Of Talismans and Timelines (Cont’d)
Another Impossible Possibility
So far, we have narrowed in on several ideas in our attempt to validate the truth found in the present work. We have witnessed a peculiar and persistent connectivity in things that have all, until now, been seen as so many random points on the biblical map—the prophecy of The Great Five and a Half Days, The Septuagint, The Ark, and The Pyramid. No doubt to skeptics such occurrences represent nothing more than poetic nonsense. However, to those who are inclined to believe that The Bible is more than poetry, they come together in a way that no mortal mind could possibly conceive. Together, they form a matrix of ineffable wonder. To the eye of faith, what is hidden to most is clearly discernible. Therefore, to those who might appreciate yet another impossible possibility, I offer the following.
At the long-awaited culmination of The Great Five and a Half Days, a man stood at the foot of the cross of Jesus. The name of that man—a Roman centurion standing guard at the crucifixion—is never revealed in canonical Scripture. Legend has it that his name was Longinus. Naturally, the source for this legend just happens to be the apocryphal record—in both The Gospel of Nicodemus and The Letters of Herod and Pilate. Though unnamed in The New Testament, he is said to be the man who, gazing upon the Crucified One, declared, “This Man really was the Son of God.”1
Story Continues Below
To hear Kent, Zen Garcia and S. Douglas Woodward, as they discuss the 5,500-year chronology from Adam to Christ, from the perspective of The Septuagint Bible, to confirm the contents of Tales of Forever, CLICK BELOW.
Story Continues From Above
However, what is recorded in the received text is that the Jewish leaders demanded that Pilate hasten an end to the crucifixion in order to prevent the bodies of Jesus and the two thieves from remaining there into the evening. As the gospel record reveals:
The soldiers therefore came and broke the legs of the first man who had been crucified with Jesus, and then those of the other. But when they came to Jesus and found that He was already dead, they did not break His legs. Instead, one of the soldiers pierced Jesus’ side with a spear, producing a sudden flow of blood and water.2
At this point The Bible inserts an intriguing sidebar, one that John, the gospel writer, included for the sake of posterity, as if the casual observer might otherwise overlook the previous verses.
The man who saw it has given testimony, and his testimony is true. He knows that he tells the truth, and he testifies so you may also believe. These things happened so that the Scripture would be fulfilled: “Not one of His bones will be broken,”3 and as it says elsewhere: “They’ll look upon Him Whom they have pierced.”4
The thing to notice so far, in terms of this final piece of our puzzle, is this piercing of the side of Jesus on the cross, at which point both blood and water flowed from the wound. Several important things emerge from this event: First, there was the Roman centurion who, having been ordered to hasten the death of Jesus, found Him already dead, thus eliminating the need to break His legs. Then there came the subsequent piercing of the side of Christ at the hands of this centurion, and the torrent of blood and water from the wound. And finally, in that moment, a battle-hardened centurion, who presumably worshiped only the gods and goddesses of Rome, did a complete about-face, like Pilate before him, and uttered, in an apparent epiphany, that he was gazing upon the true visage of the Son of God.
Ever since that fateful event, a unique legend sprang up regarding the centurion’s spear, which speaks of the kind of miraculous power attributed to none other than the risen Christ Himself. This, in turn, leads us to ask: How did The Spear that spilled the blood of Christ become imbued with such power? And what, exactly, is the story behind its miraculous power that could explain this kind of God-inspired effectualness?
