Tag Archives: Jesus

Blessed is the One You Discipline

19 Monday Mar 2018

Posted by in Bible, Devotionals, Psalm 94, Psalms

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Reading:                                      Psalm 94

(Verses 8-15)
Take notice, you senseless ones among the people;
you fools, when will you become wise?
Does he who fashioned the ear not hear?
Does he who formed the eye not see?
Does he who disciplines nations not punish?
Does he who teaches mankind lack knowledge?
 The LORD knows all human plans;
he knows that they are futile.
Blessed is the one you discipline, LORD,
the one you teach from your law;
you grant them relief from days of trouble,
till a pit is dug for the wicked.
For the LORD will not reject his people;
he will never forsake his inheritance.
Judgment will again be founded on righteousness,
and all the upright in heart will follow it (NIV).

Reflection
Do I like discipline? Hardly. Do I like self-discipline? Not really. Discipline sounds difficult or unpleasant. Self-discipline and self-denial are twin brothers. I don’t like either of them. They are two tough customers that demand that I change, but I don’t like change. My flesh—my stubborn sinful nature—resists change.

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Splendor and majesty are before Him — photo by David Kitz

On the other hand, do I like the fruits of self-discipline? Absolutely. Self-discipline pays huge dividends. In any field of endeavor, in due time self-discipline will bring rewards. Athletes succeed because of self-discipline. Fortunes are accumulated through self-discipline. But those same fortunes can be frittered away through a lack of discipline. Strength of character does not develop naturally; it develops through adversity and self-discipline.

Discipline comes in two forms, internally or externally. Both are needed if we are to become people of the cross.  Son though he was, he [Jesus] learned obedience from what he suffered and, once made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him (Hebrews 5:8-9). If Jesus learned obedience through the discipline of suffering, should we not expect to experience the same?

Here in Psalm 94 we learn that the LORD disciplines nations. The following admonition reminds us of the vital role that discipline plays in the life of the believer: “My son, do not make light of the Lord’s discipline, and do not lose heart when he rebukes you, because the Lord disciplines the one he loves, and he chastens everyone he accepts as his son.” Endure hardship as discipline; God is treating you as his children. For what children are not disciplined by their father? If you are not disciplined—and everyone undergoes discipline—then you are not legitimate, not true sons and daughters at all (Hebrews 12:5-8).

Response: LORD God, I confess that I need your discipline. I want to become like your Son, Jesus. Help me to learn from the difficult experiences of life. I want to live my life as your obedient child. Amen.

Your Turn: Do you appreciate God’s discipline? Are you enjoying the fruit of self-discipline?

Excerpt 18 for Lent from The Soldier Who Killed a King

14 Wednesday Mar 2018

Posted by in Books by David Kitz, Christ's Passion, Lent, Mid-Week Medtiation

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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.

American readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King.

Canadian readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King directly from the author.

 

 

Excerpt 17 for Lent from The Soldier Who Killed a King

13 Tuesday Mar 2018

Posted by in Books by David Kitz, Christ's Passion, Lent, The Soldier Who Killed a King

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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 Jonas the tax collector. They discuss the news of the week, namely the huge stir that Jesus has caused in Jerusalem since his triumphal entry into the city. Date: Early morning April 6th, 30 A.D.

As I descended the stairs of the gate, I caught sight of Jonas and his son, unoccupied at the customs booth. With a quick wave of my hand, I signaled my intention to speak with him, and after taking the salute of the sentinels at the gate, I headed straight to the booth. “Good morning, you old goat!” I called out as I approached.
“Well, if it isn’t the top dog himself,” he shot back.
“It’s always good to see a man standing around doing nothing. It sets me at ease,” I said. “Ease?” His eyebrows shot up. “Oh yeah.” He nodded emphatically. “It’s been a week of ease all right. I’ve had my feet up all week.”
Of course, just the opposite was true, and it was true for both of us.
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“Do you think we could have a short word?” With a jerk of my head, I motioned in the direction of the road leading down the Kidron Valley.
“Sure,” he answered, and then with a glance and a nod to his son, he transferred responsibility to him. A light mist still hung over the lowest reaches of the valley, but the early-morning sun was promising to burn it off. The swallows nesting along the crevices in the city wall were engaged in a full-throated competition with the songbirds in the trees along the brook. Traffic to and from the city was just beginning to stir.
When we had gone a few paces beyond the gate, I spoke. “I just wanted to say thanks for the help with the Barabbas case.”
“Oh, don’t mention it.” There was relief in his voice. “I thought you were going to warn me about some new plot.”
“No, there’s no new plot.” I hesitated. “Let me rephrase that. There’s no new plot that I know about. You never can be sure what’s being hatched in this crazy city.”
“Yeah, you’re right about that. I guess we learned that with Barabbas.” Jonas nervously bit on the corner whiskers of his mustache, and then continued. “Now, that Galilean prophet? I’ve been losing sleep over him all week.”
“Harmless as a dove,” I said. “Harmless as a dove.”
“How do you know?”
“I checked him out myself on Monday, right back there in the temple courts.” I made a quick double-pump motion with my upraised thumb aimed over my shoulder. “Then on Tuesday I had Claudius in there with the prophet.”
“You Romans have more nerve than brains.” He kicked a loose pebble off the pathway, looked up at me with a quizzical grin, and then with an incredulous shake of his head, he repeated, “More nerve than brains, that’s all I can say.”
“If we didn’t have nerve, we wouldn’t be running this place. Or any other place for that matter.”
He shrugged, furrowed his brow, and then cocked his head to one side. It was his way of reluctantly conceding my point.
“So he’s harmless?”
“Harmless to us.” With my index finger, I pointed first at myself, then at Jonas, and then back again. “Caiaphas, on the other hand”—I paused for effect—“now there’s a man who I’m sure hasn’t slept well all week.”
“So you think the old rusty gate has lost some sleep? Over what?”
“Money. Money and prestige. It can’t look too good having some roving up-country rabbi come in and take over your temple at the religious high point of the year.”
“I suppose not,” Jonas said. But then he added, “You know this prophet, Jesus of Nazareth, he’s been here before. He kicked out the money changers a few years back. Caused quite a stir then. But nothing like this. He’s got the temple guards running scared. That’s what my uncle told me.”
James Tht“Your uncle’s right. I saw that firsthand on Monday. So what else do you know about this Galilean?”
“My wife tells me he’s a friend of tax collectors and sinners. She told me one of his disciples was a tax collector before he met the prophet.”
“Ah, tax collectors and sinners?” I responded with a wink and a nod. “Maybe there is hope for the two of us yet.”
Jonas smiled back at me. “So, Marcus, where is this all headed? Some people think he’s the Messiah. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes, we’re well aware of that. But he doesn’t oppose paying taxes to Caesar.” I gave my tax collector a supportive thumbs-up signal. “And he hasn’t spoken a word against Rome since he’s been here.”
“That’s not a surprise. He knows better. You and your boys would have him nailed up on Golgotha the moment he did.”
“You’re right about that,” I agreed. “But I honestly don’t think he’s got a quarrel with us. He’s going after the parading hypocrites in long, flowing robes, those killjoy Pharisees and teachers of the law. You know the ones—the religious police who run this place.”

American readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King.

Canadian readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King directly from the author.

 

Excerpt 16 for Lent from The Soldier Who Killed a King

12 Monday Mar 2018

Posted by in Books by David Kitz, Christ's Passion, Lent, Monday Meditation

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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 a discussion with his friend and fellow centurion, Renaldo. They are at the Roman bathhouse at the end of a long day. Date: Wednesday, April 5th, 30 A.D. 

I sat down again beside the pool and let my feet dangle in the tepid water. Renaldo put his hand on my shoulder as he eased himself down into a similar position.
“So what do you mean by that? How do you think this will end?” he asked.
“This Galilean prophet’s days may be numbered. He’s stirred up a hornet’s nest by kicking those merchants and money changers out of the temple. He’s offended and humiliated the high priest and his clan. He’s cut off a major source of their temple revenue. He called the Pharisees a brood of vipers. And if that’s not enough, he predicted that their power, their kingdom as he calls it, will be taken from them and then given to others.”
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I paused and kicked my right foot out straight, scattering a shower of drops onto the flat surface of the water. “You don’t say and do those kinds of things without creating some enemies. I’d say he’s sealed his own fate.”
With a furrowed brow, Renaldo asked, “Where’d you get this information?”
“Claudius. Claudius told me. Yesterday I had him sit in on one of the prophet’s teaching sessions. It was quite an eye- opener. Jesus doesn’t just heal the poor; he takes a skewer to the bloated rich. He’s publicly opposed the rich and powerful in this town, and his opposition has been right to their face. If nothing else, the man’s got courage.”
I drummed my fingers on the poolside tiles and then continued. “I tell you, Renaldo, they won’t stand for it. They’re probably hatching some plot to do away with him right now, as we’re sitting here talking.”
“Yeah, but he healed all those kids,” he said. “Doesn’t that show that the God of heaven is working through him?”
“The God of heaven? Do you honestly think that matters to them? This is all about money and power. That’s their real god. Jesus is a threat to their money and their positions of power. Healing a few poor kids, the offspring of the unclean—that isn’t going to mean a thing to them. You’re right. You hit the nail on the head. They’re puffed- up swine that care only about themselves. There isn’t a drop of mercy in them.” Then with scathing irony I added, “But they’re right. They’re always right. Right to the letter of the law.”
“So what do you think they’ll do?”
“I’m not sure. But I know what they won’t do. They won’t arrest him with that crowd around him. They know better than that. They’d have a bloody riot on their hands. There’s no doubt about that.”
Thought after thought came racing in as I considered the implications of my own words. “They might wait till after Passover when the crowds leave, but then Jesus would probably leave with the crowds and head right back to Galilee. Then he’d be out of their hands. No.” I hesitated and then briskly snapped my fingers. “I think they’ll try to act now, if they can. He’s humiliated them in front of the people. They won’t stand for that. Caiaphas won’t stand for it. Jesus has co- opted the high priest’s authority right within the temple courts. Blood will flow because of it. Mark my words. It will flow.”
“But what could they do to him? What crime has he committed?” Renaldo reasoned. “You know the Jews can’t condemn a man to death. They can’t have him crucified. They would have to bring him before Pilate.”
“Yes,” I said, “but accidents happen in the dark of the night. And Renaldo, I think you underestimate the old Weasel. If anyone can twist the law to his own liking, Caiaphas can. That Weasel can kill his prey in more than one way. The big question is, can he get his hands on the prophet?”
“So you really think there’ll be a confrontation?”
“Absolutely. From what I saw on Monday, the confrontation has already started. ItCentur Rep started when Jesus kicked out the merchants. Later, when I was there, the high priest’s men questioned him, but he wouldn’t back down. Then yesterday, according to Claudius, he humiliated Caiaphas and his delegation right in front of the crowd. Like I said, he called the Pharisees and the teachers of the law a pack of hypocrites and a brood of vipers. I’d call that a confrontation. And he didn’t do it out in the desert; he did it right in front of them, in front of the pilgrims, and right in their holy place. I tell you, the man’s got guts.”
“But”—I paused to emphasize my point—“I’m just waiting for the other side to strike back. And they will.”
I made a long, sweeping motion with a pointed index finger and then stabbed down spear-like into my friend’s bare ribs. “I’m sure they will.” Instinctively Renaldo recoiled, shrugged off my antics, and then said,
“But you don’t think he’s a threat to Rome?”
“Not from what I’ve seen or heard. But he is a threat to Caiaphas. Right now he’s their problem. And that’s where I want to leave him. If blood’s going to flow, I don’t want it getting on these hands.”

American readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King.

Canadian readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King directly from the author.

 

Excerpt 15 for Lent from The Soldier Who Killed a King

09 Friday Mar 2018

Posted by in Books by David Kitz, Christ's Passion, Lent

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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 continues his 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.

But Claudius wasn’t done.
“You know about this kingdom notion,” he said. “Jesus told another story, and it helped me catch what he was driving at. He talked about a landowner who planted a vineyard and then went away. He rented the land out to farmers, but when he sent servants to collect the rent, the farmers would beat the servants or kill them. Finally, in desperation he sent his own son to collect the rent, thinking the farmers would respect him. But the renters said, ‘Let’s kill him and the land will be ours.’ So they took the son outside the vineyard and killed him.
“Then Jesus asked the people around him what would happen to those renters when the owner came back. They answered that the landowner would kill those miserable renters and give the vineyard to someone else who would pay him on time.
“Jesus said they were right. And then he said, now catch this”—Claudius gestured with an upraised index finger—“‘The kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people who will produce its fruit.’ Those were his very words.”
“So what did he mean by that?” I asked, quite mystified.
Free WWe SHARABLE-1 (2)“I wasn’t too sure myself at first. I knew he said this as a rebuke to the high priest and the religious establishment. Everyone there knew he was telling this story against them. But later I asked the man beside me what he thought Jesus meant by this parable. He said the landowner was God, the religious leaders were the renters, and the servants who came to collect the rent were the prophets of the past. We just weren’t sure who the son was. I suggested that Jesus himself might be the son. But he just looked at me like I was a complete idiot, shook his head, and said, ‘God doesn’t have a son.’ I kept my mouth shut after that.”
“Well then,” I surmised, “this prophet, this Jesus, really has set himself up in opposition to the religious authorities. If he’s publicly predicting the end of their rule, he has picked a fight with them.”
I sucked in a long, slow breath. “And, Claudius”—I nodded in his direction—“it’ll be a fight to the finish.”
I continued as my mind caught the implications of my own words. “Jesus may have the people or at least a good number of the common people on his side. But Caiaphas is nobody’s fool. He’s got money and power behind him. The son in that story, if that’s who Jesus is”—I gestured with an upraised open palm—“he might yet be taken out and killed.”

American readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King.

Canadian readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King directly from the author.

Excerpt 14 for Lent from The Soldier Who Killed a King

08 Thursday Mar 2018

Posted by in Books by David Kitz, Christ's Passion, Lent, Psalms

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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 know by what authority he was doing these things.

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A Roman centurion

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?

American readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King.

Canadian readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King directly from the author.

The Anointed One

05 Monday Mar 2018

Posted by in Bible, Devotionals, Psalm 89, Psalms

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Reading:                                      Psalm 89

(Verses 46-52)
How long, LORD? Will you hide yourself forever?
How long will your wrath burn like fire?
Remember how fleeting is my life.
For what futility you have created all humanity!
Who can live and not see death,
or who can escape the power of the grave?
Lord, where is your former great love,
which in your faithfulness you swore to David?
Remember, Lord, how your servant has been mocked,
how I bear in my heart the taunts of all the nations,
the taunts with which your enemies, LORD, have mocked,
with which they have mocked every step of your anointed one.
Praise be to the LORD forever!
Amen and Amen (NIV).

Reflection
Many people believe that Christ is Jesus’ last name. That is not the case. The Bible does not tell us Jesus’ family name. Often he is identified by the town that he is from—Jesus of Nazareth. So what then is the significance of the word Christ or Khristos in the Greek? Christ is a title. One might even call it a job description. It means the anointed one, the one who is designated by God to rule and reign over his people. The Greek word Khristos or Christ corresponds to the Hebrew word Mashiach or Messiah. The anointed one or Christ was and is the son of David who rules over the house of Jacob and the Israel of God. Just as David was anointed to be king of Israel, Jesus is anointed to be our king.

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End of winter glory — photo by David Kitz

When we read Psalm 89 with the understanding that the anointed one is also the Christ, the psalm takes on a whole new layer of meaning. Yes, during the fall of Jerusalem to the Babylonians, the anointed one was mocked. But this is also true of Jesus, the anointed Son of David, who was led off to be crucified outside the city gate. These words were fulfilled in Christ: Remember, Lord, how your servant has been mocked, how I bear in my heart the taunts of all the nations, the taunts with which your enemies, LORD, have mocked, with which they have mocked every step of your anointed one.

But there is a significant difference between the Old Testament, anointed one, and our New Testament Christ. The psalmist asks this question: Who can live and not see death, or who can escape the power of the grave?

The implicit answer is that no one can escape death and the grave. But… but there is One—One, who tasted death on our behalf—One, who escaped the power of the grave. His name is Jesus. He is the Christ, the anointed One, and our Messiah. He is the One who by virtue of the resurrection is King now and forevermore.

Response: LORD God, I thank you for Jesus, the Christ, the anointed One. Thank you for your death, burial and resurrection. I join with the psalmist in saying, “Praise be to the LORD forever! Amen and Amen.”

Your Turn: In what way is Christ a job description? What job has he done and is he doing for you?

Bill Pink’s Review of The Soldier Who Killed a King

03 Saturday Mar 2018

Posted by in book review, Books by David Kitz, Good Friday, Lent, Psalms

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It is hard to imagine a more ironic, more chilling dramatic exclamation than the confession of Jesus’ executioner, “Surely, He was the Son of God” (Matt. 27:54).  In The Soldier, David Kitz gives a name to the Roman executioner – Marcus Longinus. Then he gives us an hour-by-hour account of the week in Marcus’ life in the run-up to the fatal hammer blows that drove spikes into Jesus’ broken body.

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            As I began to read The Soldier, I wondered if it would be a fascinating documentary of the last week of Jesus’ ministry on Earth. Fascinating it is. The sights, sounds and smells of the Jewish Passover week come to life, from the noisy, smelly commerce in sacrificial animals to the literal river of red sacrificial blood flowing through the temple aqueducts.

Political forces delicately dance in Jerusalem. High Priest Caiaphas, Samaritan King Herod Antipas, and Roman Governor Pontius Pilate, cordial but venomous enemies, vie for control of the holy city. We see and hear the week unfold through Marcus’ eyes and ears. He fears for the very lives of his men as tumultuous crowds swell Jerusalem. Two were recently murdered by Zealot terrorists. Crowds quickly become mobs, and only the iron discipline of his small garrison insulates the city from disaster.

The Soldier soon becomes more than a documentary. Marcus becomes a man we know intimately as husband, father and brave military officer. We see his family and career jeopardized by the mental anguish of post traumatic stress disorder. Horrific visions of bloody murders populate Marcus’ dreams at night and force contemplation of suicide by day.

Jesus rides into this mix of professional anxiety and personal anguish on a donkey. From a great distance He picks Marcus out of a crowd of thousands and speaks audibly to him alone and to him specifically, saying, “I have a future for you.” During the week, Marcus is repelled by Jesus and drawn to Jesus. He fears Jesus’ power over the crowds. He is the dumbfounded eye witness to Jesus’ healing miracles. He rejoices while Jesus humiliates moneychangers and Pharisees. He hopes Jesus will be acquitted by Pilate. He feels almost personally betrayed when Jesus might have saved Himself, but deliberately does not.  Ordered to crucify Jesus, Marcus does so obediently and resolutely.

I could empathize with Marcus. Like Marcus, I was a career soldier. Like him, I had superiors I admired and those I did not. I had peers who were my friends and those I loathed.  I worried about missions I was given when they endangered subordinates I was responsible for, and, admittedly, when they jeopardized my career if they failed. Unlike Marcus, I have not literally whipped my Savior and pierced his flesh with nails. But like Marcus, my personal sins have caused Jesus to suffer pain on the cross.

The Soldier is a two-fold page turner. It is better than an exciting read. Those of usbiblical-fiction-award-2017_orig blessed with a lifetime of church have heard the story of Christ’s trial and crucifixion as often as our lives have seen Easter Sundays. We have read the Biblical account, in all four gospels, many times. Yet, as I turned the pages of The Soldier, eagerly, I also found myself compulsively turning the pages of the Bible to sort out exactly which details of that week Kitz lifts literally from Scripture and which tidbits his imagination supplies. The blend is seamless. For instance, the lame boy Christ heals in Scripture becomes Kitz’ Lucas, a three-dimensional character twice cursed by the world and twice miraculously loved by Christ. What Christian author hopes for more than for it to be said that his work sends readers scurrying into the pages of the Holy Bible?

We are all Marcus. All of us, like Marcus, have heard Jesus promise us a future. We have all been drawn to Jesus and been afraid of Jesus; we have rejoiced with Jesus, and we have all felt alone when our lives spiraled out of control in sin and remorse. Jesus has stretched out His hands to all of us, and, like Marcus, we have all driven spikes into them. When we read David Kitz’s The Soldier Who Killed a King, we too, confess, “Surely, He is the Son of God.”

American readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King.

Canadian readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King directly from the author.

The Son of David’s Endless Rule

01 Thursday Mar 2018

Posted by in Bible, Devotionals, Psalm 89, Psalms

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Reading:                                     Psalm 89

(Verses 30-37)
“If his sons forsake my law
and do not follow my statutes,
if they violate my decrees
and fail to keep my commands,
I will punish their sin with the rod,
their iniquity with flogging;
but I will not take my love from him,
nor will I ever betray my faithfulness.
I will not violate my covenant
or alter what my lips have uttered.
Once for all, I have sworn by my holiness—
and I will not lie to David—
that his line will continue forever
and his throne endure before me like the sun;
it will be established forever like the moon,
the faithful witness in the sky” (NIV).

Reflection
Today’s reading from Psalm 89 continues on the theme of King David’s endless rule through his offspring. Once for all, I have sworn by my holiness—and I will not lie to David—that his line will continue forever and his throne endure before me like the sun; it will be established forever like the moon, the faithful witness in the sky.”

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“The the faithful witness in the sky”  — photo by David Kitz

There is however a sizeable problem with this promise to David for those who know biblical Jewish history. After the death of David’s son, the wise King Solomon, Israel was divided. The rebellious people of the northern Kingdom fell into idolatry and chose a new king, who was not a descendant of David. Despite warning after warning from prophets sent by God, Israel continued in its idolatrous ways until the nation was destroyed and swept away by Assyrian invaders in 720 BC.

On the other hand for hundreds of years, generation after generation a descendant of David sat on the throne of the southern Kingdom of Judah. For the most part these were kings who followed in the footsteps of their ancestor David. They worshipped the LORD, unlike the idolatrous northern kings of Israel who ruled from their capital Samaria. But eventually pagan practises found their way into Judea as well. In succession, several kings—descendants of David—turned to worship idols. God’s judgment fell on Judah too when the Babylonians invaded and destroyed Jerusalem in 582 BC.

So what is the point of this brief history lesson? The point is precisely this: These words from Psalm 89 are a lie and God is a liar—a sworn liar to David—unless we view Jesus as the royal heir who rules for all eternity. The Jewish kingdom came to an end. No Jewish king has ruled over a Jewish kingdom for more than 2,000 years. But Jesus, the eternal son of David reigns. Is he reigning over your life?

Response: LORD God, I submit to the reign of Jesus. You are my King—my King now and forever. Help me to govern my life according to your will and purpose. I praise you, my Savior and King. Amen.

Your Turn: Is Jesus your King? How can you show your submission to his rule today?

Excerpt 8 for Lent from “The Soldier Who Killed a King”

28 Wednesday Feb 2018

Posted by in Books by David Kitz, Christ's Passion, Lent

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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, watches with intense interest as a third child is healed by the prophet from Galilee.

Seizing the moment, a young mother rushed forward, clutching a limp form in her arms. Upon seeing this mother and child, I was stabbed by pain. Remembered pain. The dark sunken eyes glazed by fever, the pallid skin, the wheezing cough and raspy breath, I remembered it all.
1_LQtjPt8ZDqx05L-IlvYlKAThe child was racked with consumption. The disease was consuming her, consuming her body, and with it a mother’s hope until none was left. The toddler didn’t stir a muscle as Jesus looked into her fevered young eyes.
Experience told me this gaunt daughter would be dead within a week. It was the mother who trembled and pleaded—pleaded for her who lacked even the strength to cry.
“Give me the child,” Jesus gently urged. The request took the mother completely by surprise. Instinctively she clutched the girl even more closely to herself.
“Give her to me.”
There was tenderness in that deep voice.
The mother was visibly caught in an inner struggle. I suppose she had held on so long and so tightly that now it was hard to give this frail object of her affection to a stranger. Their eyes met for an instant. He gave a short nod to his head as if to say, “Yes, it has to be this way.” And the struggle was over.
She eased her slumping burden into Jesus’s arms. The child’s head drooped against his chest. He wrapped a big hand around the girl’s head, brushed a wisp of hair from her eyes, rocked her side to side. Then with slow deliberation, he turned from the multitude and faced the great temple doorway.
An intense quiet engulfed the assembly. Moments passed.
“Father . . . Father . . .”
That’s all I heard him whisper. He raised his gaze to heaven and then back to the little one in his arms. With the same slow deliberation he turned back to us.
She squirmed in his arms—eyes bright and clear. Two little hands shot out, reaching for her mommy. The smile spoke ten thousand words. The child was whole. Transformed! Completely healed!
The crowd was ecstatic.
“Blessed is he that comes in the name of the Lord!”
“Hosanna! Hosanna in the highest heaven!”
Then for a second time, our eyes met. He knew me. I could see it in his eyes. I don’t mean Jesus recognized me. I mean he knew me. Knew me from front to back, from inside out, from my first day till now. It was a dreadful feeling—a naked feeling.
I turned abruptly from him. My heart hammered in my chest. I began fumbling my way through the crowd, desperate for an exit. I had to get away.
But my child . . . my daughter . . .
Why wasn’t she healed? Why wasn’t she spared?

American readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King.

Canadian readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King directly from the author.