Tag Archives: Lent

Be Still Before the Cross

15 Friday Mar 2019

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Reading: Psalm 46
(Verses 8-11)
Come and see what the LORD has done,
the desolations he has brought on the earth.
He makes wars cease
to the ends of the earth.
He breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
he burns the shields with fire.
He says, “Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth.”
The LORD Almighty is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress (NIV).

jesus_on_cross_crucifixion-full (2)

He was pierced for our transgressions.

Reflection
As I write this it’s the second week of Lent—forty days of contemplation leading to Good Friday—leading to our Saviour’s death on the cross. The opening line of this reading from Psalm 46 grabs me: Come and see what the LORD has done.  

Yes. Come and see what the LORD has done! Come and see what has happened to God’s son. Come and see the desolations he has brought on the earth—the desolations He has brought on the dust-formed bundle of flesh that at birth was laid in a manager. Now he is laid on a cross. He is not wrapped in swaddling clothes. He is stripped naked; arms pried wide open and nailed to a cross.

Come and see what has happened to him. This is the LORD’s doing. This is the Father’s will. This is the Son’s willing obedience. Now hear the Spirit’s beckoning call, “Come and see what the LORD has done!”

This is what love looks like—not our love for God, but God’s love for man. Love looks like Jesus on the cross. Love looks like a bloody sacrifice, engineered by God, inflicted on God, God come-in-the-flesh. Love looks painful. It looks painful because it gives to the last drop. It calls us near to the last breath. “Come and see what the LORD has done!”

And when you come be still. He says, “Be still, and know that I am God.”

This is not the time to rush on by. Eve reached for the forbidden fruit. Adam rushed after her. Rushing has brought us this mess—this messed up world—this mess on the cross. Self-centered rushing hurtles us into sin with no thought for tomorrow—no thought for the man on a cross. Instead today, “Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.” 

Be still. Be still before the cross. He is God. The man on the cross is God. Love has a price, always has a price. It’s written in blood—the Savior’s blood.

Response: LORD God, alter me at the foot of the cross. I need you to change my heart, my life, my attitude. Help me be still before you as I contemplate your love—love that I don’t deserve—that I have not earned. But Jesus, you offered yourself freely. Thank you. Amen.

Your Turn: Has your life been altered by the cross?

Reading 9 for Lent from “The Soldier Who Killed a King”

14 Thursday 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 a discussion with his friend and fellow centurion Renaldo. He gives an eyewitness account of what he saw Jesus doing in the temple courts.

“I know it’s hard to believe, but I saw it with my own eyes. His leg grew a full hand span. It happened right in front of me!”
For emphasis I gestured at an imaginary spot a few feet ahead.
“Are you sure it was Lucas?”
“Who else could it be? What other kid hobbles along on a crutch and has a bum leg aFree WWe SHARABLE-1 (2) hand span shorter than the other?”
“Lucas?” Renaldo snorted as he shook his head. He was incredulous.
“It was the same boy I’ve seen begging at the Fish Gate for the last six months.”
“The one with the copper begging bowl?”
“The one with the copper begging bowl,” I affirmed with a nod and then added, “Don’t believe me? Check it out yourself. The last time I saw him, he was dancing around on both feet. He’ll be back at your gate soon enough. But I don’t think he’ll be carrying his begging bowl or his crutch.”
Renaldo looked thoughtful as his eyes scanned the streets of the city below. We were standing atop one of the four turrets of the Antonia Fortress, the hub for military command here in the city. We had finished a light noon meal and then, for sake of privacy, had climbed the stairs to the top of the northeast tower.
“Look, Renaldo, like I said, I wouldn’t have believed any of this if I hadn’t seen it myself.” “So let me get this straight. This Jesus of Nazareth does miracles, and you saw him do them?”
“That’s right.”
“He kicked the money changers and merchants out of the temple courts?”
“He went at ’em like a wild man.”
“He defied the delegation from the high priest?” Renaldo questioned.
“Sent them scurrying for the exits like bugs under a rock.”
Picture Cent-helmet“What do you make of this prophet, Marcus? This Messiah?”
Now it was my turn to be pensive. I was so awestruck by what I had witnessed that I was having a hard time sorting through all my thoughts and impressions. The words came to me slowly. “He’s not at all like what I expected. He’s not at all like a revolutionary.”
“So he’s not a revolutionary. Then we’ve got nothing to worry about,” Renaldo said.
“I didn’t say that.” I paused but then added, “He’s not like your common revolutionary.” I put emphasis on the word “common.”
“So, he is a revolutionary.”
“His revolution, if that’s what he’s leading, doesn’t seem to be against us, against Rome—at least not at this point.” The vagueness of my answer left me feeling awkward.
“Then who is he fighting?”
“He’s not exactly endeared himself to the religious establishment. Caiaphas is probably having a holy altar- kicking tantrum right now. Those merchants pay good money to set up shop in there”—I gestured with a sweep of my hand in the direction of the temple compound—“and they’re going to be after him to get that Northern hick- town Messiah out of there. Now!” In imitation of their tactics, I made a downward stab with my index finger. “And I mean now.”
“So we let the high priest and his clan handle it. They’ve got the authority and the manpower.”
“Not at the moment. Jesus and his followers outnumber those temple guards maybe a hundred to one. I tell you he has the people—the crowd—in his hands. They don’t dare move against him.”
“Marcus, it’s still up to Caiaphas. It’s his problem. Let the Jews sort it out.”
“I suppose you’re right. He still scares me,” I confessed. “Scares me like no man ever has.”
“Why?” Renaldo queried.
“He’s got power like no man I’ve ever seen.” I shuddered inside at the thought of the unearthly nature of that power.
“This prophet really has you rattled, doesn’t he?” Renaldo said. “You’re still worried, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I’m still worried.” Then to justify my concern, I added, “This talk about a kingdom bothers me. Besides, you didn’t see what I saw today. It makes all the difference.”

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

13 Wednesday 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, 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?

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Reading 7 for Lent from “The Soldier Who Killed a King”

12 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?

It is the morning of the second day of Passover Week. In today’s reading, Marcus the centurion, disguised in his civilian clothes, is enthralled as he watches Jesus heal a beggar boy. 

Having witnessed the temple cleansing, this crowd had a strong sense of expectation. What would he do now? That was the unspoken question on everyone’s mind.
In fact, for quite some time he did nothing. He simply stood there scanning the sea of faces. Then his eyes lit on a young lad, perhaps age twelve, standing to my far right. I hadBiblical fiction winner 2017 seen this beggar boy about the city many times. Their eyes engaged for a moment. The prophet gave a slight nod of his head—a signal for the boy to advance. He did so with haste. His right leg dangled loose like the limp rags he was wearing. The staccato scrape of his crutch on the stone floor echoed through the hushed courtyard. Eager determination marked his every move. In moments he stood before Jesus. His right leg was easily six inches shorter than the healthy left leg. The absence of any muscle in this stunted limb was painfully obvious, even at a distance.
Like a father, Jesus placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders, looked into his eyes, and in a firm voice commanded, “Stretch out your leg!”
The boy’s leg began to twitch and stir. Then it kicked forward. Once, twice, three times. With each kick the stone pavement grew closer. The toes stretched forward; the heel pressed down. On the fourth kick, contact was made. Two more kicks, and he had a solid footing. Now he began to jump up and down, up and down, on both feet. Muscle—muscle that hadn’t been there moments before—began to appear in his leg. The wooden crutch clattered lifelessly to the floor. He was free.
With one voice the crowd began to cheer and applaud. “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”
Soldier bookThe ecstatic smile on this lad’s face I will never forget. He glowed. He danced. He danced on the spot a few more times, as if to confirm the miracle was real. Then he buried his head in Jesus’s chest and clung to him in a thank- you hug that lasted a full minute. When he raised his head to look into the Galilean’s eyes, tears streamed down his face. Joy tears. Thank- you tears.
“I can walk!”
“You can walk,” Jesus confirmed.
In fact, for the rest of the morning, he did very little walking. He bounced, jumped, skipped, and ran, but seldom only walked.

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

Reading 6 for Lent from The Soldier Who Killed a King

11 Monday 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 Longinus the centurion, disguised in his civilian clothes, joins the throng of Jesus followers as enters the temple courts. It is the morning of the second day of Passover Week.

There were more of this prophet’s followers awaiting his arrival within the temple grounds. Our numbers may have swelled to well over a thousand at this point. Keeping him in view from within this multitude of craning necks was a challenge.
We poured into the Court of the Gentiles, with Jesus taking the lead. It quickly became clear that he did not like what he found there. 4485 SHARABLE-1
This whole area had been converted into a market for the duration of the Passover celebration. There were currency exchange tables, caged fowl available for sacrifice, and goods of various and sundry quality arranged for the pilgrims’ perusal.
I could well imagine the eager anticipation among the merchants with the arrival of such a large crowd. But this prophet had no intention of leading a shopping expedition.
With a loud, anger-edged voice, he declared for all to hear, “It is written, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer,’ but you”—his hand slashed through the air to encompass the assembled entrepreneurs—“have made it a ‘den of thieves’!”
Then seizing the nearest table, he sent it, and all that was upon it, clattering onto the paving stones. The prophet swung around, and without stopping to admire the havoc he had caused, he grabbed a money changer’s table, and with one quick move he sent a thousand coins rolling in every direction. The next banker’s hoard met with the same fate.
Pandemonium and panic now fully broke loose.
Benches stacked eight feet high with dove cages were next in line. Cages toppled. Birds flapped. Feathers flew. Within moments scores of birds had been released by the prophet’s followers.
Frightened merchants rushed for the exits, clutching all that their arms could hastily gather. Within short minutes the entire Gentile court had been cleared of both buyers and sellers.
The transformation was astonishing, the effect upon his followers electrifying. They were in his hands. They loved the sheer power of the moment. With single- handed raw courage he had swept aside the outward clutter of both wealth and religious tradition.
I was impressed. The man had convictions and would act on them.
Timid temple guards skittered about the perimeter of the courtyard, dumbfounded by what they had witnessed, yet fully knowing they were powerless to act before the prophet’s adoring throng. This was a coup. In just moments they had lost control—lost it to the leader of a Galilean mob. Explaining this would not be easy.
The crowd pressed in closer, sensing Jesus was about to speak. “My house,” he said, and he gestured to the marble floors and columns that surrounded him. “My house will be called a house of prayer for all nations. This is why there is a temple. This is why I have come . . . that we might draw near.”

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

Reading 5 for Lent from “The Soldier Who Killed a King”

10 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 Longinus the centurion, disguised in his civilian clothes, is waiting by the city gate for the arrival of Jesus. It is the morning of the second day of Passover Week.

Then someone ahead of me pointed and yelled, “That’s him! He’s coming!”
Necks craned. I raised my hand to shade my eyes. Just over the brow of the hill, a figure in white rabbinical robes was beginning his descent into the Kidron Valley. It soon became apparent he was not alone. A clutch of young bearded men surrounded him, and trailing behind was an assortment of wives, children, and barking dogs of both types, canine and human. The whole entourage may have numbered a hundred twenty. There was no donkey today and, to my relief, no thronging thousands. I’m sure there was a collective sigh of relief above the gate as well.
The near-giddy anticipation of these spectators was something I had not expected. I wasFree WWe SHARABLE-1 (2) surprised to find myself caught up in it. The front edges of the crowd by the wall surged forward to line the roadside. Meanwhile, others continued to pour through the gate.
The man to my left stepped forward, planting his foot on my toes. I grunted in pain and instinctively pushed my thumb and knuckles into his ribs. This brought the desired relief, and the man turned to face me. It was the man with the boy on his shoulders.
“My toes!” I gestured.
“Sorry, my friend.”
I felt slightly embarrassed by the gruffness of my response. “You’re waiting to see Jesus,” I offered, stating the obvious.
“Yeah. The kids are crazy about him.” He nodded in the direction of the brood to my right. “It’s all they talked about since we came yesterday.”
I could tell from his accent that he was from Galilee, so I continued. “Do you know much about him? See, I’m a Passover pilgrim from Alexandria in Egypt. All I know is what I saw yesterday.”
“That was incredible!” he enthused. “Did you see him come in on the donkey? That’s fulfillment of a prophecy.”
Then he took on a more distant, thoughtful look, and he began to quote. “Rejoice greatly, Daughter Zion! Shout, Daughter Jerusalem!” And now his eyes brightened. “See, your king comes to you, righteous and victorious.” He slowed for emphasis, and with his free hand stabbed the air. “Lowly and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”
It always amazed me how these people memorized their Scriptures. “So, do you think he’s”—I hesitated—“the Christ?”
“Shh!” He gestured with a finger to his lips and a glance to the wall. “Or the stones will hear.”
He continued. “There is no one like him. He drives out demons. He heals the sick. Even the dead have been raised. And yesterday”—his voice raced with excitement— “yesterday I saw this with my own eyes. He healed a man born blind.”
Seeing my interest, he pressed on.
“In the morning, we were leaving Jericho, the whole throng from Galilee, and by the side of the road was this blind beggar. He was yelling, ‘Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!’ Jesus stopped and touched the man’s eyes.”
He made as though he would touch my eyes.
“And he was healed!” His own bright eyes beamed at me as he smiled broadly. The boy on his shoulders also joined in his father’s enthusiasm as for the first time he smiled down at me.
We began to reposition ourselves, for the object of our conversation was now drawing near.
He nudged my shoulder. “And when he speaks, it’s like God is talking to me. None of the rabbis speak like him. It’s like he has seen heaven and heard the voice of the Holy One.” A girl in her teens near the front edge of the crowd shouted, “Hosanna to the Son of David!”
Soon others joined in. The masses surged around him, and together we squeezed through the Messiah Gate and pressed on toward the temple.

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

Reading 4 for Lent from “The Soldier Who Killed a King”

09 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, 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 sleeveBiblical fiction winner 2017 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?”
“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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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 3 for Lent from The Soldier Who Killed a King

08 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 the centurion, meets with his fellow centurion, Renaldo, to discuss their response to what they see as the threat of a Jewish uprising led by a messianic prophet from Galilee.

“We have to do something. This Jewish prophet is too dangerous.”
“That’s why I came over. I have a plan. It came to me last night.”
“What about Flavio?” Renaldo resumed stroking Keeper. The dog’s silky ears twitched beneath his gentle hand.

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Roman centurion — Andrew Nicholls

“Forget Flavio. He’ll be drunk for the rest of the week. Herod’s coming down about midweek. There’ll be a big wine- swilling bash for the upper crust. He’ll sober up just long enough so he can bow and scrape for Pilate at the right moment. Forget him. We have to save our own hides.”
“All right. So what’s this plan?”
“It’s not some great master scheme, but I do have a few ideas.”
“Yes, get on with it,” he said with obvious interest.
“Well, the way I see it, we have way too little information about whatever is going on here. If there’s some Passover plot being hatched, we need to be the first to know about it. Not like yesterday. I don’t like surprises. Especially Jewish Messiah surprises.”
Renaldo scowled in agreement. “So why the trunk?” he asked.
I had set it down after our greeting, and now it was Keeper, sniffing about it, that brought it to Renaldo’s attention.
“This is one way I can get some information.”
I opened the trunk and pulled out several items of clothing, among them a Jewish prayer shawl and several phylacteries. Holding one of the fringed garments to myself, I announced, “Today I am Benjamin. Benjamin from Alexandria, and I’ve come to celebrate the Passover here, in the holy city, Jerusalem.”
All this was done with a thick Aramaic accent and a mock reverence that left Renaldo slapping his thigh in laughter.
“Marcus, Marcus! Only you could pull this off!” Then he added in a more thoughtful tone, “I could look in on some of our usual sources. They’re bound to know a thing or two about this donkey man.”
“Now you’re thinking.” With a glance to the eastern sky, I added, “Look, we don’t have much time. The sun’s almost up. All my men know their assigned duties, so if you could just look in on them at the barracks, that would be great. I should be back in uniform by noon, and I could meet you there to discuss what we’ve found.”
“No problem . . . Benjamin!” he said, shaking his head and grinning, no doubt contemplating the sight of me in religious garb.
I began to place the clothing back in the trunk, and then I turned to my friend. “Oh,Soldier book by the way, Renaldo, could you check in on Claudius at the Golden Gate? I expect our visiting prophet will be coming back into town by the same way today. Claudius might need a hand.”
“No problem, Marcus.” And then he added in a more serious tone, “Now, you be careful.”
“Yes, well,” I said, sighing, “I think we’ve all got to be careful.”
I swung the trunk up under my arm. With a quick wave of my free hand, I said, “I’m off for an appointment with 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

For book purchases of The Soldier Who Killed a King try Amazon or https://www.christianbook.com

Reading 2 for Lent from The Soldier Who Killed a King

07 Thursday 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?

Soldier bookI 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.”4485 SHARABLE-1
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.”

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

Ash Wednesday: The Journey Begins

06 Wednesday Mar 2019

Posted by in Books by David Kitz, 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?

Four in the afternoon, Sunday, April 2, AD 30
It was never like this before. biblical-fiction-award-2017_orig
I have been posted in Jerusalem for ten years now, but in all that time, I have never seen a Passover crowd like this.
It wasn’t the numbers. I had seen that before.
The Passover pilgrims always come plodding into the city in reverent caravans. Some of them chant psalms. Others are silent, looking bone-weary as they trudge, like fretful herdsmen with children in tow. Undoubtedly, many are relieved that their holy city is finally in view.
But this year it was different. There was this man—at the center of the whole procession. There had never been a central figure before. Every movement within that huge throng seemed focused on him.
Squinting in a futile attempt to get a better view, I gave Claudius a backhanded slap to the shoulder and demanded, “What are they doing?”
“They’re climbing the trees, sir.”
“I can see that!” I snapped. “But what are they doing?”
“They seem to be tearing off the palm branches, sir.”
“What is going on here?” I said it more to myself than to any of the men standing near me. An uncomfortable feeling crept into me as the procession advanced.
“They don’t usually do this?” Claudius questioned.
“No . . . They’ve never done this before.” There was worry in my voice. Claudius had been recently assigned to this place, the festering armpit of the empire, and I was at a loss to explain what was happening before us. We were standing on the wall above the gate of Jerusalem, and less than a half mile away, we could see the jubilant pilgrims surging toward us in alarming numbers.
“They’re laying the palm branches on the road in front of that man—the man on the donkey.”
Until Claudius said it, I hadn’t noticed the donkey. Its small size and the frenzy of activity round about must have obscured this detail in the picture before me. What an odd way for this man to come. I could make no sense of it.
“They’re throwing down their cloaks before him.”
The sweat- glistened bodies of several men were clearly visible. Outer garments were being cast down before this man as a sign of homage. At the same time the rhythmic chanting of their voices became more distinct.
What were they singing? Could I pick up the words?
     “Hosanna to the Son of David!”
     “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”
     “Hosanna in the highest heaven!”
That’s when it hit me like a barbarian’s club. I realized what I was witnessing. It was a triumphal entry—the entry of a king.
It was the words. The words they were now boisterously shouting. He was their Messiah. The Son of David! The one they were waiting for! The one who would rid them of the Romans. He would set up his glorious Jewish kingdom, here, in Jerusalem! This is what I had been warned about since the day I first set foot on this cursed Judean soil. And we, I and my men and the garrison in the city, were all that stood in their way.

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