The Executioner’s Dream

A Story of the Executioner at Golgotha by Harry L. Whitt

After their scourging, we herded the three men through the jeering streets to Golgotha. The citizens of Jerusalem hate us only a bit less than we hate them. Being assigned to the occupation force of Judea is a good point for a possible promotion but today the city is set on edge. One of the three is a popular prophet to the common people but hated by the elites of their counsel.

Finally, we are out of the bustle of the city streets and bring the three miserable souls to the top of the hill, the place of the skull. The rock outcropping resembles a skull, and today it the place of execution for all to see.

The schemer who devised the crucifixion is to be congratulated. Nothing puts the fear and dread in occupied people as the crucifixion. It is an agonizing death to endure and to witness. I have killed countless men in warfare with sword and spear, but this is the most gruesome of all.

The poor creatures are hammered on the cross with hand forged spikes which tear flesh and sinew. We set their knees at a bend, so they can push up to catch a breath of air, and then hang by their arms until they began to smother. This reeling up and down until their last life fades from their bodies takes sometimes days. It is a wretched sight for wretched souls.

We put the so-called prophet in the middle as he is the most renown. The other two are common thieves. The middle one gets the most attention as some of his mourners are at the foot of his cross. Some say his mother is present along with mostly women and a few men. Why do they come to see? I do not know.

His scourging left his back nothing but ribbons of flesh with clotted blood. He cried out as we laid him on the splintered wood. Then we raised his cross and the jar of the upright going from empty hole to solid earth left him with a quiver in his body that took some time cease.

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Simply Put

Simply Put

Put me in a family to love
Put me in a community to serve
Put me in Your Kingdom to sacrifice

Put Your Word in my ear to hear
Put Your Word in my heart to believe
Put Your Word in my mouth to speak

Put something in my hand to give
Put compassion in my heart to heal
Put bread in my hand to share

Put me in a place to trod
Put me in Your field to work
Put me in the world to shine

Put me in the line to stand
Put me in the battle to fight
Put me in the war to win

Put me in Your altar to pray
Put me in Your heart to worship
Put me in Your hand to die

—Harry L. Whitt

Quarters for Lunch

When I was in elementary school, my mother would tie up five quarters in a handkerchief on Monday for my week’s lunch money. Yes, lunch was only a quarter. Lunch was on a light green rectangle tray with sections for the different foods. White milk was our only drink option which means there were no drink options. I loved Fridays because it was either a hamburger or a hot dog plus the other stuff. The fish sticks with the dark spots I hated.

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Head-Nodders

“Virtue signaling” is a catchphrase in the current cultural confusion. In the last few years, it has been exhausting to keep up with the new terms and re-definitions. I often wonder if some folks even know what they are saying or if they are just parroting the latest mantra from their side of the fence. By the way, virtue signaling is not a right or left problem, it is a human problem.

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Generations of Mothers

Mother’s Day rolls around every year to give honor to our mothers. We shower our living mothers with presents, special meals, and recognition. Those who have gone from our midst, we shower with accolades of remembrance and honor.

This year I thought about the generational line of women in my life from my grandparents to my four granddaughters. The grandmothers to the mothers of the future.

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Journey Update: April 2021

I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that we in the American church probably like to talk about prayer more than we pray. Prayer takes time and we are too busy checking out YouTube and Facebook. Ouch!

Anytime I have ministered in a church in one of the eastern nations, at least 80% of the congregation wants personal prayer at the end of the service. I have even had some bring their own oil with which to be anointed.

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The Baby Grew Up…

We are now finished with the Christmas season except for the packing away of tinsel and bows. During this past season as always, the true believers celebrated Christ’s birth and the secularists celebrated “Christmas”. We who hold and celebrate the Virgin Born Son—Jesus Christ could kick and scream about the commercialization of Christmas, but next year Walmart will still have their big screen TVs on sale. But I want you to know—The Baby Grew Up…

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