The Fisherman (15 page)

Looking back, I can't help but wonder how many spies Jerusalem had scattered throughout Galilee in those days, watching for Jesus' return. Rather than sailing back to Capernaum, we put in at Magadan, a tiny fishing village on the coast of the Sea of Galilee a few miles south of Jesus' hometown. Under normal circumstances it would have been the last place we would have encountered a group of big-city religious leaders. But our world was not operating under normal circumstances. There was a war raging in our little nation. On the surface it was a war between Jerusalem and Jesus. But that was only the stage, the external facade. Just under the surface a much greater war was raging, a war involving the supreme forces of good and evil, a war with eternal consequences for both the victor and the vanquished.

We were still standing on the beach, securing our boat, when the delegation arrived. Jesus faced them, waiting silently for their attack. I stood beside him, my heart pounding with anticipation. How could we ever hope to regain our following when our every move was watched and our every conversation was dominated by these men?

The attack took a different bent this time. The leader of the pack demanded that Jesus show them a sign.

Show them a sign! I couldn't believe it. For nearly three years Jesus' life had been one endless stream of signs and wonders and miraculous works. And now these men came pretending to be, what? Earnest seekers? Confused followers? Troubled disciples? Perhaps they had some trap in mind, or more likely they just wanted to control the conversation. They wanted to control him. What their arrogance would not allow them to accept, and what my ignorance at the time would not then allow me to see, was the absurdity of any human being ever seeking to control the one who by his very nature possessed absolute control over all that is.

The guarded roar in the Lion of Judah's reply was evident to all. “When it's evening, you say, ‘It will be fair weather, for the sky is red.' And in the morning, ‘There will be a storm today, for the sky is red and threatening.' Do you know how to discern the appearance of the sky, but cannot discern the signs of the times? An evil and adulterous generation seeks after a sign; and a sign will not be given it, except the sign of Jonah.”

The sign of Jonah (a lone prophet calling to repentance a nation steeped in wickedness) was not the sign these men sought. But this day it was the only sign they would be given. The interview ended as abruptly as it had begun. The Master turned and boarded the boat once again, and we went away.

Following the attack at Magadan, we returned to Bethsaida, where Jesus limited his ministry to quiet interactions with specific individuals. He continued to heal those who came to him in private, but when they left, he consistently asked them not to tell anyone what he had done for them. Though the forces in Jerusalem might have allowed themselves to believe they were now gaining control, driving the Master into hiding, in truth they controlled nothing whatsoever. Jesus alone controlled his own agenda and did it with absolute precision. It served his purposes better at this point in his ministry to become less visible to the masses. When he knew the time was right, he would initiate the final campaign that would culminate in the supreme event of human history. But there were several intricate threads still to be woven into his tapestry, a process that would require a little more time and a few more carefully controlled confrontations with his Jerusalem adversaries.

We spent the next several days at my home in Bethsaida. Then, just prior to the Feast of Tabernacles, we all returned to Jesus' mother's house in Capernaum. Mary was there, as were several of his younger brothers. It was an awkward time in his relationship with his family. The Jewish leaders had been working hard throughout our absence to discredit the Master, and their efforts were bringing results. Prior to his resurrection, his mother was the only one in his immediate family, apart from James and Thaddaeus, of course, who recognized him as the promised Messiah.

Jesus' family was leaving the following morning for Jerusalem, where they would celebrate the Feast of Tabernacles. It was the most popular national holiday of the year for our people. The Feast came immediately following the fall harvest, intended in part as a celebration of God's bountiful provision for our physical needs. But it was far more than just that. The Feast had its roots in the events surrounding the nation's great exodus from Egypt and return to the land of Israel. The celebration lasted a full week, and each family was required to live the entire week in a makeshift temporary dwelling, or “tabernacle,” made from branches and leaves. It was to be furnished with just the bare essentials. Part of the dwelling had to be open to the sky so that those within could see the sun, the clouds, and the moon and stars at night. These dwellings were intended to remind our people of God's deliverance from their houses of bondage in Egypt and of his fatherly care throughout the journey in the wilderness.

People from throughout the nation flocked to Jerusalem for the celebration. For those involved in agriculture, it provided a week of rest and enjoyment in the big city following the intense labor of the harvest. The adults loved the opportunity to reunite with family and friends, and the children delighted in the fun of having the whole family crammed into the little stick structures, with Mom cooking over an open fire and Dad forever fussing and fumbling with his crumbling construction. It was a powerful and treasured annual tool for building a strong sense of family unity.

This year, however, in at least one Galilean family, the Feast of Tabernacles was having the opposite effect. As Mary and her children prepared for the trip south, Jesus' brothers began goading him about his plans for the Feast. “Aren't you coming down with us, Jesus? What's the matter? Are you suddenly afraid to be seen in public? Surely you want your disciples to see the works you're doing. No one does things in secret when he wants to be known publicly. Why don't you come on down to Jerusalem with us and show yourself to the world?”

They knew all too well the level of tension that now existed between Jesus and the Jewish leaders. I think they just wanted to see what would happen if Jesus made a grand public entrance into the city.

I wonder if perhaps one of the most painful aspects of Jesus' time on this earth was his knowing that no one understood him and his plan, and there was no way they could understand prior to his resurrection. In response to his brothers' continued harassment, Jesus said, “My time is not yet at hand, but your time is always opportune. The world cannot hate you; but it hates me because I testify its deeds are evil. Go up to the feast yourselves; I don't go up to this feast because my time has not yet fully come.” Then, having said these things to them, he stayed in Galilee until after the family departed. We, of course, stayed with him.

“My time has not yet fully come.” He knew his own plan. He knew his own time. He knew his own future. And he knew there was no way any of us could understand until it was all over.

Two days following his family's departure, when those traveling to the Feast were well on their way and the roads were once again quiet, Jesus told us we would now go to Jerusalem. He knew it was necessary to intensify his adversaries' feelings of hostility and desperation. Only through cultivating in them a sense of helpless rage would they be fully prepared for the role assigned to them. But his purposes could best be accomplished at this point not through a grand public spectacle but rather through several carefully controlled, more private confrontations.

His first such confrontation came in the form of a sudden powerful presentation of himself in the temple, proclaiming that his teaching was not from himself but from God and that if anyone truly had a desire to do the will of God, that person would know that his teaching was from God.

His words were not well received. It was no giant mental step from Jesus' words to the obvious conclusion that anyone who did not accept his teaching did not have a heart for God. It was enough. Before the situation could escalate, he dropped once again out of sight.

Twice during the week he used others to provide him with the platform for the fulfillment of his purposes. At one point, when the religious leaders spotted him teaching in the temple, they suddenly burst into his presence, dragging a woman caught in the act of adultery. With the pathetic creature cowering in shame at his feet, they demanded his opinion of what should be done with her. The law of Moses was clear; such a one should be stoned. In a brilliant response to their attempted entrapment, he confronted the accusers with their own sin. “He who is without sin among you, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.” For obvious reasons the execution never took place. In silence the woman's accusers melted into the crowd. When they were gone, he turned his attention to the terrified woman before him and said simply, “From now on sin no more.”

A few days later he enlisted the help of a man born blind. After Jesus restored his sight on the Sabbath Day, the man's bold proclamation of gratitude triggered a theological debate between him and the Pharisees that once again enraged Jesus' accusers and, in the end, made them look absurd. They were determined to force the formerly blind man to admit Jesus must be evil because he accomplished this wonder on the sacred day of rest. The man's response to their theological stupidity has been quoted and requoted countless times since that day: “Whether he is a sinner, I do not know; one thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.”

But my favorite memory of the Master from that week in Jerusalem took place on the last day, the great climactic day of the Feast. The entire city was talking of little else but Jesus. Who was he? Was he of God? Was he from Satan? Was he the promised Messiah? Could he really do the things people said he could do? With the whole city talking about him, watching for him, wondering about him, he suddenly positioned himself at the top of the temple steps and raised his hands. As soon as the crowd saw him, absolute silence filled the courtyard. The words he then spoke left little doubt about his claim to leadership over the people of God. “If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink. He who believes in me, as the Scripture said, ‘From his innermost being will flow rivers of living water.'”

On the day of Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit was poured out upon us, I recalled that proclamation of the Lord's and understood what he was talking about. That day at the Feast I could not say I understood, but I loved the sound of it.

It was enough. Having accomplished his purposes, Jesus then pulled us back out of sight once again. We returned to Galilee for the next two months and avoided all public meetings and open confrontations with the Pharisees.

Two months later we made one final visit to Jerusalem prior to the visit that culminated in Jesus' crucifixion. It was December, the Feast of Dedication, the annual cleansing of the temple altar and the rededication of the building for the coming year. His conversation with the Jews in the temple on that occasion was calculated to leave no question in their minds about his identity or his claims.

This time the Jews brought no veiled request for “a sign.” They came right out and asked him, “How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Christ, tell us plainly.”

And the Master's response was just as direct and to the point. “I told you, and you don't believe; the works that I do in my Father's name testify of me. But you don't believe because you are not of my sheep. My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me; and I give eternal life to them, and they will never perish; and no one will snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all; and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father's hand. I and the Father are one.”

Their choice was clear: accept him as the Messiah, or stone him for blasphemy against the Most High God. Immediately they looked around for stones.

When I saw the stones in their hands and the hatred in their eyes, I was as terrified as I'd ever been—terrified and angry. I was terrified of the Jews, of course, but I was angry at the Master. How could he have brought us to this point? Why did he intentionally enrage these men? How could he possess so much power, so much wisdom, and yet fail to understand the techniques necessary to move himself into leadership over our nation?