The thief

The market is excessively crowded, people are moving quickly attempting to beat the rain.  Ominous clouds linger over the market, merchants are weary the rain may ruin their profits for the day.  One man walks with purpose through the market, it is as if his route is mapped out.  Engaging in conversation, the man frequently stops as he speaks with everyone with who he comes into contact.  He has visited every table yet no packages has he purchased and he seems delighted by the impending inclement weather.  Alas, the torrential rain begins and the merchants are forced to close shop as their patrons run for shelter.  The seemingly amiable man returns to his home beaming with pride as he empties his pockets. Though it appeared that he had made no purchases and held delightful conversations, his intent was clear; distraction that he may practice his mastered art of thievery.  A thief by trade, this man collected his spoils from many unaware people at the market, the weather just we he needed to distract people enough that he may reap his spoils. 

When the those he stole from returned home, they found themselves distraught for they were missing their coins.  Many frantically looked yet all unsuccessful in locating them.  

The next day at the market, the same man is there, this time, no threat of inclement weather yet the man is feeling brazen.  He strikes up conversation as he steals his first coin from an unsuspecting shopper, and then the next, and so on until one merchant begins to watch this shifty man.  Finally, he makes a mistake and the merchant able to see the coin exchange.  He yells, "Thief, thief, stop that man!"  With that a guard runs after the man who took off like a gazelle yet was no match for the speed of the solider.  The man captured, the money taken and given to the Roman court for no one could prove it was their money and the man placed into prison. 

The cell dark, damp and cold, the prisoner sits waiting for his sentence.  Night comes over the land and the prisoner offered rations before the doors are securely locked for the evening.  Ravenously eating his meal, the man does not notice another man in the corner until finally, he speaks, "What did you do?"

Startled, the man looks up from his food and questions, "What did you say?"

"I said, what did you do, why are you in here?"

"Oh, I stole some money from some people at the market and some stupid merchant ratted me out.  What about you?"

"Yeah, I stole some things, how do they expect you to live if you don't steal, I mean really.  Oh, and then there was that fight and the man wound up dying and all..."

The men spoke through the night exchanging their riveting stories of deception, trickery and dysfunction.  In the morning the man caught stealing in the market was brought to Caesar for sentencing.  He found himself surrounded by a huge crowd all of which were shouting at him for they had identified him as their robber, the reason they frantically looked for their coins to no avail.  The man was taken aback, never had he thought these people would be present for his hearing and so mad.  An unsettling feeling fell over him as he surveyed the crowd and he felt fearful for his life.  

"Guilty and punishable by death, death by crucifixion."

The man was escorted back to his cell where he could still hear the cheers and shout of joy from the mob surrounding the square.  The man just sat, unnerved and dumbfounded.  

"What did you think would happen, did you think they were going to say go home and don't do it again?  This is Rome, man, there are no second chances."  

The man sat silent for much of the day until the chanting began.  The commotion from outside distracted him from his thoughts and his impending death.  He intently listened, straining to hear the happenings in the square.  "Sounds like we will be getting a cell mate soon. Do you hear those shouts?  Wow, and I though the crowd was angry with me, they are calling for this man's crucifixion!  Yikes I wonder what he did?"

In the distance, the mob gathered chants, "Crucify him, crucify him!"  Their anger, their hatred of this man clear through their chanting.  The echo of their hatred rings through the streets, rings through the cell of the two thieves and they await their soon to be companion.

A man is led into the cell, no noise does he make as the guard shoves him into the cell and locks the door behind him.  Both prisoners are anxious to meet the man the crowd hates, for surely he has some heinous stories to share with his mischievous mates.  

"So?  Don't leave us wondering, man...what did you do?  I mean the crowd really hates you, tell us, tell us" the first prisoner anxiously questions the man yet gets no response.

So the second thief tries his hand, "Seems like the crowd really hates you.  They are still yelling for your crucifixion, you must really have made them angry.  Share your story, I mean after all, we are all going to die together."

With that the new prisoner fell to his knees folded his hands and looked to the heavens, yet no sound did he make.  His reverence appalled the first thief who quickly turned away and closed his eyes so as not to witness such a pious site, but the second man just watched.  Hours had passed, the mob still chanting and the man still on bended knees.  An overwhelming feeling can upon the second thief and he found himself next to the man on bended knee.  He knew not what he was doing as he attempted to replicate the actions of the other man.  Awkwardly he knelt and folded his hands, it was then the newest prisoner put his arm around the thief and the two men knelt silently for some time.  Then they began to speak, exchanging stories of life, not what caused them to be held behind a locked door.  It was then that the thief recognized the man, this man next to him had healed his brother, his brother who had been blind since birth.  At first the thief was tempted to ask the man his secret, how he made it appear to regain his brother's sight but thought better of it.  The man asked, "And your brother, how is he?  He still sees, yes?"

Stuttering, he answers, "ah, well, yes I believe so you see I have not seen my family for some time, I..."

Before he could answer the man placed his hand back onto the shoulder of the thief and said, "Relax, my son, I only made mention for I could see the perplexed look upon your face.  Relax, let us find peace in this horrid night for tomorrow will bring much anxiety, much hatred, much fear; but tonight we have a chance to feel just the opposite in solace, love and protection for the Father watches, he knows, He knows the call of the heart.  Your heart, my friend is weary, not from the impending events of tomorrow but weary, rather, from life itself.  There is sadness that is untouchable, to be reached only by the Father.  The Father who forgives when asked for forgiveness; a Father who always loves even when dreadful mistakes are made; a Father who offers hope in a never ending life.  Come, my friend, feel this love of the Father, He knows your heart, he feels your sadness, let  Him take away all that haunts you..."

With that the second thief broke down in tears and the two men embraced.  The conversation about the Father continued into the night until the sun broke through the small window of the cell.  A bell tolled.  The door opened and the newest prisoner was forcefully taken from the cell.  The first thief awoke to find the second thief on his knees.

"Do you really think that crap is going to help you?  You are going to die today.  Get up and be a man.  Do you think the last man left because he was on his knees praying?  You are mad,  be a man!"

No reply did the second thief make, he remained on his knees until the guards came for them, their final moment.  The soldiers escorted the two men to the top of the hill, the commotion in the background was unnerving.  The crowds rioting, the people shouting and the bells tolled for a second time.  What was going on and where was that third man?  Why were the people shouting as they were?  At the top of the hill the men were tied to their crosses and left for dead.  Tired, weak from hanging for hours they could see, still a bit of a distance away, a procession of sorts.  Eyes blurry, struggling to breath the second thief looks to the moving crowd, he listens for their shouts; the same hate fill shouts, it must be the third prisoner.  His fate worse than ours, thought the second man.  As the crowd neared, all he could see was a blood.  Blood on the guards, blood on the street, blood on the crowd and bloodied man approached carrying a huge wooden cross, the likes which had never been seen before.  The man he had spent the night in prayer with, the man which bright peace to him just hours earlier now lays upon a cross, bloodied almost beyond the point of recognition; yet it was the love the thief recognized, the love this thief felt the night before that told him this was, indeed, the third prisoner.  The guards laid the prisoner on the large wooden cross and began to drive stakes through his wrists...

"Nooooo!", shouted the second thief, "No!"  

The guards payed no attend to the second thief as they continued to pound the stakes through his body.  Blood again spouting everywhere and the sound of the mallet hitting the spike echoed among the gathered crowd.  The prisoner was hoisted up between the two other crucified that day.  The first prisoner attempted to spit upon the third prisoner though he could not gather any saliva in his mouth so he whispered, "Cruse you!", his final breath.

The second thief looked to his new found friend with tears in his eyes, it was almost as if he could feel the pain of the third man.  Tears streamed down his face, one would have thought that these two men were brothers.  The second man looks to the third man and says, "I am sorry.  My life, in just one day, filled with love for the Father loves me.  I am so sorry you had to die that I may understand this truth, that I may feel love, that I may live.  Thank you.  I am sorry."  With that the man drew his final breath.  His day over, his life just begun.