All come to the cross. Some come to the side.
Some come to the front. Some come from behind.

Some come to the front. They come there with pride.
They know they are saved. They feel it inside

By turning his head, Jesus can see
the ones from the side are welcome and free.

But some come in fear. They sneak up behind.
The Lord lets them know they’re still in his mind.

We come to the cross, no matter from where.
He calls us to love, for all of them care,
for all God’s children.

The cross rose high against the dark clouds in the sky. The women standing near the bottom did not look up. They knew what hung on that cross above them, in front of them. They held each other closely, sharing the pain. They tried to ignore the crowd behind them as some taunted the man above. “He saved others, but he can’t save himself.”

At first they watched the soldiers on the ground casting lots for his cloak, but that angered them, so they stared at the ground.

Memories tried to push out the pain, memories of better times. Sitting on the side of the mountain as Jesus offered blessings to the crowd, a very different crowd. Those people back then understood poor in spirit, mourning, meekness, hungering and thirsting for justice, for peace. Watching as the skins of a leper turned a healthy color and limbs were restored to usefulness. Hearing the disciples tell of the great windstorm that was swamping their boat and Jesus calming the storm. Listening to Jesus tell stories that carried messages. Staring in amazement as a basket of five loaves and two fish passed through a huge crowd and fed them all, with food left over.

Something that Jesus had told them lurked in the backs of their minds, something about three days, but it was buried under the weight of this day. Now in their pain, they had come to the cross, wearied, hopeless, and alone despite those around them. The men who followed him were nowhere to be seen.

# # #

Three crosses. On each hung a man until death would end their suffering. The two on the outside were thieves, considered rebels by the Roman army. The older thief joined the crowd in taunting the man in the middle. “Aren’t you the Messiah? Save yourself and us!” 

But the younger one remembered a time when he had followed a large crowd. He had mingled with them to avoid the soldiers who were looking for him. When the crowd found the man they were looking for, they gathered around and listened. This thief, certain he was now safe from the soldiers, had also listened. Words he had not heard before—blessings on the poor, the mourners, the meek, those who hungered for righteousness. They had something in common, the young man thought, as he was fighting for freedom from oppression. Was that what this man meant by righteousness?

With that memory, he looked across at the one he had fought beside, at the one who had been captured with him. “Don’t you fear God, since you are under the same sentence? We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong.” 

Then the younger thief turned to the man in the middle. “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” 

And Jesus replied, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” 

# # #

To the side of the cross, their task now being to wait until the three men died, the Roman soldiers formed a small circle. Beside Marcus lay the robe the man in the center had worn when he was arrested. It was woven in one piece, making it difficult to divide among them. Marcus, a young soldier, was the one chosen by casting lots.

As he stood now waiting for time to pass, he heard the taunts of the crowd. Let this Messiah, this king of Israel, come down now from the cross, that we may see and believe.” 

And the soldiers themselves, standing off to the side, laughed. No one ever came down alive from the cross. That was their job, to make sure that never happened. They had crucified many men. This time would not be different.

Nor was it, until the man in the middle looked down at them and spoke, loudly enough for them to hear, loudly enough for the women in front of him to hear, loudly enough for the crowd behind them to hear.

“Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” 

Marcus looked around at the other soldiers. Had they heard what the man said? For an instant or two, their eyes widened, their eyebrows arched, and they looked up. Then their eyes dropped, and they shook their heads.

Marcus, too, looked up, but his eyes did not drop. He made eye contact with the man. The man held his gaze and nodded, just once. Then he closed his eyes as if to shut out the pain.

Marcus looked up at the dark clouds. Was there a light shining through? No, it must be his imagination. The words echoed in his mind, “forgive them … forgive them … forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”

But he did know. He knew his job was to cause this man to die a very painful death after having been severely beaten, beaten until he could no longer carry the cross. What had this man done to deserve such a death?

Whatever, he himself, Marcus, was forgiven, forgiven at the foot of the cross. Standing to the side of the cross, he was forgiven.

# # #

Behind the cross, away from the crowd, a young well-dressed man, sat on a stone. Sometimes he gazed at the spectacle before him; other times he stared at his hands or at the ground.

A scene from his past raced through his mind, over and over and over. He traveled with the crowd to where the Teacher stood. For a while he listened. Finally he worked his way forward until he stood before Jesus. There he asked the question that had plagued him for a long time. “Teacher, what good thing must I do to get eternal life?” 

Jesus gave him the standard answer, the one the priests and the leaders of the synagogue had given: “Keep the commandments,”  and he listed them off.

This young man had responded, “All these I have kept. What do I still lack?” 

At this point, his memory changed from black and white to vivid color. “Sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.” 

But he could not. He turned and walked away, a move he had regretted many times. Now it was too late. Yesterday he sold what he had and distributed the money among the beggars near the Temple. Then he went in search of the Teacher. He found him at the governor’s house early in the morning. Yes, he had followed the procession out to Golgotha, but he was certain that was not what Jesus had meant.

# # #

Days later, the women shared the news with the disciples that the tomb was empty. Mary Magdalene saw the risen Lord. The two who headed to Emmaus raced back to Jerusalem with their news. Jesus appeared to the disciples in the room with locked doors.

Weeks later Marcus found himself on assignment on one of the Jewish holidays at a house with known followers of Jesus inside. His instructions as always were to keep the peace.

But what to do about that wind that blew through? Dust swirled around him and the crowd as they huddled to find shelter. When the wind died down as suddenly as it appeared, he turned to the well-dressed young man standing next to him. “Wow! I’ve never felt anything like that.”

Before the young man could respond, one of the leaders of the followers of Jesus stepped out of the house and began speaking. Marcus realized he heard him in Latin. Other people, obviously foreigners, were shaking their heads in disbelief. He heard them murmuring about hearing the man in their own languages.

“What does this mean?” 

Someone cried out, “They have had too much wine.” 

But the Galilean spoke and explained that this was what the prophet Joel had foretold. He continued talking, telling them how Jesus had been raised up and those inside had received the Holy Spirit.

The well-dressed young man’s face broke into a smile. “It’s not too late! I can still follow!”

And Marcus joined him in the line to be baptized.

For consideration:

General Questions

1) How does this story follow its Scripture?

2) How does this story expand its Scripture for you?

3) What is the message of this story?

4) How does the message apply to us today?

Specific Questions

5) How does remembering help us deal with grief?

6) How would someone fighting against oppression feel related to the Beatitudes?

7) What would forgiveness feel like for a soldier who had crucified Jesus?

8) Is it ever too late to follow Jesus?