J
ust what it was that awakened him each morning well before daylight, Jesus was not sure. He was not unhappy about it. These were the best hours of the day. It seems there was some internal awareness in his mind that told him it was time to awake, to get up. Time to start the day. Time to meet with his Father. On this morning, he rolled over on his pallet and stared at the wall. He thought of the events of the previous day. He thought of big Nate with not resentment, as would a normal man, but with compassion and disappointment that somehow, he had not been able to reach him. What a disciple he would make! With that thought in mind, Jesus stood and stretched.
Quietly, so as not to disturb anyone, he walked out into the courtyard of Peter’s home. From thence, through the passageway into the small streets of Capharnaum. A dog barked, came trotting up to him and received a scratch behind the ears for his trouble. Jesus smiled at the wagging tail and felt a strange comfort as the dog licked his hand. Best thing I ever did! Where did that thought come from? Thoughts like these came with recurring frequency. They disturbed him. The paradox of his humanness and his Deity was a source continuing distraction. He could never, it seemed, quite get used to it.
For the past year, Jesus had essentially gone about his way alone. On occasion, he had been joined by his few friends, but at this time, they had yet to draw together into a unit, a cadre of men devoted to their leader and each other. Jesus realized he needed others in his work, not only to effect their labors, but however lame they may prove to be, he had to teach them. He sensed, perhaps after the events in Nazareth, he knew that his time was short. He had to find others to carry on his work.
His thoughts wandered from these things and back again, occasionally being distracted by the dog who trotted about as he strolled. The stars overhead glistened in the morning chill. At length, he found himself standing at the foot of a pier which led out into the lake a hundred feet or so. There were several such piers along the waterfront of Capharnaum. Fishing boats were tied along both sides bobbing in the gentle waves lapping the shores. Men were beginning to attend the boats even now before the night sky gave way to approaching dawn. In the distance, Jesus recognized the forms of Peter and Andrew. He smiled. He hadn’t needed to be concerned about waking them back at the house.
There were only a couple of boats tied to the pier where Jesus stood. No one had yet arrived to employ them in the day’s fishing. With the dog at his side, Jesus walked out to the end of the pier and sat down, removed his sandals from his feet and felt the cool water envelop them. And there he became quiet. In a few moments, the sky over the eastern hills began to lighten. Father, let your Spirit come. Silence. As the words escaped from his mind, a wave of what some might describe as electrical current played over his skin causing the hairs on his neck to prickle. His thoughts mingled with his eternal roots. From the clear cistern of his Father’s Presence, he drank deeply and long. Waves lapped gently at the pilings. The sky turned metal gray. Jesus felt something touch his feet. He looked down to see small fish playing around his toes beneath the surface of the water. The consummate peace in his heart caused his eyes to fill with glad tears. He was his Father’s Son, nothing could change that. A delicious moment of spiritual ecstasy. He was loath to release it. He held out his hands, palms turned upward. The dog whined. Jesus laughed.
