The Thief... a meditation for Lent

The door rattled open and the jailer walked in. "Are you two ready to die?" he asked with a grin. The thief woke from his dream and tried to sit up from the moldy straw which had become his bed. "These iron chains restricted my movements" he thought to himself. I looked at my partner in crime and nudged him awake. Four Roman guards entered the cell and proceded to disconnect our chains. Roughly we are escorted out into the foyer towards a bright doorway. The suns brilliance blinds us and we shield our eyes as best we can.

Beyound the doorway and out into the courtyard can be heard the chants of the people. A large crowd has formed. "Are they here for us?" I asks the guard. "For you ... this crowd...you're not worthy... they're here to see the King of the Jews crucified!" responds the guard. The jailer returns to the prison and more Roman guards gather around us and treat us roughly. Ropes are tied to us like dog leashes and I feel like an animal.

Near a wall three wooden crosses lay. The guard shoves me towards them, "Pick one !" he laughs. I ponder them for a moment ," Which one will be the instrument of my death?" A small star glows over the one on the right and something in my spirit moves me to take it. I hoist the heavy beam to my shoulder. It is so heavy I can barely manage. My partner in crime chooses his cross, and the last one goes to that third man, the one called Jesus. He looks familiar. Maybe I had seen Him in the marketplace speaking to the people. Is He not the Messiah? Why are they crucifying Him?

The crowd roars as He hoists His cross to His bruised and bloodied shoulder. Look how He has been beaten! His clothes soaked with blood, His face swollen from the strikes of rods and fists. The crowd hurls insults and abuses at Him. They are like ravenous dogs, venomous snakes. They ignore us two thieves and concentrate their energy on the one the had called Teacher.

The whips start us moving towards the city's main gate. Both sides of the street are lined with people yelling, screaming, some weeping, and some just looking. Others bury their faces in their hands and mourn. We work our way through the narrow streets, more abuses and spittle fly at Him.

"Can this really be the Son of God as He said, why is this happening"? I see Him fall and then struggle to get up under the weight of the cross. Later he stops and speaks briefly to a women on the street. I hear a person say, "Look how He loved His mother!"

The God-man is exhausted by the load and whipping Him does not force Him along. The Roman guard stops whipping Him in frustration, looks around at the crowd, and then grabs an onlooker and says, "You, what is your name?" "Simon the Cyrene," the startled man responds. "You look fit, help Him carry His cross lest He die before we crucify Him!" yells the Roman guard. Simon unwillingly assists. The God-man continues with the aid of another yet falls two more times.

The crowd widens and we are soon at Golgatha Hill. Years of excavation has left it looking like a skull. What a fitting place for us to die!

We make our way to the top, and the guards tear our clothes off. They hand us three small rags to cover our nakedness. A Roman guard shoves me down onto my cross and siezes my hand. The nail glimmers in the hot sun, the hammer comes flying down. Lightning bolts through my whole body! The pain is excruciating! I yell and scream for mercy but the hammer blows continue. He nails my left hand and then nailes my feet. The pain in so intense, I feel near death already!

I look across to the God-man and he grits His teeth and makes no sound! The crosses are lifted up and the weight of my body tears my flesh, searing pain shoots through my curled toes and hands. " Oh death, come quickly and take me from this misery!"

The crowd continues to hurl their abuses at the God-man and His followers. I see His mother at the foot of the cross being comforted by another. He looks to be a Disciple.

"Oh sweet mother of mine how I remember you, look what has happened to your son." I look lovingly at His mother hoping to comfort her in her anguish . She turns her head towards me and I see her tears. I give her a look of compassion and she cracks a small smile of acknowledgement.

Joy fills my heart, I relieved her pains for only a second!

I look at her Son and think, "Is this really God?" "It must be, He must be the Messiah, look how they have treated him"!

My partner who hangs on Jesus's other side hurls his abuses at the God-man, "If you are God , save yourself and us!"

I respond, "Can't you see that we deserve this death but He has done nothing wrong".

I look back at His sorrowful mother, her head is bowed, she weeps and mourns as if a sword pierces her heart! I look again at the crowd, their abuses and insults continue. They even torment the sorrowful mother. How I long to comfort her. If only she had been my mother and I her son.

I call to the God-man. He turns His head to hear me. Those eyes, those loving , forgiving eyes! They reach into my soul. I want Him to be my God, My Savior. "Jesus, remember me when you get to your Kingdom," I ask Him.

He responds in a voice like the rushing of cool water that will quench my parched throat,"I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise". Oh sweet victory over death, these nails in my hands, where is your sting? You cannot kill my soul for it is alive and will be forever in the Kingdom. I wish to give Him some gift or good works but alas, my hands are nailed, I can give Him nothing but my soul.

The crowd is marching now in a circle and they continue to hurl insults at the God-man. One man shouts " He saved others, let Him save Himself". I look again at the God-man, he seems to be praying. " Look He is calling Elijah", another one shouts, "Let's see if he comes to save Him?

I watch the blood trickle out of my hands and feet. My body is dying, my breath is leaving me. I look at the crowd, I think to myself that they are the ones who are dying and I am the one who is living. I have found truth, I am free, they are chained in their sins and they are dead.

The God-man cries out in a loud voice and He is gone. His body hangs there motionless, I see a beam of light shoot skyward out of His body, His soul has left for the other world. "Don't forget me", I whisper to myself.

A soldier comes with a mallet to break my legs. Oh, the pain! I can no longer push myself up to breath. My death will be here soon.

The voices fade, the light goes dim. Then I hear His voice, I feel His warm hand in mine. I see His smile. His invitation He presents to me. "Come with me to paradise!" He leads the way. We pass through a great chasm and into the next world.

The scent of beautiful flowers filled the air, rolling hills covered with flowers were in my view. I can stay here forever!