Tag Archives: Jesus of Nazareth

Rome will see to that!

25 Thursday Mar 2021

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A journey to the cross is a journey to repentance. It’s a journey to deep personal change. Will you take this journey with me?

In today’s reading, Marcus the centurion, disguised in his civilian clothes, is in a discussion about Jesus with Timaeus, a linen merchant from Damascus.

“As for this Jesus of Nazareth?” He shrugged. “I know only a little more than you. My brother here in Jerusalem knew nothing about him. Had never heard the name. But I heard of him once, about a year ago, in Damascus.”
“In Damascus?”
“Yes. I’m in the linen trade.” He put his hand to an elaborately embroidered sleeve and stroked the pattern. “We supply market stalls in Galilee. One of our sellers there told me of this prophet. He had seen him in Galilee.”
“So what did he say about him?”
“Actually, he told me quite a lot, but I don’t know how much I can believe. He said this Jesus worked miracles.”
“Miracles? What do you mean, miracles?”4485 SHARABLE-1
“He said Jesus drove out demons, healed the sick. He told me about this one time he went out to hear this prophet, if that’s what he is. Jesus was on this hillside. Thousands had come to hear him speak. Matthias—that’s the man’s name—he said he had never heard anyone speak like him. ‘It was like heaven was talking.’ He kept saying that. ‘It was like heaven was talking.’”
Timaeus spread his arms heavenward in mock imitation. “Poor Matthias!” He shook his head.
“So was that the miracle? The way he talked?”
“No, no. It’s not that, though Matthias kept going on about ‘the kingdom of God.’ Whatever that is. I suppose he got that from this Jesus. Anyway, after they had been there all day—he said there were more than five thousand people—this prophet told them all to sit down in groups of fifty or a hundred. Then he prayed and started breaking bread. He fed that whole crowd. Every last one of them.”
“What’s so miraculous about that?”
“Matthias said he only had five loaves and two fish when he started. He was watching him, and Jesus just kept on breaking bread until the whole crowd was fed. Five thousand people.”
“Five thousand people?”
“More than five thousand people.” He shrugged incredulously. “Look, I wasn’t there. I’m just repeating this fool’s story. Matthias kept saying, ‘It was like he was giving himself to us! Like it came from inside him!’”
Now I was incredulous. I paused in my walk and asked, “What did he mean by that?”
“I swear by the altar, I have no idea.”
“So what do you make of this Matthias and his story?”
“Matthias? He’s a nutcase. And he’s from a fine family in Capernaum.” He frowned, shaking his head. “I know them well. It’s hard to believe he’d get into something like this. He’s following this prophet around the country. It’s all he talks about. He was probably up some tree yesterday breaking off palm branches.” He spat out the words in utter disgust.
“And Jesus of Nazareth?” He raised a stout index finger and waved it in my face. “There’s the real nutcase! There’s no nut like a religious nut! And this kingdom of God talk. It’ll end in disaster.”
He glanced about to see if other ears were listening.
I continued in a more hushed voice. “How do you mean? Do you think the Romans will get involved?”
“Look, I’m no prophet, but by the throne I swear.” He looked me square in the eyes. “You don’t preach about a kingdom in this place and get away with it. Rome will see to that!”
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Here’s a journey to the cross and the open tomb you will never forget.

“Hosanna to the Son of David!”

24 Wednesday Mar 2021

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I could see him clearly now. Donkey or not, he had the look of a man who knew exactly what he was doing. Those about him might not know or understand, but he knew. He had a destination in mind, a purpose. You could see it on his face.
“Hosanna to the Son of David!”
“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”
“Hosanna in the highest heaven!”
There was something else different about him. At the time I didn’t know what it was. I couldn’t put it into words for a long time. I think I noticed it because I had watched all those other men come into Rome in their triumphal processionals. They were conquerors, but still they were hollow men, feeding off the adulation of the crowd, thirsting but never satisfied. You could see them vainly drink it in, hoping it would somehow fill the empty soul.
This donkey-riding king wasn’t drinking from the crowd. I somehow sensed he was full already, and what he had within must have come from a different source.
“Hosanna in the highest heaven!”
“Hosanna to the Son of David!”
“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”
Just at that moment a strange feeling seemed to rise within me. Maybe it was the joy of the crowd. I had expected anger. Maybe it was the children waving palm branches or the spontaneity of the singing? I don’t know. For one moment it all seemed to come together. It seemed right somehow. Like heaven and earth had finally, for a moment, come into agreement—an agreement that had never been achieved before.
“Hosanna in the highest heaven!”
He was much closer now.
“Hosanna to the Son of David!”
He was now within the shadow of the gate.
“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”
At that moment he looked up. For an instant our eyes met. Then I heard a voice—clearly heard a voice say, “I have a future for you.”
I was confused.
I turned to Claudius and said, “What did you mean by that?”
“What did I mean by what?” He had a blank look on his face.
“By what you said about—about the future?”
“I didn’t say anything about the future, sir. I didn’t say anything.”
I was totally baffled. Was I hearing voices? This whole thing was making no sense, no sense at all. Passover pilgrims weren’t supposed to come into the city this way. We had a revolutionary on the loose—riding a donkey. And now I was hearing things?
I rubbed the sweat from my forehead, hoping for some clarity to emerge.
I had a hundred men whose lives were in danger from this Jewish Messiah and his horde of followers. That was what mattered.
By this time the donkey man had passed under the gate and was heading in the direction of the temple in the heart of the city.
I signaled for Claudius to follow as I raced down the stairs of the gatehouse. I emerged onto the street and grabbed the first two-legged bit of Jewish scum I saw. Pressing him against the stone wall, I demanded, “Who is that man?”
I pointed at the retreating figure on the donkey.
The poor wretch was in shock and seemed quite unable to get out a word.
Claudius reached for his sword.
“Je- Jesus of Nazareth,” he stammered and then quickly added, “the prophet from Nazareth in Galilee.”
I loosened my grip. Then in a voice loud enough for all near to hear, I announced, “Well, there is one thing I do know. We’re going to have to keep an eye on that man.”
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For book purchases of The Soldier Who Killed a King try Amazon or christianbook.com.

To download a free study guide for this high-impact, 288-page, bible-based novel visit: https://www.davidkitz.ca/centurion.php/free study guide PDF

Here’s a journey to the cross and the open tomb you will never forget.

Reading 36 for Lent from “The Soldier Who Killed a King”

12 Friday Apr 2019

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A journey to the cross is a journey to repentance. It’s a journey to deep personal change. Will you take this journey with me?

Date: 10:00 in the morning, Saturday, April 8, 30 A.D.
Marcus Longinus, the Roman centurion, seals Jesus’ tomb in compliance with the orders from Caiaphas, the high priest.

“Look,” I argued. “This is Jesus of Nazareth, if that’s your concern. I saw him taken off the cross”—I motioned in the vague direction of Golgotha—“wrapped in that shroud.”
I pointed to it. “He was carried into this tomb. This is his body.” I put stress on each word.
“Will you swear to that?”
I raised my right hand. “By the emperor’s throne, by the sacred temple, by all that is holy, I will swear.” I spoke with mounting anger.biblical-fiction-award-2017_orig
This assertion appeared to satisfy them.
We walked out of the tomb, and I chose two fresh men to roll the stone back.
Then once more I addressed the high priest’s men. “I didn’t bring any plaster, or water, or a pot to mix it in. I will need to send someone to get these.”
This news was greeted with a disdainful sigh, but they insisted they would wait by the tomb until the job was done. I sent two men off to retrieve the required tools and material, and in due course they returned.
We mixed the fine-powdered plaster with water in an ample-sized iron pot. Using a stonemason’s trowel I scooped the wet, gray plaster over the narrow crevice that separated the rock door from the rock face of the hill. Soon an airtight plaster seal was in place around the giant circular rock door. At two points, one on either side, I affixed the governor’s own stamp into the yet pliable wet plaster.
Any tampering would break this seal and obliterate the imperial stamp.
At last they were satisfied. Caiaphas himself would have approved of this seal.
But then, why was I working for him?

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Reading 25 for Lent from “The Soldier Who Killed a King”

30 Saturday Mar 2019

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A journey to the cross is a journey to repentance. It’s a journey to deep personal change. Will you take this journey with me?

Date: Seven fifteen in the morning, Friday, April 7, 30A.D.
Jesus is questioned by Herod Antipas.

“Jesus of Nazareth,” the Fox pompously intoned. “The prophet of Galilee. I’ve longed to see you, my most noteworthy subject.”
With that Herod arose, and holding his robe shut, he approached the Messiah. He inspected the taller man, walked fully around him. Noticing the welts and the dried spittle, he looked my way and asked, “Is this your work, centurion?”
“No, Your Majesty.” My eyes darted to Jonathon and back to Herod again.
“Ah, the high priest’s work!” the Fox remarked grandly as he turned to Jonathon. “I didn’t think you temple boys were capable.”
This bit of sarcasm drew an acknowledging nod and a slight smile from the chief temple guard. Here was a backhanded compliment from the pretentious Fox.
“Your Majesty, I have here a letter from His Excellency the governor and certain chargesJames Wri brought by—”
The king halted me with an uplifted hand and a shake of his head.
“That can wait, centurion.” He paused, and then with a certain dramatic flourish, he began. “We have here a man of rare talent. He makes the lame to walk, the blind to see, has cured the leper. I have heard reports that he has raised the dead.” And then spotting a gold chalice on the inlaid table, he seized it by the stem and with relish declared, “He has even turned water into wine.”
He lifted the chalice before the Messiah and grandly asked, “Isn’t that so, Jesus?”
The Messiah did not answer him a word.
If Herod was perturbed by this silence, he didn’t show it. “Servant girl!” he hollered. “Servant girl!”
An attractive young woman entered from the door on the left, and with short, quick steps, she made her way before the tetrarch. She bowed low.
“Fill this chalice with water and bring it back.”
He stared after her as she left.
I noticed Herodias following his hungry gaze.
“Soon we will see if this prophet can perform the works of which we heard.” He nodded his head with an eager enthusiasm. Then addressing Jesus, he asked, “Tell us of your magic arts.”
The Messiah fixed his eyes straight ahead. He looked beyond the Fox and did not answer him a word. His silence was challenging enough.
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Reading 21 for Lent from “The Soldier Who Killed a King”

26 Tuesday Mar 2019

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A journey to the cross is a journey to repentance. It’s a journey to deep personal change. Will you take this journey with me?

Date: Five forty-five in the morning, Friday, April 7 A.D.
In today’s reading, a messenger from Pontius Pilate arrives at the home of Marcus Longinus, the Roman centurion, with the news that Jesus has been arrested.

“Sir, I have just come from the governor. You are to report to the Praetorium immediately. Jesus of Nazareth has been arrested. The high priest has brought him before the governor for judgment.”
“Is that so?” I said in a state of consternation. “Who sent you?”
“The governor himself. He said you were familiar with the Galilean.”
I blew a short puff of air through my nostrils. All of Jerusalem was somewhat familiar with the Galilean.
“So he wants me there immediately?”
“Immediately, sir.” He shifted from one foot to the other and then, as if to justify thisCentur. Sw response, he added, “The high priest and a big delegation, maybe three hundred men, maybe more, arrived at the palace door at first light. They had the prisoner—Jesus—with them.”
“Tell the governor I’m on my way.”
With a quick nod of my head, I dismissed the messenger. Instantly he turned and began his run back to the governor’s residence. I took one step back inside the gate and began barking orders.
“You, you, and you!” I stabbed my index finger in the direction of the most dressed and prepared-looking soldiers. “Strap on your swords and follow me. Now!”
Then, addressing the other soldiers, I announced, “The rest of you, meet me at the Praetorium as soon as you are ready.”
“Claudius”—I nodded in his direction—“you are in charge. I’ll give everyone their assignment for the day when they get there.”
I stepped back through the gate and began covering the ground with long, quick strides. My three recruits had to run to catch up. With each stride a new thought came jogging into my head. Stupid Arius! Why didn’t he tell me the messenger was from Pilate? I would have moved a good deal faster.
Obviously my concerns about the prophet had moved up the chain of command. Flavio must have informed Pilate about my worries and the actions I had taken, hence this unusual move—a direct summons by the governor. I harbored the hope that he would consult directly with me on the matter. Three hundred men! Three hundred men at first light? The Weasel must have had a busy night. It takes a good deal of effort to set your troops in array. Caiaphas must have been hatching this plot for a good long while. 4485 TWITTER
But the Weasel caught his prey! What a sweet bit of treachery that must have been. I wondered how he pulled that off. Now the high priest would move in for the kill. We would see if he could slaughter his own Passover lamb. The people! If the pilgrims, especially the Galilean pilgrims, knew their Messiah had been seized, there could be a mass revolt. That must be why the Weasel had done his dirty work in the dark of the night. And furthermore, he had played out this drama at the zenith of the festival, while minds and hearts were on faith, home, and family. Here was a cunning scheme worthy of the Fox, played out by the Weasel.
Undoubtedly most of the population would still be unaware of these developments, even as I had been caught off guard. Off guard but not surprised. I could smell this coming.
My conversation with Renaldo at the bathhouse came echoing back. It gave me an eerie feeling knowing I had spoken like some prophetic oracle. It made me wonder from where that insight had really come.
“By Jupiter! I forgot the spikes.” I wheeled around while reaching out my hand to halt the soldier at my side. Addressing him directly, I said, “I forgot them—the spikes. They’re in a pouch hanging on a peg in my bedchamber. My wife, she’ll know where they are. Ask her to get the pouch for you. Then bring it to me at the Praetorium. Oh, and tell the other men to hurry. This is urgent.” I fixed my eyes on him to stress the importance of this last statement and then added, “Now run.”

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Reading 18 for Lent from The Soldier Who Killed a King

23 Saturday Mar 2019

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A journey to the cross is a journey to repentance. It’s a journey to deep personal change. Will you take this journey with me?

In today’s reading, Marcus, the centurion, rides back into Jerusalem on horseback. As he rides his mind turns over his thoughts about Jesus of Nazareth. Date: Near noon on Thursday, April 6th, 30 A.D.

We continued on to the fortress, but my mind was on the Northern Messiah. His penetrating eyes haunted my thoughts. There was a power there that I had no ability to fathom. I was reminded of Ruth’s words. Ruth was one of our household servants, a Jewish girl. When at the supper table I had told Zelda about Jesus and his miraculous powers, Ruth’s eyes brightened. I asked her if she knew anything about this man.
biblical-fiction-award-2017_orig“Oh, yes,” she’d said. “Almost a year ago he healed a blind beggar from the Lower City. Jesus made some mud, put it on the beggar’s eyes, and sent him to wash in the Pool of Siloam. When he washed, he could see. It was a miracle. I’ve seen this man myself. I know it’s true,” she earnestly avowed.
When I’d asked her about this power Jesus had and where it came from, she bowed her head and answered, “From God.”
But she seemed somehow uncomfortable with her answer. She added, “It must be from God. He does good things. But our leaders aren’t sure. They think it may be demon power. But demons don’t heal the sick.”
Maybe the religious leaders were right. Maybe it was demonic power that made the blind see. It seemed preposterous. But why had I heard this voice? Why did this man trouble me so? Thinking of him seemed to stir up nothing but torment within me, and I didn’t even know why. I felt strangely attracted to him, yet at the same time repelled.
Then there was this talk about the kingdom of God. Maybe Timaeus was right about this prophet. The words of the wealthy merchant came back to me: “You don’t talk about a kingdom in this place and get away with it. Rome will see to that!”
Maybe we would see to it. Maybe we should see to it soon. But Jesus’s enemies were the same pompous, self-serving leaders I despised. He had aligned himself with the common man, with the poor, the oppressed, the sick and suffering. And he didn’t just champion their cause for personal benefit like some crass politician lobbying for the emperor’s favor. No, he healed them. He fed them. He walked with them, ate with them. He was one of them. He was their king, whether he wore a crown or not. I saw that clearly when he entered on the donkey. He was the donkey king. A horse would have put him above the crowd. A horse would have meant elevating himself like all the other egotistical men who led in this upside-down world.
In his case others would have to do the elevating.
The meaning of his entry on Sunday came clear to me now. It was a perspective gained from my comfortable perch on the back of my own noble steed.
By the time I reached the fortress for the second time in the week, I resolved to shut this Messiah out of my mind. He didn’t fit any of my categories for human behavior or religious thought. He was beyond understanding, an unwelcome intruder into my city and my thought life.
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Reading 14 for Lent from The Soldier Who Killed a King

19 Tuesday Mar 2019

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A journey to the cross is a journey to repentance. It’s a journey to deep personal change. Will you take this journey with me?

In today’s reading, Marcus is in conversation with his nephew, the young soldier Claudius. Claudius is reporting on the activities and the message of Jesus of Nazareth on Tuesday of Holy Week.

Claudius went on. “One thing I do know for sure: those fancy-robed religious leaders don’t like him much. Jesus had taught for a while this morning, when all of a sudden the high priest, along with maybe ten other officials, came marching in. They demanded to

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A Roman centurion

know by what authority he was doing these things. He didn’t answer them, but instead he asked them a question. He asked them, ‘By what authority did John baptize?’ They talked it over and then said, ‘We don’t know.’ So he said he wouldn’t answer their question either. They just turned around and left in a holy huff. You could really tell the crowd around Jesus just loved the way he handled these high and mighty holy types.” Claudius abruptly turned to me and asked, “Who was this John anyway?”
“A few years back he caused quite a stir. Thousands of people went out to the Jordan River to hear him. He insisted that people repent, turn from their sins, and then he would baptize them in the river. Even some of my own men went out to hear him. In the end, Herod the tetrarch had him beheaded.”
After reflecting a moment on the day’s events, I caustically commented, “That bloody old Fox hasn’t changed much.”
“Anyway,” Claudius continued, “from then on Jesus would teach for a while, and then some new high-powered delegation would arrive to question him. They weren’t sincere in their questions. It was like they were trying to trap him into saying something they could later use against him. That’s all I think they were after. But in the end Jesus always turned the tables on them. He exposed their real motives. He saw right through them.”
I felt a certain remembered discomfort when Claudius said those words. After all, Jesus’s eyes had shone a light on the darkness of my own soul. I don’t know why I felt so naked, so transparent before this man.
“But, Claudius, what makes you so sure he’s not here to kick out the Romans?”
“It was the way he answered one of those fancy-robed delegations. They asked him if it was lawful to pay taxes to Caesar. He called them hypocrites right to their faces. He accused them of trying to trap him. Then he asked for a coin. He demanded to know biblical-fiction-award-2017_origwhose portrait and inscription were on it. When they answered, ‘Caesar’s,’ he jumped on them—like a cat onto a nest of mice. ‘So give back to Caesar what is Caesar’s, and to God what is God’s,’ he told them. Even at a distance, I could see their mouths drop and their ears catch fire. They left like cowering dogs with their tails between their legs.”
Claudius became even more animated as he said, “The crowd—the crowd loved it. You could really tell the people loved seeing those phony religious officials get a taste of a little humility. I’m sure they haven’t tasted it for a good long while.”
Then to conclude, he said, “That’s why I don’t think he’s a threat to us. He’s not opposed to paying taxes. Nothing he said all day makes me think he’s got a quarrel with Rome. But he’s sure got the religious leaders worried and bothered. Later in the day he went after them full force. Called them hypocrites, blind guides, a brood of vipers!”
“Ooo! I’m sure they were pleased,” I said sarcastically.
This assessment confirmed what Renaldo and I had been thinking. I had heard the same thing reflected back to me by Flavio. This latest evidence on taxes lent considerable weight to the conclusion Claudius had drawn. But I still felt uneasy. Jesus simply struck me as such a huge, larger-than-life figure—the kind of person you don’t dismiss lightly, no matter what others say. I somehow felt that all we had done thus far was scratch the surface. I’m not sure I really understood him at all. How could I begin to fathom what he was trying to accomplish?

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Reading 12 for Lent from The Soldier Who Killed a King

17 Sunday Mar 2019

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A journey to the cross is a journey to repentance. It’s a journey to deep personal change. Will you take this journey with me?

In today’s reading, Marcus meets with his fellow centurion and friend, Renaldo. Renaldo has just seen the young boy Lucas who was healed in the temple courts on the previous day by Jesus of Nazareth.

“Marcus! Marcus!”
I spun around to see Renaldo emerging from the gateway stairway.
“Hey, Marcus! You were right. That boy really was healed.”
He voiced the words with such bald enthusiasm that I was completely disarmed.
“I just saw him. He was here—here at the gate.” He gestured down the gateway parapet4485 SHARABLE-2 to a point below us. “I saw him. I examined his leg. It’s completely healed. Just like the other one. It’s incredible!” he enthused. “He can jump! And run!”
“I told you. I told you, Renaldo,” I said while shaking my head.
“Yeah, but you don’t expect it,” he said as he justified his unbelief. “I mean, this kid’s been like this from birth. You see him the same way, day after day. And then one day . . . Boom! He’s completely different.”
“I told you. You didn’t believe me?” I uttered the words with a certain smug satisfaction.
“Well, you don’t expect it,” he repeated. “I mean, it’s one thing to hear it, but it’s quite something else to see it for yourself.”
“That’s exactly what I was trying to tell you. I said you’ve got to see this for yourself to understand.”
I sighed. Now I was beginning to realize why I wasn’t getting through.
“So it was Lucas,” I stated.
“It was Lucas!” Renaldo confirmed, shaking his head in a state of incredulous wonderment.
I changed the topic.
“Look, Renaldo, I would like to talk with you more about this, but we’ve both got some work to do. Word has just come in to Flavio. Herod has accepted Pilate’s invitation. He’ll be going directly to the Praetorium. Arriving at four. The Fish Gate route needs to be cleared. You know those temple traders have set up shop in there, and you’ve got to get them out. And the sooner, the better. Flavio says that’s your sector, so you’re on.” Renaldo took all this in stride. “Sure, Marcus. I’ll get right on it.”
I turned from him, but he called after me.
“Marcus. We need to talk more about this Jesus—this Jesus of Nazareth.”

To download a free study guide for this high-impact, bible-based novel visit: https://www.davidkitz.ca/centurion.php/free study guide PDF

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Reading 11 for Lent from “The Soldier Who Killed a King”

16 Saturday Mar 2019

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A journey to the cross is a journey to repentance. It’s a journey to deep personal change. Will you take this journey with me?

In today’s reading, Marcus the centurion meets with Flavio, the Roman tribune, who is his commanding officer. He lays out his concerns about a Galilean prophet that he sees as a dangerous threat—Jesus of Nazareth.

“Sometimes I think you worry too much, Marcus.”
“I worry because it’s my job to worry,” I shot back. “Barabbas is in prison because I worry.”
Flavio appeared to consider my reply as he swallowed another stringy morsel. “So what do you know about this prophet?”
“A lot of people think he’s the Messiah.”
“May all the gods help us! Another Roman-killing messiah!” Flavio jeered.
“This one just might be the real thing,” I said.
Centur. Sw“Ha!” he scoffed. “Bring him on!” He reached for his flagon. Finding it empty, he bellowed, “Where’s my wine?”
“Bloody incompetent servants,” he muttered. Then turning to me, he asked, “Does he have weapons?”
“No, not that I’ve seen.”
“Has he threatened us?”
“Not exactly.”
“Assaulted the tax collectors?”
“No.”
“Then leave the Jewish dog alone.”
The servant arrived with a bowl of hot, sticky cheese and placed it before me, along with two small barley loaves.
“Wine! Where’s the ruddy wine?” Flavio demanded of his harried attendant.
“He is preaching about a kingdom—the kingdom of God,” I countered.
“So let him preach.”
“Who do you think will be the king of this kingdom?” I reasoned. When Flavio remained silent, I answered my own question. “I’m sure it will be none other than Jesus of Nazareth. I don’t think there’s room for two kings in this town, and a Roman governor too.”
“I see your point,” Flavio said. He wiped a greasy hand across his mouth and thenbiblical-fiction-award-2017_orig rubbed the three days of stubble on his chin. “So he talks about a kingdom?”
“The coming kingdom,” I clarified. “It’s the whole point—the core of his message. So I’m told.”
The servant arrived with the wine. Flavio helped himself. Drank two- thirds of it in a massive gulp, then poured himself some more.
“And he has followers?” Flavio continued.
“Most of the Galilean pilgrims are firmly in his camp.”
“Galilee?” Flavio questioned. “He’s Herod’s man.” He paused to rub the tip of his nose. “I wonder what the Fox thinks of this Messiah.”

To download a free study guide for this high-impact, bible-based novel visit: https://www.davidkitz.ca/centurion.php/free study guide PDF

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Reading 10 for Lent from The Soldier Who Killed a King

15 Friday Mar 2019

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A journey to the cross is a journey to repentance. It’s a journey to deep personal change. Will you take this journey with me?

In today’s reading, Marcus recruits his nephew, the young soldier Claudius, to spy on the activities of a man he sees as a dangerous threat—Jesus of Nazareth.

“Look, Claudius. We need to keep an eye on this man. I mean what I’m saying. All our lives could be in jeopardy.
“You’re a natural choice,” I reasoned. “Like I said, you’re a new face around here. You speak Aramaic very well—better than I do. And you’ve got a brain in your head. Right now, you’re the best man I have for the job.”
I could see he was thinking.
“Couldn’t we just get some paid informants or something?”

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“Ha! In a case like this, paid informants will tell you whatever you want to hear and collect afterward. How do you think I managed to nail Barabbas? It wasn’t with paid informants!” I scoffed at the idea. “No, he’ll feel the spikes on Friday because I went out and got the facts on him—myself.”
Determined to press home my point, I continued, “Look, there are times in this business when you’ve got to put your own life on the line. You got to dirty your own fingers. When good men like Hermes and Andreas go down, you don’t sit and polish your brass. You get out there and sniff out the stinking truth for yourself. You owe it to your men.”
I drew a deep breath and plunged on. “As for Barabbas, he’s a tin-pot hooligan. A brainless bloody terrorist!” I spat the words out. “Now Jesus . . . Jesus, on the other hand, there’s a different dog on the prowl. He’s got followers. He’s got a crowd around him. He’s got heaven on his side. You don’t let Jewish messiahs strut around under your nose and just ignore them.”

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