A meditation on the Soldier that speared the side of Jesus of Nazareth when He was crucified.
When the soldiers came to Jesus and saw that he was already dead, they did not break his legs. But one of the soldiers pierced his side with a spear, and at once there came out blood and water. - John 19:33-34
When I think of that Soldier’s Spear… I don’t think he dreamed this would be a part of his job. Soldier, sure… but Executioner? Putting people to death every day? Did he apply to operate the electric chair? Did he dream about maiming and mutilating helpless people?
He watches human beings raised up into positions they will never escape from. Nailed to wooden beams. Trapped on death boards.
It’s become nothing to him. The shock’s gone, and he just watches… watches people… suffocate to death, slowly. In agony. Over and over again.
It’s nothing. He watches - them hopelessly beg for mercy, or at least a drink of water.
It’s nothing. He watches - he breaks the legs of those that don’t expire quickly enough. Like clockwork.
It’s nothing. He watches - he spears the sides of dead men. Spear-in, spear-out. It’s nothing. He watches.
I imagine he would daydream; like a shield from the trauma he’s been self-inflicting for years in this routine.
He daydreams, perhaps of how much time remains until his shift is over.
Of making his way back home. Of dinner. Of wife, of children, of friends.
But right this moment: spear-in, spear-out. Clock-in, clock-out. It’s nothing. He watches.
Without any hesitation, he walks beneath another cross with his spear and shoves it sharp-side into the soft-side of -- the radiance of the glory of God? And it’s nothing? Not a blink?
He forces the blade up under the ribs of the King that created him. And it’s nothing? No pause?
Moving it deeper into the dead Son of God. And it’s nothing? Not a wince?
Blood and water gush out the side of the same God who once pierced Adam’s side to bring out a beautiful bride. And it’s nothing? Not even a question?
The maimed, mangled, deformed, disfigured, tortured, slaughtered King of Life pronounced dead by a man He had breathed life into, and had been delighted to knit together inside his mother’s womb. And it is nothing…
Does it trouble him at all?
Will he sleep as well tonight as He did on Thursday?
Just a spear-in-the-side and a job-well-done?
Or does it matter to Him at all?
Does it matter to me?
Every sin I’ve committed, substantial or small - did I even pause?
Every time I lived like I knew better than God - did I even blink?
Every deviant thought I creatively justified - did I even hesitate?
Every shred of selfishness - did I even think twice before I put God’s Son on the cross?
It was for my sin that the Son of God died…
And is it nothing?
