This happened many years ago, but it as as real in my mind as if it was yesterday. I can only tell you what I heard, and what I saw with my own eyes, but I assure you it us unlike anything else you have heard before, or will hear after. I was walking through the market, when I noticed a large crowd gather around this man. I struggled to see what all the commotion was about, but the crowd seemed be getting larger and larger. Sometimes when something exciting happens, people will gather even if they don’t have any idea what was going on.
I heard lots of assumptions, and many theories. “I heard he killed a man,” one man said. “I heard it was fifty,” said another. “I heard he tried to start a revolt,” said a peasant. “I heard he tried to corrupt parliament, and kill the high governor,” said a proud, burly man. “Kill the high governor?!?” one peasant said with astonishment. “ohhh, I do hope they give to him what’s coming to him. Only a public execution will suit someone as evil as him.” The crowd seemed to be getting closer, and then I noticed it was coming in my direction.
I did my best to allow the people to pass by me, but soon I was drawn into the excitement. Large guards with swords drawn were screaming at us to “get back! Get back! You’ve seen enough, you’ll see plenty before the day is through!” At that moment, one guard shoved me, and I fell to my knees. I turned around and stared right into the face of the man. I recognized him. I had seen crowds gather around him in the past. I remember him as sort of a rebel, fighting with the parliament all the time, trying to get his way, claiming he was right about everything. I remembered his arrogance. I remember I heard him speak once, and he spoke with such conviction, as if he was sure every word that came out of his mouth was pure truth. I thought it silly that any man would feel this was about his words, and felt the conceit of this man is surely what led him to this point.
I found it hard to pity him, because a man with his pompous attitude is surely to come to such a grave consequence. I still didn’t understand the harsh treatment, but found it fitting. I don’t know if it was the anger, the assumptions, or perhaps they way he seemed to be treated, but for some reason I found it very easy to hate this man. Then he looked at me, and his eyes seemed to pierce straight into my soul. I don’t exactly know what I expected, but at that moment, time seemed to stand still. I could see the agony in his face, and clearly saw his convictions didn’t come from just inside himself. The blood poured down his face, and his entire body was black with bruises. He could barley breath, but even with the beatings he continued to stare right into me. I’m not sure if it was just the moment, or what it was, but everything around me became silent, as if it was all going on some distance away from me.
The loudest noises I could here was his breathing, and the faint cries of his followers screaming “what has this man done! This man is innocent! What is his charge! He has harmed no one!”
I turned to the side, but was immediately drawn back to his face. His heart was clearly broken, but it wasn’t because of what he endured. I saw clearly, written on his face, it was because of me. Before the tears welled up in me, the man whispered one word, very faint, but it rung like a bell on a still morning. The word was “grace.”
Immediately, everything came back into full bustle, and he was dragged away. The crowd followed, and so around me the crowd died down. I stood there silent. My mind was unable to comprehend exactly what had happened, and as far as I could tell, nothing had changed except my understanding and affections for that man. I stood there, silent. For what seemed like hours. I felt broken, as if it was possible for every part of my body to burst into tears. I recognized immediately that a great injustice was taking place. I also understood, perhaps divinely, that this day would bring no greater justice in the history of all the earth. Even today, I can think of no greater word, or even group of words, he could have uttered to me. Just then, a shopkeeper came up behind me, slapped me on the back, and said, "I guess that bugger’s finally gonna get what’s coming to him.”
I didn’t know what to say. It was as if his comments pierced right into my own heart. I turned to the man, looked at him, and muttered the only word I could think of, "grace." The man look dumbfounded, but suddenly, it was all I knew. I repeated the words several times to myself… “grace, grace…” Then I looked to the crowd, and again, I screamed, “grace.”
Everyone needed to know. I needed to tell everyone what the man had said to me. I went rushing towards the crowd, as fast as I possibly could, frantically screaming “grace” As I got closer, they seemed to ignore me. The shouting drowned me out. Some looked annoyed, others looked at me as if I was speaking some foreign language. I didn’t understand why it was so unclear to them, but at the same time had no idea what it was that seemed to be so clear to me.
As I pondered these things, the noise of the crowd died down. They had reached their destination. I could hear some mutterings. An important man was calling out his charges, but I couldn’t quite make out what they were. We were standing on a hill overlooking the city, but the crowd was so thick, I couldn’t quite see what exactly was happening. I heard whips and chains and nails and swords, and agonizing cries from the man that would give anyone nightmares for weeks. It seemed to go on much longer than it should have, and even the crowd that had turned against him seemed to wish it would end soon. Finally, after much struggle, I could see the man’s face.
The pain and exhaustion was beyond anything I thought any man could handle. Blow after blow, it continued. Everyone expected each blow to be the final one, but the man endured. I didn’t understand why or how. It seemed as if he should have died long ago, and then finally something changed. The man looked at his attackers, he looked at the crowd, and then to the city underneath, and in a voice so loud, and so terrible that it shook the ground we were on like a tremendous earthquake, he screamed the word I had heard him whisper to me earlier that day, but this time so everyone would hear it. “GRACE!” immediately, the man fell over dead.
Everyone seemed to be in the same shock I was in earlier that day, but one by one, and then soon all together, they turned around and went home. I stared sharply at the slumped over corpse right in front of me, and all that remained were a couple of guards. The city below was clearly in chaos. The house of parliament had tumbled to the ground. At first some thought it was an attack, but clearly it had something to do with this man. “Maybe he had some of his followers ready to tumble the parliament if anything should happen to him?” Said one of the guards. “Are you crazy?!?” Said the other. “What has this man done? He is innocent. We know his followers, most of them have left him. This man died alone, and for what? As far as I’m concerned, there was no good reason for him to die.”
The guard in front of him became ghost white. I was standing behind the first guard, and quickly turned around to see what he was staring at, and behold, there he was. The man who they had killed stood behind them. No one could explain how he had survived, but clearly this was something more. There fear was what he might do to them, for they were the ones responsible for his death. I didn’t understand why at the time, but I felt as if I was in the same boat. Despite the man being unarmed, we all felt collectively that no amount of men would keep this man from destroying us if he felt it necessary.
He was clean, and glorious. You could hardly recognize him if it wasn’t for his piercing stare. He stood over the guard confidently, and if he was about to explain himself, he said one word, quietly, but quite assured, “grace.” The guard, taken back by these words, sighed deeply, and with great relief. Then he stared deeply into space as if he was contemplating something. He then looked up into the face of the beaming man, and said, with enlightened eyes, “Thank You.” The man smiled, turned to me, and came right towards me.
I dropped to my knees, muttered thank you, because it was all I knew how to say, and stared at the ground, because I dare not look at his face. He put his hand on my chin, lifted it up towards him, looked at me and said, “Make sure you tell everyone what you have seen here today.” He reached into his cloak that he now wore, and pulled out a book. “In here, you will find everything you need to know about me. Now go, tell the others.” What is astonishing to note, was his language. He said “tell the others” as if he knew exactly who I should tell.
After he had said these things, I could feel the word “grace” well up inside me, but went right back to thank you. Everyone on that great hill was on their knees. We know we had witnessed something astonishing, and there was clearly a camaraderie that had developed, as it always does when different people go through or witness an extraordinary situation. When we had come to our senses, the man was gone. We could hear the faint cries of “Thank You” coming from the city, and clearly our mission had been marked out.
