The Fisherman Read online

  6

  And so Jesus introduced himself to the nation of Israel. It was an introduction made from center stage at a time and in a way carefully designed to capture the attention of the entire Jewish world. Jerusalem was packed with Passover visitors from every corner of our tiny country, and with several hundred witnesses eager to testify to what they had seen, the report of Jesus’ temple confrontation spread throughout the city in a matter of hours.

  But his introduction was not yet complete. Having introduced the people to his authority, he would now present them with his credentials.

  I found Andrew and the others gathered in one corner of the courtyard. There must have been some discussion between them about the possibility of my coming, because as I walked up to the group I overheard James say to Andrew, “Alright, you win!” Then they both burst out laughing. I chose to ignore his comment.

  Andrew gave me a punch on the arm and said, “Hey, brother! What a surprise!” Then he started giggling again.

  Before anything further could be said about what we had just witnessed, Jesus looked our way and motioned for us to follow him. We had no idea what was coming next, but there was no way we were going to miss it.

  Jesus walked out of the temple courtyard and down the steps leading to the street with us right behind and a multitude of curious onlookers behind us. The entrance to the temple was a favorite location for the beggar population of Jerusalem. Most of them were there because of some physical infirmity that prevented them from functioning as productive members of society. Some had severely deformed or missing limbs. Some were blind or deaf. It was a collection of the most pathetic and helpless in Israel. They lived off the occasional coin dropped into their hands by those coming to and from the temple.

  The first beggar Jesus came to was a woman in her late thirties. She had a huge, hideous growth on her jaw and neck. Her deformity so distorted her appearance, I instinctively looked away in disgust. She sat next to the road, a little heap of pathetic rags, her eyes staring at the ground, her hands cupped in the hope of a coin cast her way.

  The Master stooped, then knelt down on both knees in front of her. He reached out and cradled her face in his hands, then lifted her head until their eyes met. I could not hear what he said to her, but suddenly the growth was gone.

  It took a few seconds before she realized what had happened. When the truth finally hit her, she grabbed her face, felt her neck and jaw, then began sobbing so hard she couldn’t talk. She clutched Jesus’ hands, then felt her face again, then clutched his hands, then again felt her face.

  Jesus stood up and walked to the next beggar several feet down the street. He was a young man, barely out of his teens, with sunken hollows where his eyes should have been. This time Jesus placed his thumbs over the boy’s eyelids, and when he removed them, the first thing that young man ever saw was his Messiah.

  During the next two hours we watched as Jesus went from deformity to deformity and illness to illness, restoring and curing each one he touched. He did not stop until every beggar before the temple steps had been cured.

  Those of us who knew the Master stayed as close as possible to him throughout the afternoon. Though the six of us formed the front row next to Jesus, the first few rows of the crowd behind us could see plenty, and those farther back were getting frequent, vivid accounts of what was happening.

  The greatest impact of the healings, however, was coming from the testimonies of those who were being healed. Many were regular fixtures before the temple, well known by sight to the population of the city. Even before the healed person fully grasped the reality of what Jesus had just done, as Jesus would move on to the next sufferer, the crowd would squeeze in around the person and begin pumping him or her with questions. By the time Jesus finished, apart from the mob immediately behind us, there were numerous smaller groups up and down the street clustered around some excited individual, with everyone asking questions and straining to hear all at the same time.

  His work completed, Jesus turned around and headed straight into the crowd with the six of us right behind him. Though the entire area was one solid mass of people, Jesus was still unknown by sight to any except those directly behind us during the healings and those who had seen him in the temple courtyard. By the time we wormed our way several layers through the crowd, the people we met did not realize the man they were bumping up against was the one who was causing all the commotion. Jesus led us outside the city to their Passover camp.

  No one said much, even after we broke free from the masses and were able to walk next to each other. I think we were all in shock. Too much was happening too quickly. Changing water into wine at a private country wedding was one thing. But publicly declaring his authority over the greatest visible symbol of our God and our nation, then demonstrating his power to heal all kinds of physical diseases and deformities with nothing more than the touch of his hand . . . what was there to say? Now that I knew where the group was staying, I couldn’t wait to get back to tell Ruth what had happened. I made arrangements to meet them in the morning and headed back to our camp.

  The reports and rumors of Jesus spread through Jerusalem faster than I ever would have believed possible. By morning the entire city was talking of little else.

  I found out later from John about a late-night visitor to Jesus’ camp, a man by the name of Nicodemus. He was a person of tremendous influence in the nation’s power structure. Unlike the temple rulers who had confronted Jesus earlier in the day, however, Nicodemus came with an open mind and an earnest desire to learn more about the Master. Their conversation together resulted in his becoming one of Jesus’ fiercest allies within the establishment; Nicodemus openly defended Jesus even when the campaign to destroy him was at its worst.

  Ruth joined me that second day, and together we followed Jesus through the most remarkable thirty-six hours we had ever lived up to that point in our lives. The Master returned to the temple, where he encountered an anxious temple guard and a mass of people filled with anticipation. This time, however, Jesus chose communication rather than confrontation.

  He taught the people just as he had been teaching us back home. His words fascinated those who heard him, but they seemed to enrage the Jewish leaders even more than open confrontation. An overstressed, overcharged pilgrim going crazy in the courtyard could be handled. But a rational, deeply compassionate, insightful teacher speaking to the minds and hearts of the people was far more dangerous. Overturned tables could be uprighted. Smashed stalls could be rebuilt. But ideas that openly challenged the foundation upon which the nation’s religious power structure was built could not be tolerated. Respected religious leaders repeatedly attempted to challenge the things Jesus was saying. Each time, however, Jesus’ wisdom and insight into their underlying motives became abundantly evident to all who heard.

  And then there were the healings. Everywhere he went the sick, crippled, and deformed followed. Each time he was confronted with their suffering, he touched and he healed.

  Those of us from Capernaum stayed close to Jesus throughout his first public visit to Jerusalem. Though his instant popularity made any personal interaction with him almost impossible, he always alerted us to when and where he was going and made it clear he wanted us by his side. We helped a little with crowd control and kept things orderly when there were several sick seeking his attention.

  Most of all, though, we learned. We learned that Jesus’ compassion extended to every hurting human being he encountered. We learned it was impossible to intimidate the man. We learned that anyone entering into a battle of wits with him always went away looking like a fool. We learned that the public Jesus and the private Jesus were absolutely consistent. We learned that there seemed to be no limits to his healing powers. We learned that he brought with him no hidden agenda, no selfish or self-serving motivations. He did not seek to destroy the established authorities but rather to offer them a mirror in which they could see their own corruption. In every situation and every encou
nter, he simply, powerfully, irresistibly presented himself to each individual as accurately and effectively as possible.

  If Jesus had remained in Jerusalem following that initial Passover presentation of himself, I believe the Jewish authorities would have sought his execution in a matter of weeks, if not days. They were far too threatened by his power and popularity. It was impossible for them to compete with this man, and submission to his authority was out of the question.

  Following the conclusion of the Feast, however, Jesus shared with us his intention to travel south, into the Judean countryside. It was a move carefully designed to defuse temporarily the fear that Jesus’ presence in Jerusalem was generating within our nation’s leadership. The time would come when he would personally reignite that fear, driving those who held political power to fulfill the roles for which they had been appointed. But that time would be selected by no one but the Master himself, and that time had not yet come.

  Judea would be safe and receptive to his message. Jesus had spent the first few months of his life in the small Judean town of Bethlehem, and there were those there who remembered well the miraculous events surrounding his birth. The Prophet John was also from that region. Judea was well prepared for the Master’s arrival.

  Jesus invited all of us to come with him. Philip and Nathanael accepted the offer immediately. James, John, Andrew, and I held a private conference to talk it over. By now it was obvious to all of us that we were in the presence of a divinely empowered and appointed prophet of God. It was obvious, too, that the hearts of my brother and my two best friends were wide open to this amazing man. But with me it was not so easy. Submission, even to such a man as this, has never come easily for me, especially when that submission threatened the very foundations of my life. I just couldn’t do it. I wished my friends a good journey, told them I would hold the fishing fleet together until they returned, packed up our travel gear and my even heavier load of unresolved turmoil, and headed back to Bethsaida with Ruth.

  7

  And so began the longest few weeks of my life. I tried hard to pour myself back into the business, but now it all seemed so hollow. Reports of Jesus’ tremendous reception in Judea filtered up to us, making me feel excited and empty and irritable all at the same time. I should have been there with them. I knew that. Ruth knew that. In fact, Ruth knew that all too well. Each night she shared her home with a grumpy bear of a man consumed by his own stubborn will. She was so good to me during those days. Her exposure to Jesus on our trip to Jerusalem had produced in her a beautiful heart of openness and submission to the Master. She knew he was the one our nation was waiting for. She knew, too, I would never find peace with myself until I first found peace with the Master.

  The skill with which she gently helped me move through my stubborn resistance to total submission to Jesus will forever be one of the greatest miracles in my life. Do you recall those words in my first letter to the churches? “In the same way, you wives, be submissive to your own husbands so that even if any of them are disobedient to the word, they may be won without a word by the behavior of their wives, as they observe your chaste and respectful behavior.” I learned that principle through Ruth during my weeks of resistance against the living Word, Jesus. She knew how desperately I needed him. She knew I could never be happy without him. She knew, too, that I was fighting against him with everything inside me. But she never nagged. She never preached. She never said a word unless I brought up the subject first. And then she just listened and let me talk. I was miserable, and I made our lives miserable. But she never attacked me or blamed me. She knew she could not make my choice for me, and there was no value in forcing me to make it before I was ready.

  Then came the terrifying news of the arrest and imprisonment of the Prophet John. John’s recent bold public proclamations about Jesus had inseparably linked the ministries of the two men. When asked if he was troubled by Jesus’ growing popularity, John described himself as the close friend of the bridegroom, who is thrilled at the sound of the bridegroom’s voice. He understood his role perfectly, stating simply, “He must increase, but I must decrease.”

  If John had been jailed, could Jesus’ imprisonment be far behind? And what would happen to those who were with him? What would happen to Andrew, James, and John?

  Our whole household, in fact, our whole community, was deeply affected by the growing hostility of both our political and religious leaders against John, Jesus, and very likely all those who were closely associated with them. Ruth’s mom, who had been living with us since the death of her husband several years earlier, was so anxious about Andrew and the others that she literally worried herself sick. We woke one morning to find her soaked with perspiration, fighting a dangerously high temperature. Ruth immediately began a constant bedside vigil, doing what she could to help her mom fight off whatever disease was attacking her aging body.

  Then word finally reached us of Jesus’ return to Galilee. He was teaching in the synagogue at Cana. Two days later Andrew returned home filled with the most amazing account of his adventures with the Master. Judea had welcomed Jesus with open arms. News of his activities in Jerusalem had preceded him, and even in that remote rural region, crowds swarmed to meet him. They enthusiastically responded to his teaching, and of course his healing abilities drew every diseased and disabled person in the region.

  Jesus’ decision to return to Galilee was prompted by the arrival of several disciples of the Prophet John, bringing news of the prophet’s imprisonment. Knowing the distress this turn of events would bring to the families of those traveling with him, and wanting to put a greater distance between himself and the political forces in Jerusalem, Jesus and his growing band of followers headed north.

  Their return trip took them through Samaria, a region populated by the descendants of Jews who had intermarried with the Gentile inhabitants of the region. Though many still followed some of the customs of their Jewish heritage, their religious beliefs were mingled with the pagan worship of their Gentile ancestors, and they were viewed as a mixed race with a heathen core. Our nation’s social and commercial relations with the Samaritans were limited to the smallest possible amount. They were not welcome in our synagogues, could not be called as legal witnesses in any of our court proceedings, and were not considered acceptable candidates for any type of proselytism.

  Andrew shocked us with his report of Jesus’ two-day stay in the region, which resulted in a large number of Samaritan men and women affirming their allegiance to the Master. The visit was apparently prompted by Jesus initiating a conversation with a Samaritan woman of questionable moral character.

  And Andrew’s amazing account did not stop there. He had broken away from the group to bring us word of what was happening, but he did not travel home alone. The previous day as Jesus was teaching in Cana, a court official from Capernaum forced his way to the front of the crowd and pleaded with Jesus to return with him immediately to Capernaum. The man’s son was near death, and he hoped Jesus might be able to help the boy. Jesus told the man to return home, promising he would find his son well. Andrew and the man traveled back to Capernaum together. One of the man’s servants met them on the road halfway home, bringing the news that the boy was well. When the man asked his servant what time the boy had recovered, he was told it was at the very hour at which he had been speaking with the Master.

  The following day Jesus would travel to his hometown of Nazareth, where Andrew planned to rejoin him.

  “You’re coming back with me, aren’t you, Simon?”

  Andrew’s simple question suddenly ignited the most explosive rage within me. “Look, little brother! Why does everyone always just assume that the only way to show support for Jesus is to trot along behind him everywhere he goes? Why don’t people realize that we can’t all spend the rest of our lives running irresponsibly around the countryside? If I wanted to be there, I’d be there. I happen to have a number of people relying on me to earn a living. I cannot afford the luxury of walkin
g out on my responsibilities every time a new prophet comes to town. You go rejoin the faithful pack tomorrow, but leave me out of it. . . . I’ve got some work to do down at the boat. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

  No one said a word when I returned. Andrew was busy putting together some things for the trip to Nazareth. Ruth was in with her mom. Her mom’s condition continued to deteriorate to the point where we were deeply concerned about whether she would recover.

  I felt so unsure of myself. What this family needed most of all was a man who could give strong, positive, supportive leadership at a time of real crisis and stress. What this family had was an angry, irritable, blundering fool whose presence caused more tension than it ever relieved.

  “And you shall be called Peter”—ha! “And you shall be called Pathetic!” was closer to the truth. During the month after Jesus entered our world, I had witnessed numerous people whose lives had been transformed by the Master. But to be honest, all he’d brought me so far was chaos and confusion. Why couldn’t I be like the woman in Jerusalem with the growth on her neck? Why couldn’t Jesus just touch me and I would suddenly live happily ever after? Why couldn’t I be like my beloved Ruth or like my little brother with a heart opened wide to Jesus? Why was I so afraid to trust the one person who was in every way more worthy of that trust than anyone else I’d ever met in my life?

  I knew the answer, of course. It was a truth I learned first in my own life and then saw illustrated countless times in the lives of others in the years ahead. Jesus never demanded entrance into a person’s life, but neither did he negotiate the terms of his entrance with those who chose to invite him. He did not want my endorsement. He did not want my approval. He wanted my life. He wanted me to choose to give him the right to take control.