The Deserter

The Deserter

Not far from Jerusalem, a fire burns in the wilderness. A deserter from the roman army is warming his hands, shaking, not only from the chill of the evening, but from internal turmoil. A stranger is wending his way down the road. The deserter beckons the stranger to come over. The stranger comes over and sits by the fire and pulls his cloak around him, as the deserter begins to pour out his soul and says, "Sir, I can see you're a stranger here, the dust of the road on your sandals. Perhaps you do not know what has taken place in Jerusalem in the past few days, but we have killed a God.

I was called out as an arresting officer. We arrested this man, Jesus, Took him before illegal tribunals. I was there when he was scourged. I was there when he was wending his way to Golgotha. I wanted to take the cross from his shoulders, but I dared not.

There on the hill, I was called forward to put my hand on his palm and wrist and hold his flesh to the wood as the nails were driven through. I felt his blood splash upon my hands. I looked into his eyes and felt the warmth of his love that made it as though the very marrow of my bones would melt. I saw as the cross was lifted up and dropped into the hole. I could almost hear his flesh tear.

And through that awful day I watched. Toward the afternoon He cried out, 'It is finished!' and he fell limp upon the cross. I knew that we had killed a God. I ran and I ran to where you find me here. Sir, I tell you, we have killed a God, we have killed a God."

The deserter looked up from the fire into the face of the stranger. The stranger was smiling. The deserter said, "Sir, There is nothing in this story to smile about!" But the stranger continued to smile as he pulled his hands from under his cloak to warm them in the fire. And there in the glow, the deserter saw nail prints in palms and wrists. And he fell to his knees crying out, "My God, my God!"

- Unknown