Monday, September 26, 2011

Doulos -- The King must be crazy




Pssst!"
I jumped when a light finger tapped my shoulder from behind.
“What do you want?” I whispered. It wasn’t much of an invitation to visit, but the man took it as such and settled down next to me in the middle of the dismal cell.
“I have news, Doulos,” he told me, and an odd look on his face made me suddenly curious. I motioned toward Ebed, sleeping in the dark corner, and put a finger to my lips. “Go ahead.”
The man took a deep breath, as if unsure how to start.  “I – I suppose you are aware of our plight,” he said.
I nodded. That now-familiar mix of fear and anger began to rise up in me, and I could not speak.
“I suppose you already know that nothing can take away our sentence. There is absolutely no way to repeal the death penalty. Bloodshed is demanded and cannot be– “
“Stop!” The hurricane force of emotion let loose inside of me. I thrust out my hand, trembling, in front of the man’s face. “I know,” I panted, and looked down to hide my sweaty, anguished face. “I already know. It haunts me every second. I am going to die…”
The man nodded, thoughtful. “That is exactly why I thought you might find my news of interest. See, there is one way to escape execution.”
I shook my head and groaned. “You are wrong. The King is not unjust; He cannot forgive sin.”
“No—unless…”
I turned and stared at him.
“Unless someone else dies instead. If a perfect man—one with no rebellion, no imperfection, and perfect toward the King—is executed, we would be free.”
I slumped back down into my original position, knees up against my chest, head down. “Forget it,” I growled. “There is no such man as you say. Don’t you understand? No man is perfect – except the King. And even if there were a perfect man, would he want to come down here into this filth, and – and look around at all this mess and all the people who hate him, and then walk out there to the executioner and – and die? That is craziness.”
I looked away, so I didn’t see the man rise quietly to his feet. But his last whispered words remain with me to this day.
“Then I suppose,” he said, “that our King must be crazy.”
I stopped breathing for a moment. Then I gasped, “what?” and sprung to my feet. My eyes darted to the door, but the man was gone. “What are you saying?” I whispered, but even as I asked, it hit me. My chest rose and fell in great heaves, and I began to shake all over. “It cannot be!” And then suddenly I was in a heap on the floor, face to the cold, dirty stone, sobbing like a little child.
After a long time I lifted my head and looked into the corner where my friend slept. “Ebed,” I whispered, “Wake up!”
He opened his eyes slowly, hesitant.
“Ebed,” I cried, gripping his shoulders, “You won’t believe this. You know that death sentence you told me about? It has already been served! The King—the ruler of all—has taken our punishment.”
The old man’s parched lips parted in astonishment. I will never, ever forget the look of indescribable joy that came over his face.

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