The Redeemer (12 page)

“That’s the way it’s always been done.”

“That’s also why it’s so hard to find a good exorcist these days— and expensive if you do.”

“How was He able to do it without taking the spirit into Himself?”

“I don’t know. He told the spirit to leave, and it went.”

“But where did it go?”

“Don’t look at me; I don’t have it.”

When it became widely known that Jesus could exorcize evil spirits simply by telling them to go, His fame spread even faster through the entire region. There was hardly any place He could go to rest. Just to get away from the throngs of people, we slipped quietly out of a meeting one afternoon and went to the house of a man named Simon, who was a local fisherman.

“Can the teacher stay in your house for a while, Simon? Just until we find better accommodations for Him?” asked his neighbor, who’d been at the synagogue earlier and knew Jesus needed downtime. Simon was reluctant.

“I don’t know. My mother-in-law has been sick. I don’t think she can handle visitors.”

Jesus and I arrived at the doorstep just in time to hear what Simon said.

“Where is she?” Jesus asked.

Simon pointed to a small room curtained off by a wool blanket. Jesus entered the room to find the old woman wrapped tightly in bed linens and complaining of the cold.

“She’s been like this for days,” her daughter said. “Her fever is high, and nothing seems to help.”

Jesus put His hand on her head and spoke. “Fever, depart from this daughter of Abraham.”

For a moment the woman lay there without moving or saying a word. Then all at once she sat up, peeled off the layers of bed linens, got up with the helping hand Jesus offered her, and headed off to the kitchen chattering about fixing something to eat. Simon saw it happen but said nothing and darted out the door.

By the time the sun went down, the word had spread, and everyone who had anyone sick in his house brought the person to Jesus. One by one He placed His hands on the infirm and healed them. I tell you, the evil spirits left in droves, screaming all the way. One of them flew right by me and cried out, “It’s Adonai! Aren’t you afraid?”

Afraid? Why would I be afraid? Should I be afraid?

Jesus silenced the fleeing spirits, refusing to let them speak again, I suppose because they knew who He was and He didn’t want them making the people nervous about having God spend the night.

The next day we left, heading for open country. But the crowds soon followed, and when they found Him, they clung to Him so He couldn’t go on. Jesus tried to reason with them.

“Don’t you realize that there are yet other villages where I have to tell the message of God’s kingdom? This is the work God sent Me to do.”

No, Jesus, they don’t know and don’t care about anyone else’s problems. Furthermore, this is getting out of hand. You’re going to need some bodyguards. The crowds are getting too large for You to handle alone.

I believe Jesus realized the same thing. The throngs of people would crush against Him, making it impossible to escape. Later on, when Jesus went down to the Lake of Gennesaret, the people were already there and began to squeeze in around Him. He looked around until He saw two boats at the water’s edge left there by the fishermen who were washing their nets. Jesus climbed into one of the boats and sat down. I didn’t get in with Him because I saw the burly fisherman come running toward his boat with fish spear in hand. I recognized him when he got closer. I thought it best if I held back on the shore to see what he would do with the spear if he thought Jesus was stealing his boat.

“Where do You think You’re going with my boat?”

“It’s Me, Simon. I stayed at your house last night.”

“Sorry, Rabbi. The Son was in my eyes.”

“Can you take Me out a little ways so I can talk to the people without them rushing Me?”

That was about the last thing Simon wanted to do. In that region the fishermen fished in the evening, and Simon had been at it all night long and—judging by his empty nets—with no success. He was tired, cranky, and anxious to get home. Seeing no one else around to hand Jesus off to, he groused under his breath and agreed.

“I guess I can do it, but make it short, alright?”

Jesus must have talked for an hour. Simon finally lay down at the front of the boat and went to sleep. When Jesus finished talking, He woke him up.

“Let’s go fishing.”

“What?” Simon shrugged off the grogginess of an afternoon nap. “Fish don’t bite in the middle of the day.”

“Come on, Simon. Let’s take a chance. Put out into deep water, and let down the nets for a catch.”

Simon yawned and shook his head as he stood up and stretched.

“Master, we’ve worked hard all night and haven’t caught anything. I’m happy to have been of help, but we need to head for home now.”

Jesus said nothing but made no moves suggesting that He intended to get out of the boat. Simon looked toward one of his men on the shore, who gave a hand signal that he was willing to go out if Simon said so. Simon looked back to Jesus, who hadn’t moved.

“Rabbi, I’ll grant that You that know the Scriptures better than me, but I know fishing better than You. If you want to fish, come back around midnight, and You can go out with us. Now let’s be going.”

Simon extended his hand to help Jesus out of the boat. Jesus shook it and remained seated. Simon looked toward the men on shore, who shrugged their shoulders and headed over to his boat.

“We’re going to do this because You insist,” the fisherman acquiesced as he pulled on one of the ropes. “Against my better judgment I will let down the nets.” Simon signaled for one of the men to untie the boat from its docking. “Let’s get this over with.”

We hadn’t gone out more than a hundred feet when the boat lurched to one side.

“What’s the matter?” Simon yelled to the crew.

“The net’s caught on something. We can’t bring it in.”

Muttering to himself about what a bad idea this had been, Simon bounded over to help the men free the net.

“What’s it caught on?” he grumbled as he bent over to help haul the net upward. A large perch jumped out of the net and slapped Simon in the face with its tail. “What the…?”

“It’s fish, captain.” The crewman was so excited he was dancing around. “Hundreds of fish; the net is breaking from their weight. We can’t pull them all in.”

Simon and his men heaved for all they were worth to bring the net out of the water but couldn’t. Then he called out to his other partners, who were in a second boat.

“James! John! Come over here—now.”

Together they finally managed to hoist it in as fish spilled out across the deck. Simon fell down more than once chasing after some of them and trying to stuff them into a gunnysack. Jesus laughed when a carp flopped into His lap, followed by John who was trying to catch it.

“Sorry, Master,” John said as he lurched for it, almost knocking Jesus off His seat.

When Peter grabbed me by the tail and nearly stuffed me into the gunnysack along with the squirming fish, I broke away and flew to the top of the mast, caught my breath, and watched the rest from there.

By the time they finally brought in all the catch, there were so many on both boats I thought they might sink.

Jesus is just like His Father. Prone to go way over the top when pouring out a blessing on humans.

When it was all done, Simon went to the back where Jesus sat smiling and fell to his knees at Jesus’ feet.

“Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man.”

“Don’t be afraid. From now on your name will be Peter, and you will fish for people—both you and your brothers.”

Fish for people? Peter, don’t pretend like you know what that means.

I had no clue what Jesus meant, and I was certain Peter didn’t know either. But it didn’t seem to matter. Peter, James, and John pulled their boats up on shore, left everything, and followed Him.

C
HAPTER 14

T
HE NEXT DAY
the four of us accompanied Jesus to a nearby town. Jesus talked to them the whole way. I felt a little left out. I’d been Jesus’ closest companion up till then. Granted, He never acknowledged my presence, but I knew He could see me if He wanted to. That was enough for me.

While we were walking down the road, a man came along who had the worst skin condition I’d ever seen. Peter pulled back on Jesus’ arm to stop Him from getting too close.

“Unclean! Leprosy! Get back,” Peter yelled. “You’re breaking the Law coming so near to a righteous man.”

I’d never seen a leper before. He was disgusting, hardly recognizable as a human. His skin, that flesh part I’d warned God about many times, was eaten away almost to the bone in several places. There was a good reason why lepers were confined to colonies and not usually found wandering down well-traveled roads. Even as Peter tried to pull Jesus aside, the man fell with his face to the ground and begged Him.

“Lord, if You are willing, you can make me clean.”

Jesus loosed His arm from Peter’s grip and stretched out His hand toward the man.

“Don’t touch him, Jesus,” I warned.

“Master, stop,” James and John said in unison.

But Jesus ignored us. He stooped down on one knee beside the groveling leper and laid His hand on His head.

“I am willing. Be clean!”

And he was.

His friends were stunned, and so was I. I could hardly believe it was the same man. Jesus helped him get to his feet, then cautioned him to keep quiet about what had happened.

“Don’t tell anyone.”

“Not a word,” the man said as he made a zipped-lips gesture and ran off.

Seriously, Jesus? Don’t tell anyone? Do You suppose no one will notice?

“Go, show yourself to the priest and offer the sacrifices that Moses commanded for your cleansing, as a testimony to them,” Jesus called after him.

I was right about the not telling anybody part. It was a circus after the news got out. The crowds of people were almost unmanageable as they came to hear Him and to be healed of their sicknesses. But at least now with the help of Peter, James, and John, Jesus was able to withdraw to quiet places to rest now and then. If you ask me, the need for respite was one of the disadvantages of being human. He never needed to rest when He was just God.

“Stay here,” He told the men. “I’m going over there to pray and to take a break.”

I was particularly interested in what the Son of God could have to pray about, so I tagged along with Him. We went a short distance away, out of the hearing of the others. In the dark of night, Jesus knelt down on the hard ground and placed His arms on a large, flat sandstone for support. I sat down on the same stone not a foot from Him. He looked straight ahead as if in deep thought but didn’t say anything, so I thought I’d attempt to make conversation.

“Jesus, did You truly come to pray? What could You possibly have to pray for? I can see how You might want to set an example for the other men, but out here in the desert no one can see You, so it’s sort of a wasted effort.”

Jesus didn’t answer. After a while, He repositioned Himself to lay His head back against the rock and went to sleep.

I leaned over to see if He was asleep or just pretending. To be sure His eyes were closed, I fluttered a wingtip under His nose; He didn’t stir.

No doubt about Him being human; God doesn’t sleep. I wonder if He dreams.

That’s what gave me the idea to try to speak to Him through a dream. The other demons were always bragging about how they could do it to humans. I saw for myself how well it worked when the angel spoke to Joseph in a dream. Maybe it would work for me. Using my softest voice, I gave it a try, although I didn’t have the nerve to hover over Him.

“First of all, let me just ask how You manage to sleep. I’ve tried it lots of times, but I’ve always failed. As soon as I close my eyes, my mind starts racing, imaging all the terrible things Satan would and could do to me if I displeased him just the littlest bit. My nerves have been in a knot ever since I was thrown out of heaven with him, an event about which I’m hoping to have a serious conversation with You later on. Just let me say that once You hear my side of the story, I know You’ll agree that I’ve been wrongly condemned.”

He rustled a bit, and I jumped back, afraid I’d disturbed His rest.

“I’ll be going now,” I whispered, but I didn’t. I kept looking at Him. He was so peaceful.

What could it hurt? Maybe I can sleep if I try it again.

I climbed down from the rock and eased my way closer. He didn’t stir.

I wonder if I should be afraid.

I carefully folded in my wings, closed my eyes, and rolled up in a ball at Jesus’ feet.

This is never going to work. It’s like always happens. I can’t turn my mind off.

When I woke up, He was gone.

The four of them were nearing the village when I caught up. I must say I was feeling refreshed and excited to get on with the day.

“Great morning, isn’t it?” I called out to the roadside merchants as we neared the town.