First Person Gospel

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Eyewitness Gospel

First Person Gospel

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First Person Gospel

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EyewitnessGospel

Frank Logue

First Person Gospel

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Published byKing of Peace Episcopal Church

All proceeds benefitthe church and its community.

Contents © 2008 Frank Logueall rights reserved

Cover photo by Frank LogueThanks to Maris Cato for editing the text

For Victoria, the love of my life.She helped me find my voice.

All scripture quotations are taken from the NewRevised Standard Version Bible, copyright 1989,Division of Christian Education of the NationalCouncil of the Churches of Christ in the UnitedStates of America.

Used by permission. All rights reserved.

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ContentsThat Day at the Well—7

Emmanuel: A Shepherd’s Story—17

Christmas: The Counter Revolution—29

Nicodemus—35

Food for the Dogs—45

Rose-Colored Glasses—55

Go in Peace, to Where?—67

A New Relationship—75

Defining Myself—85

Render Unto God—97

The One Who Is to Come—109

What Language Does God Speak?—119

Old John—129

About the Author—143

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He came to a Samaritan city called Sychar, nearthe plot of ground that Jacob had given to his sonJoseph. Jacob’s well was there, and Jesus, tiredout by his journey, was sitting by the well. It wasabout noon.

A Samaritan woman came to draw water,and Jesus said to her, “Give me a drink.” (Hisdisciples had gone to the city to buy food.) TheSamaritan woman said to him, “How is it thatyou, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman ofSamaria?” (Jews do not share things in commonwith Samaritans.) Jesus answered her, “If youknew the gift of God, and who it is that is sayingto you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have askedhim, and he would have given you living water.”

The woman said to him, “Sir, you have nobucket, and the well is deep. Where do you getthat living water? Are you greater than ourancestor Jacob, who gave us the well, and withhis sons and his flocks drank from it?” Jesus saidto her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will bethirsty again, but those who drink of the waterthat I will give them will never be thirsty. Thewater that I will give will become in them a springof water gushing up to eternal life.”

—John 4:5-14

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That Day at the WellJohn 4

I REMEMBER THE HEAT that day. The blazinghot sun beat down mercilessly. I didn’t mindat all. The heat was fine with me. The heatwas why I went to the well at noontimeanyway. No respectable person went to thewell in the heat of a Palestinian day. That’swhy I was there then. It was easier that way.No sideways glances. No odd looks andwhispered remarks. They might have talkedabout me, but they would not have spoken tome anyway.

I was the wrong person in the wrong placeat the wrong time.

As I approached, I could see that someonewas already at the well. A traveler no doubt.Who else would be at the well at this time ofday? As I got closer I could see, by his mannerof dress, that he was a Jew. A Jew, heh? Wellthat settles it. I wouldn’t have to worry aboutthis one. No need to draw water for him, oreven speak to him. Jews and Samaritans don’tmix. Especially not Jewish men and Samaritanwomen. It is simply not done.

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The Jews view us Samaritans as beneaththem. It had been so for hundreds of years.We worshipped the same God, but disagreedon where the Temple should be located. Butthere was more to it than that. Two hundredyears earlier, the Samaritans had fought withthe Syrians against the Jews and the Jews haddestroyed the Samaritan temple. There wasbad blood between us and Jews.

I looked more closely at the man as I gotto the well. He was obviously hot and sweatyfrom a morning on the road. He must belongto the group of Jewish men I passed on theway out of town. As I began to draw waterthe man did the most amazing thing. He askedme for a drink. That was not right. It simplywasn’t done. What was the man thinking?

I wanted to put this Jewish man back inhis place. I asked, “How is it that you, a Jew,ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?”

The man smiled. I didn’t expect that. Idid know that any food or drink touched by aSamaritan was unclean for a Jew. The way hewas acting was scandalous. And yet I wassurprised. Others seemed to see me asinsignificant. Not worth wasting their time on.

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But this man was different. I know whatyou are thinking. It wasn’t like that.

He asked me for a drink of water. A simplerequest. He had nothing to use to draw thewater. It was a hot day. He was obviouslythirsty. It was only natural. But this naturalact went against everything I was raised tobelieve. I knew that somehow in drinkingwater drawn by me it would place this JewishRabbi at some risk. What if the men who hadbeen with him came back? What would theythink of their teacher then?

Then the man said the oddest thing. Hesaid, “If you only knew the gift God has foryou and who I am, you would ask me, and Iwould give you living water.” I didn’tunderstand. I look back on it now and laugh,but I really had no idea what he was talkingabout. I said, “But sir, you don’t have a ropeor a bucket and this is a very deep well. Wherewould you get this living water?”

But that wasn’t enough. I thought backto our common ancestor, the one who dugthe well. I said, “And besides, are you greaterthan our ancestor Jacob who gave us this well?How can you offer better water than he and

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his sons and his cattle enjoyed?” I would cometo realize that Jesus was much greater thanour ancestor, Jacob. But I didn’t know thatyet.

Jesus replied so lovingly, “People soonbecome thirsty again after drinking this water.But the water I give them takes away thirstaltogether. It becomes a perpetual springwithin them, giving them eternal life.”

Living water. That sounded wonderful.Living water would be much fresher than wellwater. I got excited about this living water. Theman has promised that he can give me waterso that I would never thirst again. Never againwould I come to this well in the heat of theday. This living water is just what I needed. Ihad no idea yet that he was speaking of theSpirit of God. The Holy Spirit is the life givingwater that will quench our spiritual thirst.Once that thirst has been quenched, we willbe spiritually thirsty no more. I know that now.But at the time, I was just thinking of nothaving to go to the well again.

That’s when everything unraveled. Jesusasked me to go and bring my husband backwith me. The question cut me down. It was

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the same old problem again. I was so ashamed.I looked down at the ground. I waited. I didn’tdare look him in the eyes. I just kept staringat the ground and said, “I have no husband.”

He smiled again. He looked pleased. It wasas if I had passed some test. Later I realized hewas just glad that I had told the truth. Thetruth that he already knew. Jesus said, “Noyou have had five husbands and the one youhave now is not your husband.”

This is the point in the story whereeverybody gets it wrong. They hear my storyand wander off down the wrong path. Becauseof Jesus’ comments about my husbands, I havebeen branded a sinner, a tramp, insignificant.

But that’s not what Jesus did. Jesus neverdismisses me. Jesus did not pronounce me asinner in need of repentance. Jesus did notdenounce me as a tramp. The Bible tells youthat I had had five husbands, but it nevermentions divorce or infidelity. I might havebeen on the margins of my own society. I mighthave been afraid to mingle with the womenfrom my own town. But Jesus never said thatit was my fault. He knew. He knew me betterthan anyone.

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That is why I found the courage to saywhat came next, “Lord, I can see you are aprophet,” and then I asked him the burningtheological question of my people. I said, “Ourancestors worshipped on this mountain, butyou people claim that the place where oneshould worship God is in Jerusalem.” This wasreally important. I knew that this man couldpoint me to the true worship of God.

Then Jesus explained that where weworship God is not as important as how. Hetold me that we are to worship God in Spiritand Truth. And if we open our spirits toworship God in Truth then where we worshipdoesn’t matter. We can worship Godanywhere.

I was amazed at what the man, theprophet, told me. I knew in my heart that hewas speaking the truth. I could feel it. I said,“I know the Messiah is coming and he willannounce all things to us.” But what I reallymeant was “Are you The One? Are you theMessiah?” Jesus knew my statement as aquestion and answered me saying, “I whospeak to you—I am he.”

Just then, the disciples came back to the

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well. But that didn’t matter to me anymore. Ihad spoken to the Messiah. He was right thereat Jacob’s well. I couldn’t contain myself. I ranfrom the well, leaving my water jar hangingon the edge of the void, where I had been onlymoments before. I went to town and gatheredpeople together. I began shouting excitedly,“Come and see a man who has told meeverything I have ever done! Could this bethe Messiah?”

They believed me. Notice this. Theybelieved me. Me. The woman who didn’t goto the well when others were drawing water?They believed me? Maybe they never despisedme. It was my own self esteem that was so lowthat I was the one who didn’t dare be aroundthem. But now it was different. The Messiahhad come. I couldn’t be afraid. The messagewas not about me. The message I had for mypeople was about God. And they did listenand believe.

Amazing. Jesus’ own disciples had justcome to this town, yet they didn’t evangelizethe people. They came and went withoutchanging a thing in my town. But me, thewoman who no one noticed changed

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everything. I was empowered by the spirit ofGod to proclaim the good news of God’skingdom to my own people. Though I wouldnever have guessed this could have happenedas I went out to the well that day, I became aleader of my people. I led them to God, in theperson of Jesus, the Christ.

What about you? Do you think that Godcan’t or won’t use you? Or have you, like Ihad, forgotten your own worth as a child ofGod? If so, you are in danger of surrenderingyourself so completely to others, that you haveno life of your own.

Don’t get me wrong, Jesus did teach thatwe are to serve others and put others needsahead of our own. But putting others aheadof yourself is not all that Jesus taught. He alsotaught that all of creation is valuable to God.All creation has a unique worth in the eyes ofour creator. When you don’t value your ownworth as a unique and special creation of God,it can lead to sin. Not valuing yourself as Godvalues you can lead to neglecting your owninner life and burying the unique talents Godhas given you.

See how Jesus responded to me when

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others ignored me and when I avoided themas well. Jesus saw the truth in me. Jesus sawme as a priceless gem—a child of God. Jesusrevealed his Kingdom to me and invited mein.

I arrived at the well considering myselfworthless. But I heard and responded to Jesus’call and in doing so regained my own sense ofidentity. Then, I didn’t just follow Jesus; I ledmy people to him.

We are all God’s children, loved andadored by our creator who is calling us home.Not one of us is insignificant to God. Not oneof us is unworthy to lead God’s people.

Because your worth as a human is notabout who you are in the eyes of others. Yourworth as a human is determined by who youare in the eyes of God. And to God, you are abeloved child. You are fully known and deeplyloved. This I promise you.

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In that region there were shepherds living in thefields, keeping watch over their flock by night.Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, andthe glory of the Lord shone around them, and theywere terrified. But the angel said to them, “Donot be afraid; for see—I am bringing you goodnews of great joy for all the people: to you is bornthis day in the city of David a Saviour, who is theMessiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you:you will find a child wrapped in bands of clothand lying in a manger.” And suddenly there waswith the angel a multitude of the heavenly host,praising God and saying, “Glory to God in thehighest heaven, and on earth peace among thosewhom he favours!”

When the angels had left them and gone intoheaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Letus go now to Bethlehem and see this thing thathas taken place, which the Lord has made knownto us.” So they went with haste and found Maryand Joseph, and the child lying in the manger.When they saw this, they made known what hadbeen told them about this child; and all who heardit were amazed at what the shepherds told them.But Mary treasured all these words and ponderedthem in her heart. —Luke 2:8-19

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Emmanuel: A Shepherd’s StoryLuke 2:8-19

“SEVENTY FIVE, SEVENTY SIX, seventy seven.They’re all in.” Moshe called out.

“Pull those bushes in close and then gathersome wood for a fire,” Samuel commanded.

“Not yet, Samuel,” came the voice fromthe gathering darkness.

What now, Samuel thought. That old manis never content. “Why not Eleazar? The sheepare all in. It’s getting dark. You’re the one wholikes to set up these brush walls.”

Surrounding the sheep with a wall oftangled brush was Eleazar’s way of tendingsheep. None of the other shepherds did it, atleast not anymore. The brush walls did getthe sheep to settle down easier, but it was toomuch work, just to save one, maybe two sheepa year. Joel bar Amoz knew they would losesome of his sheep to wild animals, every sheepowner did. If the owner didn’t care, why shouldthe shepherd? But that wasn’t Eleazar’s way.

“We have seventy-eight sheep now,Samuel,” Eleazar said. “I have reminded youof this every night for the three nights since

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the new lamb was born, and I will keep onreminding you until you can get it into thatthick skull of yours. It’s not too much for ashepherd to remember the sheep in his care.”

Eleazar did not understand othershepherds. The flock is not merely how ashepherd makes his living; the flock is ashepherd’s life. Eleazar had been watchingsheep for forty-two years. He had no other life.Would have no other life.

“Watch the opening on the enclosurewhile Moshe gets the firewood,” Eleazar said.“I’ll handle this one.”

Not a lamb. Eleazar was sure of that. Theewes were usually good about keeping theirlambs close. He had counted all twenty-ninelambs anyway. The one three days earlier wasa late lamb, the last one of the season.

Nearly half the flock were lambs by year’send. They were timed just right for Passover.This was a trick of Eleazar’s that made a goodprofit for Joel bar Amoz and assured Eleazarthat he would always have a good flock totend.

It would probably be Jonah. Eleazar namedthe young ram who tended to wander Jonah,

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for the prophet who headed west when Godcalled him to go north. Eleazar wandered backalong the path they had followed in the lateafternoon, trying to get his eyes to pick outthe landscape in the blue dark. Only theevening star yet shown in the night sky.

Joel bar Amoz always bragged in Eleazar’spresence that he was the best of shepherdsbecause he thought like a sheep. He was prettysure that the wealthy man meant it as acompliment. Eleazar knew that the truth wassomething deeper, something hidden frommost of the men and boys who calledthemselves shepherds.

Ever since he could walk, Eleazar had livedamong sheep. His father had been a shepherdand when his mother died giving birth to him,Eleazar had gone to live with an aunt. Butjust after his third birthday, his father hadcome for him.

“A shepherd should grow up among thesheep,” his father had declared, cutting off thearguments of his wife’s sister and her husband.

So Eleazar had grown up among the sheep.The rhythm of their lives was the rhythm ofhis life. He knew their hopes and fears

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instinctively and could not understand whythe other shepherds were so unknowing aboutthe herds they guarded.

The shepherd’s job was straightforwardenough. Make sure they get the food and waterthey need and protect them from wild animalsand thieves. That summed it up. But most ofthe shepherds Eleazar worked with over theyears watched the sheep without reallynoticing them. They pushed the sheep toohard. They didn’t care when they lost a fewsheep each year to their own carelessness.Eleazar realized long ago that the key totending sheep was not to watch them, nor tothink like them. The key to tending sheep wasto become the sheep. He knew he could notreally become a sheep, but it would be the bestway to care for them. The shepherd who wasboth sheep and shepherd.

When Eleazar was a boy, running to keepup with the herds, he learned to know whenthe sheep were hungry, or thirsty, or frightened.He never had to watch the hillside to see ifany animals posed a danger to his flock. Hewatched the sheep. Most of them would notknow danger until it was too late, but if you

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knew the sheep to watch, there was always awiser ram or ewe who just knew when dangerwas in the air. After watching those wise sheepfor enough years, Eleazar could feel it as well.He did not wonder when danger was present.He just knew. Eleazar could sense it on thewind.

Sometime over the last forty-two years,Eleazar had set becoming the sheep as his goal.He wasn’t there yet. The herd still had asurprise for him every once in a while. Butnot on this night. For there is where Jonahwould be. Eleazar was sure of it. He could seea little side trail leading down to the wadi, adry riverbed. Just the sort of place where asheep daydreaming of lying down beside stillwaters would head.

Eleazar picked his way down the rockyhillside and soon found his Jonah. He shooedthe ram ahead of him and the two started backto camp. Jonah was a good ram, he knew togo where the shepherd led him, at least whendarkness was settling in. By the time they gotback to their makeshift sheep pen, the nightwas dark and the stars shown brightly evenover the fire Moshe had blazing.

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“That same ram?” Samuel asked.“Yes, our Jonah headed west again,”

Eleazar answered, noting that Samuel knewtheir flock better than he let on some times.

With the last sheep in, the shepherds atetheir own meal. Moshe and Samuel close tothe fire, Eleazar close to the sheep pen. Theyhad run out of things to say on a night likethis the first year they had worked together.But that was now three years ago. Joel barAmoz had felt fortunate to find any shepherdswilling to work with Eleazar, whose reputationas a demanding head shepherd preceded himwith every shepherd in Judah.

Eleazar could hear Moshe snoring softlyby the time he pulled aside the brush andslipped into the sheep pen. They watched theflocks at night, but Moshe was still a boy oftwelve and they let him drift off withoutreproach. They never discussed it, but Samueland Moshe knew that Eleazar watched theflock each night from their midst.

“It might be easier to tend the sheep ifyou stayed with them, but who wanted that?”Samuel had told Moshe more than once sothat Eleazar could overhear.

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Yet Samuel was not as bad as some of themen he had worked with. He might even makea good shepherd one day. If Samuel would justrealize that a good shepherd is concerned notwith the flock as a flock, but with every singleram, ewe, and lamb. For the shepherd, thereis not an insignificant sheep. That’s whyEleazar always loved the scripture that talkedabout God as a shepherd.

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be inwant, he thought. Everyone in Israel couldquote that line of Hebrew text. So why didthey treat shepherds like something you scrapeoff your shoes when you step out of the sheeppen? Because of the bad shepherds, who soldoff a lamb every once in a while without theowner knowing it, all shepherds weredistrusted. Shepherds were assumed to be liars,or thieves, or worse.

Eleazar’s musing was cut short by ablinding light in the night sky. He bolted up,throwing off his cloak and raising his staffagainst the unknown threat. As his eyesadjusted, he saw that a six-winged seraphflying was the source of the light. He had heardheavenly creatures described in the synagogue,

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but not like this. The seraph had a powerabout him that brought Eleazar to his knees.He was frightened, in a way that fending off ahungry lion could never scare him. He coveredhis face and did not dare look up.

“Do not be afraid!” the angel said in avoice that soothed the raw fear. “I am bringingyou Good News of great joy for all people: toyou is born this day in the city of David asavior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.”

The Messiah, Eleazar thought. A son ofDavid in David’s city at last.

“This will be a sign for you: you will find achild wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in amanger,” the Angel said. And with these wordsthere was suddenly an innumerable band ofseraphim filling the sky singing:

“Glory to God in the highest heaven,and on earth peace among thosewhom he favors!”

Eleazar watched dazzled. The night skyblazed with an unearthly brightness, while theflock around him was oddly peaceful. Thesheep sensed no danger. Neither did Eleazar,

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and for the first time in his life, he left thesheep. No harm would come to them thisnight. The Great Shepherd was born amongthe animals, for he was lying in a manger, afeed box. Was this even possible?

“Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thingthat has taken place,” Eleazar cried out toMoshe and Samuel as he pushed the brushwall back in place and started down the hilltoward Bethlehem. Samuel and Moshe werefast on his heels, each stunned by the heavenlymessengers and their news.

Could this actually be happening? Eleazarthought. Eleazar knew how to find every stablein town and this was an important skill as theyfound well over half of them before they gotto the right one. With the census taking place,herd animals were not the only ones in thestable that night. Most every stall in town hada family tucked in among the animals.

But they did find it. A smallish cave withthe walls carved out to make more room forthe few cattle, not unlike a dozen other stablesthey had stumbled into already. But in thisone they found him. The mother and fatherwere still staring with wonder at the tiny

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person in the manger. That same awe Eleazarhad felt at a thousand calvings when he sawthe perfect little lamb.

The stillness of the perfect little scene wasalready broken by their hasty entrance, thenMoshe blurted out, “It’s the anointed one! TheMessiah.”

“What’s he doing here?” Samuel said, butno one answered.

Eleazar stepped forward and looked at thebaby boy. The mother, just like a good mothers,had taken the strips of cloth and bound himtightly so that he would grow straight and tall.He was a perfect little baby like hundreds ofother perfect little babies all around Israel thatsame night. Yet Eleazar knew that there wassomething about this boy that madeeverything different. This was not just a baby,this was the Messiah, God’s promised child.Emmanuel, he thought.

“Yes,” the woman said, “Emmanuel” andthen Eleazar realized that he had said the wordrather than thought it. Emmanuel—God withus. That was it. All those years he had beentaught to expect the Messiah to be a king,but Eleazar could see this humble stable was

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as far as one could get from a grand palace.The couple here for the census was surelydescended from David, but so was Eleazar andso were at least a quarter of the people inJudah.

Eleazar held out his hands and then pulledthem back. His shepherd hands were far toorough for the baby Messiah; what was hethinking? But the man lifted the child andplaced him in Eleazar’s outstretched hands.

God had had a surprise for his people Israelafter all, Eleazar thought as he held the Christchild. God had not sent a shepherd. God hadsent a lamb. This little lamb is God.

Emmanuel meant so much more thanEleazar had been taught or ever dreamed. Goddid not come to earth in power and glory, butin weakness. This little boy in his arms wasgoing to change everything. God knew andloved his people more than Eleazar had everimagined. God did not want to tend the sheep,protect the sheep, not that alone, Eleazarknew. God had become the lamb.

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When the angels had left them and gone intoheaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Letus go now to Bethlehem and see this thing thathas taken place, which the Lord has made knownto us.” So they went with haste and found Maryand Joseph, and the child lying in the manger.When they saw this, they made known what hadbeen told them about this child; and all who heardit were amazed at what the shepherds told them.But Mary treasured all these words and ponderedthem in her heart. The shepherds returned,glorifying and praising God for all they had heardand seen, as it had been told them.

—Luke 2:15-19

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ChristmasThe Counter-Revolution

Luke 2:15-19

WE HAD PLANS for every possible attack andcounter attack. We had plotted and planned,for centuries really, until every eventuality hadbeen carefully called into account. We knewhow every possible move He could make couldbe thwarted. Yet, we never saw it coming.

But I get ahead of myself. Best to go backto the beginning. It started when our leader,Lucifer, led a revolt against God. We were castdown, for the time being, but Lucifer had aplan and while we had lost the battle, therevolution had begun. We could win the warfor heaven and earth. We just needed to waitand watch, for the right time.

Sin came into the world effortlesslyenough. It only took a single choice to gethumans to turn away from God. It didn’tmatter that the choice was the knowledge ofGood and Evil, it could have been theknowledge of where to get the perfectCappuccino. Ask a human to deny his orherself a choice and soon enough he or she

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will do the very thing that is forbidden.And so humans learned to turn away from

God. But we knew that was not the end ofthe matter, for God cared for the miserablelittle creatures so much that he kept workingat it. God sent prophets and kept sendingthem. It was all too easy to get those whinersput to death. You don’t even need to dispatcha demon to sit on someone’s shoulder for ajob like that. Try to disturb the status quo andsoon enough you’ll pay. And the prophets weremade to pay. Isaiah might have instilled hopein humanity for a time, but he was sawn intwo in a hollow log. Then up would popanother prophet, like Zechariah who was slainin the Temple of all places. Again and againthe prophets called on the people to turn backto God. Some people would listen, whileothers would kill the prophet.

This is when we started running all thescenarios, playing them out in the minutestdetail. We knew the prophecies better thanany Hebrew scholar. But we never saw thebigger picture. We knew the Messiah wouldbe born to a Virgin. We knew he would be adescendant of David. We knew to look in

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Bethlehem. We knew it all. But the piece ofthe puzzle that we never comprehended wasthat that baby boy would be God.

Not like God, not some adopted child ofGod, but God. That infant wrapped inswaddling clothes in a Bethlehem stable wasthe fullness of the Trinity. God become human.Incomprehensible. Emmanuel—God with us.Who would have ever thought that God hadreally meant that literally? Hah! The makerof all that is enters into the creation itself. Wenever would have done that. Lucifer himselfwould have never deigned to have anythingto do with creation if he could have helped it.

It was an elegantly simple approach inretrospect. There was a problem withincreation and so God entered the creation torepair the fabric of the cosmos from the inside.

But come on. How could we expect suchan attack on the way of the world? Why wouldGod care so much? Why would God bother?That question is the one I’ve never gotten mymind around. And yet, it happened.Incomprehensible or not, it happened.

Of course, we thought it meant our victorywas assured. We were cocky in those days.

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With God made man, we only had to snuffout the God-Man Jesus. Herod nearly pulledit off too, in killing all the babies aroundBethlehem. Weakling, he should have killedevery baby they could find anywhere. Didn’the understand what was at stake? No, ofcourse not. Like most of them, he couldn’tsee beyond his own power, his own interests.Herod never saw the larger picture.

But we knew in time that Jesus would bebrought down. It was as inevitable as the deathof any other prophet. Becoming God amonghumans would naturally mean a lot of peoplewould want him dead before too long. Andeventually it happened. On that batteredhilltop called Golgotha—the place of a skull—he died without his closest followers,abandoned it seemed by God and man.

Oh how we celebrated that Friday. Andon the Saturday we thought would never end,we rejoiced. God had played the final handand we were holding all the aces.

By Sunday, we knew the truth. The deathof Jesus was not the end. The death of Jesuswas the beginning of a counter-revolutionagainst the way of the world—our ways. Jesus’

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resurrection turned the whole world upsidedown. The most degraded of victims becamethe ultimate victor.

We had revolted against God and Heaven.But now with Jesus, the last became the first.The humble were exalted. It was everythinghe had babbled on about for three years madevisible. The counter-revolution had begun.

Well, maybe not exactly. The problem wasthat the counter-revolution really started thatnight in Bethlehem. A poor mother, a haplessstep father, and some grubby shepherdscrouched around the maker of heaven andearth—the birth of that one baby in a stablein Bethlehem was like wrenching loose thecornerstone of my scheme. Sooner or later ourgreat plans for humanity’s destruction wouldcome crashing down. That baby changedeverything.

Emmanuel—God with us. Amazing. AndGod remains with them still. Even now.

We’ve already lost. We don’t talk aboutit. But we know. Now it’s only a matter of time.You’ve read the final book, you’ve seen thelast reel. Good wins. Evil loses. Over and overagain. But, how could we have known? Wenever saw it coming.

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Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, aleader of the Jews. He came to Jesus him by nightand said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are ateacher who has come from God; for no one cando these signs that you do apart from the presenceof God.” Jesus answered him, “Very truly, I tellyou, no one can see the kingdom of God withoutbeing born from above.” Nicodemus said to him,“How can anyone be born after having grownold? Can one enter a second time into the mother’swomb and be born?” Jesus answered, “Very truly,I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of Godwithout being born of water and Spirit. What isborn of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of theSpirit is spirit. Do not be astonished that I said toyou, must be born from above. The wind blowswhere it chooses, and you hear the sound of it,but you do not know where it comes from or whereit goes. So it is with everyone who is born of theSpirit.” Nicodemus said to him, “How can thesethings be?” Jesus answered him, “Are you a teacherof Israel, and yet you do not understand thesethings?...For God so loved the world that he gavehis only Son, so that everyone who believes inhim may not perish but may have eternal life.”

—John 3:1-10,16

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NicodemusJohn 3:1-17

I WAS NAMED NICODEMUS. Nicodemus means“conqueror of the people.” Ironic. I was theone who was conquered. Vanquished,liberated really, in the fullest sense of thatword. I was conquered quite willingly by thespirit of God.

I went to Jesus at night. It had to be night.Jesus was a noted Rabbi to be sure, but I was amember of the Sanhedrin, the select innercircle of Jewish leaders. I could not afford tobe seen with Jesus. Not yet anyway. So I wentto him under the cover of darkness. It strikesme as funny all these years later. I went to theLight of the World at night.

I went to Jesus because I was intrigued bythe signs and wonders he was doing. I knewthat no one could heal the sick, exorcisepeople of demons, and do the other miraclesunless God allowed it. Some wondered if Jesuswas a trickster, a charlatan. But this was nosleight of hand. Jesus was the real thing—miracles happened wherever he went. Liveswere changed for the better and they stayed

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changed. Paralytics walked. The blind saw.The deaf heard.

I went to Jesus because I knew in a spiritualsense I was lame, blind, and deaf. I wouldn’teven have admitted it to myself at the time. Iwas supposed to be the one with the answers.But deep inside I knew I needed peace andhealing.

Jesus immediately caught me off guard. Hesaid, “No one can see the kingdom of Godunless he is born…” Well that next word wasthe problem. The Greek is anothen. It canmean “from above” or “again.” No one cansee the kingdom of God unless he is born againor from above. I assumed born again and thenbefore I could take it back I had already said,“How can a man be born when he is old?Surely he cannot enter a second time into hismother’s womb and be born!” Like I said. Iwas blind.

Born again. Born from above. Either way,Jesus was talking of a spiritual rebirth. Itsounded preposterous. I came for a down-to-earth chat with the Rabbi Jesus and the nextthing I know he’s off in space somewhere withphilosophical babble.

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Then Jesus, rather than grounding ourconversation in reality, said, “Do not beastonished that I said to you, ‘You must beborn from above.’ The wind blows where itchooses, but you do not know where it comesfrom or where it goes.’”

The wind. The Holy Spirit. The breath ofGod that blew on the waters in creation. Thatwind of God that blows through the world tothis day began to blow anew through my lifethat night. I had been so busy trying tounderstand God. All I was really doing wastrying to control God, to contain God, as if Icould put the divine essence in some safe boxand take God out when I wanted.

Jesus opened up a shaft of blazing lightinto my darkness that night. Jesus told me,“For God so loved the world that he gave hisonly Son, so that everyone who believes inhim may not perish but have eternal life.Indeed, God did not send his Son into theworld to condemn the world, but in order thatthe world might be saved through him.”

God so loved the world. Those words werethe new thing that came blowing into my life.God loved the world. I didn’t. I saw the world

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as broken. Fallen, with no hope for repair. Iwas waiting for the Messiah to come take usfaithful away while bringing judgment to allthe rest. And here was Jesus, doing theseamazing miracles and then telling me that thespirit of God would blow wherever it wanted.

God so loves the world that the spirit ofGod is still out there creating. The spirit ofGod was making all things new. I could be bornagain, from above. I could be made new andget the peace I so desired. But, this newteaching was a bit too much to take in. Myeyes were opened to be sure, but I couldn’tquite yet see. Not clearly anyway.

Many months passed. I kept up with Jesus.I tried to get word of his teaching and miracles.Then, about six months before Jesus was putto death, he created a big stir in the Temple.It was the end of the Tabernacles feast andthe Temple priests were pouring out the waterlibations by the altar. Jesus called out for allto hear, “If anyone is thirsty, let him come tome and drink. Whoever believes in me, as theScripture has said, streams of living water willflow from within him.”

Jesus proclaimed himself as the source of

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living water. Jesus was as good as proclaiminghimself on the same level as God. The Templepolice reported the whole thing to us at theSanhedrin. Most of our members were angrythat Jesus had not already been arrested. Mobrule was in danger of taking over theSanhedrin.

I couldn’t help but speak. I said, “Our lawdoes not judge people without first giving thema hearing, does it?” Some accused me of beinga Galilean, of being a follower of Jesus. Butthe move toward mob mentality stopped. Ifnothing else, you could always count on theSanhedrin to follow the letter of the law. I wasthe one most changed by my own words thatday. I was accused of being one of his followersand didn’t mind the accusation. The Spiritwas blowing where it would.

I tried in my own way to be faithful toJesus. The trial I asked for came six monthslater in the dead of night. I did not say enough,nor do enough to save Jesus. The Sanhedrindecided that he deserved to die. Later I couldsee that while I was working behind the scenesin the dead of night to save him, Jesus workedin the light of day to save us all.

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After he died, I went with a fellow memberof the Sanhedrin, Joseph of Arimathea, toclaim Jesus’ body. I bought up every spice Icould find, seventy-five pounds of burial spicesand the burial clothes to go with them. Wetook Jesus to what was to have been Joseph ofArimathea’s tomb. We prepared Jesus forburial in a way befitting someone of a highstation of life. It seemed the least we coulddo. Jesus had come into the world that thewhole world might be saved. Look at how wetreated him. I was ashamed.

Finally, in Jesus’ death, Joseph ofArimathea and I took a stand. We neverwanted anyone to know that we were Jesus’followers too. In placing Jesus in his tomb, weboldly proclaimed to anyone watching that wewere not ashamed of Jesus. It was too little,too late. We had not saved Jesus. I could seenow how the Father had given his Son, but Icould not see what Jesus’ death had to do witheternal life.

I had no idea in what way the spirit ofGod can move through creation. I still did notunderstand that all things can be made new.The wind of God was blowing, but none of us

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could feel it yet. Even those of us whoconsidered ourselves his disciples could nothear the breeze that Friday and Saturday.

Three days later, I finally learned thelesson Jesus tried to teach me that night I firstcame to him. On the third day after we placedhim in the tomb, Jesus rose from the dead,setting aside the burial shroud I bought forhim. The women and then Peter and Johnfound the two pieces of cloth neatly folded inthe empty tomb. Jesus rose from the dead todie no more. He would never need those burialclothes again.

When I saw the risen Jesus, I fullyunderstood those words, “For God so lovedthe world that he gave his only Son, so thateveryone who believes in him may not perishbut have eternal life.” The light of Christ cameflooding into my darkness. A peace that passedall understanding flooded into the very coreof my being. The experience was like beingborn again, this time born from above—bornof God.

I never thought that I could pass thatexperience along to others. I wondered if anyof us who had been there and experienced

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Jesus could somehow convey the wonder of itall. How could we share what we hadexperienced with the ones who never sawJesus, heard him, touched him? Those whohad seen and heard and touched did not justknow about God, we knew God in person,through his Son, Jesus of Nazareth.

But Jesus was right; the wind blows whereit will. After his resurrection and ascension,Jesus was no longer limited to a given place inPalestine. Through the untamed spirit of God,Jesus became available to everyone. Jesus wasand is for the whole world. The peace that Igained through his passion is available toeveryone.

So much time has passed and that windstill blows. God’s spirit goes where it willbreathing life into a world turned from God.And here’s what I’ve learned along the way.We only have to throw open the windows ofour souls to let the breeze blow in. Just say toyourself, “Spirit of the living God, fall freshon me” and trust the untamed spirit of Godto do just that.

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Jesus left that place and went away to the districtof Tyre and Sidon. Just then a Canaanite womanfrom that region came out and started shouting,“Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; mydaughter is tormented by a demon.” But he didnot answer her at all. And his disciples came andurged him, saying, “Send her away, for she keepsshouting after us.” He answered, “I was sent onlyto the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” But shecame and knelt before him, saying, “Lord, helpme.” He answered, “It is not fair to take thechildren’s food and throw it to the dogs.” She said,“Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs thatfall from their masters’ table.” Then Jesusanswered her, “Woman, great is your faith! Let itbe done for you as you wish.” And her daughterwas healed instantly.

—Matthew 15:21-28

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Food for the DogsMatthew 15:21-28

I KNEW THAT WOMAN was going to be troublethe moment I laid eyes on her. She was notone of us that was for sure. Her clothes, herjewelry, everything about that woman wasCanaanite. As soon as we saw her, all of usdisciples worked to keep ourselves between herand Jesus. Making sure her type doesn’t gettoo close is part of what a good disciple doesfor his Rabbi.

Not that I was surprised to see aCanaanite. We were walking near the borderof Israel. In that area we often saw pagans inthe towns and on the road. But good Jewsknew to steer clear of people like that. Andthe Canaanites left us alone for the most part.They didn’t care for us and we certainly didn’tcare for them. Canaanites were lower thanSamaritans. That’s why we all called themdogs. Dogs. Wretched little dogs nipping atyour heals.

Don’t look so shocked. You just don’tunderstand the bad blood between us Jews andthose people. After all, Canaanites were the

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remnants of the evil tribes who had lived inour land before Moses brought our ancestorsout of Egypt. Canaanites were the nasty idolworshipping scum Joshua conquered as wetook possession of the Promised Land. Thosepeople were depraved. You don’t know whatsick practices they found normal. Canaanitessacrificed their own children to their idols! Idon’t know the half of what those people didin their rituals myself and it still makes mesick.

The Canaanites were the ancient enemywho now lived on the borders of our land. Thedisgust I felt on seeing a Canaanite was mixedwith a bit of fear, an ancient apprehension. ACanaanite always got the hair on my neckstanding on end. Even the women, butespecially that woman.

You always knew that Canaanites had noidea about how a decent person was to behave,but this woman was unbelievable. As soon asshe saw Jesus through the pack of us disciplestrying to keep her at bay, the Canaanite startedcalling out to him. Yelling like an idiot. Whatdid that cur think she was doing? A womantalking to a Rabbi was strange enough, but

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we knew Jesus didn’t bother with thattradition. He always spoke with women as wellas men. But this woman was bellowingthrough the crowd, yelling the strangest thing:

“Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David!”“Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David!”

She had her words so perfectly right when shewas so completely wrong. It’s like hearing aprecocious child explaining some complicatedbit of learning. The words are all right, butyou can’t quite believe the one saying themhas any idea what she just said.

Lord, could mean “sir” but it was also whatwe Jews said instead of the name of God whenreading scripture. So when you surrounded theword “Lord” with “Have mercy on me” and“Son of David” it was as good as calling JesusGod’s Son.

This was before any of us disciples haddared to name Jesus as God’s Son ourselves. Isuspected it, knew it in my bones really, but Ihadn’t dared say it yet, not even to my brother,Andrew.

Sure, we had seen some mighty miracles.Stuff that is hard to believe even when you

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see it with your own eyes—paralyzed peopleget up and walk, lepers made clean, the blindreceiving their sight and the deaf hearing.Even with all of that, I think most of thedisciples still thought of Jesus as a greatprophet like Elijah. And here was this foulbeast crying out over and over, “Have mercyon me, Lord, Son of David!” As if she couldeven possibly know what those words meant.It was blasphemy!

She said her daughter was tormented by ademon. At least those words were true. “Yourdaughter’s a Canaanite, of course she istormented by a demon. Woman, that’s whathappens when you take part in those idolworshipping rituals.” That’s what I would havetold her if I had bothered to speak with her atall.

But the woman got in close. Jesus heardher incessant mewling. He said nothing. Hedidn’t even look her way. Good. But thewoman kept up her howling. So I told Jesus,“Send her away, for she keeps shouting afterus.”

Then Jesus turned to the woman, lookedher right in the eyes and said, “I was sent only

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to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.”Yes! Put her in her place I thought and I

could tell the other disciples felt the same way.But the chutzpah of this woman wasastounding. She wouldn’t leave. Instead, theCanaanite knelt down at Jesus’ feet and said,“Lord, help me.”

But Jesus had grown a backbone and heput her back in her place once more saying,“It is not fair to take the children’s food andthrow it to the dogs.”

Perfect! Jesus referred to her as a dog. Evenwith that kind look in his eyes. This wouldshow her that Jesus had just come for us Jews.

Then she said it. The most bizarre line inthat oddest of encounters. “Yes, Lord, yet eventhe dogs eat the crumbs that fall from theirmasters’ table.”

I saw the look in Jesus’ eyes and I knew itwas all over. Of course he healed theCanaanite woman’s little girl. Jesus lovedencounters like this one. You could tell thathe was delightfully amazed. There was nodoubt that Jesus had loved every second ofthat little drama.

Why not? The woman believed. Really

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believed. It was like she knew who Jesus wasand what he could do for her and she was goingto ask until she got it. I can’t blame her really.Her daughter was hurting. What parentwouldn’t do everything he or she could in asituation like that?

Yet, if I were honest with myself, I was stillat the point where if I were in her shoes I wouldhave asked, “If you are the Son of David,command my daughter to be healed.”

The thing that galled me most in thewhole scene was not that she could out faithme, though that did rankle me a bit. No, whatreally got me was that Jesus changed. There isno way around it; he was changed by thiswoman.

That was not what I wanted him to belike. I think that is why he called me Cephas,the Rock. That’s what Peter means and I livedinto it. I was steady, solid, and in those daysoften steadily and solidly wrong. Hey, at leastI didn’t change. If nothing else, you couldcount on me. Even if you could only count onme to get it wrong.

Yet there was no way around it, Jesus waschanged by this woman. He was dead set

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against taking the gifts that were by rights forthe children of Israel and giving them to somepagan Canaanite. Then she cried out to him;he heard her and acted in a way that surprisedall of us.

But time changes even a rock head likeme. Within time I would come to see that theGood News Jesus had given to us Jews was forthe whole world. I would even have to givethat church-persecuting Saul his due. Afterhis conversion and naming by God as Paul,he started really reaching out to the Gentilesand things changed. I hated it at first, but Godshowed me that it was all part of the plan allalong.

My rough edges have eroded a bit withtime and experience. Now I realize how muchI have always counted on my words andactions having some effect on God. After all,if God will always do the same thing no matterwhat you say or do, why do you pray?

But God can be changed. It was right therein the scripture all along (Exodus 32). Mosesgoes up to get the Ten Commandments; thepeople below wait forty days and then Moses’brother Aaron makes a golden calf and all fall

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back into idol worship. God is ready to strikeevery one of them down and then Mosesspeaks to God, imploring mercy for God’speople and God relents.

In the Book of Jonah, God declaresdestruction for Nineveh. The people repent,turning from their evil ways and God relentsagain.

I could go on with other examples, butyou get the idea. Prayer changes thingsbecause God hears us when we call out, evenif the answer isn’t always the one we had inmind. Prayer changes things. It’s not thatprayer changes God from mean into nice, orfrom thinking one thing to thinking another,but there is a change.

Do you think it’s all a coincidence thatlife goes better for you when you pray? Stoppraying. See how many coincidences like thatoccur.

The Canaanite woman yelled after Jesusand his mission of love and grace came to asmall part of the rest of the world sooner thanJesus had thought would happen. Not onlydid that woman I thought of as a dog get whatshe wanted, but Jesus told her, “Woman, great

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is your faith! Let it be done for you as youwish.”

The twelve of us disciples were more thana little jealous of that last line, I can tell youthat. Can you imagine? In just a few moments,we went from thinking she was beneathcontempt, to being jealous of a Canaanitewoman of all people. So her words might havehad an effect on our Rabbi, but you wouldhave to admit that the whole thing was a veryJesus encounter. How very like him to makeroom at God’s table for an outcast, after allhe had already made room for the likes of me.

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Think of us in this way, as servants of Christ andstewards of God’s mysteries. Moreover, it isrequired of stewards that they should be foundtrustworthy. But with me it is a very small thingthat I should be judged by you or by any humancourt. I do not even judge myself. I am not awareof anything against myself, but I am not therebyacquitted. It is the Lord who judges me.

Therefore do not pronounce judgement beforethe time, before the Lord comes, who will bring tolight the things now hidden in darkness and willdisclose the purposes of the heart. Then each onewill receive commendation from God.

—I Corinthians 4:1-5

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Rose-Colored GlassesI Corinthians 4:1-5

AGNES WAS A YOUNG GIRL who visited hergrandmother every week in an assisted livingfacility, which was at the other end of a shortbus ride from her home. She enjoyed the visitsvery much. While there she came to knowthe other residents with whom her Grannylived. She was not precocious exactly, butmore of an old soul who while fully the younggirl she was, sometimes seemed moreperceptive than her years. Many of theresidents looked forward to Agnes’ weeklyvisits. Yet with her grandmother pushing thebackside of her nineties and her health failing,they knew the visits would come to an endsoon enough.

Agnes was twelve years old when herGranny died. The next week Agnes got readyto go as usual. She announced to her Momthat she was off for her visit. Her mother didn’tunderstand at first, but decided that it wasAgnes’ way of grieving for her Granny and sheconsented. Without the visits with Granny,she wasn’t sure at first what to do. She had

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read to Mr. Brooks on one occasion and heseemed to enjoy it. So when she saw him offto one side of the large common room, whichwas the hub of social life in their home, shewent to him at once.

“Mr. Brooks, would it be all right if I readto you again?” she asked.

He beamed back, “Yes, that would benice.”

Noticing no books nearby, Agnes asked,“What shall we read?”

“Have you ever read The Little Prince?” Heasked.

“No, but I’ll read it to you now,” sheoffered.

She walked patiently with Mr. Brooks ashe shuffled back to his room. He readily foundthe tattered paperback among the scores thatlined the shelves in his private room.

“You must be going on thirteen now,” Mr.Brooks said. “When I taught English at theJunior High, the girls always fell in love withthis book. The boys too, truth be told,” hesaid and handed her the book. He sat in hiswell worn leather chair. Agnes sat on theottoman, opened the yellowed pages of the

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slim volume and began, “Once when I was sixyears old I saw a magnificent picture in abook…” She quickly found herself lost in thestory.

Just as when she had read to him before,Mr. Brooks’ attention never wavered. WhenAgnes looked up from time to time, he seemedjust as transfixed by the tale as she was. Theywere both startled by an upbeat dance tunethat suddenly burst into their story just asAgnes was reading of the businessman whothought he owned the stars in the night sky.It took a moment for her to realize it was herown cell phone ringing. Agnes’ mother wasworried about her. Agnes apologized, notrealizing how much time had passed as shehad read nearly half the book to Mr. Brooks.After hanging up, she read to a stopping placeand promised to return the next week to finishthe story.

“Take the book with you,” he offered. “Youcan finish it tonight.”

“I would rather read it with you.” She said.“It can wait until next week. ”

The following Sunday afternoon, they didindeed complete The Little Prince. On other

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visits there were to be other books. And, asMr. Brooks was not a selfish man, Agnes spentwhole visits with other residents, talking orreading, and sometimes singing. A year passed.Agnes was feeling down, remembering that itwas at this same time the previous year, thather Granny had died. She enjoyed visiting theothers, but she missed her Granny somethingfierce.

She had brought the book Stranger withMy Face to finish reading it with Mr. Brooks.He was intrigued that he had never heard ofthe book, which was part of Agnes’ requiredsummer reading. They had both been enjoyingit, but Agnes didn’t even take the book out ofthe large purse she had slung over oneshoulder. She just slumped down on theottoman.

“How do you do it?” she asked.“Do what?” Mr. Brooks replied not aware

that he had done anything.“Stay so optimistic.” Agnes replied.She paused for a moment. He let the

silence build between them naturally, notforcing the conversation forward, not wantingto derail her from her course.

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“Well, I’ve only lost my Granny, but you’velost so much. Your wife, your youngestdaughter, the other residents here who havedied since you came….I don’t even know whoall you’ve lost…and yet you seem so cheerful.”

“Agnes, it’s not that I don’t grieve, I do,”he said. “But I mourn as someone who knowsthat there is more than this.” Then he brokeinto that smile she had come to so enjoybringing to his face. Every line that etchedthrough his skin seemed to have been firstcreased while he was smiling.

“That’s exactly what I mean. You just didit again. I brought up the people you have lostand now you’re smiling like a fox who just gotplaced in charge of the hen house. It’s likeyou have a secret that you aren’t sharing.”

“Now Agnes, that’s not fair,” he said, butshe knew he wasn’t angry.

“I’ve checked up on you,” Agnes said,ready to reveal a secret of her own. “I used tothink I was a bit of a bright spot in this place.I liked that thought, that I was bringing lighthere. But I pale in comparison to you.Everyone talks about the little things you dofor them, the kindness you show. They don’t

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talk to each other about it. No one seems toknow what all you do. But I listen. They tellme what no one tells each other. I know thatyou work behind the scenes to build peopleup when they are feeling down.”

Agnes felt smug. She knew she had himnow. He had been working at pulling stringslike some puppet master and she knew it. Nowit was her turn to let the silence build. Shewaited. He paused at length, then said, “Okay.You’ve found me out. I like to do nice thingsfor people and prefer it when no one knows.But don’t go making me out to be some saint.I’m just a guy who likes to share the love that’sbeen shared with him.”

Agnes felt a little embarrassed now. Shehad cornered him with an accusation ofkindness as if he were a cat burglar she hadcaught in the act.

“You are right about that secret though,”he said a bit mischievously. “There issomething I’ve been hiding.” He leanedforward and picked up a small wooden chestthat sat next to his chair. Agnes had seen itbefore. Mr. Brooks had shown her some oldfamily photos tucked in there, his father’s

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pocket watch, his oldest son’s bronze star thathe had brought home to his dad. This time hepulled out an odd pair of sunglasses. The pinklenses in tarnished silver frames looked olderthan seemed possible. Agnes didn’t know theyhad made sunglasses so long ago.

“These glasses changed my life,” he saidmatter of factly.

“It was 1937 and I was just a seventeen-year old kid helping out at my uncle’s funeralhome. He was short handed and I helped himgo pick up a body at the hospital to preparefor a funeral.

“The body was that of Old Simeon.Everyone knew Simeon. He was a homelessman who lived under a bridge and spent hisdays on Broad Street. He was a kindly oldbeggar. Everyone knew he was a bit touchedand they looked out for him. From time totime, someone would try to get him betterclothes or a better living arrangement, butSimeon seemed to prefer his lot in life. Heseemed happy living on the street. He wasalways talking with someone, laughing, joking.

“Now Old Simeon was dead. No one hadseen him on the street that day and a

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perceptive police officer realized he shouldcheck under the bridge. That’s where theyfound him, with his few possessions.Possessions that I was charged with boxing upfor the next of kin we all knew would nevercome.

“That’s when I found the glasses. I triedthem on and my uncle told me that if no oneclaimed them within the month, I could havethem.

“I don’t know what intrigued me aboutthose glasses, but I counted the days until Icould claim them as my own. I already hadthe silver polish ready and I shined them upbefore putting them on and going out into theworld. What I saw took my breath away.

“With those glasses on, everything wasdifferent. Just a few degrees off for the mostpart, but sometimes disconcertingly strange.Some people positively glowed, more radiantthan seemed possible as if they were made oflight. For others, that light was dim and it wasas if a mask had been removed. The smilingman out front of the diner on Broad Streetlooked impossibly dark and gloomy throughthe sunglasses. Some people who looked

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innocent enough to my naked eye seemedpositively malevolent through the rose-colored glasses.

“I began to look more into Simeon’s pastand what I discovered amazed me. Old Simeonseemed like some beggar who depended onthe town to take care of him, but the real storywas quite the opposite. Once I startedchecking, I found how much Simeon haddone. There was hardly a person who had beenin need who hadn’t found Simeon able to help.He had provided a listening ear to those indistress. He had offered the new bootssomeone had just given to him, to the manwho needed them to work the constructionjob Simeon told him how to find.

“No one knew of the kindnesses he hadshown others, but everyone seemed to have astory of how the homeless man had changedhis or her life for the better. Of course, by thenI understood why. Through the rose-coloredglasses I could see the world as Simeon hadseen it. It was like looking into someone’s heartand seeing what was true, rather than justseeing the façade they put up for others.

“I also saw people pursuing things that

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didn’t matter. The new car they wanted so badthey seemed hungry for it, just looked old andrusted through the glasses. The fur coats andother fancy clothes, diamond rings and all therest just looked cheap and tawdry. All thosethings that seemed to dazzle looked like somuch junk through the glasses. It was thepeople that shined. Some brightly. Some lessso. Some seemed not to realize they had lightwithin them. Others seemed determined tosnuff it out.

“The glasses changed me. The glassestaught me what mattered and what didn’t.What was lasting and what was passing away.They are how I came to be a teacher. I foundthat no one else was paying attention toteenagers. Really paying attention. And so Igot my master’s in literature and ensconcedmyself in junior high, a place that seemed toneed someone with Simeon’s touch.

“At first, I needed the glasses a lot to knowwho was hurting. But after a while, I developeda sort of second sight all my own. I haven’tput them on in years,” he said finishing hisstory.

Agnes was amazed. There was a secret

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behind Mr. Brooks’ care for the residents athis home. She sat in silence, letting the storysink in for a moment more, then asked, “Butwhy didn’t you share the glasses with me, Mr.Brooks? Why did I have to corner you beforeyou told me your secret?”

“Why I should think that would beobvious, dear girl. You didn’t need the glasses.”Mr. Brooks beamed again with that smile thatengaged every line on his time-worn face, “Youalready see the world as God sees it.”

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One of the Pharisees asked Jesus to eat with him,and he went into the Pharisee’s house and tookhis place at the table. And a woman in the city,who was a sinner, having learned that he waseating in the Pharisee’s house, brought analabaster jar of ointment. She stood behind himat his feet, weeping, and began to bathe his feetwith her tears and to dry them with her hair. Thenshe continued kissing his feet and anointing themwith the ointment. Now when the Pharisee whohad invited him saw it, he said to himself, “If thisman were a prophet, he would have known whoand what kind of woman this is who is touchinghim—that she is a sinner.” Jesus spoke up andsaid to him, “Simon, I have something to say toyou.” “Teacher,” he replied, “speak.” “A certaincreditor had two debtors; one owed five hundreddenarii, and the other fifty. When they could notpay, he cancelled the debts for both of them. Nowwhich of them will love him more?” Simonanswered, “I suppose the one for whom hecancelled the greater debt.” And Jesus said tohim, “You have judged rightly...” Then he said toher, “Your sins are forgiven.”...And he said to thewoman, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”

—Luke 7:36-43,48,50

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Go in Peace, to Where?Luke 7:36-50

AS DINNER PARTIES GO, it was a disaster. Jesuswas a Rabbi with a great reputation alsoknown to be welcoming to lepers. As both aPharisee and one cured of leprosy, how couldI go wrong? Jesus was my kind of guy. He wasinterested in Moses’ law and yet accepting.As it turned out, Jesus was a little tooaccepting. Not discriminating enough for mytastes. I had hoped that Jesus was somethingmore, a prophet at least, maybe even The Onewe await. But let’s face it, for a so-calledhumble teacher, Jesus was rude.

I thought inviting Jesus would do each ofus some good. He, the up-and-coming teacher,me the established religious leader. I even letJesus bring along that fishy-smelling band hecalls disciples. I’m not sure what more couldbe expected of a host.

The dinner started well enough. Everyonewas reclining at table, settled in nicely. Thenshe arrived. The way the women’s entranceto our courtyard works, you wouldn’t exactly

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say that woman broke in, but she sure bargedin where she wasn’t needed, wasn’t wanted.This, other than Jesus and his band, was to bea gathering of the local religious elite. Achance to get off to ourselves for some alonetime. Just the ones who know how to followMoses’ law to the letter.

Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m no holierthan thou sort. I give to the poor. I just don’twant the lesser desirable types showing up fordinner. It’s just not done.

Remember everyone is in place. Theprayers for bread and wine are behind us. Timefor the meal. That’s when this “woman of thecity” barges in. We all tried to ignore hergroveling. She was weeping over Jesus. Pouringoil on his feet, wiping it with her hair.Disgusting. Embarrassed that Jesus did nothingto prevent the woman’s actions, I was alsodeeply disappointed that this so called holyman could not just somehow know with whomhe was consorting. All of us could tell she wasno good.

Why would that man even permit her tobe in the same room with us, much less touchhim? The whole event was scandalous. What

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was I to do? I wanted to be a gracious host.Open up my house to some friends and anintriguing teacher. And then this!

Jesus asked to speak and addedunspeakable insult to injury. He told us all oftwo debtors—one owing five hundred denarii,the other fifty. Neither can repay their debtand the creditor forgives both debts. He askswhich one loves the overly kind creditor more.Well, anyone could see that it was the manwho owed five hundred denarii. A commonlaborer works more than a year and a half toearn that money. Who wouldn’t be gratefulfor that sort of largesse?

Of course, the story was a trick. Jesusdropped the net into the water and I swamright in. As the net tightened around me, Iknew I spoke too quickly. Somehow thisperson was the one forgiven the great debt. Icouldn’t see the point, but I knew answeringwas a mistake. After all, I’m no fool.

But Jesus couldn’t just have his little story.No. He had to point up my shortcomings. Myshortcomings. I was the host!

Jesus pointed out to everyone that I hadnot welcomed him with respect, washing his

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feet and giving him the kiss of peace. Ofcourse, I just let the rebel rabbi and his dustydisciples file in and sit down. What did heexpect, really? I’m the man with the nicehouse, the servants, and the fine clothes. Whygrovel to the would-be prophet from Galilee?No one gets anything for nothing. Earn myrespect and I will give it to you. I offered themeal. Did he demand the royal treatment aswell? Well too bad. Considering how thingswent, I’m glad.

Jesus ended the whole fiasco withblasphemy; before the main course arrived Imight add. He told this sinful thing that hersins were forgiven. Forgiven? Her! He releasedher. Let her go. Who did he think he wasanyway? Forget the parlor trick with readingmy mind. Even an idiot could see that I wasscandalized by their behavior—the womanand Jesus both.

I had hoped Jesus might be acceptingenough to dine with me. Some still call meSimon the Leper. I have trouble getting awayfrom the stigma of the disease. But acceptancecan go too far and this woman went way toofar. Who did Jesus think he was anyway? Only

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God can forgive sins. The audacity wasastounding.

But the thing that really sticks in my mindabout the whole disastrous evening was Jesus’parting shot. I probably could have laughed itall off, but then he said those final words, “Yourfaith has saved you; go in peace.”

Go in peace. Really! The nerve. Go where?Where could that woman ever find peace? Ifshe really did want forgiveness, if that womanreally did want to turn toward God, then shewould never be welcome back in this cityagain. Her old crowd wouldn’t know what todo with her and neither would we, the religiousones. Where could this weeping thing go?Who would offer her peace except for thatgaggle of Galileans?

This Jesus needs to think it all through. IfGod’s love and forgiveness is for everyone,then there is going to have to be some sort ofcommunity to receive those forgiven sinners,and the unforgiven ones too.

The Kingdom of God will never be a here-and-now reality unless there is a place wherethose fallen folks can congregate, support oneanother. Those forgiven sinners certainly can’t

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come to my house, or church, until they haveproved themselves and I suspect they won’tbe welcome in yours either.

Let’s be honest. Jesus was too accepting.If he was more like you and me, this movementof his might go somewhere. But I promise you.This is the last time, and I mean it the verylast time, I let the likes of him in my gate.And I would advise you to steer clear of thisirresponsible teaching. Jesus’ words sound goodat first, but this reckless rabbi would turn theworld upside down if anyone actually practicedwhat he preaches.

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And a large crowd followed him and pressed inon him. Now there was a woman who had beensuffering from haemorrhages for twelve years. Shehad endured much under many physicians, andhad spent all that she had; and she was no better,but rather grew worse. She had heard about Jesus,and came up behind him in the crowd and touchedhis cloak, for she said, “If I but touch his clothes,I will be made well.” Immediately herhaemorrhage stopped; and she felt in her bodythat she was healed of her disease. Immediatelyaware that power had gone forth from him, Jesusturned about in the crowd and said, “Who touchedmy clothes?” And his disciples said to him, “Yousee the crowd pressing in on you; how can yousay, ‘Who touched me?’” He looked all round tosee who had done it. But the woman, knowingwhat had happened to her, came in fear andtrembling, fell down before him, and told him thewhole truth. He said to her, “Daughter, your faithhas made you well; go in peace, and be healed ofyour disease.”

—Mark 5:25-34

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A New RelationshipMark 5:21-43

MINE WAS A STORY destined not to be told.I was the one to die unknown, unremembered,unremarked. Then I got it into my head thatall I had to do was reach out and touch thehem of Jesus’ garment. Nothing more, nothingless.

I had heard of Jesus. Everyone had by then.He was the healer from Nazareth who had settongues wagging from the Decapolis to theNegev. I traveled more than most, and heardof Jesus everywhere I went.

I had begun seeking healing with sacrificesoffered at the Temple. But as soon as thepriests found out what my problem was, I wasdeclared unclean. I was no longer fit to be inGod’s presence. I was no longer welcome inthe Court of the Women at the Temple inJerusalem.

Feeling cast out by my God, I turned toeverything anyone ever heard of doing. Isought out healers and magicians. I recitedincantations in languages I couldn’tunderstand, to gods of whom I had never

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heard. But mostly I sought out the care ofphysicians, any physician, all physicians. I ateevery conceivable combination of herbs. Iapplied creams and ointments. I did anythingthey asked and paid everything I had.

As for me, the hemorrhage continued asdid my spiraling descent away from others.They don’t tell you how sickness cuts you offfrom others. Oh get some quick fever thateither kills you or leaves you spent butrecovering and the family will rally around,but get some slow wasting disease and watchhow others gently pull back all contact. Noone wants to speak to and certainly no onewants to touch you in case the illness shouldrub off on them. I don’t think it was conscious,but it was predictable. As soon as anyonefound out I had been bleeding for five years,seven years, ten years—whatever it was by thatpoint—he or she would pull back, withdraw.

I didn’t realize that being cut off fromothers was worse than the haemorrhage. Butit didn’t matter anyway, because my healthproblems and I were one. I let my sicknessdefine me and then so did everyone else.

Of course, I did hear of Jesus—everyone

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did in those days. There was talk of Jesusteaching with great authority. There was talkof how he could be the Messiah. Many hopedhe would overthrow the Romans so that Jewscould once more rule Israel on their own. Butfor people like me—the real sufferers—therewas only one tidbit about Jesus that mattered.Wherever Jesus went, he healed people. Jesustouched the blind, the deaf, the lame and theycould see, hear and walk.

I knew I had to get to him, but even thatproved a disaster. First, it was hard to pin downwhere he was. Jesus was always crossing backand forth around the Sea of Galilee and thenhe traveled down to Jerusalem for the festivalstoo. It seemed that he was everywhere at onceand never where I was. Then I did find himone day and even got close enough to speak,but I lost heart. I couldn’t dare to speak tohim. If the stories were true, then I couldn’trisk speaking with him. After all, God hisFather’s own priests tossed me out of theTemple as unclean. I couldn’t bear for Jesus toreject me too. Where would I turn then?

But I did hear him speak that day, withsuch power. I also watched eagerly as he

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reached out and touched others, healingthem, making them whole. Jesus was Godcome to live among us as a human. If Jesuswanted, he could heal me so effortlessly. I knewhe could do it.

A week passed. Once more on theseashore, I gathered with a large crowd ofothers, all bent on hearing Jesus, many otherswanted healing as well. I slowly worked myway through the crowd. I no longer needed tospeak with Jesus. You see, I had worked thedetails out in advance. If Jesus had the healingpower in him, I reasoned that I just had tobump against him in the crowd to be healed.But touching him would be too much. Then Ifigured that if bumping against him wouldwork, and that wouldn’t even require a touchof his hands, perhaps just touching his clotheswould be enough. And so it went until myplan was distilled to the simple idea oftouching the barest hem of his clothes.

An important religious leader namedJairus came to implore Jesus to heal hisdaughter. I worked around the crowd to getclose to Jesus. As he started toward Jairus’house, I knelt down and reached out for the

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barest edge of his robe and I grabbed hold as iftouching the very throne of God. I knew Jesus’robe well by this point from watching it in thecrowd and I knew that life and healing fromthe one God could flow through it.

Then the moment came. I reached andalmost fell short, but then I stretched up andbriefly grabbed hold. As I touched thehomespun cloth, I could feel it even morepowerfully than I had imagined, the power ofGod flowed through me, touching me andmaking my body whole. The bleeding stopped.I knew my body was healed.

Then everything went wrong. Jesusstopped. He stopped everyone. The wholecrowd. Jesus cried out wanting to know whotouched him. His disciples couldn’t believe thequestion. With such a great crowd crushingaround, a lot of people had been bumping intoJesus. Jesus kept looking. I could feel his eyessearching the crowd for me. I was terrified.Jesus was going to take it all back. I wasn’tworthy of the healing I had stolen from hiscloak. Once more, I was to be humiliated. ButI was desperate and so I threw myself at Jesus’feet and I babbled out my whole story, my

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twelve years of suffering. Trembling with fear,I told Jesus the whole truth down to the hemof his garment.

Jesus lifted me up, he looked into my eyesand he said the most beautiful words whichmade my healing complete. Jesus looked intomy eyes with his eyes of love and he said,“Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go inpeace and be freed from your suffering.”

I savored every word. “Daughter.” My Godcalled me daughter. How could that be? “Yourfaith has healed you.” Jesus knew what greatfaith I had come to have that even the veryhem of his robe could heal. “Go in peace,” hesaid. Peace, Shalom. It means health and wellbeing, but mostly it means wholeness orcompleteness. I knew then that if Jesus hadnot stopped to speak with me, only my bodywould have been healed, but Jesus was somuch more interested in healing my mind andsoul, complete healing. And then he set mefree from my suffering. Set free. Howmarvelous. I hadn’t even known that I wasimprisoned until he set me free. I had let mysickness define me. Instead of being a womanwho was sick, I had become my illness. Then

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Jesus set me free to be a daughter of God.I didn’t continue to follow Jesus that day,

at least not physically. I cut away from thecrowd, confident that Jairus’ daughter wouldbe healed. Instead, I began the journey toJerusalem. I wanted more than anything tooffer the sacrifices for thanksgiving for healingand to be allowed once more into God’sTemple. I wanted to live into being a daughterof God.

For I came to realize that being cut offfrom God, my family and others around mewas far worse than the haemorrhaging alone.I wanted, needed, the bleeding to stop, butwhat I needed more—and Jesus knew it—wasto be accepted once again. To have God lookinto my eyes and call me “daughter.”

I don’t know where you have been, whatyou have done, how you have marred theimage of God within you. But I do know thatGod wants to reach out to you, look you inthe eyes and call you “daughter” or “son.” Foryou are God’s beloved child too.

You don’t have to even touch the hem ofhis garment. You only have to reach out yourheart in prayer and offer God your pain and

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suffering. God will take that hurt and give youshalom, the health, healing and wholeness hegave me that day.

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Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus.“Teacher,” he said, “what must I do to inheriteternal life?” He said to him, “What is written inthe law? What do you read there?” He answered,“You shall love the Lord your God with all yourheart, and with all your soul, and with all yourstrength, and with all your mind; and yourneighbour as yourself.” And he said to him, “Youhave given the right answer; do this, and you willlive.” But wanting to justify himself, he askedJesus, “And who is my neighbour?” Jesus replied,“A man was going down from Jerusalem toJericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, whostripped him, beat him, and went away, leavinghim half dead. Now by chance a priest was goingdown that road; and when he saw him, he passedby on the other side. So likewise a Levite, whenhe came to the place and saw him, passed by onthe other side. But a Samaritan while travellingcame near him; and when he saw him, he wasmoved with pity....

Which of these three, do you think, was aneighbour to the man who fell into the hands ofthe robbers?” He said, “The one who showed himmercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”

—Luke 10:25-33,36-37

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Defining MyselfLuke 10:25-37

IT WAS A MATTER OF DEFINITION. That’s why Iwent to see Jesus. It’s why I asked him, “Whatmust I do to inherit eternal life?” and morespecifically, why I asked the follow up question,“And who is my neighbor?”

I wanted to know, “Who is in?” “Who isout?” and “Where do I stand?” More precisely,and I was always one for precision, I wantedto know where Jesus drew the boundaries. Iknew how I defined myself. I knew that myactions were always justified. I wanted to hearhis definition, before I made up my mind aboutthis new prophet who was setting thecountryside ablaze with his teaching.

As long as we are getting our definitionsstraight at the outset, I was not a lawyer. Notin the plain sense of that word. I did studylaw, but the law I studied would not land mealongside anyone in a Roman court. I studiedthe Law of Moses, the Torah. It was this lawthat I knew inside and out. It was this Law ofMoses that defined the world for me—telling

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me who was in, and more importantly whowas out.

In answer to my follow up question, Jesusgave a story. I must say I was quite impressedat first. The setup was perfect. The road fromJerusalem to Jericho. A man robbed and leftfor dead. It was all too realistic. Everyone knewthat road was dangerous. It’s why I travel it,as most do, with others in a group. The manis lying there near death. First a temple priestgoes by. Temple priests couldn’t touch a deadbody or they would have to undergo a lengthypurification rite before being able to serve inthe temple.

This is how I could really appreciate Jesus’precision. Like a good rabbi, he had an eye fordetails and he noted that the priest was goingdown, literally downhill. Everyone knows thatdownhill means away from the Temple and soaway from service. He was off duty and couldhave helped.

Then a Levite, a priest who lives in thecountryside did the same. This was noproblem for me. I am all about strictobservance of the law, which applies to all,not just a priest. I could see where Jesus was

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going. The hero of the story would be a goodTorah observant Jew, someone who knew thelaw and acted on it. This was perfect.

That’s when Jesus brought in theSamaritan. The Samaritan came near, sawthe injured man and was “moved with pity.”Well, what Jesus actually said was theSamaritan felt Splanchnisomai.

Splanchnisomai. There’s a word in needof definition. The root word meant “womb.”Splanchnisomai is a verb from the plural formof the noun. It meant literally “to womb”someone, to treat someone as a mother wouldtreat the child in her womb. I knew the wordwell for it was a common biblical word forGod’s compassion and mercy, but it was a rareword otherwise. Splanchnisomai was reservedto describe God’s compassion and mercy.Before that day with Jesus I had not onceheard any Jew ever use this word for God’scompassion used to describe the actions of anyhuman.

It really got under my skin that Jesus wouldattribute this sort of godly compassion to aSamaritan. After all, Samaritans were theones who had intermarried with Assyrians and

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others bringing other religious practices tocreate a form of Judaism that was not onlywrong, it was evil. That’s why Samaritans wereso bad. It was because of people likeSamaritans, or worse, the Romans, that wehad to create clear boundaries. These are thepeople who made us need to clearly defineourselves.

Yet the care Jesus had the Samaritan showthe man in need was quite amazing. Hecleaned his wounds, got him to an inn andpaid the cost for his recovery and then left,leaving what followed to the injured man. Theman would owe the Samaritan nothing. Hewouldn’t even know who his roadside saviorhad been if he didn’t seek him out.

So when Jesus asked his question, “Whichof these three, do you think, was a neighborto the man who fell into the hands of therobbers?” The only possible answer was, “TheSamaritan.” But I wasn’t going to fall for thatset up. I was quicker on my feet and betterwith words than that. I said, “The one whoshowed him mercy.” Let’s at least keep definitionsclear. It wasn’t being a Samaritan that madehim good; it was the godly compassion that

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made him a neighbor to the injured man.“Go and do likewise,” Jesus said. Well I

got the “go” part right. I walked away.Disenchanted. Disappointed. I had hoped fora great teacher, but Jesus clearly didn’tunderstand the way the law works, or the waythe world works for that matter. Jesus wouldnot make a great lawyer. Jesus overstated thecase.

He gave a preposterous example. ASamaritan with godly compassion? Really! Itwas like basing an argument on water runninguphill. Maybe it could happen with the rightforce, but it didn’t happen. No one had seeneither a compassionate Samaritan or waterrunning uphill. No one I know anyway. Wewouldn’t even look at a Samaritan, much lessspeak to one. Why make a Samaritan thehero of the story? The logical hero of thatmorality play of his was a good Torahobservant Jew. He needed someone who keptthe letter of the law as the example of whatGod expects humans to act like. Someonelike…well…honestly speaking, me. I’m justbeing honest here.

At least that’s what I thought. But I

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couldn’t get our encounter out of my head.That story kept running around in there. Thestory wouldn’t let me go. It was like a hoard oftermites were working away on that blockheadof mine. They were let loose on my tightlyconstructed façade as well. I knew that if Itook Jesus’ way of seeing the world seriously,my whole way of living would come crumblingdown to dust.

That’s why, later, when I heard he hadbeen put to death, I wasn’t surprised.Saddened, but not surprised. Jesus had upsetpeople. He even had the Pharisees joiningforces with King Herod’s followers and theSadducees, the Temple priests, to bring himdown. Those guys would hardly talk to eachother. They would yell at each other. But notwork together. It showed how much Jesusbothered them all.

Jesus was breaking down the dividing wallsbetween who was in and who was out. Peoplein power like their divisions. Breaking downbarriers between people didn’t help Rome anymore than it helped the elite of Israel. Theproblem wasn’t just his story about thecompassionate Samaritan, this was in

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everything he taught and everything he did.Some weeks after his death, I wanted to

get the story straight. I talked to Nicodemus,a Pharisee I respected. I knew he would tellme the truth about Jesus’ crucifixion. Afterall, he had a front row seat as he was on theSanhedrin. I sought Nicodemus out oneevening for something more than a casualchat. He quickly confirmed most of therumors. Jesus really did have a lot of peopleworking together to silence him and hisdisciples. But Nicodemus said more. Muchmore. Nicodemus had become a part of TheWay.

I learned that’s what they were callingthemselves, the people who still followed TheWay of Jesus. I was a bit confused at first. Jesuswas dead. His movement had ended tragically.Why would anyone follow him now?

Of course, I had heard that Jesus’ bodywas gone. I had even heard that some claimedhe was resurrected. I would never havethought someone of Nicodemus’ standingwould fall for that. Nicodemus was a leaderamong our people. Well respected. And sowhen he looked me in the eyes and told me

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that he had seen the resurrected Jesus withhis own eyes, hugged him with his own arms,cried on his shoulder, I was shaken. I thankedhim for his time, but I left.

I had to get away and think. I went awaydeeply troubled by our nighttime encounter.Either Nicodemus was crazy or I had beenwrong about Jesus, dangerously wrong. Ithought through everything I knew aboutJesus. Everything I had seen and heard thatwasn’t wild rumor, fit perfectly into one neatpicture. And all of it fit with that encounterof ours. Jesus taught people to, “Love the Lordyour God with all your heart, mind and souland love your neighbor as yourself.” No Jewcould fault him on that teaching. It was howhe defined “neighbor” that got Jesus killed.For Jesus, the word neighbor meant everyone,even our enemies.

I could see that in this way Jesus redefinedeverything. Jesus’ way of looking at the lawturned the whole equation inside out. I startedwith me. I always started with me. I knew thatI followed the letter of the law and so I definedmyself “Good.” Jesus started with God andthen defined the one who acts like God would

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act to be good.Starting that way, it is not about me and

who I am obligated to love. It doesn’t workthat way. It starts with God and coming toknow God. I come into the equation by havinga relationship with God and recognizing thelove God has shown me as a gift to be shared.Shared with whom? Well everybody. Especially,the poor, the needy, the outcast. Everyone Ihad defined as being on the outside were theones to be shown the most love.

Late that night after my talk withNicodemus, well on toward morning, I couldsee the truth clearly. Everything Jesus did fitwith everything he taught and all of it pointedto the truth of what Nicodemus had told me.Jesus was the Messiah. He had been put todeath and rose from the grave. I knew thiswas true because I could feel him there withme as I thought it all through. I also knewwhat it meant for Jesus to be the resurrectedLord. By definition I had to change.

Change was easy at that point. I lookedback on my encounter with Jesus with tearsin my eyes. I cried for shame. I had been sofull of myself, so arrogant. I had been so

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overflowing full of my own self-righteousnessthat I hadn’t noticed how Jesus looked throughall my pretension and loved me anyway. Ithought I deserved God’s love more thananyone, and that night after speaking withNicodemus, I was humbled.

Pride had been my chief sin. I looked downon everyone. I wore my own holiness like acrown. I had actually spoken to God’s Son,the Holy One of Israel, and acted holier thanthou! Can you imagine it? I wept until therewere no tears left. Then I prayed to Jesus. Iasked him for forgiveness for my pride andarrogance. Forgiveness for those I had cast out.Forgiveness for those I failed to love because Isaw them as worthless. Forgiveness foreverything.

I poured out my heart completely. But Ididn’t feel empty. I felt full. Full of love—thelove God was showing me. I wanted to shareit. I first thought of finding Nicodemus andtelling him the news of my change of heart.But by dawn, I just wanted to head north fromJerusalem straight to Samaria. I heard therewas a village there that converted to faith inJesus after a woman met Jesus at a well. I

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wanted to meet these good Samaritans.But I hadn’t even cleared the city walls

before I realized the love I felt was expandingmore. I didn’t need to find that particularvillage. Because when I looked at Samaritanswith God’s eyes, I realized they were all good,or could be, as God loved each Samaritan asmuch as he loved me.

So as the morning rays lit the tops of thecity walls, I headed out of Jerusalem like anarrow shot from a bow. I was walking north toSamaria to find a Samaritan or two to hugand to tell them that Jesus loves them and sodo I. I was a nut. I was crazy that morningwith God’s love. But I didn’t care. I had mywhole world redefined and it felt great.

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Then the Pharisees went and plotted to entraphim in what he said. So they sent their disciples tohim, along with the Herodians, saying, “Teacher,we know that you are sincere, and teach the wayof God in accordance with truth, and showdeference to no one; for you do not regard peoplewith partiality. Tell us, then, what you think. Is itlawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?” ButJesus, aware of their malice, said, “Why are youputting me to the test, you hypocrites? Show methe coin used for the tax.” And they brought hima denarius. Then he said to them, “Whose headis this, and whose title?” They answered, “Theemperor’s.” Then he said to them, “Give thereforeto the emperor the things that are the emperor’s,and to God the things that are God’s.” When theyheard this, they were amazed; and they left himand went away.

—Matthew 22:15-22

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Render Unto GodMatthew 22:15-22

MY TIME TO SHINE. That’s what that day inthe Temple was supposed to be. I was going tohave a big showdown with Jesus. By the timeI was done with him either the crowd or theRoman Empire would be turning on him.Either way, I would win.

It started the night before. I was in astrategy session with other Pharisees plottingto entrap the Rabbi. We had first wanted todig up some dirt on him to discredit Jesus as ateacher. But no one had anything on this guy.You couldn’t fault him on the way he livedout the scriptures, that was for sure. Thatshould have been enough to stop me in mytracks. But I was looking at the bigger picture.I was still a young man and I wanted to makea name for myself. I wanted to impress thereligious elite.

At least I did that. When we startedkicking around ideas on how to snare Jesus, Iknew we needed a question with no possibleright answer. I wanted him to be stuck nomatter what he said. That’s when I came up

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with my taxing solution. Taxes were perfect.The people hated taxes. Rome loved them,lived for them.

As soon as I thought of it I spoke abovethe person who had the floor, “Ask him if hethinks we should pay taxes to Rome.” Theroom got quiet. I was scared. I shouldn’t havejust spoken up like that. In the quiet, my mindrealized I practically shouted down RabbiMoshe in my exuberance. Not the impressionI wanted to make.

Fortunately it was the venerable Rabbiwho spoke first saying smiling as he did so,“He’s right, no matter what Jesus replies, we’vegot him.” He continued following my line ofreasoning, “There is no way a good Jewactually wants our money going to Rome, butif he speaks against the tax, we can turn himinto Pilate. If he sees that trap and claims weshould support the Romans, the crowd willbe finished with him. And if he remains silent,we’ll let them know that Jesus doesn’t haveall the answers.”

There was general agreement that theplan would work. Moshe said that as it wasmy idea, I should get to question Jesus

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personally. They would send along some otherPharisees with me and a few hangers on fromKing Herod’s court would be found to go aswell. We needed the Herodians as Romanswere not allowed in the Temple. No soldierswould be there to hear it if Jesus spoke againstthe tax. But the Herodians had a stake in theRome’s taxes. Herod was Rome’s puppet king.He could be counted on to come down hardon anyone speaking out against Rome lest itthreaten his deal with the empire.

All was set. We gathered in The Court ofIsrael, the part of the Temple reserved for themen, then we’d go find Jesus. That part waseasy as Jesus was teaching in the Temple.

I walked up and laying it on thick beganby flattering Jesus. I know how teachers are;they are all conceited and easily flattered. Ihad practiced the lines, learning them byheart, “Teacher, we know that you are sincere,and teach the way of God in accordance withtruth, and show deference to no one; for youdo not regard people with partiality.”

So far so good. I knew he would never seethe trap until it was too late. I finished bysaying, “Tell us, then, what you think. Is it

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lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?”Then I did my best to look as if I were

hanging on his words like a dog searching forsome piece of meat tossed from the table. Jesuslooked provoked. He didn’t even pause butlooked deep into my eyes as he asked of us all,“Why are you putting me to the test, youhypocrites?” Then he asked for the coin usedfor the tax.

I had a denarius hanging in a bag undermy outer robe, but I didn’t reach for it. Romancoins were prohibited in the Temple. That’swhy we had the money changers, to take theRoman money and exchange it for Templecoins. That way we didn’t bring in the coinswith the image of Caesar on it and aninscription saying “Caesar Augustus Tiberius,son of the Divine Augustus.”

We all knew the coins were blasphemous.The coin itself claimed that Augustus was agod and it had an image of that god on thecoin. But I kept the coins on me because Icame and went at the Temple so often, that Icouldn’t take the time to change out my coinsevery time I visited the Temple courts. Jesuswas a Galilean. He only visited the Temple

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for festivals, he would never understand.But in the time it took me to think not to

reach for my coin purse, Judah Halevi washolding up a denarius. It didn’t even dawn onhim that what he was doing was wrong. Jesusasked Judah, “Whose image and inscriptionare on it?”

Now it was coming. Jesus was going toblast us for blasphemy right there in theTemple and there was nothing I could do tostop it. We had marched right in secure in ourown self-righteousness to dispatch the Rabbiand now we were being humiliated steps awayfrom the Holy of Holies.

Judah had caught on to the predicamentas well and his voice carried a trace of fear ashe answered, “Caesar’s.”

Jesus replied, “Render therefore untoCaesar the things which are Caesar’s; andunto God the things that are God’s.”

I was stunned. Not only had we beenknocked down, but his rebuke was not thevicious diatribe I would have let loose if roleswere reversed. No, Jesus had looked thoughtfuland uttered a pithy saying worthy ofremembering and passing down.

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The Herodians were shaking their headsas we walked away. They had been pulled intothe promised showdown, but Jesus’ wordsseemed to support the emperor. It had been awaste of their time. But we Pharisees weregenuinely amazed. The Herodians missed thepoint entirely, of course. They thought Jesushad said pay taxes to Caesar and that was that.They were only interested in collecting theirshare of the money rendered unto Caesar. ButRabbi Jesus also said to give to God the thingsthat are God’s.

What is God’s? Well I am, to start close tohome. And so are you. And so is everything Iown and you own. The earth is the Lord’s andthe fullness of it. Everything belongs to God.

Paying tax to Caesar. Who cares? Let thebaby have his milk. Caesar can only demandsome of his own coins back. The point is togive your life to God. All of your life. Thenwhat little comes and goes from the hands ofCaesar is of no importance.

This was a saying worthy of a great teacher.Jesus sounded like a good Pharisee. No wondersome Pharisees had come to follow Jesus. Afterall, we taught that one should keep the

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scriptures faithfully. We valued clear cutsayings that pointed back to keep God’s word.And Jesus’ words on what we are to render toCaesar and what we are to render to God cutclear through me. I was ashamed that I hadgone to the Temple to ambush such a goodand godly teacher. No wonder some of myfellow Pharisees were always standing up forJesus while others considered themselves hisfollowers.

I went back to my shop and worked outthe rest of the day. I tried to explain to mywife what had happened, but she didn’tunderstand my embarrassment. Thankfullyshe hadn’t been there to witness the spectacle.

The next morning I was back in theTemple wanting to hear Jesus. Our leaderswere trying to test him once again and theyasked him to tell which commandment wasthe greatest. But they didn’t mean the TenCommandments, they meant the 613commands which Moses gave us to follow.These were the rules that included things likenot committing adultery, but also includedcommands to not sow a field with two types ofseed and gave us food laws and other commands.

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Jesus said the first commandment was tolove God with our heart, mind and soul andthe second was to love our neighbor asourselves. It was so simple when he said it,but I also knew that he was as correct andorthodox as he was clear. Blazingly clear. Jesus’teaching cut loose the weight of human madeburdens to get to the heart of a godly way oflife. He finished by saying that we are to beservants and that all who exalt themselves willbe humbled. How true! I had tried to exaltmyself as a leader among the Pharisees. I hadspoken up over Rabbi Moshe only to behumbled by Rabbi Jesus with his words ofwisdom.

Two days later, I was shocked andsaddened beyond words when I learned thatJesus was sentenced to death. I had stayedhome that Thursday evening to celebratePassover and wasn’t there for the farce theycalled Jesus’ trial. But I made it in time toGolgotha, the place of the skull, and saw Jesushanging on the cross. He cried out with a loudvoice, “Eli, Eli, Lema Sabachthani!” “My God,My God, why have you forsaken me!”

I wept openly, bitterly. How could our Lord

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God abandon Jesus, the teacher who not onlytaught God’s word clearly, but followed it fully?Where was God as the sky over that ancienttrash heap turned black? It was as if all the airhad been sucked out of the cosmos. I couldn’tbreathe. I stumbled away bewildered by theturn of events. How could the righteous be soutterly forsaken?

I heard of Jesus’ body being moved by hisdisciples. Everyone was saying they hadsomehow bribed the guards to let them stealaway his corpse. I knew no Roman soldierwould risk his life like that, but I didn’tunderstand. More than a month passed. I triedto find out what I could. Jesus’ disciples hadbeen in hiding somewhere. Then they said hecame back to life.

What I remember was that Pentecostmorning. Fifty days after that fateful Passover.I heard the commotion and went running intothe crowd. It was the most amazing scene.Those timid, unschooled disciples of Jesus wereteaching the crowds and they were doing iteach in the language of persons in the crowd.Languages the disciples hadn’t studied andcould not have known. And in Aramaic I

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could understand plainly enough how theywere proclaiming the risen Jesus as Lord, theMessiah, The One Who Is to Come, the Sonof God. It was miraculous.

When the disciple they called the Rockasked who wanted to be baptized, I waspushing my way to the front. Jesus had toldme to render unto God the things that areGod’s and I was ready to surrender all. Iwanted to stop holding back on God. I wantedto be his from the hairs on my head to thesoles of my feet.

I knew that even though I tithed, I wasstill holding back on God. I was holding backmy heart, my life, my own will for my life. Iwas holding back practically everything.

Tears were streaming down my face oncemore. But this was not embarrassmentanymore, or confusion. I was crying tears ofjoy. Peter was right, even after I had lookedGod in the eye in the person of his son Jesusand denied who he was to his face, Jesus wasstill calling to me. I could feel it in my heart.

As Peter pushed me down under the waterin baptism, I felt my old self dying. I let go ofmy will for my life. Whatever it was that God

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wanted, that’s what I wanted. And as I cameup out of the water, I felt positively resurrected.

Now I look back on that showdown in theTemple and it doesn’t shame me the way itonce did. I am thankful that Jesus put me inmy place, thankful that I got to hear himteach. But I’m most thankful that I was ableto not just hear of his resurrection from thedisciples, but to experience death andresurrection through my own baptism.

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When John heard in prison what the Messiah wasdoing, he sent word by two of his disciples andsaid to him, “Are you the one who is to come, orare we to wait for another?”

Jesus answered them, “Go and tell John whatyou hear and see: the blind receive their sight, thelame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear,the dead are raised, and the poor have good newsbrought to them. And blessed is anyone who takesno offence at me.”

—Matthew 11:2-6

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The One Who Is to Come:A Parable of the Old West

Matthew 11:2-11

AT SOME POINT, we all have to decide whatwe can trust in and where we place our hope.Is this the thing I trust or a person I can trust?What gives me a reason to hope for a betterfuture? These are questions worth asking.Consider this story of a wind-blown Texastown in the decade after the Civil War. It’s aonce upon a time kind of story, but the lessonis one that is both true and timeless.

Buffalo Ford was hardly a wide spot in theroad. If it weren’t for the dependable means itoffered of crossing the Brazos River, therewould have been no reason to pass throughthis part of the Texas prairie. But the ford wasreliable and the Brazos needed crossing andso a town developed.

Among the couple of hundred residentswere the usual array of a blacksmith, awheelwright, a livery, a tailor, a saddle makerwho also cobbled shoes, a butcher, some hidedressers, a hotel keeper, a couple of saloon

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keepers who kept rooms above for women ofquestionable virtue, a preacher, a schoolteacher and the rest of hangers on who keptcoming. The big rush for Buffalo hides thathit in the mid-1870s brought a lot of moneyand more than the usual share of vices withmore gamblers, whiskey peddlers andprostitutes choosing to stay rather than passthrough.

The once quiet river ford town would hitpeaks when buffalo hunters would end a spreewith a drunken night on the town. By morningyou could cross the main street stepping onone passed out drunk after another withoutdirtying your feet by stepping on the road.

One day a hot summer wind blew in withit one of the more unique individuals in a townthat seemed to be made up solely of unusualcharacters. Jack was a wild-eyed apocalypticpreacher whose favorite word was “repent.”But he didn’t just say, “repent.” He said,“REPENT! Change your evil-livin’ ways whilethere’s still time.”

Dressed in his rough buffalo hides, withlong, wild and wooly hair, he looked like afigure who had survived the apocalypse and

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staggered back to warn the rest of us. Jack tookto blasting away at passers by from the riverbank down on the Brazos edge of town. Heshouted at everyone coming and going with awarning of a hanging judge on the way andlittle time left for change. “Judgment is comingand it will be swift and sure when it arrives,”he warned.

Most everybody knew that the BuffaloFord couldn’t continue on the path it was on,and a lot of folks began to listen. The preacherdidn’t like his flock being stolen sheep bysheep, but there wasn’t much he could do. Aconscience is hard to run away from for longand a lot of people were feeling the guilt thatcame with so many mornings after. Many ofthem waded out in the Brazos for Jack to dunkthem in what he promised to be cleansingwater, despite the fact that the river wasmuddy brown.

When the hanging judge came, everythingwould be different. That’s the way Jack told itand a lot of folks believed him. Of course,many people kept right on with their riotousliving. Some of the decent folk just mindedtheir own business and left Jack and the

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fanatics to the edge of town. What did itmatter if they profited from the drinking,gambling and carousing? They weren’t doinganything wrong.

Then the promised day arrived. Except itwasn’t like anyone imagined. Manuel came totown and no one likely would have noticedhim at all if it weren’t for Jack. He was a niceenough fellow, but not imposing. He wasn’thandsome in a way that made you notice him,or tough enough to stand out in a town likethis one.

He passed straight between the cedarplank buildings, walked down to the river andright up to Jack, who was just setting fire tothe brimstone of his sermon. Jack saw Manuelwade out into the water. He stopped hisharangue mid-sentence, and just stared.Something passed between them that no oneon the bank could quite make out and thenJack baptized Manuel.

Later, after Manuel had disappeared onthe far side of the river, Jack began to warnthat the hanging judge long promised wasfinally here. “The end is coming any timenow,” he said. “You better repent while there’s

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still time.” Then Jack moved south along theriver to other towns where the river ransmooth and the saloons were rough.

More than a month passed and Manuelresurfaced. He taught too, but in a gentle way.Unlike Jack’s rough words of judgment,Manuel brought words of change thatsounded, well, loving. Manuel seemed lessconcerned with smashing up the saloons andclearing out the cat houses. He wanted to liftup the lowly and he did it. It was miraculousthe way some people quit the booze for good.Others stopped wasting their little money ontrying to outwit the professional card players.Here and there some people started to change,for good.

There was that awful scene one day wherethe preacher drug that poor young girl out ofMabel’s Place and threw her into the mudright in front of Manuel. They all knew whatkind of girl she was and wanted to see whatManuel would do about it. This should begood. But Manuel didn’t want to be broughtinto the fuss until the preacher startedshouting that lynching was too good for her.She just sat crumpled in the dirt crying.

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Manuel shouted to the crowd, “Who hereis not guilty of greater sin than this daughterof the Texas prairies?” People just kind oflooked the other way all awkward like andwalked on, minding their own business. Whenthe street cleared he leaned down, told herthat God valued her far more than this townknew how to. He helped her up, dusted heroff and sent her home. “No one herecondemns you,” he said. “Go be the womanGod made you to be.”

Well, that sort of talk isn’t good forbusiness. People got angry. People with thepower, that is. But Jack had always been thelouder, brasher preacher of the pair and landedin jail down in Young’s Fort long beforeManuel got into trouble. The fort was bringingin a hanging judge just to silence Jack’s talkof change.

Jack looked out from the iron bars of thelittle jail, watching the thunderheads build outover the prairie. He got to thinking. He hadbeen so sure that day at Buffalo Ford. Manuelhad stepped out of the crowd and it was as ifGod almighty was shouting in his ear, “Thiswas the hope for all mankind.” But time had

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passed. Manuel hadn’t cleaned out that onetown, much less the Brazos River valley. Therewas talk of miracles, healings and the like. But,nothing had changed. Not really. Things werelooking just as hopeless as ever.

Zachary was a man Jack had baptized whovisited with Jack while he was in jail. The twospoke between the bars. With his own Day ofJudgment looming, Jack said to Zachary, “Goto Manuel for me….Ask him for me if he’sThe One we were looking for….The One tobring justice.”

Zachary first went looking Henry, thefriend who had brought him down to the riverto hear Jack. Zach and Henry had both beenbaptized and started trying to live right. Nowthe two went to find out for Jack if Manuelwas going to be the hanging judge or not. Thepair found Manuel talking out front of asaloon, telling people how they should carefor the folks who didn’t have anyone to lookout after them. When he finished up, Zachsaid straight out, “Jack wants to know if you’rehim.” He didn’t add that he was thinking,“‘cause if you’re not, it looks like Jack’s aboutto face the rope for nothing.”

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After Zach asked if he was The One,Manuel paused and looked at Zach and Henrylong and hard with the kindest look in his eyes.“The kingdom he is waiting for has alreadycome,” Manuel said. “Go back and tell Jackthat the sick are being made well, needy folksare being taken care of, and these lost souls ofthe prairie are learning about the Good Newsthat God loves them.”

Zach and Henry headed back southwondering if the news would be enough. Jackwas facing a hangman for sure and he had solittle to pin his hope on. They agreed aboutone thing. Change was coming. It was as iflittle bits of cool, clean air were breaking intothe choking dust of the prairie. Some folkswere breathing easier already. But it wasnothing like the End of Times that Jack hadtold them to expect. What would happennow? How could Jack know that everythingwould be all right? How could Zach or Henryknow?

They had all expected The One to calldown fire from heaven and Manuel had onlycalled down forgiveness. It was rainingforgiveness now, flooding forgiveness. There

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was no doubt about that. Just ask the girl whowas crying in the dirt out front of Mabel’s thatday when Manuel refused to condemn her.

But what about judgment? When wouldthat come? Didn’t we deserve justice? Manuelsaid judging was God’s business and it wasn’ttime yet. But there’s evil out on the prairie.As for the time for justice, Manuel didn’t seemto know.

Thing is, Zach and Henry knew deepdown that they were glad that forgiveness hadbeen offered long enough for them to take adip in the river and wash away all the grime ofa life lived wrong. Neither of them would havewanted to die still caught up in that cycle oftrying to scrape up a few hard earned coins totry to buy some happiness.

So, maybe a hangin’ judge wasn’t neededjust yet. ‘Cause if Manuel was right, then morepeople had something to hope for. They couldstill hope to get things turned around beforeit was too late. As they made their way backto the Young’s Fort Jail, Zach and Henryweren’t sure if it would sound like good newsto Jack. But they both knew of lots of peoplescattered across the prairie, who were still inneed of that hope.

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Then they brought Jesus to the place calledGolgotha (which means the place of a skull). Andthey offered him wine mixed with myrrh; but hedid not take it. And they crucified him, and dividedhis clothes among them, casting lots to decide whateach should take. It was nine o’clock in themorning when they crucified him....

When it was noon, darkness came over thewhole land until three in the afternoon. At threeo’clock Jesus cried out with a loud voice, “Eloi,Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God,my God, why have you forsaken me?”

When some of the bystanders heard it, theysaid, “Listen, he is calling for Elijah.” Andsomeone ran, filled a sponge with sour wine, putit on a stick, and gave it to him to drink, saying,“Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to takehim down.” Then Jesus gave a loud cry andbreathed his last. And the curtain of the templewas torn in two, from top to bottom.

Now when the centurion, who stood facinghim, saw that in this way hecried out and breathedhis last, he said, “Truly this man was God’s Son!”

—Mark 15:22-24a,33-39

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What LanguageDoes God Speak?

Mark 15:22-39

LUKE’S GOSPEL BRINGS US today to Golgotha,the place of the skull. The reading from Lukeshows the length that Jesus was willing to goto in order to reconcile all creation to God.

I want to shed some light on this bleakpicture with a story from East Africa. Like agood East African tale, my story will not beginright with the point. But if you will journeywith me, I promise that our path will lead usback to the darkness of Golgotha for anotherlook at today’s Gospel.

In the summer of 1998, I journeyed toTanzania to take part in a cross-culturalinternship sponsored by the Seminary. Iworked in western Tanzania in an AnglicanChurch led by a Tanzanian priest. While there,I was asked several times, “What is yourmother tongue?” You see in East Africa,everyone speaks Swahili, and many peoplespeak English. But these are not the languagesof home. Among their own tribe, their ownfamily, most East Africans speak their tribal

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language. This language is their mothertongue. Whenever I explained that Englishwas my mother tongue, people always felt sorryfor me. They knew that I was a much poorerperson for not having a mother tongue, aspecial language spoken only among my ownpeople.

This concern about a mother tongue isreflected in a story told in East Africa of a manfrom the Dodomo district of Tanzania namedMsafiri. Msafiri followed the traditionalAfrican religion of his people, the Wagogo.He believed in one God, the creator who isthe source of all good things. Msafiriapproached God by praying to his ancestorswho he believed still watched over theirpeople.

An Anglican evangelist came to his smallvillage and began teaching the people aboutChristianity. Msafiri listened to the evangelistas he told about God sending his son Jesus tolive among us. The stories of Jesus’ life, hisdeath and resurrection touched Msafiri andhe converted to Christianity. He studied withthe evangelist and was baptized, taking thename Simon, for Simon of Cyrene, the African

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saint who had carried Jesus’ cross to Calvary.Simon Msafiri went to church faithfully,

always attending the Wednesday fellowshipmeetings and Sunday services. Gathered withthe other Christians under the grass roof ofthe mud-walled church they had builttogether, he learned the stories from the Bible.

Simon Msafiri prayed to God in Kigogo,the language of his own people instead of theSwahili that he used in town with others. Thiswas Simon’s mother tongue and was part ofSimon’s ties to his extended family. Simonknew that God understood him when he spokeKigogo, but he decided that God, too, musthave a mother tongue—a language that wasGod’s own language from before time. Simonwanted to learn to pray to God in God’s ownmother tongue. One day he asked theevangelist, “What is God’s mother tongue?”The evangelist thought for a moment andthen said that God doesn’t have a mothertongue—all languages are the same to God.

Simon listened and thanked theevangelist. But as he went home, he began towonder about the evangelist’s answer.Everyone Simon knew had a mother tongue

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they learned as a child and used among theirown people. If the people Simon knew had amother tongue, then God must as well. Hedecided to ask some of the elders of the villageto get the answer to his question. One mansaid that God, as the great ancestor, mustspeak the language of their ancestors, Kigogo.Another said that surely God’s mother tongueis Swahili. These answers didn’t sound rightto Simon and he decided to set out on a greatsafari, a journey to find his answer.

He traveled around Tanzania andeverywhere he went, he asked people hisquestion—”What is God’s mother tongue?”When he traveled to the west, he was toldthat God spoke Kisukuma. He turned north,crossing the Malagarasi River and was toldthat if God’s mother tongue isn’t Kiha, thenperhaps the language is English. In thenortheast, an elder told him that God’s mothertongue must be Kichagga, while another wasequally sure that God’s mother tongue wasthe Latin he had heard spoken in the CatholicChurch. Everywhere he went the answerschanged, but in a way they were always thesame; people often thought that their own

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mother tongue must be God’s mother tongueas well. Simon knew that this couldn’t be thetrue answer to his question.

As certain as ever that God must have amother tongue, Simon decided that he shouldgo on a pilgrimage to Israel to find his answer.Surely there, where so many of the stories fromthe Bible took place, he could find the answerto his question. As he walked north, hecontinued to ask people, “What is God’smother tongue?” In Kenya, he was toldKikuyu. As he traveled further north, manypeople told him Arabic.

Finally Simon arrived in Israel. Late oneafternoon he walked through a large stonegate into the old town of Jerusalem. Here heused his broken English to ask people againabout God’s mother tongue. Most of thepeople he spoke with insisted that God’smother tongue is Hebrew. One man carefullyexplained that Moses’ Law was written inHebrew, so that had to be God’s own language.But another man was equally emphatic thatJesus had spoken Aramaic, so that must beGod’s mother tongue, while still others saidthat God must speak Arabic.

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Simon was confused and disappointed. Hispilgrimage had brought many answers, butnone of them seemed to be the one trueanswer that he sought. Tired from his journey,he walked out of the gates of the city asdarkness was falling. He went to a nearby olivegrove and fell asleep among the trees.

As he slept, Simon had a vision. In thevision he was on a hill outside the old city ofJerusalem. But unlike the olive grove wherehe fell asleep, the hill of his vision was a barren,rocky place. The road from town passed bythe place where he was standing. Simon wasalone on the hill, but he could hear acommotion at the gate, where he could see acrowd leaving the town. The violent mobyelled loudly as it stormed up the hill.

The crowd stopped and then parted.Simon saw a dark-skinned man come forwardand lift the beam off a shapeless clump offabric. Simon knew what his vision was. Thebarren hill was Golgotha, the place of the skull.The clump of fabric rose and took shape.Simon could see that Jesus was rising againafter the cross was pulled off of him. Jesus’ backwas bloody and on his brow, was pressed the

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crown of thorns. Blood trickled down acrossJesus’ face.

Simon wanted with all his being to reachout and help his Lord. He wanted to help, tosomehow stop the madness. But he couldn’t.Simon was powerless to do anything. He couldonly look on in shock. Simon saw thecrucifixion and though he had heard aboutJesus’ death numerous times in church, thecrucifixion was so much more grisly, morehorrifying in his vision. The whole scene wasall too real.

Tears poured down Simon’s face as hewatched the soldiers strip Jesus and lay himacross the beam. He saw them nail Jesus tothe cross and then raise him up into the air.Simon didn’t want to watch anymore, but thevision continued. Simon saw Jesus lookingdown at those who crucified him and at thejeering crowd. Jesus saw the anger of the moband looked at them in love. He said, “Father,forgive them; for they know not what theyare doing.” The words were in a languageSimon could not understand, but in his mindhe heard them in his own Kigogo. Then Simonunderstood his vision. Deep inside his being

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Simon understood that this was the answerto his question. God does have a mothertongue, God’s own unique language frombefore time. The mother tongue of God is love.And on the cross, Jesus spoke volumes aboutthe love of God, not just with his words offorgiveness, but with his actions as well. Jesusstayed on the cross, experiencing the worsthumanity had to offer in return for love andyet did not give up on his love for us.

The Romans intended the cross for shameand death, but through Jesus’ words andactions, the cross has become for us a sign ofGod’s love. Through the cross, Jesus speaksto us in God’s own language of love showingthe length God will go to in order to reconcileall creation to Godself.

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I give you a new commandment, that you loveone another. Just as I have loved you, you alsoshould love one another.

—John 13:34

A Note about Old JohnThis work of fiction is set at the beginning ofthe second century at the time of the ApostleJohn’s death in Ephesus. The story hangsloosely on a few beliefs about the life of John:He arrived in Ephesus after his time onPatmos; he wrote his Gospel, often referredto as the “Love Gospel,” while in his senioryears in Ephesus; problems of discord betweenJewish Christians and Gentile Christians inEphesus had been a concern of Paul’s fortyyears earlier; and John died in Ephesus at anadvanced age sometime after the year 100A.D.

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Old JohnJohn 13:34

APOLLOS KNEW OLD JOHN WAS CRAZY. Heguessed everyone in Ephesus did.

Sitting on the banks of the Cayster,watching the boats sail into the harbor,Apollos saw John walking up the road talkingto someone. He couldn’t miss Old John’s hair,white as a cloud floating about his head. John’sarms waved wildly and Apollos didn’t have towait until they got close to know what theconversation was about. He could tell that OldJohn was recounting his vision again. Apollosdidn’t understand all that talk abouthorsemen, stars and other signs. From whathe heard when the grown ups talked, no oneelse understood it either.

John always seemed to be in the streetssomewhere talking about Jesus or his visions.He claimed to be an Apostle—one of thetwelve who had been there with Jesus at thestart—but Apollos knew better. Jesus had diedand been resurrected before Apollos’sgrandfather was born. All the Apostles diedlong ago too, killed for being Christians.

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Old John’s just crazy and that’s all there is toit, Apollos thought as John and Eli’s fatherpassed by.

It was Sunday and Apollos fell in behindthe two men and followed them to church.Apollos sat by his father as always.

After the service, Apollos stepped out tothe stone street to meet up with his friendsfrom church. Gigantic clouds floated across adeep blue sky and sun glinted off the waterbeckoning Apollos. He dashed down to theriver with four other boys from church. Theybuilt boats out of sticks, using leaves for sails.

“Let’s have a boat race,” Demetrius said,and all the boys splashed into the shallowwater along the rocky bank.

“The first one to pass that tree wins,”Apollos declared, pointing to the only nearbytree. The wild fig’s branches stretched out overthe water about twenty feet downstream.

“Go!” Demetrius shouted.A push on the sticks and a puff of air on

the leaf sails launched the five boats. Tychicus’boat got off to the best start, sailing out infront most of the way to the tree. Just when itseemed the race was his, Tychicus’ leaf turned

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to the side and his boat stalled. Eli’s boatcaught a gust of wind and surged past the tree.Apollos’s boat reached the tree next.

“Hooray, Apollos!” Demetrius declared.“I’ll beat you next time,” Tychicus told

Apollos as he turned his back on Eli.“But my boat was first,” Eli protested,

knowing it would do no good.The other boys acted as if they hadn’t

heard Eli. Laughing, they headed back intothe center of the city.

Apollos didn’t really like ignoring Eli likethat. They had grown up together in churchand in the marketplace where Apollos’ fathersold the pots his family made in the stall nextto the one where Eli’s family sold dates, figsand other fruit. But, Apollos knew that someof the older boys in church, like Demetrius,avoided Eli because he was a Jewish Christian.

Apollos knew that Eli’s family had beenChristians ever since his grandfather hadconverted upon hearing the Apostle Paulpreach, but the family still kept their Jewishcustoms. When the other boys weren’t aroundhe would still talk to Eli sometimes, but toooften they would argue. It was always the same.

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“If you were really a Christian, youwouldn’t worry about eating pork or any ofthat other old stuff,” Apollos said.

“Maybe you don’t have to worry about it,”Eli would protest, “but I do. I’m still Jewish.”

Apollos felt that Eli thought the GentileChristians were somehow a notch below theJewish Christians and he resented it.

The next week Apollos sat waiting for hisfather to come in and the service to start. Hisfather came up and whispered for Apollos tojoin him at the back of the hall his churchmet in.

“I want you and Eli here to go check onOld John,” his father said. “No one has seenhim yet today and the elders want to makesure that he’s all right. He lives in Cephas’old house, down the hill from the theater.”Eli stood awkwardly off to the side staring atthe cracks in the stone floor.

Without a word to Eli, Apollos walked offin search of the old man. Apollos was tall forhis twelve years and set a quick pace. Eli hadto run to catch up.

“Wait up,” he called out.“Hurry up,” Apollos replied, “We haven’t

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got all day to find him.” The dove gray skywas turning darker. We’ll probably have rainbefore evening, Apollos thought.

“What do you think about Old Johnanyway?” Eli asked.

“He’s crazy, but I guess he’s harmlessenough,” Apollos said.

“I guess so. He scares me a little though.”The boys soon passed by the theater’s

massive stone columns and turned down thestreet to Cephas’ old house.

“What’ll we do if he’s not there?” Eliasked.

“Just go back to church. But he’ll be there.He’s been in church every time the doors haveopened since he moved here when we wereboth eight,” Apollos said.

“You don’t think he’s dead do you?” Eliasked.

“No, he’s probably just sleeping.”“I hope so.”When they got to the small brick house,

Apollos didn’t bother knocking. He pushedthe door open and walked right in.

“Anyone home,” he said as he came intothe dark house. The single room house with

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its hard-packed dirt floor looked much likeApollos’s own home, only smaller. The oillamp wasn’t lit and it took Apollos a momentto realize John wasn’t in the room. Throughthe open back door he saw Old John sittingunder an olive tree in the walled back yardstooped over a makeshift table, writing.

“I don’t think he heard you,” Eli said.John stacked the parchment he was

working on top of the pile on the desk, setdown his writing brush, and looked up at theboys.

“Come on back here, boys. I won’t bite,”John said.

“When you weren’t in church today, theelders were worried and sent us to see afteryou,” Apollos said.

“I guess an old man has to send word tolet people know he’s still with the living,” Johnsaid with a smile forming on his aged face.“I’ve got so much to write and I feel that mytime is short. I’ve got to get it all down whileI’m able.”

“What are you writing?” Eli asked.“Nothing that needs to concern you boys

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today. But, I’ve got something I want to talkto you about.”

He sat back and looked hard at the boys.Apollos returned the gaze and looked beyondthe white mane that was John’s most noticablefeature. An impossible maze of wrinkles wereetched into his skin. His strong nose had adistinct bend to it that made Apollos think ithad been broken once. His long boney fingerswere stained black from the sooty ink he wasusing to write on the parchment. After a while,Apollos couldn’t keep returning the old man’sstare and began to study the olive tree.

“Tell me what happened with the boatslast week,” John asked.

“What do you mean?” Apollos asked.“The race, of course. Why didn’t this boy

win the race?” John asked pointing at Eli.Apollos stared in disbelief. He hadn’t even

noticed Old John last week and the crazy manwas worried about who had won the race.

“The Gentile boys ignore me when ourparents aren’t around,” Eli said.

“I know that. I want to hear why,” Johnsaid.

“We’re all supposed to be Christians, but

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Eli’s family can’t let go of their old Jewishtraditions,” Apollos said. “If they were reallyChristians, they wouldn’t worry about thatjunk. They need to be good Christians likethe rest of us.”

“Oh really?” John said.“After all, Jesus said, ‘What goes into a

man’s mouth does not make him unclean, butwhat comes out of his mouth, that is whatmakes him unclean.’”

“And what does that mean?” John asked.“It means that we don’t have to worry

about the old laws like not eating pork,”Apollos said.

Old John gently chuckled. “What do youmake of all this, Eli?” he asked. A smile spreadthrough the wrinkles and Apollos saw him asjust a kind old man. For the first time he wasn’tafraid of Old John.

“Jesus said that he didn’t come to abolishthe Law or the Prophets, but to fulfill them.So if you don’t keep the Law, you can’t reallybe a Christian anyway,” Eli said.

Apollos interrupted, “Yeah, but Jesus saidthat the Jews would ignore the word of Godfor the sake of tradition. He couldn’t have

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wanted Christians to keep all that tradition.”“You boys are smart, but you think too

much. Jesus said and did many things, but allof it only meant one thing—love one another.If you love one another completely, nothingelse is required. If you don’t try to love yourfellow man with all your heart, nothing elsematters. In the end I see that all Jesus saidand did were really one thing—love.”

John sat silently for a long while. Apolloswas too caught off guard to speak.

“If you boys would worry less about thethings that separate you and worry more aboutlove it wouldn’t matter whose boat won therace. Now leave me to my work. Tell the eldersI’m well and thank them for their concern,”John said.

He picked up an empty page, dipped hisbrush in ink and continued his writing as if hehadn’t been interupted. John was soon lost inconcentration and the words began flowingonto the page. He did not even looking up asApollos and Eli backed into the house.

They topped the hill and Apollos sat onthe steps of the theater to catch his breathand tighten the straps on his sandals.

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“He really is crazy,” Apollos said.“Why do you say that?” Eli asked. “It

sounded good to me.”“That’s the problem. It sounded too good

and too easy. It’s a lot more complicated thanthat. Old John just doesn’t have to live in thereal world anymore. If he ever did. How canyou believe someone who thinks he was anApostle?”

“That’s only a rumor, isn’t it? Nobody isthat crazy.”

“I don’t know, I’ve heard the elders talkingand they’ve all heard the story too,” Apollossaid. “The stories were around before he cameto run the Asian churches; I think all thatreligious importance sent the old guy over theedge.”

“I guess he really is crazy,” Eli said.When they got back to the church, the

service was already over. After making theirreport to the elders, Apollos headed down tothe river to find the other boys, but Eli headedfor home. Apollos watched him walk off andthought about asking him to come down tothe river. Eli wasn’t really all that bad, but he

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didn’t want to have the other guys see himbring Eli along.

A month passed without Apollos seeingOld John. When he asked his father aboutJohn, he was told that John had been workingon a book when he took ill. He couldn’t getout of bed and could hardly speak. Now, thebook was finished and Old John wasn’texpected to live much longer.

“The elders wanted to have someone staywith him—a vigil—but John insisted on beingalone,” Apollos’s father said.

On Sunday, they prayed for John inchurch. After the service, Apollos’s fathertook him aside.

“I don’t want you going off to play withthe other boys today. I think you should gowith Eli to look in on John to see how he isgetting along,” his father said. “He asks aboutyou boys now and again and I think you shouldgo visit.”

With a clear blue sky overhead and a lightbreeze to make the heat of the day bearable,finding a better day to play would be difficult,but Apollos didn’t mind. He found Eli and thetwo headed off to see Old John. This time

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Apollos knocked when they reached the door.When no reply came, he knocked louder.

“It’s Apollos and Eli,” Eli said and pushedthe door open.

Harsh light poured through the door andthe room’s spare furnishings; a bed, table andstool threw shadows against the wall. Johnslept peacefully in his cot. Too peacefullyApollos realized, and bent his head low tolisten for breath.

“Is he dead?” Eli asked.Apollos nodded, filled with a surprisingly

deep sense of loss. Their short encounter themonth before left Apollos with more respectfor Old John than Apollos had appreciatedbefore he found John dead.

Eli lit the oil lamp and shut the door. Withthe bright light gone, Apollos studied John’sface in the lamp light. A smile filled John’sfurrowed face like the one a month beforewhen John had laughed at him and Eli.Apollos was confident that Old John wasalready in heaven.

“This must be what he’s been writing,” Elisaid.

Apollos picked up a sheet of sheepskin

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from the stack and looked at the manuscript.The words were written in an amazingly steadyhand. He could tell at a glance that it wasfrom the book he had seen Old John writingunder the olive tree. He read aloud as Eli heldthe candle close.

“In the beginning was the Word, and theWord was with God and the Word was God....”

He read on and time became unimportantas the book unfolded. The light strainingthrough the cracks in the door etched its wayacross the floor. The story told about Jesus’life. Some of the stories Apollos had heard toldin church, but many were new. Throughoutit all was love.

“. . . Jesus did many other things as well. Ifevery one were written down, I suppose thateven the whole world would not have roomfor the books that would be written.”

The manuscript ended, Apollos and Elisat in silence.

“We better let the elders know what we’vefound,” Eli finally said.

“Go and I’ll wait with him,” Apollos said.Sitting in the dark by the old Apostle,

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Apollos wondered about the man’s amazinglife. Old John had followed John the Baptistand became one of Jesus’ best friends. All thatoccurred long before his time in exile on therocky island of Patmos and coming to Ephesus.

Apollos could hear Old John talking tohim and Eli a month earlier and distilling thegospel to one word. It took one of the twelveto make it plain to Apollos that Christianitywasn’t complicated at all; it all came down tolove.

Apollos was busy during the week anddidn’t get to see Eli at all until church thefollowing week. After the service, Apolloswent down to the river with the other boysand built a boat of sticks. Eli left the meetinghall with his father and turned toward homewithout a glance toward the river. Apollos ranto catch him.

“Wait up, Eli,” he said.Eli stopped and slowly turned around.

Apollos handed Eli his boat. He put his armaround his friend and they walked down tothe water together.

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About the Author

THE REV. FRANK

LOGUE is the Vicarof King of PeaceEpiscopal Churchin Kingsland,Georgia. Frankfounded the newcongregation withhis wife, Victoria,and their daughter,Griffin.

Born in Montgomery, Alabama, where helived for six years, Frank grew up in Marietta,Georgia. A 1984 graduate of GeorgiaSouthern University, Frank worked first as anewspaper photographer then as a magazineart director. In 1992 Frank and Victoria wentfull-time as freelancers, writing books andmagazine articles. Their seven books includeGeorgia Outdoors and The Appalachian TrailBackpacker.

Frank was ordained in 2000, the same yearKing of Peace was founded. He writes a

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religion column for the Tribune & Georgian.Victoria, Griffin and Frank continue to

enjoy travel as well as photography and theourdoors.