Sunday, April 08, 2012
Thoughts of a Childhood Friend
I remember the time when our house burned and we lost everything except the clothes on our back. Yeshua, who was the same size as I was, gave me some clothes. Not the ones that need mending or close to being thrown out but he gave me his favorite robes!
I also remember the time when I got sick during a camping trip. He stayed up all night looking after me-making sure that I was comfortable.
One time, I got trouble at school and my folks grounded me. I was sort of a 'prisoner' but Yeshua dropped by and hung out with me when he could have been with other kids on a trip to the lake.
One thing that stood out is that Yeshua can tell really good stories. Whenever we were resting in between games, he would entertain us with stories. There was a story about a dad and his two sons. Another about the farmer and the seeds. There were many other stories too, but these are the two that stood out for me.
Many times, we played a game called Messiah. It is about a king who would come and lead our people against oppressors. We take turns wearing the crown while the rest swing their wooden swords against imaginary enemies-soldiers of the occupation forces. I can still hear the laughter as if it was only yesterday. Everything is sword swinging until Yeshua takes his turn for the crown. He would ask us to lay down our swords and listen to his stories. (Actually, we would rather stop swinging the swords and instead ask him to tell his stories, to which, we are sure he would readily do.)
A few years later, my family moved to Jerusalem and I totally lost contact with him.
Until about a few years ago when stories were circulating about a Yeshua who was a rabbi, a miracle worker and most likely the Messiah. It couldn't be the Yeshua of my childhood, I remember thinking. After all, Yeshua was a very common name.
When I begin to hear people retelling stories about a dad and his two sons and about a farmer and the seeds, then I begin to suspect that this could be my friend Yeshua after all. I wanted to see him right away but I could always come up with an excuse not to, believing that one of his travels could bring him to our city and maybe then I can come up to him and re-introduce myself.
That day came about a week ago. Yeshua arrived at the gates of the city and was met by many people. They were carrying palm leaves, which they laid at the path where Yeshua's donkey would walk on. What a lovely welcome for a Rabbi! If only the donkey were a chariot and the palm leaves fine silk or red carpet, it would have been a welcome fit for a king! Yet the donkey reminded of the old days when Yeshua would play the Messiah of peace and not of war as the rest of us did.
I would have wanted to shake his hand but the crowd has surrounded him, calling out Rabbi, rabbi!
Nothing has changed about him, except that he is older. His eyes were still the kindest I've ever seen. He has the same warm smile and kind attitude towards everyone, especially the children. But then, there is something about him I could not describe. Along with the gentleness, there is an intensity about him, a burning passion for something I could not explain. It was as if he has received power from the heavens!
As much as I would have wanted to follow him around, I had chores to do. After all, Passover is coming and there is much to do.
Then a few nights ago, news of his arrest spread in the city. Yeshua was tried, found guilty and was sentenced to crucifixion.I knew that there is only little time left for Yeshua. The authorities fear that his followers might cause a scene and so they would need to carry out the crucifixion as soon as they can, which is the next day, the day before Sabbath.
The day of crucifixion was the most horrible day of my life. I would want it forever blotted out of my memory if not for that one quick glance from Yeshua as he passed by where I stood. A quick glance of recognition, a glance that was full of love amidst the hatred shown to him. A glance that would forever change me.
Now it had been three days since he glanced at me and that was my last memory of him. But deep inside me, there is that feeling, a conviction that I have not lost him.
Yeshua is alive but how can I tell anyone when thousands saw him die on the middle cross. Yet, I can't believe he's dead... He can't be....
Wednesday, February 01, 2012
Thoughts of the Unnamed Disciple
A few days ago news reached me about brothers having been arrested by the authorities upon instructions by the Sanhedrin. There were stories of stoning and being thrown into lions’ dens.
It is during these times that I long for the good old days when Master was here…
I remember the time on the lake. We have just fed five thousand men and the Master told us to go ahead of him to Bethsaida. He went up on the mountainside to pray while we took the boat.
Hours later the winds began to blow and we were straining to keep the boat on course as the wind was blowing against us. We were so tired and I myself fell asleep holding an oar.
Just before dawn, someone screamed, “Ghost, ghost! On the water! Ghost!” I remember being very annoyed at the interruption. But when I glance towards the lake, there it was: a ghost! We were all terrified.
Suddenly the ghost said, “Don’t be afraid, it’s me.” I swear I can almost hear laughter in the Master’s voice.
And then, Peter, always the impulsive guy, blurts out, “If it is really You, tell me to come to you on the water.” “Come”, the Master said. Peter did.
I almost cheered when suddenly, Peter looked at the wind and began to sink. “Help, save me!” The Master caught his hand asking, “Why did you doubt?” Peter did not reply but everyone was amazed when the winds died down as they climbed into the boat.
*Sigh
I remember that night when the Master was arrested. Over dinner he spoke about his arrest and crucifixion – not the type of things you talk about over dinner.
Later that evening, we were in the Garden. The Master was scolding us when caught us sleeping for the third time when He has told us to sit while He prays.
Suddenly, there was a group of men carrying torches, clubs and swords. I was afraid as there were only a few of us and we were unarmed. Judas, who ran away at dinner time, was with them. He kissed the Master and the crowd promptly came forward to arrest the Master.
Peter(the impulsive) drew out a sword struck the High Priest’s servant and cut his ear. (I don’t have an explanation why Peter was carrying a sword.) The Master scolded him a bit and told him to put away his sword. The men then arrested the Master and we all ran away.
Later, Peter would be in the courtyard, the closest place to where the Master was being tried and sentenced. I thought that it was crazy for him to be there. He just struck the High Priest’s servant and he could be identified by some of the men who were at the garden and be arrested.
Early the next day, I saw Peter, eyes all swollen from crying. “I disowned the Master three times! I’m so sorry!” I never felt so sorry for Peter.
When the Master was crucified, we were devastated. It must have been doubly devastating for Peter, who disowned the Master three times.
One night, Peter said, “I’m going out to fish.” Concerned about Peter(having heard about Judas being found hanging on a tree.), I tagged along together with a few other guys.
We did not catch any fish that night but I was glad that Peter did not do anything rash and I welcomed the time away from the people. It had been a crazy week for us and a moment of peace was very much needed.
Early in the morning, we sat on the boat. None of us talking, just looking into each other’s eyes, missing the Master.
Suddenly, a man on the shore called out to us, “Caught anything, guys?” To which we replied, “No.” “Try the other side and you will find some.”
We did so and we caught a huge number of fish! “It’s the Master!” As soon as Peter heard this, he wore his robe, jumped into the water and swam towards the Master! I was never more pleased with Peter’s impulsiveness than on that morning!
We followed Peter on our boat which was heavy with the fish we caught. To our surprise a fire was already burning for the fish and there were some bread too. We grilled a few fish and ate bread with the Master. It was the best breakfast I had and will ever will!
After breakfast, the Master asks Peter three times, “Peter, do you love me?” Peter was hurt but this needed to be done for Peter to get over what happened that night. Three times he disowned the Master, three times he will re-affirm.
Those three events are forever embedded in my memory. But as I sit down on this rock and reminisce, I began to see the events in a different light.
Peter’s impulsiveness often bugged me, at times entertained me especially if Peter fell flat on his face.
But now, I wonder, what it would have been like to walk on water along with Peter and the master?
How would it have felt if I stepped in and help Peter defend the Master in the garden? Or came along with Peter in the courtyard and risk everything to be with the Master in His most difficult time?
How would it have felt to take a bold step and risk it all? What am I afraid of?
Three times I wanted to be impulsive and take risks. Three times I didn’t. I don’t know why it happened but one thing I know for sure: I will boldly step out in faith and take the risks for Master. I will not spend the rest of my life wondering what could have.
I will be bold-whether I will succeed or fail does not matter. What matters is that I fulfill the vision the Master has set before me.
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