For this edition of Pure Refreshment, I felt it was necessary to do something a little different.
What follows is an ‘impersonation’ of a central figure in the story of Easter. I do not claim to know this person’s thoughts exactly, but the Bible contains enough information to make a well-informed attempt. It is a little longer than a normal edition, but I think it’s appropriate at this time.
My prayer is that as you consider the events of the life of Christ, that he would awaken and challenge you to his plans for your life. And as he refreshes you, may you not keep it to yourself, but go out and refresh others.
I am puzzled right now.
So many thoughts are racing around in my brain that I really don’t know what to think. Believing doesn’t always involve seeing, and it’s what I didn’t see that gives me reason to consider. To the uninformed observer, it was a room containing some strips of linen and a neatly folded cloth.
For me, it could be the beginning of something much larger than myself. Or it could be the fulfillment of something much larger than myself. It could be both. I don’t really know—not right now, at least.
All I know is what I’ve seen and heard—and I’ve seen and heard a lot of things in the last three years or so. And to think it all really started on the shore of the lake that has been the source of numerous successes and failures. The night before, my partners and I had gotten in the boat to go fishing, but our nets came up empty each time. We had returned to shore and were fixing the nets for a future trip when a gentleman got into my boat and asked to be pushed out a little from shore. And he had reason to ask—there was a throng of people gathered, waiting to hear what he had to say. He sat in the boat and kept speaking. When he finished, he turned to me and said, “Go out right now and catch some fish.”
I was puzzled. But I told him I would do so because he asked. I gathered up the crew and we went out for a day trip. We threw the nets out, waited, and then noticed that there was a problem. The nets were about to break—not due to age, but due to having so many fish in them! We got our partners to come over in their boat and help out, and it took both boats to haul in the catch. When the boats arrived on shore (barely, due to the weight of the fish), he was standing there. I fell on my knees and told him to get away, because I had missed the mark with my life due to the mistakes I make.
He didn’t leave. Instead, he told me that I would be doing a different type of fishing. Fishing for people. It seemed like such a strange idea at the time, but yet I knew it was the right thing to do. I threw the nets down and followed after him, as did my partners James and John.
The last three years have been filled with dinners at people’s homes, gatherings where people waited to hear what seemed to be revolutionary teaching, and intimate times of learning and questioning. This man—Jesus—challenged me in ways I never would’ve imagined. He asked questions. He put us in situations where, like the miraculous catch of fish, the situation seemed impossible. Feeding over 5000 people with a little child’s lunch—but first asking us where we were going to get the food to do it. It still boggles my mind!
Jesus taught me lessons in faith and trust. After a long day, our group was rowing on the lake in the middle of the night. Jesus wasn’t with us at first, but he just took off walking on the lake and caught up. When I said, “If it’s you, then tell me to join you,” he told me to get out of the boat. And I did walk on the water . . . for a few seconds anyway. I learned how shaky my faith was when I took my eyes off him, looked at the waves around me, and started to sink. He picked me up, of course, but asked me, “Where is your faith?” I thought about it the rest of the trip.
My group of twelve were eyewitnesses to healings involving everything from a fever to leprosy to physical death. He didn’t always heal in the same way—sometimes it was with a word, sometimes a touch. One’s sex, age, or nationality didn’t seem to matter. There was something special about that man.
Jesus taught everywhere he went. He even used a slip-up on my part as a teaching moment. I was asked by some tax collectors one day if Jesus paid the temple tax. I said that he did, but when I entered the house, he said that he didn’t need to. But, so they wouldn’t be offended, I was to go catch a fish. Inside was a coin to pay his ‘tax.’ I found it curious that he then added the words “and yours.” My tax? Was I going to be teaching at some point? Sure enough, there was a coin inside the fish’s mouth that paid the taxes for both of us.
We got to Jerusalem to celebrate Passover about a week ago, and the consensus among the people was that a great king had arrived. Why else would clothes and palm branches be spread out on the road for Jesus to ride upon? I think we all thought he was going to take over the country and usher in a new season of peace, kind of like King David did so long ago.
It was different this time. Jesus was challenged at every turn by the Pharisees and Sadducees regarding ways of reading the Law. They didn’t like his answers, and the Pharisees especially didn’t like it when he exposed them for looking nice on the outside but corrupt on the inside.
Then Judas Iscariot—one of our group members!—got involved and secretly plotted to hand Jesus over to them. We didn’t find out until four days ago, when we all sat down together to eat the Passover. You can imagine the shock and dread in the room when he said, “One of you is going to betray me.” When he passed a piece of dipped bread to Judas, the pace of life was increased tenfold. We already knew Jesus was going to be killed (I once tried to tell him it wouldn’t happen, but got rebuked as a result). He taught us more about what would happen next. Trouble. Hardship. Possible death for us. But it would all be worth it in the end.
He then turned to me. “Simon, I’ve prayed for you in particular that you not give in or give out. When you have come through the time of testing, turn to your companions and give them a fresh start.”1 What testing? I was ready to die, if need be, and I told him so. But he said that I was going to deny knowing him three times that night.
We left dinner and headed to the Mount of Olives. He went to pray, asking myself, James, and John to keep watch. The night had been too exhausting for us, though, and we all fell asleep. Jesus came back, woke us up, then went back to pray. We slept again. The next time we opened our eyes, Judas Iscariot had joined us—along with some soldiers, who took Jesus away.
I followed at a safe distance to see what was going to happen. The night was cold and I stood with some others over a fire, trying to keep warm. After a while, one of the people there said, “This man was with Jesus.”
I was ready to die, right? And yet I turned my face and said, “No, I don’t know him.” Even after all the lessons.
Someone else asked me if I was with Jesus a little later. I said ‘no’ again. Even after all the teachings.
The night was almost over when a third person said, “This man is from Galilee. He’s been with him!” I looked at him and said forcefully, “Man, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Even after all the miracles.
Then a rooster crowed. The words came back to me from just a few hours earlier. Jesus turned from his accusers and looked at me. I’ll never forget those eyes. I don’t remember too much after that, other than leaving and crying uncontrollably.
Jesus was killed a few hours later by crucifixion. I do know he was buried in a tomb later that day. The other disciples and myself had all ran away when he needed us the most. Or did he? We weren’t sure what to do. Was this just another good story gone horribly awry? Who was going to take over Israel and lead us now?
But this morning brought something different. Some women went to the tomb with some burial spices, but found the rock in front of the entrance moved. They stepped inside and didn’t find him there—just the strips of linen and cloth I mentioned earlier. Two angels suddenly appeared and asked them something about seeking living among the dead. Jesus wasn’t there; he was raised to life again. He did tell us something about “three days later,” but I don’t think it made sense to us. They ran and told some other women, who found us and shared the news.
It was not what we were expecting. It didn’t make any sense. The stone in front of the entrance was huge. Jesus had died, hanging on a cross by his wrists. He had already been wrapped up for burial. None of us believed a word they were saying. But what if? I decided to take a closer look for myself. Sure enough, the stone had been moved to the side. There wasn’t anyone in there—just linen.
And that’s why I’m puzzled. What if? What if this is all true? Then people have to be told about it and why he died. Something about his comment in the room his last night on earth is interesting: “This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is shed for you.”2 Maybe there’s something to all this. The lessons. The walking on water. The fish and the coin in its mouth. The tomb with nobody inside.
1 Luke 22:32, The Message.
2 Luke 22:20, NJKV. The pronoun “my” was not capitalized for continuity purposes.
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