The Centurion

Monday Morning

There was a knock on the door. The men looked at one another fearfully, not knowing if they should answer. "Perhaps it's Him," Thomas said?

"No," answered Peter. "He came through the walls last time."

"Shall I answer it?" asked James.

"No, please! What if it's a Roman come to arrest us too," said Matthew, still terribly frightened from all the events of the past days.

"But He's risen. We've already seen Him," countered James.  "Don't you think He'd protect us?”

"Listen, God helps those who help themselves," Matt said, being practical despite the stress.

The knock was repeated, and everyone seemed to want to duck out the back door. 

"Open it," said Peter, "We can't lock ourselves away forever."

Gingerly, James opened the door a crack. His face blanched.

"Who is it," the others asked ready to run.

"It's, it's..." he opened the door wider to give the others a look.  How could he shut out a Roman Officer who already knew their whereabouts? 

Everybody backed off aghast.

"Please, don't be frightened," said the Centurion taking a halting step in.  "I'm not here to arrest you.  I...  I want to join your company."

The men bristled with suspicion. Even Peter was unsure, although all eyes turned to him for directions.

"He's one of us," said a youthful voice from the back of the room. Still, they all looked at Peter, and back at the Centurion. The air was electric.

Peter turned around to look at John. "How do you know," he asked?

John staring past Peter into the hopeful eyes of the soldier answered matter of factly, "He was at the crucifixion."

"Please," the soldier knelt down begging, "I've brought you something," he said. He unwound the leather strap wrapped around a purple cloth. Peter nodded assent, and the disciples began to gather closer to see what the soldier held.

In his hand lay the head of a spear. "I thought you'd want it," the Centurion mumbled, tears in his eyes.