthermore, crucifixion is portrayed from the victim’s point of view—Jesus’ point of view.
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” These are the words of Jesus on the cross and they form the opening line of this psalm. Of course, Jesus knew he was quoting this psalm when he cried out in anguish.
But did his arrogant mockers know that they too were fulfilling scriptural prophecy as they hurled their insults, “He trusts in the LORD,” they say, “let the LORD rescue him. Let him deliver him, since he delights in him.” These words from Psalm 22 find an uncanny parallel in the verbal abuse thrown at Jesus in Matthew 27:43 where we read, “He trusts in God. Let God rescue him now if he wants him, for he said, ‘I am the Son of God.’”
Remarkably, David saw it all. Through the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, he beheld the cross nine centuries in advance. I believe in prophecies to come because of prophecies fulfilled.
Response: Father, thank you for sending your Son Jesus to this cruel world to suffer on my behalf. Thank you that I can put my trust in Your Holy Word. It was, is and will be forever true and trustworthy. Amen.
Your Turn: Why do you have confidence in God’s word?
