The Last Cry

The centurion stood leaning on his spear looking up at a cross where he had helped to impale this one they call the King of the Jews, this one they had said performed so many miracles. This cynical, skeptical soldier had never seen one, so why should he believe? He could only stare with dull eyes, believing that miracles existed only in the realm of a deluded mind.

It was nearing the end, he could tell. He had witnessed enough of these deaths to know. After hours of bleeding the skin took on a peculiar pallor and this one was no exception. This one who was supposed to be the Son of God, bled just like any other man.

The victim’s head was bowed, the weight of His body pulled against the nails in his wrists. He was too weak to lift Himself up anymore to breathe. All movement had ceased. The soldier thought to count the seconds as a game. One, two, three, four and this one is no more. No more miracles to fool the fools.

The wind began to blow. In the chilly breath, the guard was startled to see the King slowly begin to raise His head. Then this almost corpse suddenly came back to life again. His body rose up upon the cross with a vigorous thrust. The guard dropped his spear in surprise, as the thorn crowned head was thrown back. In the power of that supernatural moment when all strength was revived, the Holy Voice shouted and the sound of it boomed across the mountains and shattered the sky – “It is finished!” Then the Head slumped forward as Royalty died.

The soldier felt the ground rumbling beneath his feet, and then he fell to his knees, a fool because of the miracle he had seen. “Surely this was the Son of God,” he breathed; for of all the lives he had witnessed crucified, none ever had the audacity to die with such victory.

In the last few seconds of Christ’s earthly life, another soul is reaped for glory through a subtle miracle of strength – one last cry to pierce a soldier’s hardened soul. Although there was weeping on a hillside bathed with death, new life was birthed on its knees as heaven laughed. The miracles were just beginning.

Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? But thanks be to God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. – I Corinthians 15:54,55,57

copyright 1998 by H.D. Shively