The Green Mile

The Green Mile.

I remember watching this movie as a teenager, probably against my parents’ wishes, clutching to a wide range of emotions that encompassed the deserved justice of convicted felons and the unjust treatment of a wrongfully charged modern-day medicine man.

Throughout the movie there were scenes where I laughed. I cringed. I smirked. Maybe even closed my eyes. I thought, “that’s not fair!” And other times, “serves him right!” Pretty sure I clinched my fists. Then clasped my hands. Crossed my legs. And pulled my knees up under my chin.

The back and forth. Peace and war. Justice and mercy. Slapping one’s face and extending one’s hand. The inner turmoil of right and wrong. Love and hate. I was questioning my view of almost every character, every scene. I felt like I was there. I was supposed to pick a side but I couldn’t.

The moment I felt like I could team up with one guy found me shunning him in the next. As soon as I wrote off the bad guy I found myself giving in to this streak of compassion.

The Green Mile describes the long dreaded trail from the cell room to one’s ensuing execution. Death sparks emotion. Rightfully or wrongfully so, we feel something when death comes knocking. Prison guards, inmates, and those on the outside looking in, everybody feels something.

The date of execution is set. The time. The location. In preparation for his last moment on earth. The prison warden generously offers a menu for his last meal. Each inmate can choose from the list of prison delicacies just before his departure.

One man, by the name of Jon Coffey, had been wrongfully accused and convicted and sentenced to die. As the movie unfolds you begin to notice he accepts his plight with tremendous dignity and tolerance. He doesn’t bash the system. Blame his accusers. Play the victim. He plays the hand he’s dealt and he let’s the chips fall where they may. He was going to die for another man’s sin.

The viewers watching the screen begin to see the glimpses of injustice that stir an emotion leading to action. But you’re in a chair holding popcorn. All you can do is scream at the screen, “he’s innocent!” But they can’t hear you. In fact, the warden follows protocol all the more. It was Jon’s day to die!

There was another guy like that. He came riding into town, and the people bolstered his reputation to the highest degree. Laying down palm branches at his red carpet entry into town. Singing his praises. Eternally grateful for the massive changes they were sure he would bring to their desperate condition of tyrannical rule.

He had spent the last several years as a sort of Robin Hood bringing physical and spiritual aid to the poor and destitute while the lavish lifestyles of the rich and religious was constantly being turned on its head.

But the crowds finally caught on to him. And caught up to him. He wasn’t their genie in a bottle. Or their puppet on a string. Or their victorious war hero. Or political savior.

He had a way of knowing things his closest friends could not see. His intuition was incredible. He could see very closely what appeared to be miles away. He could smell it. He could sense it. His own death was now on the horizon.

So what did he do? He gathered his closest friends. Shared one last meal. Went for a walk in the garden. Spent some time in prayer. Even washed their feet. All the while embracing the situation.

Wrongfully accused. Painfully beaten. Yet not one word.

He began the trek up that dreadful hill; the place of the skull. Outside the city gates for all to stare, spit, and scream obscenities. He was making his way on the road of his own green mile experience.

Nailed to a cross and raised for everyone in the crowd to see. It was a moment filled with sadness. Grief. Anguish. Pain.

While hanging on the cross he spoke about forgiveness. Words of hate, injustice, or even vengeance would’ve certainly made sense. But forgiveness? No one could have seen those words coming.

The difference between Jesus and Jon Coffey is one died in vain and the other died to be our savior. The fractured relationship between God and man caused by sin has left a gaping hole of hopelessness. Jesus bridged that gap by way of his crucifixion. The extension of his forgiveness from the cross and his invitation to a renewed relationship with him makes his last supper and his last mile a scandalous act of grace we could have never imagined possible.