Author Description

Jubal walked along the hillside, still sick with grief when the crown of thorns had been pressed down upon the Nazarene's head. Suddenly he realized that a man had fallen into step beside him. He had not seen the stranger appear nor heard footsteps overtaking him. "Shalom," Jubal greeted the stranger courteously. The man did not speak. "I did not observe you on the path, sir. You see, I am sad because I gathered thorns here for the crown they put upon the head of the Nazarene." The stranger smiled as if he understood and put his arm across the great hump on Jubal's back in a gesture of friendly assurance. When Jubal turned his head, he could see the man's hand resting on his shoulder. He detected the print of nails that had fixed the outstretched hands to the cross beam. "You must be-" Jubal stopped for he was alone. There was not even the print of a sandal in the dusty trail beside him where the stranger walked. This could only be a sign that Jesus had indeed risen from the dead and forgiven his part in the shameful death of the master. Long, long ago, Jubal had been allowed to give the first gift to a child who was the Son of God. Now many years later, though crowned in crisis, he had given the last gift-a crown for a king who would rule forever in the hearts of men.