Who Was The Hammer-Man?
I am so thankful to God that sometimes my imagination leads me to some interesting questions and discoveries, especially when sparked by brilliantly creative teachers and authors.
In a recent prayer group meeting, we were discussing Calvin Miller’s book Once Upon A Tree (Howard Publishing Co., Inc., ©2002). Because Dr. Miller was such a great communicator, I couldn’t take enough of his classes at seminary, and over the years, I have jumped at the chance to hear him at conferences any time I could. So I knew from our discussion of his book, I would again receive a blessing. I was right. But not so much from some dynamic inspirational thought he wrote, necessarily, but from how what he wrote sparked my reflective thoughts. Little would I know that my thoughts paralleled his, though not as eloquently as his I’m sure.
In his book, he mentions the idea that the identity of the man who nailed Jesus to the cross has remained a mystery all these centuries. My mind began to wander from that point on, with thanks given to Calvin Miller and my regrets given to our discussion leader in the prayer group.
“Who was the hammer-man?” I wondered. In each of the Gospels, there is no biblical discussion about the procedure of actually nailing Jesus to the cross. I see images in my mind but those come from the myriad of cinematic depictions of the event I have seen over the years. But we can at least deduct that the hammer-man was a Roman soldier, for we learn from each telling of the story that the Roman soldiers carried out the execution duty.
After getting Jesus and the cross to “Golgotha” or “the place of the skull,” three of the Gospel accounts simply say “…they crucified Him…” (Matthew 27:35; Mark 15:24; Luke 23:33). In the context of these accounts, “they” refers to the Roman soldiers. But John actually says, “…the soldiers crucified Jesus” (John 19:23).
But I wonder: what was involved in the process of choosing who did the hammering? Did the Roman guards take turns nailing people to the cross? Was it considered a privilege and honor to be the hammer-man, or a responsibility much dreaded? Was it just part of the job? Did they “cast lots” like they did in dividing Jesus’ clothing, and the winner or loser drove the nails? Did they play “rock-sword-scroll”? I wonder how the man chosen this particular day felt as he pounded the nails through the flesh of Jesus into the cross. Was Jesus just another criminal to him?
If the hammer-man that day was oblivious to the fact that He was nailing God’s Son to the cross for his sins and the rest of the worlds, I wonder if he ever came to understand the significance of the events that day. After hundreds or maybe even thousands of crucifixions, did he wake up in the middle of the night years later in a cold sweat under the weight of what he had done? Or did he end his days clueless as to the realities of that special crucifixion that changed the world?
Years ago I saw the movie The Robe (1953) starring Richard Burton, Jean Simmons, and Victor Mature. It was a fictional account of the Roman centurion (played by Burton) who ended up with “the robe” the soldiers mockingly put on “the King of the Jews.” The centurion was tormented in his heart over what he had done and what “the robe” represented until he came to faith in Jesus. I wonder if the hammer-man ever had a similar experience.
After Mel Gibson’s movie, The Passion of the Christ, came out there was much discussion and finger-pointing being done concerning who was responsible for the death of Jesus. But I couldn’t help but say, “I was responsible for killing Jesus,” knowing that He died in my place to take away my sins.
In a similar way of thinking in my current reflection, I believe I know the identity of the hammer-man. I was the hammer-man! I was the hammer-man!
No, I’m not saying that I was actually the soldier there at the cross. Nor am I saying that I was the hammer-man in a previous life. What I am saying is that I am the one, along with every other human being that has ever lived on this planet, who nailed Jesus to the cross. The weight of my sin pounded those nails through the strong, gentle, healing hands of Jesus and through the very feet that walked on water. Yes, it was a Roman soldier that day, but he did my dirty work.
In my blinded sinfulness, I didn’t know what I was doing. But I nailed Him to the cross nonetheless. I’m not bragging. I’m not proud. I am just taking responsibility for my actions.
And years ago, at age 19, I acknowledged my actions before a forgiving Jesus, who willingly received the nails into His flesh, from which He hung on the cross. I deserved to have someone nail me to the cross, but Jesus didn’t. He died in my place and offered forgiveness and not condemnation. Thankfully, God’s power over death was stronger than the sin that nailed His Son to the cross, because, as we celebrate at Easter, He didn’t stay dead. Instead, He rose from the dead to offer the world—and me—new life in Him.
Yes, I was the hammer-man. But so were you. Let Jesus take the weight of the hammer out of your hands and into His.
Thank you, Calvin Miller, for sending my thoughts to the cross of Jesus. You are an inspiration.
In a recent prayer group meeting, we were discussing Calvin Miller’s book Once Upon A Tree (Howard Publishing Co., Inc., ©2002). Because Dr. Miller was such a great communicator, I couldn’t take enough of his classes at seminary, and over the years, I have jumped at the chance to hear him at conferences any time I could. So I knew from our discussion of his book, I would again receive a blessing. I was right. But not so much from some dynamic inspirational thought he wrote, necessarily, but from how what he wrote sparked my reflective thoughts. Little would I know that my thoughts paralleled his, though not as eloquently as his I’m sure.
In his book, he mentions the idea that the identity of the man who nailed Jesus to the cross has remained a mystery all these centuries. My mind began to wander from that point on, with thanks given to Calvin Miller and my regrets given to our discussion leader in the prayer group.
“Who was the hammer-man?” I wondered. In each of the Gospels, there is no biblical discussion about the procedure of actually nailing Jesus to the cross. I see images in my mind but those come from the myriad of cinematic depictions of the event I have seen over the years. But we can at least deduct that the hammer-man was a Roman soldier, for we learn from each telling of the story that the Roman soldiers carried out the execution duty.
After getting Jesus and the cross to “Golgotha” or “the place of the skull,” three of the Gospel accounts simply say “…they crucified Him…” (Matthew 27:35; Mark 15:24; Luke 23:33). In the context of these accounts, “they” refers to the Roman soldiers. But John actually says, “…the soldiers crucified Jesus” (John 19:23).
But I wonder: what was involved in the process of choosing who did the hammering? Did the Roman guards take turns nailing people to the cross? Was it considered a privilege and honor to be the hammer-man, or a responsibility much dreaded? Was it just part of the job? Did they “cast lots” like they did in dividing Jesus’ clothing, and the winner or loser drove the nails? Did they play “rock-sword-scroll”? I wonder how the man chosen this particular day felt as he pounded the nails through the flesh of Jesus into the cross. Was Jesus just another criminal to him?
If the hammer-man that day was oblivious to the fact that He was nailing God’s Son to the cross for his sins and the rest of the worlds, I wonder if he ever came to understand the significance of the events that day. After hundreds or maybe even thousands of crucifixions, did he wake up in the middle of the night years later in a cold sweat under the weight of what he had done? Or did he end his days clueless as to the realities of that special crucifixion that changed the world?
Years ago I saw the movie The Robe (1953) starring Richard Burton, Jean Simmons, and Victor Mature. It was a fictional account of the Roman centurion (played by Burton) who ended up with “the robe” the soldiers mockingly put on “the King of the Jews.” The centurion was tormented in his heart over what he had done and what “the robe” represented until he came to faith in Jesus. I wonder if the hammer-man ever had a similar experience.
After Mel Gibson’s movie, The Passion of the Christ, came out there was much discussion and finger-pointing being done concerning who was responsible for the death of Jesus. But I couldn’t help but say, “I was responsible for killing Jesus,” knowing that He died in my place to take away my sins.
In a similar way of thinking in my current reflection, I believe I know the identity of the hammer-man. I was the hammer-man! I was the hammer-man!
No, I’m not saying that I was actually the soldier there at the cross. Nor am I saying that I was the hammer-man in a previous life. What I am saying is that I am the one, along with every other human being that has ever lived on this planet, who nailed Jesus to the cross. The weight of my sin pounded those nails through the strong, gentle, healing hands of Jesus and through the very feet that walked on water. Yes, it was a Roman soldier that day, but he did my dirty work.
In my blinded sinfulness, I didn’t know what I was doing. But I nailed Him to the cross nonetheless. I’m not bragging. I’m not proud. I am just taking responsibility for my actions.
And years ago, at age 19, I acknowledged my actions before a forgiving Jesus, who willingly received the nails into His flesh, from which He hung on the cross. I deserved to have someone nail me to the cross, but Jesus didn’t. He died in my place and offered forgiveness and not condemnation. Thankfully, God’s power over death was stronger than the sin that nailed His Son to the cross, because, as we celebrate at Easter, He didn’t stay dead. Instead, He rose from the dead to offer the world—and me—new life in Him.
Yes, I was the hammer-man. But so were you. Let Jesus take the weight of the hammer out of your hands and into His.
Thank you, Calvin Miller, for sending my thoughts to the cross of Jesus. You are an inspiration.
1 Comments:
Glory!!
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