There it stood, gaunt and grim, the instrument of death.  But like the death it heralded, it did not stand alone.

As anguish and grief accompany death, so this instrument was in the company of two others—three crosses on a lonely hill, outside the city limits.  Three condemned “criminals” had met their end. The scorching sun seared the sky. Nature stayed wide awake as death pranced about, waiting with open arms for its latest victims.

The Executioners

The executioners were soldiers. They were not alone. Top religious leaders who wanted to ensure that one particular “criminal” must not just be killed but must be certified dead were there too. There must be no mistakes. The crowd cheered this gruesome spectacle, the most humiliating and cruel type of death reserved for slaves, pirates and enemies of the state. A handful of relatives and friends of the “criminals” mourned in deep and unspeakable agony. They wished this was a nightmare, and sooner than later, they would wake up to know it was just a bad dream. But this was no dreamland, it was wide-awake reality. They were witnesses to history’s most cruel but significant event.

The Execution

Before now, soldiers had stripped naked and scourged the condemned men, after which they were forced to carry the beams for their execution to the site where they would be killed. Crowds jeered at them along the way, making immense mockery of the victims.

Now the executioners readied their bulging biceps, wiped their sweaty brows.

This, for them, was business as usual, but was it? They were executioners. Killing was their job. After all, it must be right if the state stated so. They cast furtive but jeering glances at the three condemned “criminals” as if to ask them, “Which one of you will go first?” But they were not there for a fancy conversation. They could not wait for an answer. Their victims had lost the freedom of choice; choice of opinions, choice of when, where and how to die. Perhaps, all they could say was to shout, “say your last prayers! Make it brief.” Perhaps, to make the task quick, they handled each condemned man simultaneously.

The executioners had a job to do. The state had given the sentence of death—death by crucifixion. The heavy lumber beams were ready. The long and rusty nails were provided. The heavy iron hammer was ready. The officer who commanded 100 soldiers was there to give instructions that would be carried out to the letter without delay.

At the swift but sure command of their officer, they put the rough and lengthy nails to work in each criminal’s lower arms, crushing the ligaments while avoiding the bones.    They knew what to do. They worked with the precision of a gifted surgeon. The hammer hit the nails with huge bangs while blood forced its way out first, and later dripped without much effort. Life started ebbing out. From one widespread arm to the other, and finally, the joined feet at the insteps. The “criminals” responded with wails, deep anguish as the nails tore their flesh. Ground job done, they raised the three crosses and their dying victims up. The crowd cheered. The rest of the job was to support the vertical beams as they hanged their victims with the horizontal ones.

The Executioners

This was Friday, more than 2,000 years ago. Jesus Christ was one of the condemned “criminals.” He was not just one of them; He was the target of the crucifixion. He was the main victim of the execution. The other two were common criminals, but Christ did no harm, broke no laws. He was famous for healing the sick, raising the dead and preaching the Gospel of the reconciliation of sinful man to the holy God. The cross symbolises His sacrifice; His crucifixion, death and resurrection tell of His self-sacrificing love. His love is the seal of redemption to all who believe in Him. (John 3:16).

Today offers an opportunity for deep reflections and positive actions.

Today is Friday. If you are going through life’s rough patch today, trust in Christ that, as sure as day, Sunday is coming.

Tunde Ojo