15 Monday Apr 2019
Posted in Christ's Passion, The Soldier Who Killed a King
To download a free study guide for this high-impact, bible-based novel visit: https://www.davidkitz.ca/centurion.php/free study guide PDF
For book purchases of The Soldier Who Killed a King try Amazon or christianbook.com.
12 Friday Apr 2019
Posted in Lent, The Soldier Who Killed a King
Tags
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.
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?
To download a free study guide for this high-impact, bible-based novel visit: https://www.davidkitz.ca/centurion.php/free study guide PDF
For book purchases of The Soldier Who Killed a King try Amazon or christianbook.com.
11 Thursday Apr 2019
Posted in Books by David Kitz, The Soldier Who Killed a King
Date: Eight in the morning, Saturday, April 8, 30 A.D.
Marcus Longinus, the Roman centurion, on his way to set a guard at the tomb, considers the possibility of Jesus rising from the dead.
On the surface I protested being drawn into this, the high priest’s plan of preemptive precaution, but within me, I was filled with dark apprehension. These measures had merit. This guarding of the tomb might well be warranted.
I did not fear his disciples. There had been no sign of them, no sign of armed uprising. No, it was the prophet himself that I feared.
This notion of him rising from the dead did not strike me as all that far fetched. On the surface the Christ’s prediction seemed impossible— utterly impossible—totally preposterous. But then in life he had been a total master of the impossible. The example of the blind Bartimaeus sprang to mind. This Messiah had tossed off miracles like he was tossing off the covers from his bed. Could he now toss off the shroud of death?
There was something far larger at work here. This was more than the raving of a lunatic. Why else would the sun refuse to shine as he hung dying? Why else would the earth shudder with his last breath? No, he was the Son of God. My very own words came back to haunt me. Anything was possible; nothing could be ruled out!
I remembered the worried look I saw on Pilate’s face just this morning, when Annas had raised this matter. Without saying a word I knew we both were of the same mind on this. He too thought a resurrection could occur. Why else his prompt response?
Oh yes, and then there was the rubbing of the hands. Guilt stains are not so easily removed. I should know. After all these years the blond-haired girl still visits me quite regularly on those soul- tormenting nights.
Only the high priest’s men seemed sure of themselves, cocky in their victory, but not cocky enough to throw all caution to the wind. Why else post a guard? But winds can change, and all this might yet blow up in their faces.
To download a free study guide for this high-impact, bible-based novel visit: https://www.davidkitz.ca/centurion.php/free study guide PDF
For book purchases of The Soldier Who Killed a King try Amazon or christianbook.com.
10 Wednesday Apr 2019
Posted in Lent, The Soldier Who Killed a King
Tags
Date: Eight in the morning, Saturday, April 8, 30AD
Marcus Longinus, the Roman centurion, meets with Renaldo, a fellow centurion, to discuss the setting of a guard at Jesus’ tomb.
“I may have some work for you men,” I called out to these soldiers. “So don’t leave just yet.”
Upon hearing my voice Renaldo emerged from a side room where he and his wife had been tending to Lucas. “What is it, Marcus?” he asked.
“Oh, I need some men to guard the prophet’s tomb.” It was impossible to hide my frustration.
“Why?” Renaldo reacted with a shake of his head. He found this quite perplexing.
“Well,” I responded, “it seems that the high priest and his crew are worried that either Jesus will arise from the dead or his disciples will come and steal his body.”
“That’s bizarre.” Renaldo shook his head again. “Just bizarre. Where did they get that notion?”
“From Jesus. From the prophet himself. Apparently he predicted it.”
He bowed his head slightly, and then brought his hand to his forehead in what appeared to be a desperate attempt to mentally digest it all.
“Look, Renaldo. I don’t have time to try and explain this.” My exasperation was clearly showing. “And I don’t really know if I even can. Right now I need sixteen men to take to the tomb for the first shift. I need them there within the hour. I thought if we combined your men here with my men next door, we could make up this first contingent.”
“First contingent?”
“First contingent—first shift. They want it guarded day and night for the next three days.”
He shook his head again. “Fine.” He threw up his hands in exasperation. “We’ll prance around and do the Weasel’s bidding.” He was clearly angry. “Did Pilate approve this?”
Roman centurion — Andrew Nicholls
“Yes sir.” I bowed low in a show of mock subservience. “He’s back lickin’ the holy man’s stinkin’ feet—once again! He started yesterday during the Messiah’s trial,” I said bitterly, “and now, who knows when he’ll stop.”
“I can only shake my head,” Renaldo answered as he did just that. Then after a pause, with grim resignation in his voice, he said, “Let’s get on with it. I suppose we have to do it.”
He turned and bellowed at the twelve waiting men, “All of you head over next door.”
To download a free study guide for this high-impact, bible-based novel visit: https://www.davidkitz.ca/centurion.php/free study guide PDF
For book purchases of The Soldier Who Killed a King try Amazon or christianbook.com.
09 Tuesday Apr 2019
Posted in Lent, The Soldier Who Killed a King
Tags
crown of thorns, crucifixion, Golgotha, Jesus, Lent, repentance
Date: Eight in the morning, Saturday, April 8, 30 A.D.
Marcus Longinus, the Roman centurion, endures a sleepless night as he reflects on his role in Christ’s crucifixion.
It was a horrible night. Horrible!
I could not sleep. The events of the day kept flooding over my mind—a constant bloody torrent. During the daylight hours you can steel yourself against another man’s suffering. But at night your hard shell dissolves from around you, and you are left in just your own skin again. Then their suffering soaks into your flesh, and it becomes your own.
There seemed to be no end to it—no end to this torment. I willed myself to sleep. But I could not find that door of escape. It eluded me.
Instead I was pursued relentlessly by the dreadful events of the day. The hammer blows kept ringing in my head. And now their pain was mine.
All night my mind was on Golgotha.
Why me? Why Jesus? Why by some cruel twist of heaven’s fate did I find myself with him upon the hill of execution?
When I closed my eyes, his face appeared before me. His gentle eyes stared down on me, boring a hole into my very soul. Blood oozed down from the stabbing crown of thorns. It pooled and dried along his eyebrows. And his pain? His pain was my own.
Once in the night Zelda put her arm around me and drew close.
I pulled away. I could not be comforted. I could not be loved, and neither could I give love. She could not reach me. I was well beyond all this.
Why did I spit in Jesus’s face? Why did all hell erupt from within me? I hated being forced into this role, the role of the killer, the executioner. Just as in Germania, I was compelled—forced by circumstances into a role that I despised. But when my moment came, with my men gathered around, I played it to the hilt. The brute lurking at the bottom of the chasm within me took full control. Today on Golgotha the horror and rage of Germania had found a fresh vent.
But this was no barbarian village. This was no blond-haired girl; this was the Son of God. The Son of God . . .
The words of my confession reverberated through my throbbing mind, over and over, until I thought my head would split.
To download a free study guide for this high-impact, bible-based novel visit: https://www.davidkitz.ca/centurion.php/free study guide PDF
For book purchases of The Soldier Who Killed a King try Amazon or christianbook.com.
06 Saturday Apr 2019
Posted in Lent, The Soldier Who Killed a King
Tags
Date: Nine in the morning, Sunday, April 9, 30 A.D.
Marcus Longinus, the Roman centurion, investigates his soldiers’ report that Jesus had risen from the dead.
It was as they said. The stone was rolled away. But it was not merely rolled to the side as I had expected. It had been pushed right up and out of its stone track, and it had toppled over a good distance from the tomb entrance.
I edged my way toward it. About two paces from the end of the stone track, there was gouge in the shallow soil, where the round cover stone had landed and then rolled. This was a real headshaker. How had this happened? It must have been rolled back with such force that when it reached the end of the track, it bounced up and out. No wonder the men were scared! This was awesome. Forty men could not do this!
Suddenly I felt very small, small and afraid.
Photo credit Jean Levac, Ottawa Citizen
And this was the very stone we had sealed just a day earlier. A close examination showed that in a few spots there were still fragments of broken plaster on it. I exhaled a huge puff of air. This discovery in itself was beyond all expectation. The force of the quake could not have done this. A quake of such magnitude would have collapsed the tomb itself, and not a building in the city would be standing. No, a direct force had hurled this boulder away from the tomb’s entrance.
An almighty warrior from heaven’s realm?
I rejoined my two men. Suddenly they gained a new level of respect in my eyes. Their fears had become my own. I found I was rolling my head from side to side just as I had seen Claudius do.
“You saw this happen?” I gestured to the fallen round rock and then put a finger to my lips. I was astounded.
“Actually,” Philip admitted, “I didn’t see him roll the stone. We all fell like dead men when the earthquake hit. But after, when I opened my eyes, the angel was sitting on it, and . . . and Jesus was walking out of the tomb.” He fell to his knees and began to beat the ground as he said this last part. He was gripped afresh by the memory.
“Where were you when this happened?” He raised his head and pointed to a spot a few paces away. “Right there.”
“And you?” I looked at Claudius. He pointed to another spot. “Just over here,” he said. “That’s my cloak. I left it when I ran.”
There was, in fact, a good bit of flotsam scattered about: a few cloaks, a water jug, Philip’s precious dice, even a helmet. Here were all the signs of panicked flight. They had left all and fled for their lives.
For me only one question remained. Was the open tomb truly empty?
“Get to your feet, Philip,” I said. “You two stay here and watch while I go take a look inside.”
I took three deep breaths and set out on my little journey. It was only about twenty paces
to the tomb entrance. A distance made much longer by my fear. But the whole scene was bathed in the warmth of morning sunlight. I started slowly. About halfway to the entrance, a songbird broke forth in glorious melody. The sun’s rays streamed into the rock tomb, lighting my way.
It was empty! The stone slab lay empty. Actually, it was not entirely so. The death shroud had been rolled up, and the face covering was neatly folded and lay off to one side. It appeared as though the awakened corpse took a moment to make his bed after getting up.
The Galilean prophet, the true king, had arisen and gone forth!
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
01 Monday Apr 2019
Posted in Lent, The Soldier Who Killed a King
Date: Eight forty in the morning, Friday, April 7 30A.D.
The trial of Jesus ends. The verdict is delivered.
Pilate was already seated, ready to pronounce judgment. A thin smile was now on his face. The cunning Badger would make the most of his final moves. When Jesus was in position, he began. Once more he motioned in the direction of the Christ, and to all assembled he announced, “Here is your king.”
“Take him away!” came the instant response. “Take him away! Crucify him!”
There was vehement insistence coming from the crowd. Some began to hurl dust in the
air. This was verging on a riot, a point that was surely obvious to the governor, yet he played them on.
“Shall I crucify your king?” Pilate called back to the throng.
“We have no king but Caesar,” the Weasel spat back.
The Badger’s eyebrows shot up.
The governor smiled and nodded. It was a smile of triumphant satisfaction. We have no king but Caesar. The Badger mulled over these words. I knew he had waited years for these words. After all he had endured in this place, wasn’t it well worth hearing this confession from the high priest’s mouth?
Ironically, the governor had Jesus to thank for the high priest’s sudden conversion and submission to imperial Rome. This declaration would never have come forth from the Weasel’s lips, except to secure the conviction of the good Galilean. Caiaphas was willing to stoop before Rome in order to spill the blood of this prophet. Here was the true measure of his hatred for the Northern Messiah.
Pilate knew all this, and he drew a good measure of perverse satisfaction from it. He understood his foe.
He called for his personal attendant to bring a basin of water. Now he would lay the blame where the bloody blame belonged. With the attendant holding the basin before him, Pilate made a great show of washing his hands before the crowd, and with insistence in his voice, he declared, “I am innocent of the blood of this man.”
Here was the feint, the great pretend.
Next came the dodge.
With water still dripping from his hands, he looked out over the crowd and declared, “You yourselves see to it.”
He spoke as though he had abdicated—bore no responsibility for the blood that now trickled down Jesus’s back. He absolved himself of that and of all that would soon flow on Golgotha.
This Badger could throw a bit of dirt.
It was fitting for Annas the aged priest to respond. It was he who answered for the people. With his finger pointed at Jesus and his gaze fixed on him, he replied, “His blood be on us.” Then he paused as though looking down through the generations of time. “And on our children,” he added with a cold, sardonic stare.
Out on the street the people answered, “Yes!” They nodded their agreement with this verdict.
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
31 Sunday Mar 2019
Posted in Lent, The Soldier Who Killed a King
Tags
Date: Eight fifteen in the morning, Friday, April 7 30A.D.
Jesus endures the whipping post.
His body quivered with the shock of each blow. But he was silent. Silent and gasping. “Thirteen.
“Fourteen.”
I moved to one side, trying to get a look at his face. His thorn-crowned brow was pressed to the post.
“Fifteen.
“Sixteen.”
He was mouthing a word with each blow. What was it?
“Seventeen.
“Eighteen.”
It came with a gasp. Barely audible.
“Father.
“Father.”
At twenty I called a halt. They had traversed the whole of his body, from shoulders to feet. It was a bloody path. I examined the wounds—more damage than I expected.
His breath came in huge gulps. His eyelids flickered. He remained conscious. At least he remained conscious.
I stepped over to Gaius. I cut another three studs from his whip. Then I did the same for Lucius.
“Harder! Harder!” came a shout from above and behind me. It was Cestas—Cestas going wild on the balcony of the guest chamber. He couldn’t wait for the lashing to resume. Like a giddy child, he bounced up and down and hollered for more.
I gave an upward nod to Lucius and then began calling out the stroke count again. “Twenty-one.
“Twenty-two.”
They started over at the shoulders.
“Twenty-three.
“Twenty-four.”
Once more the frenzied cheers went up.
“Twenty-five.
“Twenty-six.”
Each man aimed to outdo the other; each blow was more savage than the last.
“Twenty- seven.
“Twenty-eight.”
He did not cry out, unlike many men I have seen. He was silent beneath the cracking whip, uncommonly silent.
“Twenty-nine.
“Thirty.”
Stroke by flailing stroke they moved once more across his bloodied frame. A quivering, rutted mess. That’s what was left by the time we reached forty. I stood near him—watched his breathing. It was fast but shallow, very shallow by the time we finished.
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
30 Saturday Mar 2019
Posted in Lent, The Soldier Who Killed a King
Tags
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 charges
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.
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
29 Friday Mar 2019
Posted in Lent, The Soldier Who Killed a King
Date: Seven in the morning, Friday, April 7, 30A.D.
Jesus trial before Pontius Pilate continues.
In due course we all resumed our previous positions. At this point I fully expected Pilate to pronounce the prisoner guilty of high treason. After all, this Messiah had freely confessed to being a king. But I can only guess that Jesus’s words did have an impact on the governor. Upon taking his seat, Pilate announced, “I find no basis for a charge against him.”
A murmur arose from beyond the pikemen.
Caiaphas was livid. He let fly with a torrent of accusations, the last of these being that Jesus had threatened to destroy the temple and then rebuild it in three days.
Showing extraordinary patience, Pilate let the high priest rage. When Caiaphas’s fury was spent, Pilate turned to Jesus and asked, “Don’t you hear the testimony they are bringing against you?”
But Jesus answered him not a word. His silence itself became a challenge. Pilate had cleared him. Why should he answer to these further allegations?
Though stunned by this silence, Pilate repeated his position. “I find no basis for a charge against him.”
Once again discontent began to rumble through the crowd on the street.
At this point I expected the trial to end and the prisoner to be released. Let the crowds rage. Rome had spoken.
But Annas stepped smartly into the breach. “He stirs up the people all over Judea by his teaching. He started in Galilee and has come all the way here.”
“Is he a Galilean?” Pilate asked. “Under Herod’s jurisdiction?”
“Yes,” the flustered Caiaphas confessed, not knowing where this questioning might lead. “Then to Herod he should go,” was Pilate’s prompt response. “Why drag me into this?” He sneered at the high priest.
The governor seemed weary of the whole affair, and for the third time that morning, he found a way to dodge and retreat.
This trial was over.
The dark-eyed Badger rose from his judgment seat. He walked over to Jesus, the accused, and with a rather cunning smile and a nod, he said, “Off to Herod you will go, man of truth.”
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
