The Redeemer (16 page)

“It was an amazing transformation,” the first herder said. “It was crazy old Mattias, the man who’s been roaming the tombs for years.”

“You’re kidding? It couldn’t be him.”

“There’s no mistake whether it was him or not; I’ve watched him since I was a kid.”

“You mean he’s not demon possessed anymore?”

“Not dangerous?”

“Gentle as a lamb,” the second herder said. “Hard to believe it’s the same man.”

“How did it happen?”

“Strangest thing I’ve ever seen,” the first herder replied. “A man came over on a boat, and as soon as He put a foot on the shore, Mattias went running up to Him like he was going to attack Him, but instead, he fell down at His feet.”

“I saw it too,” said another herder. “I was watching from the hill. The stranger commanded the evil spirits to come out of him, and just like that,” he snapped his fingers for emphasis, “Mattias was completely free, a total healing.”

“Amazing,” said the mayor.

“It’s a miracle,” said one of the pig owners.

“Wonderful,” said someone else.

“Let’s throw a party for Mattias,” said the mayor.

“The stranger too,” someone else added. “Give Him the key to the city.”

Everyone cheered.

“There is one more thing,” said the second herder.

“What’s that?” asked the mayor.

“The pigs are all dead.”

“What? Are you mad?” yelled several at one time.

“Yeah, too bad,” he sighed. “Every last pig jumped right in the lake and drowned.”

“Do you know what this means?”

“We’re ruined.”

“Hurry, let’s go and check this out for ourselves.”

As a group they raced out of town to the pig farm. When they got near, they saw Jesus and the man, formerly known as the town demoniac, sitting on a rock fully clothed, calm as could be, and in his right mind. The stunned townspeople looked in amazement first at the man then at Jesus and then at the empty pens where the pigs had been feeding earlier. One of the leaders approached Jesus.

“What kind of power do You possess to bring about something like this?”

“Let me just tell you,” Peter jumped in before Jesus could get a word out. “By the power of God Almighty. None other than the Messiah Himself has come to your town this day.”

“Rejoice in the day of your visitation,” John added cheerfully.

“Is it true?” the leader asked Jesus, who neither denied nor confirmed what Peter said.

The leader looked around nervously to see what the townspeople were thinking. Several nodded at him to continue. He wiped his brow before he spoke.

“It’s nothing personal, You understand, but please leave our town. We can’t afford to have You here—no matter who You are.”

The disciples were flabbergasted.

The people began arguing among themselves.

Jesus, meanwhile, motioned for His men to follow Him and went back to the boat and left.

Oh, my, I hope Satan never finds out about this. If a human tells Jesus to leave, He will.

C
HAPTER 19

I
T WAS ALL
I could do to keep up with Jesus. As His reputation spread, the crowds were unmanageable. I was exhausted. The healings were beyond counting. I know I should have taken better notes, but things were moving so fast it was impossible. At the end of each day I found myself straining to remember the order in which things happened. I eased my frazzled mind by assuring myself it wasn’t so important
when
an event happened as the fact that it
did
happen and that I managed to get it written down.

Still, I worried that my reasoning wouldn’t do for Satan. The more I thought about it, and knowing him the way I did, he would demand a detailed accounting of every Godlike thing Jesus did to make sure He didn’t use His supernatural powers in some unauthorized way that only the two of them knew about. So I developed a filing system by which I could broadly categorize His actions as either miracles or wonders.

My largest file by far was the one containing the miracles. As I analyzed it, a miracle could be said to have occurred when Jesus healed a person who might have recovered on his own if he lived long enough to do so. One night while the disciples slept, I wordsmithed the definition, trying to anticipate the questions Satan was sure to ask.

“A person needs a miracle when something within his body systems doesn’t function as it was intended. A miraculous healing occurs when Jesus calls all necessary bodily functions into alignment,” I would explain.

“What does that mean exactly?” Satan would ask.

“For example, if a person is ill, it is likely to be because his immune system isn’t working for him as it was created to do. It may appear that Jesus heals by curing diseases when in fact a closer look reveals that He often heals by correcting the function of the immune defense. Thereby, the person heals more quickly than he otherwise would have if left with a deficient autoimmune function.”

“Aha,” Satan would say. “An unauthorized use of supernatural ability.”

“No, not really; a healing miracle is when Jesus revs up the natural process so that a person’s bodily defense system works as God created it to do. Early intervention with a good, organic diet would probably achieve the same result, given enough time.”

I would explain how Jesus used the miracle method when dealing with large crowds where He needed to move quickly. It would have taken all day for Him to call each of thousands of diseases by name. But when He said, “Be healed,” to the autoimmune system, whether or not the people realized it, not only were they cured of the immediate sickness, but also their disease defense abilities were able to fight off future infections. In fact, I’m sure I never saw one person whom Jesus healed in this way ever get sick again.

However, when Jesus did something that didn’t fit in to my definition of a miracle, I filed it under
wonder
, as in
I wonder how He did it.
This would be the category Satan was sure to watch. Take the day they brought a blind man to Him.

“How long has he been like this?” Jesus asked.

“From birth,” his mother answered. “Can You do something for him, Rabbi?”

Jesus looked the man over carefully before answering.

“Yes, I can. I am the Light of the world.”

“That’s why we’re here.”

Jesus bent down and scooped up a handful of mud, spit in it, and rubbed a glob right into the eyes of the blind man. Whatever the mother expected Him to do to help her boy, that was not it. She was appalled.

“What are you doing to my son?”

Jesus ignored her question and spit one more time into each eye.

“Now go wash in the Pool of Siloam.”

“Did somebody spit on me?” the man asked as his mother led him away. “I’ve got something in my eye.”

“It’s fine,” his mother said. “It’s a special salve, a natural remedy; homeopathic, I believe. Let’s hurry along and wash it out like He said.”

“Did you see that?” asked one of the on-lookers. “He spit in the eyes of a blind man. Can you believe it?”

“Not very holy if you ask me,” said another.

The disciples looked somewhat sheepish and hoped no one would ask them why Jesus did it. I had to see if it was going to work, so I hurried after them to the pool of Siloam, where, after some protest by the patient at having his face pushed into the water, his sight was restored.

Some of his neighbors and those who had formerly seen him begging were also at the pool that day.

“Isn’t this the same man who used to sit and beg?”

“That’s him, all right, I’ve lived next door to him for years.”

“No, he only looks like him,” another argued as he moved closer for a better look. “You’re not the blind beggar, are you?”

“I am the man.”

“How is it you can see?”

“I don’t know. Someone opened my eyes.”

“Someone did more than that. You didn’t have any eyeballs, friend, just empty sockets. Sight can’t be restored to someone with no eyeballs.”

My point exactly: a wonder, not a miracle.

“The man they call Jesus made a special salve and rubbed it in my eyes.”

“Spit and mud,” corrected his mother.

“Then He told me to come to Siloam and wash, so I did. They dunked my face in the water, and now I can see.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?” asked a young boy.

“Where are your parents?” the neighbor grumbled as he pushed the boy to the side. Then he turned back to the former blind man. “Where is this man, Jesus?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come with us to see the priests. This is the Sabbath, you know. Whatever Jesus did to you, I’m sure it’s illegal.”

I followed them to the Pharisees’ court, where the neighbor demanded an audience with the priest who was in charge that day. We waited for quite a while before seeing anyone.

They’re probably working with a skeletal staff since it’s the Sabbath.

“What do you want?” asked the old priest as he tottered down the steps to the courtyard.”

“This man was born blind, but now he sees,” said the neighbor.

The priest squinted a curious look at the man.

“Is that right? Can you see?” The priest waved a hand in front of his face.

“Yes, yes,” the former blind man replied, nodding excitedly.

“How nice for you,” said the priest as he started back up the steps.

“Wait,” said the neighbor. “Don’t you want to know how it happened?”

“Not especially. But if you insist, go ahead, son. Tell me about it.”

“A man spit on the mud and rubbed it in my eyes. Then I washed, and now I can see.”

“Ah, alternative medicine is it? I’ve always thought it was quackery myself, but so be it.” Again he tried to go back inside.

“Are you refusing to confront an illegal act?” the neighbor challenged.

“What illegal act would that be?”

“The man who gave him sight is Jesus, but He can’t be from God because He doesn’t keep the Sabbath.”

“Who said He was from God?”

“He has to be if he created eyeballs in a blind man.”

“And your point is?” The priest scratched his head.

More laughter in the crowd as the man’s face reddened all the more.

“The point is He broke the Sabbath.”

“The Sabbath, you say? Well, then yes indeed, perhaps you do have a point after all. When you’re my age, the days tend to run together.” He turned to the blind man. “What have you to say about the man who opened your eyes?”

“I guess He must be a prophet.”

“Not likely. There hasn’t been a prophet in Israel in four hundred years. Even so,” he cupped his hand to the side of his mouth as if telling a secret, “except for a handful, prophets tend to be long on
talk
and short on
do
, if you know what I mean.”

A teacher of the Law came walking down the stone steps in search of the old priest.

“What’s going on here?”

“This man claims to have been born blind but now he can see,” answered the priest.

“Impossible,” said the teacher. “If he sees, he wasn’t born blind.”

“Jesus healed him.”

“On the Sabbath? Are there any witnesses?”

“His parents are here.” The neighbor signaled for them to come to the front of the crowd.

“Is this your son?” the teacher asked. “Was he born blind?”

“He is our son, and he was born blind.”

“How is it that now he can see?”

“I wasn’t actually there.” The man’s father seemed reluctant to get involved with a Sabbath infraction. “Let him speak for himself.”

“Very well.” The teacher turned to their son. “Give glory to God and tell the truth. But let me warn you, we know this man Jesus is a sinner, so be careful how you answer.”

“I don’t know what He is. What I do know is I was blind, and now I see!”

“What did He do to you? How did He open your eyes?”

“Don’t ask,” said the priest. “I’ve told you already what happened to me, but you won’t listen.”

“You should have come to Israel’s priests for healing.”

“I’ve been to see the priests dozens of times, but no one could help me. Only Jesus could give me eyes. You should run after Him and learn from Him.”

“Nonsense,” said the teacher.

“It sounds like you’re afraid of Him.”

Let the shouting begin.
I always liked to watch a religious tussle.

The teacher hurled insults at him, and the man hurled back

“We know all we need to know about healing from what God told Moses; as for this Jesus, He’s a liar and an imposter.”

“He’s the Messiah,” shouted someone from the crowd.

“No, He’s not!” the teacher yelled back.

“Now, that is remarkable,” the former blind man said. “The Messiah has come to us, and the only ones who won’t accept it are you priests and teachers.”

“You were steeped in sin at birth. How dare you lecture us!”

The flustered teacher called for the guards to throw them all out just as a side gate opened and Jesus walked into the courtyard. I flew quickly to His side to warn Him.

“This is not a good idea, Jesus. You know how the Pharisees feel about You. Don’t give them the home court advantage.”

Jesus ignored me and stood in front of the man He had healed. “Do you believe in the Son of Man?”

“Who is He, sir? Tell me so that I may believe in Him.”

“I AM.”

“Lord, I believe.”

Jesus gave him a pat on the back then faced the appalled priest and teacher.

“I have come into this world so that the blind will see and those who think they see will realize how blind they are.”

“Wait just a minute,” the priest interrupted. “Who are You calling blind?”

“You would be better off if you were blind. At least you would have an excuse for failing to see what’s in front of your face.”

Uh-oh. Calling out the priesthood; very dangerous.

The crowd went silent when Jesus accused the holy men of being blind themselves. That’s when Peter and John stepped forward from the sidelines.

“Hello. Nice to see everyone.” John gave a friendly wave to the people and nodded his head in respect at the teacher and priest. Peter took Jesus by the arm as he also acknowledged the religious duo.