by Rogers Wardy

Created on: May 25, 2009

Two Men:

Two men, friends maybe, who knows, but their lives were linked by the path they chose to follow. A path paved with swift hands and a clever tongue. A path that had been set on a foundation of empty promises and broken vows.

Two men...both lived by deception and trickery. Both lived by the code of thieves, and now both found themselves caught, convicted, condemned and crucified. Who were they? They were the two thieves who found themselves in the company of Jesus many years ago.

Yet, how was it that these two men could hear the same words, run the same race, even face the same situation, and then see the same Savior, but one sees only himself and the other hope?

One chose, as many had, to reject him. Not partially but completely. He never offered an apology, never sought forgiveness and never showed a sign of remorse. He had a heart that had grown callused, marred by choices that would prove fatal in those finals hours of life.

The callused heart... A heart wrapped in anger and bitterness, yielding neither mercy nor compassion. A heart that chose to throw stones first and ask questions later. He had a heart that would mock a dying man. Shouting words of hatred, bitterness and sarcasm to break the spirit, poison darts to pierce the soul. Was he not beaten to his satisfaction? Were the bruises insufficient? Was being crucified not enough?

Two men, lives linked by choices. Maybe they were friends. Maybe they attended the same schools; maybe alter boys at the church on the north end of town. Maybe, who knows, but on a hill that day, three men would share the same fate. One innocent, two guilty, but of the guilty, one chose a path that would change his destiny.

Somewhere in the middle of the chaos of ignorance, mockery and sarcasm he saw what many had not. He saw Jesus. Not the carpenter, not Mary's son, not the teacher and not the condemned. He saw Jesus...the Savior. There was a tenderness in the eyes of Jesus that would quiet his screams and a peace that surpassed what he understood. In the midst of the pain and nail scarred suffering there was a love that spoke volumes above the voices that cried out for his death. And it was this love that pierced a callused heart.

Maybe he was there when the 5000 were fed. Maybe he was there when John was arrested. Maybe he was there in Matthew's house that day. Maybe he was like many others who heard Jesus speak and dismissed him as a madman. Maybe, who knows, but does it matter?

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