The Fisherman (12 page)

Now I understood why Jesus sent us out in twos.

I knelt down in front of the boy, reached out and put my hands on his shoulders, and said, “Be healed!”

Instantly two little stubs of flesh were transformed into strong, young, whole shoulders, arms, hands, fingers, and thumbs. To this day I'm not sure which of us was more surprised. For a few seconds we both sat frozen in position, staring at the transformation in his body. Then the boy sprang to his feet and began waving his hands wildly in the air. As soon as I stood up, he grabbed me, wrapped his two new, miraculous arms around me, and gave me the first hug of his life.

The boy's yelling and waving and bouncing around the market attracted the attention of everyone within hearing distance. Judas and I looked at each other, and above the boy's squeals of delight, I heard Judas say, “It works! It really works!” As the crowd gathered around us, I saw Judas reach down and touch the eyes of an old blind beggar and restore his sight.

For the next half hour, the two of us moved throughout the marketplace touching and healing every disease and deformity we encountered. By the time we finished, most of the community was packed around us watching in stunned amazement. When we finally ran out of candidates for healing, I jumped up onto a wide stone wall, held up my hands for silence, and then began to speak.

It was the greatest moment in my life up to that point. Never had I experienced such a sense of power. As soon as the people saw I was about to speak, silence filled the marketplace. The sun was setting behind me. It was the time of day when most people would have been heading home to their families. But not today. Not now. Not with me standing on that wall before them. I knew already what my first words would be.

“My fellow Israelites, THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN IS AT HAND!”

I must have stood on that wall for more than an hour talking to the people before me. I told them we were disciples of the man they had been hearing about, Jesus of Nazareth. I told them he had given us the ability to perform these great works. I told them about his work, about his message, about his powers. I told them he was the great hope and future for our nation. I finally stopped when it grew too dark for them to see me. My young friend with the new arms stood directly beneath me throughout my lecture. As soon as I jumped down from the wall, he grabbed my arm and urged Judas and me to come to his parents' home for the night.

For the next two weeks Judas and I traveled from village to village healing, preaching, proclaiming the arrival of the kingdom of heaven, and pointing people to Jesus. Never had I known such power, such popularity. Never had my flesh known such a glorious time. This was the life I was meant to lead. This was the place in society I truly deserved. Nothing would stop us now. Nothing could. With Jesus leading the way and the Twelve of us filled with his power, no force on earth could rob us of victory. The nation was ours. The Roman Empire was ours. The world was ours for the taking.

The only way I can explain that phase of my life is to say that for a brief period of time, my Lord allowed me to know what it was like to express the power of God with the mind of the flesh. The time would come following the resurrection of our Lord when for the first time in the history of the human race, every true child of God would be filled with the Spirit of God. Our great burden of sin would be placed upon the shoulders of Christ, and he would carry it away from us forever. He would then create within each of us a new heart, a pure, perfect heart, a heart that loves him and longs to serve him. With that new heart within us, and his Holy Spirit working through us, he would then be freed to reshape our minds and our emotions into greater and greater conformity with his own glorious image, while daily expressing himself through our personalities in ways perfectly matched to the unique people he designed us to be.

But that was not what was happening at this point in my life. This was not the infilling of the Spirit of God given to every Christian. This was not the outflowing of the life of God from a heart in submission to him. This was simply the specialized gifting of the Holy Spirit, equipping us to perform acts of healing for the purpose of powerfully proclaiming the person of Christ throughout the nation of Israel. It had little to do with us. It certainly had nothing to do with the quality of our lives or the purity of our hearts. As Judas and I traveled together, I watched the power of God performing mighty miracles through him. And yet, in a matter of months he would sell out the Master for a few coins, and I would recall the words of Jesus: “Many will say to me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, didn't we prophesy in your name, and in your name cast out demons, and in your name perform many miracles?' And then I will say to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from me, you who practice lawlessness.'”

I wonder if you have read the account of the life of Samson. Have you ever wondered how a man so obviously filled with the power of the Spirit of God could remain so enslaved to his own fleshly lusts? I understand Samson. He and I were both gifted by God with limited supernatural power to accomplish God's sovereign purposes among his people. Samson had supernatural strength. I had the ability to heal. Both of us exercised those gifts from fleshly minds for selfish purposes. I didn't know it was selfish at the time. I honestly believed I was fighting for the success of the Master. What I could not admit, though, was that it was not his success I really wanted—it was my own. I loved the Master, but I was still a man driven by the flesh, deeply in love with my own fleshly goals, and if I could have been honest, I would have admitted that most of all I wanted Jesus to succeed by my terms because I knew his success was the key to my own.

It was an incredible fleshly ride. Everything seemed to be going so perfectly. And then we received news that sent a sudden jolt of terror through us, news that brought our fling to an abrupt end and sent us scurrying back to Jesus. The Prophet John had just been executed.

Kill the leader and the movement dies. Men of power have known this simple truth for as long as there have been men of power. If Herod could execute the Prophet John, then Herod could execute Jesus, and Herod could execute us. There was an unbroken line between the Prophet John and Jesus and Jesus' twelve disciples. Every public message John gave in the weeks prior to his arrest and imprisonment pointed directly, specifically to the Master:
“He must increase, but I must decrease.”
Though none of us spoke about it openly, I think we all anticipated John's release from prison as soon as Jesus' power and popularity grew to the point where Herod would be forced to comply with Jesus' demands. With the whole nation following this miracle worker, how could Herod risk doing anything else?

But Herod had moved too quickly. We were not yet strong enough, not yet big enough, not yet organized sufficiently to make our demands. Our world is governed by tiny men who live in fear and use their power to protect their little empires. And now suddenly we lived in fear as well. Given the tragic news of John's execution, I suggested to Judas that this might not be the best time for us to be seen proclaiming our union with Jesus in front of large public gatherings throughout Israel. He saw the wisdom in my words, and we headed back to Capernaum.

We were not the only ones who thought it wise to return home. Every one of us arrived back at Jesus' house the same afternoon. It was an incredible reunion—twelve men all talking at once, louder and louder, blasting each other with vivid accounts of the amazing events of the past two weeks. The spirit of one-upmanship escalated throughout the afternoon, with everyone “sharing” their most dramatic healings and their most enthusiastic crowd responses, until some of the later accounts truly did stretch the limits of credibility.

Jesus said very little as the rest of us babbled on. At the time I remember thinking his silence must be the result of his concern over John's execution. Perhaps he feared for our safety as well, or for his own. Certainly he grieved deeply over the loss of his friend and comrade. But I now know his silence that day had nothing to do with anxiety over our safety. I believe it was produced most of all by the overwhelming depth of our ignorance and arrogant pride. The gift of God being wielded by the mind of flesh is such an ugly thing. Given where we were mentally, and given what we could not know about him or about ourselves until after his death and resurrection, he was certainly not discouraged. But I am certain he could not help but long for the time when our minds of flesh would be replaced by the mind of the Spirit.

We were understandably excited, but we were also exhausted. And to make matters worse, news of Jesus' return produced an instant multitude seeking the Master. By early evening the place was packed with several thousand people waiting outside the door. We didn't even have time to eat. Late that night we finally pushed the last Jesus seeker out the door and collapsed for a few hours.

Just before sunrise the following morning, I felt Jesus shaking me. When he had us all awake, he told us to head quickly and quietly down to our boat. We needed a rest, and it was obvious we were not going to get it here. And so began the two most remarkable days I ever spent with the Master prior to his crucifixion.

Our attempted escape was well intended but futile. I think we realized that even before we pushed off from the shore. Thirteen men quietly attempting to slip away unnoticed was a joke. We had to step over sleeping pilgrims just to get to the road. By the time we untied the rope and pushed out to sea, there was no small congregation gathered on the beach, watching our departure. Before we were out of earshot I heard several voices on the shore calling out, “They're heading north! They're heading north!”

We planned to sail to a secluded spot a few miles up the coast from Bethsaida. We knew that section of the coastline well and felt confident we could make our escape before our pursuers found boats in which to follow us. It wasn't long before we were out of sight with no one in pursuit.

It was a beautiful morning—warm, with just the slightest breeze pushing us along. Progress was slow, but we already had what we were looking for; the absence of clamoring crowds was like heaven. I don't think anyone spoke more than a dozen words the whole trip. It was so wonderful just to curl up on deck, soaking up the warmth of the sun, dozing off and on, knowing no needy human being could get to us.

It was midmorning before we reached our destination. As we turned toward shore, I wondered what that noise was coming from the beach. I knew this section of land was uninhabited, several miles from any houses. And yet there was definitely some sort of movement on the shore and a noise I couldn't quite place. Then suddenly it hit me—it was voices, hundreds and hundreds of human voices. The beach was packed with people, all pointing and waving at our little boat. That mob we left behind at Capernaum had run along the shore, picking up more and more people along the way, arriving at our destination ahead of us.

As soon as I saw them, I started to turn the boat around and head back out to sea. Jesus saw what I was doing, smiled at me, shook his head, and nodded toward the shore. So many desperate, hurting people . . . he said they were just like sheep without a shepherd. And so ended our great escape.

The rest of the afternoon was like so many other mornings and afternoons and evenings with the Master. Jesus healed those who were sick, answered the questions people asked, and taught until late afternoon. There were several thousand on the beach when we first arrived, but the crowd kept growing throughout the day until some of those next to the shore were being pushed into the sea. The whole scene became unmanageable, and Jesus finally led the mob away from the beach and up onto a grassy hillside a short distance inland from where our boat was beached. The crowd grew until there must have been at least five thousand men, most of them with their families, spread out across the grassy slope. It was the largest public meeting we'd ever held.

Jesus finally finished his discourse and sat down. It was obvious that he was finished teaching for the day, but no one moved. Rather than gathering their families together and heading home, they all just sat there—an endless sea of humanity spread out before us. Apparently they had no intention of leaving unless they saw Jesus himself depart. The whole situation became rather awkward, and we disciples grouped around the Master, not knowing exactly what to do. I finally took it upon myself to speak to Jesus. I pointed out the obvious: we were miles from the nearest village, it was getting late, these people were hungry, and they all needed either to go home or find temporary lodging for the night. I encouraged Jesus to send the people away.

Jesus looked up at us hovering around him and said, “They don't have to go away. You give them something to eat.”

We looked at the crowd. Then we looked back at Jesus. Then we looked at the crowd again. This time I kept my mouth shut. I'd been here before. I was hearing Jesus speaking words, but the words made no sense.

Finally Jesus broke the silence. “Philip, where can we buy bread to feed these people?”

I was thrilled it was Philip he singled out for the test. I didn't know the answer to this one. Philip did some quick mental calculations and stated what we already knew. It would take more than half a year's wages to buy bread for this mob.

Silence reigned once again in our little group.

Then my brother spoke up. “There is a lad here who has five barley loaves and two fish, but what are these for so many people?”

I looked over at him and saw Andrew standing with his hand resting on the shoulder of a boy perhaps ten or eleven years old. The boy was holding a small lunch basket, neatly covered with a white cloth. I remembered seeing Andrew sitting with the boy throughout much of the afternoon. Apparently the little fellow had been playing outside when the crowd passed through his village in pursuit of Jesus that morning. He begged his mom for permission to join the group. She learned their neighbors were going, so she quickly packed him a little lunch and sent him off in their care. In the confused transition from the beach to the hillside, the young fellow had been separated from his neighbors and found himself all alone in that multitude. He was safe enough but a little scared. Andrew had a way of picking up on those things. He saw the boy standing by himself, struck up a conversation with him, and offered to keep him company until they located the boy's neighbors.

Andrew told me later how that lunch basket ended up in the Master's hands. Throughout the afternoon the little fellow kept glancing at the basket sitting next to him. He felt uncomfortable eating his lunch when he knew those around him had none. When Jesus finished his teaching and sat down, for a few minutes neither Andrew nor the boy spoke. It was apparent to Andrew that the lad was deep in thought about something. Then he turned to Andrew and asked, “Do you know if Jesus brought a lunch with him today?”

Andrew said he knew Jesus had not brought a lunch and, in fact, had not eaten anything since early morning.

The boy was silent again for a few minutes. Then he turned again to Andrew and said, “Do you think Jesus would like to have my lunch?”

Andrew suggested they go up and ask him.

The events that followed are no doubt well known to you. Jesus sent Andrew and Matthew back to the fishing boat to get the large baskets we kept on board for sorting and storing our catch. He told the rest of us to divide the crowd into groups of somewhere between fifty and a hundred people in each group. As I headed out into the crowd I glanced back and saw the boy sitting on the grass next to the Master. He was laughing at something Jesus was saying. The lunch basket sat unopened on the grass between them.

As soon as Andrew and Matthew returned, Jesus stood, offered a prayer of thanksgiving for the little basket of food, then pulled back the cloth cover, removed the contents, and began breaking pieces of fish and bread into one of the baskets. In just a few seconds the basket was filled, and he told us to bring it over to the first group of hungry listeners. The next basket he filled was the boy's little basket. He filled it until it overflowed, then handed it back to the lad. The boy sat next to Jesus with the basket on his lap and ate his lunch. But his eyes were glued to the miracle taking place in Jesus' hands.

For the next several hours we toted and dumped and toted and dumped basket after basket of food. As fast as we brought them back Jesus refilled them.

Everyone ate until they could eat no more. When they finally finished, we gathered up the uneaten food and found we had twelve baskets full of leftovers . . . one for each of us.

The crowd's response to that feast exceeded my wildest expectations. Someone began chanting, “KING JESUS! KING JESUS! KING JESUS!” and it wasn't long before thousands of voices joined in. At last we had the power of the people behind us. Surely nothing could stop us now. Nothing, that is, except Jesus himself. Rather than seizing the moment and acknowledging their nomination, he told us the meeting was over and ordered us to return to the boat immediately and head back to Capernaum. Once again I felt he was making a tragic tactical error, turning his back on this tremendous momentum, but he made it clear his instructions were not open for discussion. As we shoved off from the shore, I could hear the Master telling the multitude to return to their homes. When I looked again, he was nowhere to be seen.