Easter, a cornerstone of Christian faith, brings into sharp focus two pivotal events: the death of Jesus Christ on the cross (Good Friday) and His resurrection (Resurrection Sunday). What’s often overlooked is the significant role that law enforcement figures of that era played in these events, as well as events surrounding His birth. These figures included the Roman military, King Herod’s secret police, and the Jewish Temple police.
Let’s delve into the scriptures and explore the involvement of these figures:
(1) The Police at Gethsemane (Luke 22:52-71): The Temple Guard, acting as the Jewish municipal police, arrested, beat, and mocked Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. This marked the beginning of His suffering and the fulfillment of prophecies.
(2) The Police at Jesus’ Trials (Luke 23:6-11 and other Gospel accounts): Jesus endured six trials (three civil and three criminal). At each trial, representatives of the Jewish Temple Guard, Herod’s secret police, and the Roman military were present. These police officers treated Jesus with contempt and subjected Him to cruel and excessive force.
(3) The Police at Christ’s Scourging and Torture (Matthew 27:25-31): Roman soldiers were responsible for the brutal scourging and torture that Jesus endured. This unimaginable suffering was inflicted upon Him because of humanity’s sins.
(4) The Police at the Cross (Luke 23:33-47): Roman soldiers nailed Jesus to the cross, mocked Him, and gambled for His clothing. However, a Roman centurion, a ranking officer, and the officers with him, witnessed the events and proclaimed Christ’s innocence (v. 47) and Godhead (Matthew 27:54 – “Surely this is the Son of God.”). Many believe that these “cops at the cross” surrendered in faith to Christ. A career military chaplain wrote about this in “A Centurion’s Perspective.”
Without the Cross, the Resurrection would lack its profound impact. Without the Resurrection, the Cross would be just another Roman execution. Dr. Michael Youssef highlights four key purposes of the cross:
(5) The Police at the Resurrection (Matthew 27:62-66, 28:11-15): The officers guarding Christ’s tomb were likely an elite military police unit. Failure meant death for them. They had to move a stone weighing up to 2 tons and apply an official seal. Falling asleep on duty also carried a death penalty.
So why the Resurrection? As law enforcement officers, evidence is crucial. The evidence pertaining to Christ’s resurrection goes hand-in-hand with what occurred on the cross. Consider these evidence-based facts:
FACT #1: The Broken Roman Seal The breaking of the official Roman seal represented a challenge to the power and authority of the Empire. The consequences were severe, with the “FBI” of the Empire investigating and punishing those responsible, typically with crucifixion. The tomb was likely sealed with cement, making it even more difficult to break.
FACT #2: The Two-Ton Stone is Rolled Away The unusual position of the two-ton stone was the first thing that impressed people who approached the tomb. It was rolled up a slope away from the tomb entrance. If the disciples had wanted to steal Jesus’ body, they would have had to break the seal, roll the stone uphill, and evade the guards. This would have required significant effort and resources.
FACT #3: The Tomb Guard Goes AWOL The “watch” ( coustodia in Greek) guarding the tomb fled their post! Roman military discipline was exceptional, and failure meant a horrendous death. Soldiers could be stripped of their clothes and burned alive for failing in their duty. Dr. George Currie noted that fear of punishment “produced flawless attention to duty, especially in the night watches.”
The evidence presented to the cops of Jesus’ day, and to us today, is “Evidence that Demands a Verdict” (Josh McDowell). Where do you stand? The centurion and those with him made a decision based on the evidence. We must do the same!
Easter is about us. God made a way for the officers of Jesus’ day to be firsthand witnesses to evidence that demands a verdict. What say you then? And if you know Him as Lord and Savior, are you sharing the Good News of Easter with those who do not?
Here is an “eyewitness account” from a “cop” at the first Good Friday via Max Lucado:
The day began as had a hundred others—dreadfully. It was bad enough to be in Judea, but it was hell to spend hot afternoons on a rocky hill supervising the death of pickpockets and rabble rousers. Half the crowd taunted, half cried. The soldiers griped. The priests bossed. It was a thankless job in a strange land. He was ready for the day to be over before it began. He was curious at the attention given to the flat-footed peasant. He smiled as he read the sign that would go on the cross. The condemned looked like anything but a king. His face was lumpy and bruised. His back arched slightly and his eyes faced downward. “Some harmless hick,” mused the centurion. “What could he have done?” Then Jesus raised his head. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t uneasy. His eyes were strangely calm as they stared from behind the bloody mask. He looked at those who knew him—moving deliberately from face to face as if he had a word for each. For just a moment he looked at the centurion—for a second, the Roman looked into the purest eyes he’d ever seen. He didn’t know what the look meant. But the look made him swallow and his stomach feel empty. As he watched the soldier grab the Nazarene and yank him to the ground, something told him this was not going to be a normal day. As the hours wore on, the centurion found himself looking more and more at the one on the center cross. He didn’t know what to do with the Nazarene’s silence. He didn’t know what to do with his kindness. But most of all, he was perplexed by the darkness. He didn’t know what to do with the black sky in mid-afternoon. No one could explain it… no one even tried. One minute the sun– the next the darkness. One minute the heat, the next a chilly breeze. Even the priests were silenced. For a long while the centurion sat on a rock and stared at the three silhouetted figures. Their heads were limp, occasionally rolling from side to side. The jeering was silent… eerily silent. Those who had wept, now waited. Suddenly the center head ceased to bob. It yanked itself erect. Its eyes opened in a flash of white. A roar sliced the silence. “It is finished.”1 It wasn’t a yell. It wasn’t a scream. It was a roar … a lion’s roar. From what world that roar came the centurion didn’t know, but he knew it wasn’t this one. The centurion stood up from the rock and took a few paces toward the Nazarene. As he got closer he could tell that Jesus was staring into the sky. There was something in his eyes that the soldier had to see. But after only a few steps, he fell. He stood and fell again. The ground was shaking, gently at first and now violently. He tried once more to walk and was able to take a few steps and then fall… at the foot of the cross. He looked up into the face of this one near death. The King looked down at the crusty old centurion. Jesus’ hands were fastened—they couldn’t reach out. His feet were nailed to timber, they couldn’t walk toward him. His head was heavy with pain, he could scarcely move it. But his eyes…they were afire. They were unquenchable. They were the eyes of God. Perhaps that is what made the centurion say what he said. He saw the eyes of God. He saw the same eyes that had been seen by a near-naked adulteress in Jerusalem, a friendless divorcee in Samaria, and a four-day-dead Lazarus in a cemetery. The same eyes that didn’t close upon seeing man’s futility, didn’t turn away at man’s failure, and didn’t wince upon witnessing man’s death. “It’s all right,” God’s eyes said. “I’ve seen the storms and it’s still all right.” The centurion’s convictions began to flow together like rivers. “This was no carpenter,” he spoke under his breath. “This was no peasant. This was no normal man.” He stood and looked around at the rocks that had fallen and the sky that had blackened. He turned and stared at his soldiers as they stared at Jesus with frozen faces. He turned and watched as the eyes of Jesus lifted and looked toward home. He listened as the parched lips parted and the swollen tongue spoke for the last time. “ Father, into your hands I commit my spirit .” Had the centurion not said it, the soldiers [MC — “police officers”] with him would have. Had the centurion not said it, the rocks would have—as would have the angels, the stars, even the demons. But he did say it. It fell to a nameless foreigner to state what they all knew. “ Surely this man was the Son of God .”
AMEN! – M.C. Williams, police lieutenant (ret.), chaplain, The Centurion Law Enforcement Ministry