Thank you for joining us on this Catholic Sleep Meditation. This podcast was created through the support of the Mission Circle, a community that helps Catholics understand, live, and share their faith. To become a member, click on the link in the description below. Welcome to the Bedtime Story, the Centurion at the Cross. Taken from Matthew 27, Mark 15, and Luke 23. Good evening. In this Amen Bedtime Story, we'll hear about the Centurion who watched at the foot of the cross. Like all of us, he had suffered. We'll hear how he came to believe that Jesus was the Son of God. We'll ponder some of the thoughts that Centurion might have had as he reflected on his own suffering in light of what he had just seen. The Lord comforts the afflicted. Tonight, he wishes to comfort you, too, and to give you his strength and peace. Before we begin, let's take a minute to settle in. Let all your troubles from today and your worries about tomorrow go. God will take care of them. Now, God is calling you to rest, to trust in his loving care. When you are ready, close your eyes. Feel the bed supporting you and holding you up. God is with you. You're safe here. Stretch out or curl up. You can relax. Breathe out all your breath slowly. Push it all out. Then feel your body taking a deep, sweet breath. Your body knows what to do. Exhale again. Push out all your worries. Notice your breath. Let it become regular and even, steady and calming. O God, your servant Pope John Paul II wrote about the hardest question. Why is there suffering? He wrote, "God expects the question and listens to it." O God, give me the courage to ask you my questions. In your mercy, hear and answer me. Lord, help me to see. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen. There was once a centurion who had lost everything. He lost for a time, reputation, health and money. He lost forever those closest to him. Now he was working again, physically fit and well respected, but he was lonely. Nothing could bring back the dead. Since those days, he rarely felt emotion, neither surprise nor pity, neither joy nor sadness, just coldness. Nothing. His soldiers liked him but did not know him. He kept to himself and sometimes had better nights. He was there on a Friday in spring when they crucified Jesus. He had not been at the proceedings during the morning, but he had heard about them. The man called Jesus was still wearing a crown of thorns, which some of the soldiers had made to ridicule him. People stood around watching. Some yelled insults. The centurion looked on. He felt empty. The centurion watched the man Jesus speak to one of the women. That's his mother, a soldier told the centurion. The centurion had been a father. Some hard memories came back to him. The centurion watched the man Jesus speak to one of the thieves crucified beside him. Jesus said one of the thieves. Remember me when you come into your kingdom. And Jesus said to him, "Truly I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise." The centurion felt strange. Close to three o'clock, a great darkness spread over the sky. People began to hurry away in twos and threes. A few women and a young man stayed. The soldier stayed. They had hours to go before any of the condemned would die. The centurion stood listening to every word of Jesus. So he heard when Jesus whispered, "Father, into thy hands I commit my spirit." And he saw when Jesus breathed his last breath. A wind began to rise and the earth to quake. And the centurion said, "Truly, this man was the son of God." Later, some followers of Jesus climbed up ladders to lower the body of Jesus to his mother and the others waiting below. The centurion thought about his past. He had seen the son of God. He wished so much that he had spoken to Jesus like the thief had done before it was too late. If he had known, he would have asked, "God, why did you let me suffer so much?" The centurion did not know the scriptures. He did not know how Jacob had wrestled with the angel. He did not know how Job had questioned God about suffering. The centurion did not come from a world where men and women could take their suffering to God and ask, "Why did you let this happen? Why is there evil? Why is there suffering?" As they lowered the broken body of Jesus into the arms of his mother, the centurion could not help noticing that the one whom he wished to question had also suffered. There was another centurion who once asked Jesus to heal a servant. Jesus had offered to come with the centurion, but the centurion said there was no need. He knew how authority worked. If Jesus had the authority to heal a servant, he did not need to come physically. A sentence would be enough. No. Single word. A breath would do it. Other people have put in a certain number of hours or try again or practice to make something happen with God. What he wills will happen. "Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof," that centurion had said. "Only say the word, and my servant will be healed, for I too am a man under authority, with soldiers under me, and I say to one, go, and he goes, and to another, come, and he comes, and to my servant, do this, and he does it." When Jesus heard this, he marveled and said to those who followed him, "Truly, I tell you, with no one in Israel have I found such faith." That was another centurion. The centurion at the foot of the cross felt like he had just seen a real God, perhaps the one and only God. This was a God with power. When he suffered, the heavens were dark and the sun's light failed. This was a God who had power over life and death, who chose when he would die. Who ever heard of a God who would suffer? Why? And why in this way? The centurion reflected on the death of Jesus for a long time. He would be on a march, moving troops to another city, and get lost in his thoughts. He would think, "If he was God, why did he do so much?" One night in prison would have saved the world. One hour on the cross would have been enough. Why more than that? Why did he hang three hours on the cross? For love of you, a Christian had once said, but the centurion had wrinkled his forehead. He was puzzled. He thought, "For love of me, then why not four hours? Why did he hang three hours on the cross?" One night, the centurion lay thinking. The centurion was never far from thoughts about his own suffering. Why so many hardships and loss? Why had it dragged on so many years? Why did it end when it did? Was it all random and meaningless? The centurion turned over on his mat and leaned his face on his right hand. From there, he could see a crack in the flap of the tent opening, and beyond it, the flickering night campfire. The night guards were talking quietly. Then it seemed that these words came into his heart, meditate on the mystery of the three hours. Christ hung on the cross not one hour, not four, but three. Neither less nor more, and there was a reason. And part of that reason has to do with me, thought the centurion. The things which happen aren't senseless. The things which happen aren't random. They have meaning. There is meaning. The centurion turned on his back and his heart went out in the holy darkness to the Son of God. You could have saved the world in any way you wanted, but you chose this way. That was how I came to know you. And maybe there is someone else who will also draw close to you because you suffered in this way. The centurion closed his eyes. Oh God, you know everything. I don't know why I suffered and why it had to be so hard. But now I know that you see it all, that you are in charge, and that someday I will see what you see. Oh God, I know that you can do all things and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted. You let me ask you my questions, even though so many things are too deep for me and beyond human understanding. You are infinitely tender and compassionate. You made me and saved me. Help me to know you. Let me say like your servant Job once did. I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you. Rest with God now, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Oh God, help me to trust in you, even in the hardest times. Give me the courage to talk to you about my suffering, not to hide from you, not to give up. You suffered for me on the cross. Be with me in my suffering. And with all those whom I love, he who finds you, finds life. God is with you now. Even now he's working so that you will come through your sufferings to a place of peace and joy. With that prayer you drift off into a restful, deep sleep. Rejoice always. Pray without ceasing. Give thanks in all circumstances. Amen. Welcome to the bedtime story, The Centurion at the Cross. Taken from Matthew chapter 27, Mark chapter 15, and Luke chapter 23. Good evening. In this amen bedtime story, we'll hear about the Centurion who watched at the foot of the cross. Like all of us, he had suffered. We'll hear how he came to believe that Jesus was the Son of God. We'll ponder some of the thoughts that Centurion might have had as he reflected on his own suffering in light of what he had just seen. The Lord comforts the afflicted. Tonight he wishes to comfort you too and to give you his strength and peace. Before we begin, let's take a minute to settle in. Let all your troubles from today and your worries about tomorrow go. God will take care of them. Now God is calling you to rest, to trust in his loving care. When you are ready, close your eyes. Feel the bed supporting you and holding you up. God is with you. You're safe here. Stretch out or curl up. You can relax. Breathe out all your breath slowly. Push it all out. Then feel your body taking a deep, sweet breath. Your body knows what to do. Exhale again. Push out all your worries. Notice your breath. Let it become regular and even, steady and calming. Oh God, your servant Pope John Paul II wrote about the hardest question. Why is there suffering? He wrote, "God expects the question and listens to it." Oh God, give me the courage to ask you my questions. In your mercy, hear and answer me. Lord, help me to see. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen. There was one cesenturion who had lost everything. He lost for a time, reputation, health, and money. He lost forever those closest to him. Now he was working again, physically fit and well respected, but he was lonely. Nothing could bring back the dead. Since those days, he rarely felt emotion, neither surprise, nor pity, neither joy, nor sadness, just coldness. Nothing. His soldiers liked him but did not know him. He kept to himself and sometimes had better nights. He was there on a Friday in spring when they crucified Jesus. He had not been at the proceedings during the morning, but he had heard about them. The man called Jesus was still wearing a crown of thorns, which some of the soldiers had made to ridicule him. People stood around watching, some yelled insults. The centurion looked on. He felt empty. The centurion watched the man Jesus speak to one of the women. That's his mother, a soldier told the centurion. The centurion had been a father. Some hard memories came back to him. The centurion watched the man Jesus speak to one of the thieves crucified beside him. "Jesus," said one of the thieves, "remember me when you come into your kingdom." And Jesus said to him, "Truly I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise." The centurion felt strange. Close to three o'clock, a great darkness spread over the sky. People began to hurry away in twos and threes. A few women and young men stayed. The soldiers stayed. They had hours to go before any of the condemned would die. The centurion stood listening to every word of Jesus. So he heard, when Jesus whispered, "Father, into thy hands I commit my spirit." And he saw when Jesus breathed his last breath. A wind began to rise, and the earth to quake. And the centurion said, "Truly, this man was the son of God." Later, some followers of Jesus climbed up ladders to lower the body of Jesus to his mother and the others waiting below. The centurion thought about his past. He had seen the son of God. He wished so much that he had spoken to Jesus like the thief had done before it was too late. If he had known, he would have asked, "God, why did you let me suffer so much?" The centurion did not know the scriptures. He did not know how Jacob had wrestled with the angel. He did not know how Job had questioned God about suffering. The centurion did not come from a world where men and women could take their suffering to God and ask, "Why did you let this happen? Why is there evil? Why is there suffering?" As they lowered the broken body of Jesus into the arms of his mother, the centurion could not help noticing that the one whom he wished to question had also suffered. There was another centurion who once asked Jesus to heal a servant. Jesus had offered to come with the centurion, but the centurion said there was no need. He knew how authority worked. If Jesus had the authority to heal a servant, he did not need to come physically. A sentence would be enough. No. Single word. A breath would do it. Other people have put in a certain number of hours or try again or practice to make something happen. With God, what he wills will happen. "Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof," the centurion had said. "Only say the word, and my servant will be healed, for I too am a man under authority, with soldiers under me, and I say to one, go, and he goes, and to another, come, and he comes, and to my servant, do this, and he does it." When Jesus heard this, he marveled and said to those who followed him, "Truly I tell you, with no one in Israel have I found such faith." That was another centurion. The centurion at the foot of the cross felt like he had just seen a real God, perhaps the one and only God. This was a God with power. When he suffered, the heavens were dark, and the sun's light failed. This was a God who had power over life and death, who chose when he would die. Whoever heard of a God who would suffer, why, and why in this way. The centurion reflected on the death of Jesus for a long time. He would be on a march, moving troops to another city, and get lost in his thoughts. He would think, if he was God, why did he do so much? One night in prison would have saved the world, one hour on the cross would have been enough. Why more than that, why did he hang three hours on the cross? For love of you, a Christian had once said, but the centurion had wrinkled his forehead. He was puzzled. He thought, "For love of me, then why not four hours? Why did he hang three hours on the cross?" One night, the centurion lay thinking. The centurion was never far from thoughts about his own suffering. Why so many hardships and loss? Why had it dragged on so many years? Why did it end when it did? Was it all random and meaningless? The centurion turned over on his mat and leaned his face on his right hand. From there, he could see a crack in the flap of the tent opening, and beyond it, the flickering night campfire. The night guards were talking quietly. Then it seemed that these words came into his heart, meditate on the mystery of the three hours. Christ hung on the cross not one hour, not four, but three, neither less nor more, and there was a reason. And part of that reason has to do with me, thought the centurion. The things which happen aren't senseless. The things which happen aren't random. They have meaning. There is meaning. The centurion turned on his back, and his heart went out in the holy darkness to the Son of God. You could have saved the world in any way you wanted, but you chose this way. That was how I came to know you. And maybe there is someone else who will also draw close to you because you suffered in this way. The centurion closed his eyes. Oh God, you know everything. I don't know why I suffered and why it had to be so hard. But now I know that you see it all, that you are in charge. And that someday I will see what you see. Oh God, I know that you can do all things and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted. You let me ask you my questions, even though so many things are too deep for me and beyond human understanding. You are infinitely tender and compassionate. You made me and saved me. Help me to know you. Let me say like your servant Job once did, I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear. But now my eye sees you. Rest with God now. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Oh God, help me to trust in you, even in the hardest times. Give me the courage to talk to you about my suffering, not to hide from you, not to give up. You suffered for me on the cross. Be with me in my suffering. And with all those whom I love, he who finds you, finds life. God is with you now. Even now he's working so that you will come through your sufferings to a place of peace and joy. With that prayer, you drift off into a restful, deep sleep. Rejoice always. Pray without ceasing. Give thanks in all circumstances. Amen. Welcome to the bedtime story, The Centurion at the Cross. Taken from Matthew 27, Mark 15, and Luke 23. Good evening. In this Amen bedtime story, we'll hear about the Centurion who watched at the foot of the cross. Like all of us, he had suffered. We'll hear how he came to believe that Jesus was the Son of God. We'll ponder some of the thoughts that Centurion might have had as he reflected on his own suffering in light of what he had just seen. The Lord comforts the afflicted. Tonight, he wishes to comfort you, too, and to give you his strength and peace. Before we begin, let's take a minute to settle in. Let all your troubles from today and your worries about tomorrow go. God will take care of them. Now, God is calling you to rest, to trust in his loving care. When you are ready, close your eyes. Feel the bed supporting you and holding you up. God is with you. You're safe here. Stretch out or curl up. You can relax. Breathe out all your breaths slowly. Push it all out. Then feel your body taking a deep, sweet breath. Your body knows what to do. Exhale again. Push out all your worries. Notice your breath. Let it become regular and even, steady and calming. O God, your servant Pope John Paul II wrote about the hardest question. Why is there suffering? He wrote, "God expects the question and listens to it." O God, give me the courage to ask you my questions. In your mercy, hear and answer me. Lord, help me to see. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen. There was once a centurion who had lost everything. He lost for a time, reputation, health and money. He lost forever those closest to him. Now he was working again, physically fit and well respected, but he was lonely. Nothing could bring back the dead. Since those days, he rarely felt emotion, neither surprise nor pity, neither joy nor sadness, just coldness. Nothing. His soldiers liked him but did not know him. He kept to himself and sometimes had bitter nights. He was there on a Friday in spring when they crucified Jesus. He had not been at the proceedings during the morning, but he had heard about them. The man called Jesus was still wearing a crown of thorns, which some of the soldiers had made to ridicule him. People stood around watching, some yelled insults. The centurion looked on. He felt empty. The centurion watched the man Jesus speak to one of the women. That's his mother, a soldier told the centurion. The centurion had been a father. Some hard memories came back to him. The centurion watched the man Jesus speak to one of the thieves crucified beside him. Jesus said one of the thieves, "Remember me when you come into your kingdom." And Jesus said to him, "Truly I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise." The centurion felt strange. Close to three o'clock, a great darkness spread over the sky. People began to hurry away in twos and threes. A few women and young men stayed. The soldiers stayed. They had hours to go before any of the condemned would die. The centurion stood listening to every word of Jesus. So he heard when Jesus whispered, "Father, into thy hands I commit my spirit." And he saw when Jesus breathed his last breath. A wind began to rise and the earth to quake. And the centurion said, "Truly, this man was the son of God." Later, some followers of Jesus climbed up ladders to lower the body of Jesus to his mother and the others waiting below. The centurion thought about his past. He had seen the son of God. He wished so much that he had spoken to Jesus like the thief had done before it was too late. If he had known, he would have asked, "God, why did you let me suffer so much?" The centurion did not know the scriptures. He did not know how Jacob had wrestled with the angel. He did not know how Job had questioned God about suffering. The centurion did not come from a world where men and women could take their suffering to God and ask, "Why did you let this happen? Why is there evil? Why is there suffering?" As they lowered the broken body of Jesus into the arms of his mother, the centurion could not help noticing that the one whom he wished to question had also suffered. There was another centurion who once asked Jesus to heal a servant. Jesus had offered to come with the centurion, but the centurion said there was no need. He knew how authority worked. If Jesus had the authority to heal a servant, he did not need to come physically. A sentence would be enough. No. Single word. A breath would do it. Other people have put in a certain number of hours or try again or practice to make something happen. With God, what he wills will happen. "Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof," that centurion had said. "Only say the word, and my servant will be healed, for I too am a man under authority, with soldiers under me, and I say to one, go, and he goes, and to another, come, and he comes, and to my servant, do this, and he does it." When Jesus heard this, he marveled and said to those who followed him, "Truly I tell you, with no one in Israel have I found such faith." That was another centurion. The centurion at the foot of the cross felt like he had just seen a real God, perhaps the one and only God. This was a God with power. When he suffered, the heavens were dark, and the sun's light failed. This was a God who had power over life and death, who chose when he would die. Who ever heard of a God who would suffer? Why? And why in this way? The centurion reflected on the death of Jesus for a long time. He would be on a march, moving troops to another city, and get lost in his thoughts. He would think, if he was God, why did he do so much? One night in prison would have saved the world, one hour on the cross would have been enough. Why more than that, why did he hang three hours on the cross? For love of you, a Christian had once said, but the centurion had wrinkled his forehead. He was puzzled. He thought, "For love of me, then why not four hours? Why did he hang three hours on the cross?" One night, the centurion lay thinking. The centurion was never far from thoughts about his own suffering. Why so many hardships and loss? Why had it dragged on so many years? Why did it end when it did? Was it all random and meaningless? The centurion turned over on his mat and leaned his face on his right hand. From there, he could see a crack in the flap of the tent opening and beyond it, the flickering night campfire. The night guards were talking quietly. Then it seemed that these words came into his heart, meditate on the mystery of the three hours. Christ hung on the cross not one hour, not four, but three, neither less nor more, and there was a reason. And part of that reason has to do with me, thought the centurion. The things which happen aren't senseless. The things which happen aren't random. They have meaning. There is meaning. The centurion turned on his back and his heart went out in the holy darkness to the Son of God. You could have saved the world in any way you wanted, but you chose this way. That was how I came to know you. And maybe there is someone else who will also draw close to you because you suffered in this way. The centurion closed his eyes. Oh God, you know everything. I don't know why I suffered and why it had to be so hard. But now I know that you see it all, that you are in charge, and that someday I will see what you see. Oh God, I know that you can do all things and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted. You let me ask you my questions, even though so many things are too deep for me and beyond human understanding. You are infinitely tender and compassionate. You made me and saved me. Help me to know you. Let me say like your servant Job once did, I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eyes seize you. Rest with God now, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Oh God, help me to trust in you, even in the hardest times. Give me the courage to talk to you about my suffering, not to hide from you, not to give up. You suffered for me on the cross. Be with me in my suffering. And with all those whom I love, he who finds you, finds life. God is with you now. Even now he's working so that you will come through your sufferings to a place of peace and joy. With that prayer, you drift off into a restful, deep sleep. Rejoice always. Pray without ceasing. Give thanks in all circumstances. Amen. Welcome to the bedtime story, The Centurion at the Cross. Taken from Matthew chapter 27, Mark chapter 15, and Luke chapter 23. Good evening. In this Amen bedtime story, we'll hear about the Centurion who watched at the foot of the cross. Like all of us, he had suffered. We'll hear how he came to believe that Jesus was the Son of God. We'll ponder some of the thoughts that Centurion might have had as he reflected on his own suffering in light of what he had just seen. The Lord comforts the afflicted. Tonight, he wishes to comfort you too, and to give you his strength and peace. Before we begin, let's take a minute to settle in. Let all your troubles from today and your worries about tomorrow go. God will take care of them. Now, God is calling you to rest, to trust in his loving care. When you are ready, close your eyes. Feel the bed supporting you and holding you up. God is with you. You're safe here. Stretch out or curl up. You can relax. Breathe out all your breath slowly. Push it all out. Then feel your body taking a deep, sweet breath. Your body knows what to do. Exhale again. Push out all your worries. Notice your breath. Let it become regular and even, steady and calming. Oh God, your servant Pope John Paul II wrote about the hardest question. Why is there suffering? He wrote, "God expects the question and listens to it." Oh God, give me the courage to ask you my questions. In your mercy, hear and answer me. Lord, help me to see. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen. There was once a centurion who had lost everything. He lost for a time, reputation, health, and money. He lost forever, those closest to him. Now he was working again, physically fit and well respected, but he was lonely. Nothing could bring back the dead. Since those days, he rarely felt emotion, neither surprise nor pity, neither joy nor sadness, just coldness. Nothing. His soldiers liked him but did not know him. He kept to himself and sometimes had better nights. He was there on a Friday in spring when they crucified Jesus. He had not been at the proceedings during the morning, but he had heard about them. The man called Jesus was still wearing a crown of thorns, which some of the soldiers had made to ridicule him. People stood around watching, some yelled insults. The centurion looked on. He felt empty. The centurion watched the man Jesus speak to one of the women. That's his mother, a soldier told the centurion. The centurion had been a father. Some hard memories came back to him. The centurion watched the man Jesus speak to one of the thieves crucified beside him. "Jesus," said one of the thieves, "remember me when you come into your kingdom." And Jesus said to him, "Truly I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise." The centurion felt strange. Close to three o'clock, a great darkness spread over the sky. People began to hurry away in twos and threes. A few women and young men stayed. The soldiers stayed. They had hours to go before any of the condemned would die. The centurion stood listening to every word of Jesus. So he heard when Jesus whispered, "Father, into thy hands I commit my spirit." And he saw when Jesus breathed his last breath. A wind began to rise and the earth to quake. And the centurion said, "Truly, this man was the Son of God." Later, some followers of Jesus climbed up ladders to lower the body of Jesus to his mother and the others waiting below. The centurion thought about his past. He had seen the Son of God. He wished so much that he had spoken to Jesus like the thief had done before it was too late. If he had known, he would have asked, "God, why did you let me suffer so much?" The centurion did not know the scriptures. He did not know how Jacob had wrestled with the angel. He did not know how Job had questioned God about suffering. The centurion did not come from a world where men and women could take their suffering to God and ask, "Why did you let this happen? Why is there evil? Why is there suffering?" As they lowered the broken body of Jesus into the arms of his mother, the centurion could not help noticing that the one whom he wished to question had also suffered. There was another centurion who once asked Jesus to heal a servant. Jesus had offered to come with the centurion, but the centurion said there was no need. He knew how authority worked. If Jesus had the authority to heal a servant, he did not need to come physically. A sentence would be enough. No. Single word. A breath would do it. Other people have put in a certain number of hours or try again or practice to make something happen with God. What he wills will happen. "Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof," the centurion had said. "Only say the word, and my servant will be healed, for I too am a man under authority, with soldiers under me, and I say to one, go, and he goes, and to another, come, and he comes, and to my servant, do this, and he does it." When Jesus heard this, he marveled and said to those who followed him, "Truly I tell you, with no one in Israel have I found such faith." That was another centurion. The centurion at the foot of the cross felt like he had just seen a real God, perhaps the one and only God. This was a God with power. When he suffered, the heavens were dark, and the sun's light failed. This was a God who had power over life and death, who chose when he would die. Who ever heard of a God who would suffer? Why? And why in this way? The centurion reflected on the death of Jesus for a long time. He would be on a march, moving troops to another city, and get lost in his thoughts. He would think, if he was God, why did he do so much? One night in prison would have saved the world, one hour on the cross would have been enough. Why more than that, why did he hang three hours on the cross? For love of you, a Christian had once said, but the centurion had wrinkled his forehead. He was puzzled. He thought, "For love of me, then why not four hours? Why did he hang three hours on the cross?" One night, the centurion lay thinking. The centurion was never far from thoughts about his own suffering. Why so many hardships and loss? Why had it dragged on so many years? Why did it end when it did? Was it all random and meaningless? The centurion turned over on his mat and leaned his face on his right hand. From there, he could see a crack in the flap of the tent opening, and beyond it, the flickering night campfire. The night guards were talking quietly. Then it seemed that these words came into his heart, meditate on the mystery of the three hours. Christ hung on the cross not one hour, not four, but three. Neither less nor more, and there was a reason. And part of that reason has to do with me, thought the centurion. The things which happen aren't senseless. The things which happen aren't random. They have meaning. There is meaning. The centurion turned on his back, and his heart went out in the holy darkness to the Son of God. You could have saved the world in any way you wanted, but you chose this way. That was how I came to know you. And maybe there is someone else who will also draw close to you because you suffered in this way. The centurion closed his eyes. Oh God, you know everything. I don't know why I suffered and why it had to be so hard. But now I know that you see it all, that you are in charge, and that someday I will see what you see. Oh God, I know that you can do all things and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted. You let me ask you my questions, even though so many things are too deep for me and beyond human understanding. You are infinitely tender and compassionate. You made me and saved me. Help me to know you. Let me say like your servant Job once did, I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eyes sees you. Rest with God now, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Oh God, help me to trust in you, even in the hardest times. Give me the courage to talk to you about my suffering, not to hide from you, not to give up. You suffered for me on the cross. Be with me in my suffering. And with all those whom I love, he who finds you, finds life. God is with you now, even now he's working so that you will come through your sufferings to a place of peace and joy. With that prayer, you drift off into a restful, deep sleep. Rejoice always. Pray without ceasing. Give thanks in all circumstances. Amen. Welcome to the Bedtime Story, the Centurion at the Cross. Taken from Matthew 27, Mark 15, and Luke 23. Good evening. In this Amen Bedtime Story, we'll hear about the Centurion who watched at the foot of the cross. Like all of us, he had suffered. We'll hear how he came to believe that Jesus was the Son of God. We'll ponder some of the thoughts that Centurion might have had as he reflected on his own suffering in light of what he had just seen. The Lord comforts the afflicted. Tonight, he wishes to comfort you too and to give you his strength and peace. Before we begin, let's take a minute to settle in. Let all your troubles from today and your worries about tomorrow go. God will take care of them. Now, God is calling you to rest, to trust in his loving care. When you are ready, close your eyes. Feel the bed supporting you and holding you up. God is with you. You're safe here. Stretch out or curl up. You can relax. Breathe out all your breath slowly. Push it all out. Then feel your body taking a deep, sweet breath. Your body knows what to do. Exhale again. Push out all your worries. Notice your breath. Let it become regular and even, steady and calming. Oh, God, your servant Pope John Paul II wrote about the hardest question. Why is there suffering? He wrote, "God expects the question and listens to it." Oh, God, give me the courage to ask you my questions. In your mercy, hear and answer me. Lord, help me to see. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen. There was once a centurion who had lost everything. He lost for a time, reputation, health and money. He lost forever those closest to him. Now he was working again, physically fit and well respected, but he was lonely. Nothing could bring back the dead. Since those days, he rarely felt emotion, neither surprise nor pity, neither joy nor sadness, just coldness. Nothing. His soldiers liked him but did not know him. He kept to himself and sometimes had better nights. He was there on a Friday and spring when they crucified Jesus. He had not been at the proceedings during the morning, but he had heard about them. The man called Jesus was still wearing a crown of thorns, which some of the soldiers had made to ridicule him. People stood around watching, some yelled insults. The centurion looked on. He felt empty. The centurion watched the man Jesus speak to one of the women. That's his mother, a soldier told the centurion. The centurion had been a father. Some hard memories came back to him. The centurion watched the man Jesus speak to one of the thieves crucified beside him. Jesus said one of the thieves, "Remember me when you come into your kingdom." And Jesus said to him, "Truly I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise." The centurion felt strange. Close to three o'clock, a great darkness spread over the sky. People began to hurry away in twos and threes. A few women and young men stayed. The soldiers stayed. They had hours to go before any of the condemned would die. The centurion stood listening to every word of Jesus. So he heard when Jesus whispered, "Father, into thy hands I commit my spirit." And he saw when Jesus breathed his last breath. A wind began to rise in the earth to quake. And the centurion said, "Truly, this man was the Son of God." Later, some followers of Jesus climbed up ladders to lower the body of Jesus to his mother and the others waiting below. The centurion thought about his past. He had seen the Son of God. He wished so much that he had spoken to Jesus like the thief had done before it was too late. If he had known, he would have asked, "God, why did you let me suffer so much?" The centurion did not know the scriptures. He did not know how Jacob had wrestled with the angel. He did not know how Job had questioned God about suffering. The centurion did not come from a world where men and women could take their suffering to God and ask, "Why did you let this happen? Why is there evil? Why is there suffering?" As they lowered the broken body of Jesus into the arms of his mother, the centurion could not help noticing that the one whom he wished to question had also suffered. There was another centurion who once asked Jesus to heal a servant. Jesus had offered to come with the centurion, but the centurion said there was no need. He knew how authority worked. If Jesus had the authority to heal a servant, he did not need to come physically. A sentence would be enough. No. Single word. A breath would do it. Other people have put in a certain number of hours or try again or practice to make something happen with God. What he wills will happen. "Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof," the centurion had said. "Only say the word, and my servant will be healed, for I too am a man under authority, with soldiers under me, and I say to one, go, and he goes, and to another, come, and he comes, and to my servant, do this, and he does it." When Jesus heard this, he marveled and said to those who followed him, "Truly I tell you, with no one in Israel have I found such faith." That was another centurion. The centurion at the foot of the cross felt like he had just seen a real God. Perhaps the one and only God. This was a God with power. When he suffered, the heavens were dark, and the sun's light failed. This was a God who had power over life and death, who chose when he would die. Who ever heard of a God who would suffer? Why? And why in this way? The centurion reflected on the death of Jesus for a long time. He would be on a march, moving troops to another city, and get lost in his thoughts. He would think, if he was God, why did he do so much? One night in prison would have saved the world. One hour on the cross would have been enough. Why more than that, why did he hang three hours on the cross? For love of you, a Christian had once said, but the centurion had wrinkled his forehead. He was puzzled. He thought, "For love of me, then why not four hours? Why did he hang three hours on the cross?" One night, the centurion lay thinking. The centurion was never far from thoughts about his own suffering. Why so many hardships and loss? Why had it dragged on so many years? Why did it end when it did? Was it all random and meaningless? The centurion turned over on his mat and leaned his face on his right hand. From there, he could see a crack in the flap of the tent opening, and beyond it, the flickering night campfire. The night guards were talking quietly. Then it seemed that these words came into his heart, meditate on the mystery of the three hours. Christ hung on the cross not one hour, not four, but three, neither less nor more, and there was a reason. And part of that reason has to do with me, thought the centurion. The things which happen aren't senseless. The things which happen aren't random. They have meaning. There is meaning. The centurion turned on his back and his heart went out in the holy darkness to the Son of God. You could have saved the world in any way you wanted, but you chose this way. That was how I came to know you. And maybe there is someone else who will also draw close to you because you suffered in this way. The centurion closed his eyes. Oh God, you know everything. I don't know why I suffered and why it had to be so hard. But now I know that you see it all, that you are in charge, and that someday I will see what you see. Oh God, I know that you can do all things and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted. You let me ask you my questions, even though so many things are too deep for me and beyond human understanding. You are infinitely tender and compassionate. You made me and saved me. Help me to know you. Let me say like your servant Job once did, I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear. But now my eye sees you. Rest with God now. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Oh God, help me to trust in you, even in the hardest times. Give me the courage to talk to you about my suffering, not to hide from you, not to give up. You suffered from me on the cross. Be with me in my suffering. And with all those whom I love, he who finds you, finds life. God is with you now. Even now, he's working so that you will come through your sufferings to a place of peace and joy. With that prayer, you drift off into a restful, deep sleep. Rejoice always. Pray without ceasing. Give thanks in all circumstances. Amen. Thank you for your time, Jesus Christ. Welcome to the Bedtime Story, the Centurion at the Cross. Taken from Matthew 27, Mark 15, and Luke 23. Good evening. In this Amen Bedtime Story, we'll hear about the Centurion who watched at the foot of the cross. Like all of us, he had suffered. We'll hear how he came to believe that Jesus was the Son of God. We'll ponder some of the thoughts that Centurion might have had as he reflected on his own suffering in light of what he had just seen. The Lord comforts the afflicted. Tonight, he wishes to comfort you too and to give you his strength and peace. Before we begin, let's take a minute to settle in. Let all your troubles from today and your worries about tomorrow go. God will take care of them. Now, God is calling you to rest, to trust in his loving care. When you are ready, close your eyes. Feel the bed supporting you and holding you up. God is with you. You're safe here. Stretch out or curl up. You can relax. Breathe out all your breath slowly. Push it all out. Then feel your body taking a deep, sweet breath. Your body knows what to do. Exhale again. Push out all your worries. Notice your breath. Let it become regular and even, steady and calming. Oh God, your servant Pope John Paul II wrote about the hardest question. Why is there suffering? He wrote, God expects the question and listens to it. Oh God, give me the courage to ask you my questions. In your mercy, hear and answer me. Lord, help me to see. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen. There was one centurion who had lost everything. He lost for a time, reputation, health and money. He lost forever, those closest to him. Now he was working again, physically fit and well respected, but he was lonely. Nothing could bring back the dead. Since those days, he rarely felt emotion, neither surprise nor pity, neither joy nor sadness, just coldness. Nothing. His soldiers liked him but did not know him. He kept to himself and sometimes had bitter nights. He was there on a Friday in spring when they crucified Jesus. He had not been at the proceedings during the morning, but he had heard about them. The man called Jesus was still wearing a crown of thorns, which some of the soldiers had made to ridicule him. People stood around watching, some yelled insults. The centurion looked on. He felt empty. The centurion watched the man Jesus speak to one of the women. That's his mother, a soldier told the centurion. The centurion had been a father. Some hard memories came back to him. The centurion watched the man Jesus speak to one of the thieves crucified beside him. Jesus said one of the thieves, "Remember me when you come into your kingdom." And Jesus said to him, "Truly I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise." The centurion felt strange. Close to three o'clock, a great darkness spread over the sky. People began to hurry away in twos and threes. A few women and young men stayed. The soldiers stayed. They had hours to go before any of the condemned would die. The centurion stood listening to every word of Jesus. So he heard when Jesus whispered, "Father, into thy hands I commit my spirit." And he saw when Jesus breathed his last breath. A wind began to rise and the earth to quake. And the centurion said, "Truly, this man was the son of God." Later, some followers of Jesus climbed up ladders to lower the body of Jesus to his mother and the others waiting below. The centurion thought about his past. He had seen the son of God. He wished so much that he had spoken to Jesus, like the thief had done, before it was too late. If he had known, he would have asked, "God, why did you let me suffer so much?" The centurion did not know the scriptures. He did not know how Jacob had wrestled with the angel. He did not know how Job had questioned God about suffering. The centurion did not come from a world where men and women could take their suffering to God and ask, "Why did you let this happen? Why is there evil? Why is there suffering?" As they lowered the broken body of Jesus into the arms of his mother, the centurion could not help noticing that the one whom he wished to question had also suffered. There was another centurion who once asked Jesus to heal a servant. Jesus had offered to come with the centurion, but the centurion said there was no need. He knew how authority worked. If Jesus had the authority to heal a servant, he did not need to come physically. A sentence would be enough. No. Single word. A breath would do it. Other people have put in a certain number of hours or try again or practice to make something happen with God. What he wills will happen. "Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof," the centurion had said. "Only say the word, and my servant will be healed, for I too am a man under authority, with soldiers under me, and I say to one, go, and he goes, and to another, come, and he comes, and to my servant, do this, and he does it." When Jesus heard this, he marveled and said to those who followed him, "Truly I tell you, with no one in Israel have I found such faith." That was another centurion. The centurion at the foot of the cross felt like he had just seen a real God, perhaps the one and only God. This was a God with power. When he suffered, the heavens were dark, and the sun's light failed. This was a God who had power over life and death, who chose when he would die. Who ever heard of a God who would suffer? Why? And why in this way? The centurion reflected on the death of Jesus for a long time. He would be on a march, moving troops to another city, and get lost in his thoughts. He would think, if he was God, why did he do so much? One night in prison would have saved the world, one hour on the cross would have been enough. Why more than that, why did he hang three hours on the cross? For love of you, a Christian had once said, but the centurion had wrinkled his forehead. He was puzzled. He thought, "For love of me, then why not four hours? Why did he hang three hours on the cross?" One night, the centurion lay thinking. The centurion was never far from thoughts about his own suffering. Why so many hardships and loss? Why had it dragged on so many years? Why did it end when it did? Was it all random and meaningless? The centurion turned over on his mat and leaned his face on his right hand. From there, he could see a crack in the flap of the tent opening, and beyond it, the flickering night campfire. The night guards were talking quietly. Then it seemed that these words came into his heart, meditate on the mystery of the three hours. Christ hung on the cross not one hour, not four, but three, neither less nor more, and there was a reason. And part of that reason has to do with me, thought the centurion. The things which happen aren't senseless. The things which happen aren't random. They have meaning. There is meaning. The centurion turned on his back, and his heart went out in the holy darkness to the Son of God. You could have saved the world in any way you wanted, but you chose this way. That was how I came to know you. And maybe there is someone else who will also draw close to you because you suffered in this way. The centurion closed his eyes. Oh God, you know everything. I don't know why I suffered and why it had to be so hard. But now I know that you see it all, that you are in charge, and that someday I will see what you see. Oh God, I know that you can do all things and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted. You let me ask you my questions, even though so many things are too deep for me and beyond human understanding. You are infinitely tender and compassionate. You made me and saved me. Help me to know you. Let me say like your servant Job once did, I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eyes seize you. Rest with God now, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Oh God, help me to trust in you, even in the hardest times. Give me the courage to talk to you about my suffering, not to hide from you, not to give up. You suffered for me on the cross. Be with me in my suffering. And with all those whom I love, he who finds you, finds life. God is with you now, even now he's working so that you will come through your sufferings to a place of peace and joy. With that prayer, you drift off into a restful, deep sleep. Rejoice always. Pray without ceasing. Give thanks in all circumstances. Amen. [BLANK_AUDIO]
