Journey

         It has been an arduous journey through the labyrinth of human sin and love.  I almost did not make it.  Mother and father nearly separated when betrothed as my dad found out that my mother was pregnant with me.  The family was shamed.  Sometimes I think that God called for the tax census to get mom and dad out of town and off to Bethlehem.  My mother groaned often on the trip.  And, to top it off, my delivery ended up during the night among some barn animals.  I remember the shepherds standing in awe of me.  Shepherds were a good role model for my mission, I thought.  But, there was still time to catch a nap cuddled up to my mother and listening to barn noises and the faint sound of angel’s hymns.

         I labored under my dad’s carpentry tutelage for quite a while doing typical boy stuff playing with my brothers and sisters and the neighborhood riffraff. I was uncomfortable.  I knew I was very different but I could not quite define how.  Somehow those dreams of Bethlehem had become vague.  Then, when I was in my early teenage years, my family traveled to Jerusalem for Jewish holiday and remembrance.  In the hubbub, I got separated from the family and ended up at the Temple with a bunch of professors.  They were pontificating about the complexities of life, death, and duty under Jewish tradition.  I had the temerity to ask some questions and then words started flowing out of me about my Father in Heaven and what it meant to be fully human with love and considerateness offered to all.  I don’t know if they were stunned or really interested in what I was saying.  I was not even sure what I was saying.  It seemed that God was speaking through me.  Eventually, my folks realized I was missing on their way out of town and came back to find me.  Mom was pretty upset when she finally located me in the Temple.  She lectured me about duty to my family.  Being a typical teenager, I sassed her back that my family was a lot bigger than just genetic bloodline.  That set her back on her heals for some reason.  She mumbled something about my birth and Martha.

         For a while, time stumped along as I grew into manhood.  Dad encouraged me to travel around a bit.  And then, one day, I stumbled into a crowd who were getting dunked in the water of the Jordan River by a tramp called John the Baptist.  Why not, I thought.  But, when the water drained from my face, clothes dripping, all present fell to their knees terrified by a voice from above stating that God was well pleased with me, his only true Son.  Shaking with cold and terror, I drifted away from the crowd and the knowing gaze of John.

         I wandered the desert for well over a month, no food or water.  Phantasmagorical delusions about Satan and me dogged my every step.  It seemed so real, like I had power that he was afraid of unless he could harness me.  About the time I was near death, I prayed to God for deliverance and He gave me real bread and drink.  But, I now knew what Bethlehem meant and what my baptism meant.  I was to be the Shepherd for all time and the Lamb of God.

         Thus began my ministry with a group of men and women followers.  Twelve of the men were my closest supporters.  We traveled, preached the Good News of Salvation, healed those in need in both body and spirit.  The Jewish authorities were not happy with my proselytizing because I was exposing their hypocrisy about preferring the law to love.  They finally caught up with me near Jerusalem at camp in Gethsemane one night.   The soldier whose ear I put back on after Simon Peter cut it off defending me kneeled in awe.  There was utter confusion; but, they dragged me away, bounced me around several Roman and Jewish legal jurisdictions until finally they decided to kill me.

         From the manger to the cross, it has been a long journey.  I have seen the depravity of humans, my creation, and the elegance of their caring and love.  My choice, my only choice, was to give my Life for them.  I who gave them life, gave my life, that they may continue on their journey.  I left an indelible mark on their hearts.  It is a benchmark for their choices.  Will they love or hate?  Will they lie or be truthful?  Will they serve or be selfish?  I am not so sure sometimes that I should have given my children a choice.  But, at least it is an informed choice.  I pray for my children that their journey will be fulfilled in eternal life.  That was my offering—my sacrifice of grace.

Mike Case