Who removed the nails?

Brian Lewis imagines a scene at the foot of the cross

MANY Easter weekends have passed where I have cried over the crucifixion of my Lord and then rejoiced with the news: ‘He is risen.’

In my mind, however, there lies a question that I have been trying to answer: Who removed the nails driven into twisted timber?

In my imagination I picture the disciples standing there at the back of the crowd. Then they turn their backs on the bloodied scene before making their way home.

What else can I see, looking around? There is still enough light to see, for the darkness that covered the land earlier has given way to a crimson-streaked twilight.

I see myself standing before the cross where my Saviour hangs, with blood drying on his body from the nails driven into his hands and feet, the spear driven into his side and the thorns on his head.

I whisper: ‘It was for me.’

Then I notice a group of people moving quietly towards the cross. They stop before it, look up into the lifeless face of my Saviour, now at peace and free from pain. I watch as they lift the cross from its prepared hole and lay it carefully down on the ground. Moving closer, I hear them discussing how to free Jesus from the nails that hold him to the cross. Even in death they want to treat his body gently. These surely are friends.

Then a movement catches my eye. I turn. Standing there, in what would be his working clothes, is a man. I have seen him before, but where? Then it dawns on me – is this not the Roman soldier, the very one who drove the nails into the feet and hands of Jesus with that hammer he still holds?

In awesome silence I watch as he makes his way to the group kneeling around the horizontal cross. His voice – broken, half sobbing, full of anguish – will live with me for ever.

‘Let me remove the nails,’ he says, ‘for this was a good man.’

Kneeling down with utmost tenderness, he removes the nails using his own tools.

The group takes my Saviour away. But the soldier remains, still holding the bloodstained nails. Then with a loud cry of despair he turns and throws them far away into the vast surrounding expanse.

It may only be in my imagination, but those bloodstained nails, over the years, have reached into the hearts of men and women in every corner of the world.

BRIAN IS A SOLDIER AT FAKENHAM

REVIEW

A Nick Hampton (Regent Hall) reviews the CD No Greater Love by Helen Cripps

I WAS really intrigued by the variety of this CD’s song list – from the well-known Christian repertoire to songs by country star Dolly Parton and pop/soul singers such as Mariah Carey. Then I read Helen’s own introduction, saying how she wanted it to connect with people of little or no faith, plus songs that mean a lot to her.

It starts with a solo violin introduction to ‘You Raise Me Up’. Helen then gives us a flavour of who God is, that he is there in times of trouble or worry, and draws us in quickly to make that a reality. The strings and orchestral setting work well together.

‘Breathe’ by Michael W Smith has become popular in Salvation Army circles. It talks about a desperate longing for God in our lives, again starting with a simple accompaniment complementing Helen’s voice. A key change and a build-up in the instrumentation have the feel of a pop ballad and give life to the words – followed by a scaling back when the voice simply states: ‘I’m lost without you.’ A powerful end.

The title track is a new song to me. It gives a clear indication of Helen’s relationship with God, offering insights into his great love. Helen brings it to life in her mellow style, and the backing vocals really complement her voice.

‘Heaven’s Child’ has vocal harmonies in the introduction and chorus. These bring variation and help accentuate the chord structures, transporting us to the Nativity scene.

Overall, the album brings out Helen’s personal testimony as well as being accessible to those with little or no faith. Her rich voice and musicality shine through every song with great control.

'No Greater Love' is available from citadelpromotions.co.uk priced £10 (plus postage and packing)