If I were a Roman Soldier at the Crucifixion I would see . . .
Crowds of anxious people gathering at Golgotha to witness the crucifixion;
The face of an innocent man – no – the face of God suffering for his people;
Charges nailed above the criminal’s head pronouncing, “King of the Jews;”
The sun blackening the daylight into nighttime.
If I were a Roman Soldier at the Crucifixion I would smell . . .
Rawness of flesh from the accused’s back where he was flogged at his trial;
The stench of death as life drains out of the condemned;
An overwhelming odor of salty sweat secreting from the crowds in the heat of the day;
The metallic mixture of blood and water as the sword pierces the dead man’s side.
If I were a Roman Soldier at the Crucifixion I would feel . . .
The crowds pressing forward to get as close as earshot to the criminals;
The grip of the hammer’s handle as I nailed the hands and feet of the victim to the
cross;
A sliver from the cross painfully piercing my finger while assembling the cross;
Uneasiness as somehow the wrong man was executed today.
If I were a Roman Soldier at the Crucifixion I would hear . . .
In loud tones, “Father! Forgive them” from the middle victim;
Crowds hurling and heaping insults while shouting their approval;
The wounded weeping of women, collapsing at the foot of the cross;
My Centurion saying, “Surely, he was the Son of God.”
If I were a Roman Soldier at the Crucifixion I would taste . . .
The bitter wine-vinegar drink offered to the one suffering;
Drops of sweat dripping down my face from the heat of the day;
The gathering of saliva in my mouth to spit on the condemned;
The injustice of watching this particular man die.
If I were a Roman Soldier at the Crucifixion.
Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e. only God is glorified!)