I wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t believe me.  In fact, anyone who does believe me will undoubtedly be regarded as a fool.  Nevertheless, what I’m about to share is absolutely true, and greater the fool who does not believe it … as unbelievable as my words may sound.

My name is Justus.  I’m a Roman centurion assigned to Governor Pilate’s detachment in Judea.  I happened to have the unfortunate fate of overseeing the killing of the Son of God.

I didn’t do it in battle or out of any animosity toward him.  I was just following orders.  (And, it seems, God’s plan.)

When Jesus was first brought to the governor, he was already badly beaten.  Clearly the temple guard had abused him before bringing him to Pilate.  I had a close-up view because it happened to be my day to personally guard Pilate, along with another centurion named Valerius.  (There are always two experienced soldiers flanking the governor, with extra legionnaires lounging out of sight nearby ready to respond should any threat show itself.)

My first impression of Jesus was striking.

I’ve seen many criminals and accused criminals in my day, and they are all the same.  They always protest their innocence.  Either arrogantly or fearfully – but always aggressively!  Jesus. however, didn’t say a word! 

The chief priests and Jewish leaders were vehemently accusing Jesus of subverting the people, and any number of other crimes.  They wanted Jesus dead.  (It’s hard for me to imagine spiritual leaders so set on taking someone’s life; it doesn’t seem godly to me.  Nevertheless, I heard it with my own ears.)

Meanwhile, Jesus calmly and regally stood before the man who could condemn him to death, silent and unflinching.  Which seemed to infuriate his enemies even more and foster the flinging of more charges. 

Governor Pilate was clearly astonished that Jesus would make no defense for himself – even when asked or demanded.  I was astonished too!  Clearly, this was no ordinary man.

When in Jerusalem, Pilate resided in Herod the Great’s palace on the western end of the upper city.  Of course, the governor was in town during the Passover Festival should any unexpected excitement arise. We initially met the crowd bringing Jesus on the pavement outside the palace.  (The people didn’t want to enter the palace and be “defiled” for the festival.) 

After hearing the Jewish leaders’ accusations, Pontius Pilate motioned for Valerius and myself to escort Jesus away from the throng.  Pilate wanted to withdrew from the clamor and speak with Jesus privately, so we climbed the steps into the Praetorium.

While attending the governor, we are trained to focus on the surroundings and protect from potential threats.  And we do that well.  But when in such close proximity to the man, it is impossible not to hear things.  Important things.  Life-changing things.

That momentous morning I overheard a number of remarkable things.

First, the governor’s wife sent an urgent message to him … actually interrupting the proceedings, which is unprecedented.  Her message was stunning.  “Don’t have anything to do with that innocent man, for I have suffered a great deal today in a dream because of him.”  At hearing this, Pilate’s eyes grew wide.  He was momentarily taken aback and hesitated to proceed.

But when he did, I heard another remarkable statement.  The governor asked Jesus if he was a king as the people claimed.  Jesus actually answered this question!  He acknowledged he was indeed a king, but said “My kingdom is not of this world.”  Again, Pilate’s world was rocked.  This was a ridiculous claim, but Jesus was absolutely sincere.  And he was clearly not unhinged.

“You are a king, then!” exclaimed Pilate.

Jesus answered, “The reason I was born and came into the world is to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me.”

To which the frustrated and cynical governor replied, “What is truth?”

Jesus turned his gaze to me and said, “I am the way and the truth and the life.”  Something stirred in me, and I knew in my soul it was true.

As for Pilate, remember that it was commonly believed by the Romans that the gods visited the earth in human form.  The governor wasn’t an overly religious man, but he was superstitious enough to not want to press his luck.  Once Jesus stated that his kingdom wasn’t in this world, the governor was determined to release him.

When he suggested this to the Jews, they demanded crucifixion.  In an attempt to appease their bloodlust, he reluctantly had Jesus flogged.

I was thankful that I was guarding the governor that morning and had to remain by his side.  I wanted no part of hurting Jesus, who was clearly guilty of nothing more than inflaming the jealousy of the Jewish spiritual leaders.  My comrades, however, took particular delight in torturing Jesus even beyond the flaying of his back and legs with the scourge.  Even from a distance, we could hear their boisterous revelry at Jesus’ expense. 

Pilate was clearly shaken.

When they finally brought the bleeding prisoner back to the hall, it was obvious they had been more brutal with him than most.  Jesus was a mess.  He was wearing a crown of thorns and a purple robe … the material thoroughly saturated with the blood from his wounds.  I’m a hardened soldier who has seen a lot, but my heart went out to him. 

Pilate led the blood-covered and stumbling Jesus out to the crowd, hoping now for the opportunity to release him.  But the people refused, screaming, “Crucify him!  Crucify him!”

Pilate replied that he found no basis for such a sentence.  That’s when the chief priests informed the governor that the reason they demanded capital punishment was because Jesus claimed to be the Son of God.

When Pilate heard this, he was even more afraid.  It seemed to align with Jesus’ own words spoken to him a short time before.  Once more he retreated into the hall to question Jesus … asking him where he came from.  When Jesus refused to answer, Pilate said, “Do you refuse to speak to me?  Don’t you realize I have power either to free you or to crucify you?”

Then I heard another one of those mind-blowing statements.  Jesus answered, “You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above.  Therefore the one who handed me over to you is guilty of a greater sin.”

Upon hearing this, Pilate was doubly determined to free Jesus.  However, the uproar from the nationals increased, and finally the governor had to acquiesce; he couldn’t afford to have a riot break out.  And especially with so many visitors in the city.  With halting voice, he sentenced Jesus to crucifixion.  The mob roared.

Pulling Valerius and myself close, the trembling Pilate ordered us to accompany Jesus to the crucifixion and oversee it.  “You have seen and heard.  Try to show him some compassion.  And may the gods have mercy on me.”

The crucifixion process for Jesus was unremarkable, other than that he didn’t fight or protest and beg as the nails were about to be driven through his body.  He passively endured them.  (Or at least, as passively as the excruciating pain they caused would allow.)  To not make any resistance, either verbally or physically, was definitely unusual. 

The events that occurred shortly thereafter were even more unusual.

After we had nailed him to the cross and raised him up, I heard something I have never heard from any crucified person before or since.  Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”  He was staring at me as he spoke.  I admit it; this rattled me.  Why did he keep looking at me like that?

Then another unprecedented event occurred.  At noon, the sun quite shining.  It didn’t just dim a bit, but darkened completely!  This lack of light didn’t occur only over Jerusalem, but over the entire land!  It was like midnight under a heavy cloud cover with no moonlight.  It was beyond eerie; it was downright terrifying! 

There was widespread panic in the city.  Many were certain the world was ending.  Wailing arose along with shouted prayers to Jahweh to have mercy and restore the light.  Clearly this was no eclipse; the utter blackness lasted three hours!

Regardless of the unprecedented events, Valerius and I had to hold our posts and continue to be diligent in monitoring our soldiers and the condemned.  Amazingly, even during that dark and unsettling time, the mocking and ridicule of Jesus continued … from his enemies, from some of my soldiers, and even from one of the men crucified with Jesus.  But the other condemned man rebuked him, and then made a remarkable request.  “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

Jesus’ reply was stunning.  “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.”

What?  How could Jesus say this?  How could he know the time of their death, and especially their destination afterward?  It could take days to die by crucifixion.  And no one really knew anything about the afterlife.  Yet Jesus seemed certain on both.  Who was this man?

But shortly afterward Jesus shouted out and died. That’s when things became really interesting!

In the darkness, a heavy rumble arose from the earth, and the ground began rolling and shaking.  Increasingly panicked cries rose from all around as people became more convinced that all was ending.  The cross holding Jesus’ mocker tilted askew, and the man cried out in pain as his body pulled against the nails. Jesus’ jeering opponents beneath him were toppled painfully to the ground.  Explosive cracks sounded in the vicinity as rock formations split.

A terrified Valerius grabbed my arm.  Gesturing toward Jesus, he exclaimed, “Surely this was a righteous man.”  To which I replied, “More than that.  Surely he was the Son of God!”

And just that quickly, the sun began to share its joyful rays again.  Shouts of praise rose from the relieved Jews nearby, and they began to assess the damage from the earthquake.

A spear point thrust into Jesus’ chest proved he was dead.  Our soldiers breaking the legs of the other two men brought hasty demises to them as well.  Our job was done.  But I couldn’t easily dismiss the fact that it seemed I had been instrumental in killing the Son of God.  As exhausted as I was from the events of the day, I struggled to sleep that night.

The next morning I was amazed to hear the Jewish leaders requested a Roman seal over Jesus’ tomb.  They were convinced some of Jesus’ followers would steal the body and claim he had risen back to life as he contended he would do during his life. 

I was even more amazed when orders came down from Pontius Pilate to do so.  I would have thought the governor would have been thoroughly fed up with these pushy people by that point.  But apparently he wanted to go the extra distance to appease them … undoubtedly hoping finally and fully.  Peace is a precious thing in volatile Palestine.

So a detachment of Roman guards was dispatched to the tomb.  The first group made the tomb secure by putting a Roman seal on the large stone covering the entrance.  For someone to break it meant death.  Then they assumed the first round of guard duty. 

The way we Romans handle this is through three-hour shifts of four soldiers each.  It’s actually a rather impressive and imposing sight.  Each soldier is responsible for six square feet of space. The fully armed guards don’t leave that space.  Nor are they even allowed to sit down or lean against anything while on duty.  

Normally centurions don’t pull guard duty.  However, to the surprise and delight of my soldiers, I assigned myself to the Sunday morning shift (the fourth watch of the night, often referred to the “cock-crowing vigil.”).  I have always been an early riser, and I was still struggling with all that had transpired in regard to Jesus.  I had been so involved in his final hours that I harbored an affinity to him.  I couldn’t explain it, but I felt drawn to be outside his tomb that morning.

The first hours of the watch were quiet; the Jews still observing their Sabbath day and night of rest.  A flurry of activity was expected at first light as another week in Jerusalem began, especially on the heels of the festival.

I was still contemplating Jesus … what I had heard him say, who he had been, and what I had done to him … when I noticed two brilliantly bright lights in the night sky.  They were moving – arcing down from the heavens and rapidly drawing closer.  The other guards spotted them too, gasping and brandishing their spears in defensive postures.  “What is that?” someone blurted out.

The lights continued to approach; they seemed fixed on our location.  The closer they came, the more blinding was their aura.  Before having to look away, I was able to distinguish two human-like figures dressed in white robes, bright as lightening.  But unlike a lightening flash, their brilliance never disappeared; it only increased in intensity.  They glided on the air in a standing posture, their arms by their sides.

Even with our eyes pressed shut and our arms crossed in front of our faces, we could still sense the area around us brightening … the inky black of early morning being driven away as with the brilliant light of a sunny summer day.  Only this light was purer and whiter than sunshine.  It was painful; piercing through closed eyelids and into our very flesh, seeming to expose all our inner ugliness.

We fell to the ground in abject terror, assuming fetal positions in the dirt with hands over our heads and shaking uncontrollably as the beings swooped over us.  Expecting to be struck dead, I heard stone grating against stone as the large carved door was rolled away from the tomb’s entrance.  Then for the second time in just days, a deep rumbling arose and the ground began pitching violently beneath us.  Another earthquake!

It was too much for us; the terror took us out of awareness. 

When I came to, my eyes happened to be focused on the open entrance to the tomb.  To my astonishment, I saw a living Jesus stepping out into the feeble light of dawn.  He lifted his face and raised his arms toward the sky; a joyous smile appearing.

I raised my head in wonder.  Jesus turned his gaze to me once again.  He stepped over to me, placed his warm hand tenderly on my forehead, (my helmet had rolled off in my collapse), and said, “Do not be afraid.  I am the Living One; I was dead, and now look, I am alive for ever and ever!” 

Tears of joy flowed down my cheeks.  Jesus smiled at me.  “Justice has been done, Justus.  Learn what this means.”  With that, he walked away into the early morning shadows, whistling happily.

As for me, I was determined to learn more about this Jesus.  What I already knew was that he was so much more than just a man.

One final note.  Some of the other guards fearfully reported what had happened to the chief priests.  (They were afraid to tell Pilate; he could execute them for failure to carry out their assigned duty.)  I didn’t go with them.  If I had, I would have told those power-hungry men that their efforts to take Jesus out had failed miserably.  He was alive again. 

Yes, I may have killed him.  But not for long!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I did not intend for this story to become quite so long.  However, as I began to reflect on all that Justus might have seen and heard, and which the Holy Spirit could have used to change him, I kept finding more that seemed necessary to include!  Despite the story’s length, I pray that it was an enjoyable and ultimately encouraging read.

I did take some liberties with the storyline regarding Justus, and embellished some of the events Scripture mentions in passing.  However, to the best of my ability, I accurately portrayed the Biblical account of Jesus’ trial, death and resurrection, as well as the Roman way of doing things.

As for the guards at the tomb, there is a difference of opinion on whether they were Roman guards or Jewish temple guards.  I concluded that they were probably Roman ones – not just for the purpose of this story, but for logical reasons.  The biggest ones being that Roman soldiers would probably be the ones to guard a Roman seal, and Jewish guards would probably have little reason to fear Governor Pilate’s retribution for falling asleep on duty.

Happy Easter!