THE EYES OF JESUS
A creative story based on Matthew 27:27-54
By Michael K. Farrar, O.D.
© God’s Breath Publications

 

Clavius was a soldier’s soldier. He towered above the average man at six foot four inches tall and his 285 pounds of muscle was nothing to laugh about. He had proven himself in battle numerous times and had ugly scars as testaments to the fact. He was consistently moving up in the ranks, but his temper and weakness for fermented beverages always frustrated his ambition. Now he was stuck on crucifixion detail for his latest escapade of hitting a superior while intoxicated. Apparently he would never learn.

 

Carrying out a crucifixion wasn’t all that bad to him, but it was gruesome for sure. You learned how to efficiently kill your fellow man in graphic detail. Clavius’ training and experience as a soldier was invaluable at this job. His experienced comrades had perfected the techniques of execution to a science. They knew how to prolong or quicken the death of a victim in numerous ways. The only individuals who knew human anatomy better were probably physicians.

 

Today was like any other day to Clavius. Three more criminals had just arrived for crucifixion. They were a sorry looking group, bloodied by beating and torture. Each of their bodies was gaunt from deprivation of food and water. Funny, Clavius thought, one of them had a wreath of thorns upon his head. That was a new touch to the indignity of a crucifixion. Clavius wondered what crime he had committed.

 

Clavius went forward to claim his criminal and begin the nailing of human flesh and bones to the wooden cross. He picked the one with the crown of thorns. He and another soldier grabbed the arms and legs of the man who had collapsed from exhaustion and tossed him onto the wooden beam he had been carrying. Clavius knelt down and grabbed an arm to align it with the center of the beam of hard wood. He felt the wrist for the two bones between which he was to place the iron stake for support. Just before he raised his hammer he glanced at the face of the man with the crown of torture. His beard was matted with dried blood and spittle. His face was bleeding and bruised from beatings he must have received. Strange, thought Clavius, most criminals weren’t usually tortured this extensively.

 

The man opened his eyes and Clavius gazed into them. Clavius couldn’t bear the look in the man’s eyes. He quickly turned away to stare at his target, the man’s wrist. The eyes of the man had seemed to touch his soul. This wasn’t right. Clavius had looked into many men’s eyes as he had slain them. Whether it was on the battlefield or at a crucifixion, they had all had the same look. Their eyes had the look of lost hopelessness, of being helpless to stop the life that was draining out of their bodies. This man’s eyes showed no defeat, no lost cause, and no fear. Something was different about his man. This troubled Clavius.

 

Clavius brought down the heavy hammer. A metallic clang could be heard as he pounded the stake between the forearm bones of the man. It took all his strength to complete his work, first the one arm and then the other. The beam was then raised onto the top of the post that had been erected. The man dangled in midair hanging by his wrists as the beam was placed onto the wood post. Clavius’ assistant moved forward and grabbed the man’s feet and pushed them up causing his knees to bend. Clavius grabbed another metal stake and began driving it into the crossed ankles of the man. He tried hard to focus on his task. He knew the man’s eyes were watching all he did. He didn’t dare look up into his eyes. The eyes haunted him as he went about his gruesome business. Clavius didn’t like how he felt. This wasn’t normal. He had faced death a thousand times without a flinch. Was he feeling fear for the first time? Why were these man’s eyes so penetrating?

 

The crucifixion continued and Clavius grew more and more uncomfortable. Some soldiers attached a small piece of wood onto the beam that held the man with the unforgettable eyes. It said, “Jesus, King of the Jews.” Clavius could make no sense of this. The Jews had no king. He heard conversations between one of the criminals and the man with the haunting eyes. This man Jesus talked of forgiving those who were killing him and of a place called paradise where he was going. What had this man done to deserve such a fate?

 

People who had gathered to watch the crucifixion seemed to be of two varieties. Some shouted insults at the man, spit in his direction and threw small stones. Others cried in-between their prayers for mercy. Clavius glanced over at the foot of the man’s cross and noticed soldiers having fun gambling for his clothing. Why weren’t they bothered as he was? Possibly they hadn’t looked into the man’s eyes.

 

Clavius finally heard the man cry out, “Father, into your hands I place my spirit. It is finished.” He knew this was the man’s whisper of death, the last words he would speak before dying. Clavius overheard a Centurion close by make a curious comment. Something about this man being a righteous man. Had the centurion looked into the man’s eyes as well?

 

All of a sudden the sky grew horribly dark and overcast. The ground began to shake violently. Clavius had felt such movement of the earth before. It didn’t happen often and it always made him feel uneasy. This time it didn’t sit well with him at all. The dark clouds, the haunting eyes, the trembling earth, they all bothered him, something wasn’t right.

 

As was the custom, soldiers advanced to each cross to break the legs of the criminals to hasten their death. Clavius watched as they approached the lifeless body of the man whose eyes had bothered him so. Curiously they chose not to break his legs since he was already dead and instead pierced his chest with a spear.

 

Several individuals came and claimed the body of the man with the crown of thorns. His work accomplished Clavius choose to hurry back to the barracks. This was no place to linger he thought.

 

Clavius took the usual path back to town. The sky was still dark and foreboding. Uncomfortable emotions churned in Clavius’ heart as he quickly made his way home. He noticed a figure up ahead walking towards town. As he overtook the individual he glanced at their face. Fear gripped his heart as he recognized the person. He hurried on without as much as a hint of a glance back. That was the old man at the market he often bought fruit from. But he had died last week. What was he doing walking around? The old man had told him of his beliefs in some savior that would give him eternal life. Was this true? Was this savior the man called Jesus? This was definitely a strange time. He must hurry away from this place.

 

Several days later Clavius was walking the side streets of town. As he turned a corner he bumped into a man. Clavius swore at the innocent man for getting in his way. Then their eyes met. These were the same eyes he had seen the day of the crucifixion. The eyes of the man he had helped crucify. The eyes looked the same as that night, full of life and hope. Clavius could not move. The man stood before him, healthy and alive. The man spoke gently as if perceiving his predicament.

 

“Are you okay?” Jesus asked.

 

Clavius couldn’t respond.

 

“You need to know I forgive you for what you did to me. I have much to share with you if you are willing to listen.”

 

Clavius finally managed to stutter a weak answer, “I would very much like to know what is going on. Can you help me?”

 

“Yes I can help you, more than you know. Come, let’s walk together.”

 

The man with the loving eyes reached his nail-scared hand onto Clavius’ massive shoulder. Clavius felt comfort and security as he walked with the man and listened intently with his heart to what Jesus had to say. He looked deep into this man’s eyes as He spoke. Clavius felt like this was the beginning of a whole new life for him.