I had been spending my devotional time reading the book of Isaiah (in the Old Testament). I read it from “The Message,” which is a modern-day English translation of the Bible. I enjoyed the words of encouragement and God’s promises. As I was finishing up, a high school friend posted the following on Facebook. (I edited parts of the post to shorten it.) I knew some of this information but not all of it. I was especially moved to learn that the prophet Isaiah was cut in half.
Isaiah – was cut in half for the gospel we are enjoying today.
How the Apostles died:
Matthew – suffered martyrdom in Ethiopia, killed by a sword wound.
Mark – died in Alexandria, Egypt, after being dragged by horses through the streets until he was dead.
Luke – was hanged in Greece as a result of his tremendous preaching to the lost.
John – faced martyrdom when he was boiled in a huge basin of boiling oil during a wave of persecution In Rome. However, he was miraculously delivered from death. John was then sentenced to the mines on the prison Island of Patmos. He wrote his prophetic Book of Revelation on Patmos. The apostle John was later freed and returned to serve as Bishop of Edessa in modern-day Turkey. He died as an old man, the only apostle to die peacefully.
Peter – was crucified upside down on an X-shaped cross. According to church tradition, it was because he told his tormentors that he felt unworthy to die in the same way that Jesus Christ had died.
James – The leader of the church in Jerusalem was thrown over a hundred feet down from the southeast pinnacle of the Temple when he refused to deny his faith in Christ. When they discovered that he survived the fall, his enemies beat James to death with a fuller’s club.
James, the Son of Zebedee, – was a fisherman by trade when Jesus called him to a lifetime of ministry. As a strong leader of the church, James was beheaded in Jerusalem. The Roman officer who guarded James was amazed as James defended his faith at his trial. Later, the officer walked beside James to the place of execution. Overcome by conviction, he declared his new faith to the judge and knelt beside James to accept beheading as a Christian.
Bartholomew – also known as Nathaniel, was a missionary to Asia. He witnessed for our Lord in present-day Turkey. Bartholomew was martyred for his preaching in Armenia, where he was flayed to death by a whip.
Andrew – was crucified on an x-shaped cross in Patras, Greece, after being whipped severely by seven soldiers. They tied his body to the cross with cords to prolong his agony. His followers reported that, when he was led toward the cross, Andrew saluted it in these words: “I have long desired and expected this happy hour. The cross has been consecrated by the body of Christ hanging on it.” He continued to preach to his tormentors for two days until he expired.
Thomas – was stabbed with a spear in India during one of his missionary trips to establish the church in the sub-continent.
Jude – was killed with arrows when he refused to deny his faith in Christ.
Matthias – the apostle chosen to replace the traitor Judas Iscariot, was stoned and then beheaded.
Paul – was tortured and then beheaded by the evil Emperor Nero in Rome in 67 A.D. Paul endured a lengthy imprisonment, which allowed him to write his many epistles to the churches he had formed throughout the Roman Empire. These letters, which taught many of the foundational Doctrines of Christianity, form a large portion of the New Testament.
Perhaps this is a reminder to us that our sufferings here are indeed minor compared to the intense persecution and cold cruelty faced by the apostles and disciples during their times for the sake of the faith.
(Original source and author unknown.)
13 But the one who endures to the end will be saved. 14 And the Good News about the Kingdom will be preached throughout the whole world, so that all nations will hear it; and then the end will come. Mat. 24:13-14 (NLT)
Did their murderers stop God by killing the prophets and apostles? No, and the servants of God have changed the world. Are you changing the world? Am I? There may be, or there may come, persecution for sharing the gospel of Jesus Christ. For showing the world a better way to live. God’s way. A way that is based on love. It is a privilege to have the opportunity to tell others about Jesus.
Yes, as a servant of God, what a horrible way to die, but what a wonderful way to live!
Have you ever noticed how easily people are persuaded to believe one thing over another? They hear someone who comes across as halfway intelligent, and they think they must know what they are talking about! Just because someone uses big words or overwhelms you with “so-called facts” doesn’t mean they are right! There are a lot of smart people out there, but the problem is they define “truth” their way. They will try to convince you that how “they” live is the right way to live. Then, some yell and scream to be heard over the crowd. Are they right?
“Who talked you into the pursuit of this nonsense, leaving me high and dry, forgetting you ever knew me? Because I don’t yell and make a scene, do you think I don’t exist? I’ll go over, detail by detail, all your ‘righteous’ attempts at religion, and expose the absurdity of it all. Go ahead, cry for help to your collection of no-gods: A good wind will blow them away. They’re smoke, nothing but smoke.
“But anyone who runs to me for help will inherit the land, will end up owning my holy mountain!” Is. 57:11-13 (MSG)
It’s challenging to convince someone that God’s way to live is the best way if they have never tried it!
They will often vomit their objections, and the truth is that they are sick. In fact, they are so sick they are dying. For not accepting God’s gift of salvation via his Son, Jesus is eternal death. So what do we do as those who have been enlightened? We keep praying for them, and we live our best lives with God in front of them. Almost obnoxiously so they can see how much better our life is with God than their life is without. Not that our lives are perfect, but we walk through it with God in front of us. Perhaps they will become jealous and give in. Then, they will say:
All to Jesus, I surrender All to Him, I freely give I will ever love and trust Him In His presence daily live
All to Jesus, I surrender Humbly at His feet, I bow Worldly pleasures all forsaken Take me, Jesus, take me now
All to Jesus, I surrender Lord, I give myself to Thee Fill me with Thy love and power Let Thy blessing fall on me
I surrender all I surrender all All to Thee, my blessed Saviour I surrender all
There are many ways to share God with people. I have either heard or watched as others tried their way. One person told two young women they were going to split hell wide open. He judged them after learning they were lesbians. That wasn’t a very effective method at all. I told the individual, “Those ladies needed to hear of God’s love, not your judgment.”
I watched one Saturday night as an individual argued “religion” with another person, thinking they were going to convince them to accept their views and accept Jesus. It didn’t work.
People come to God in many ways. One way of sharing God that I have found to be effective is what I like to call “Lifestyle Evangelism.” If you come across an individual that you know you are going to be seeing from time to time, you can start sharing God and his love little by little. Whether it is going out of your way to help them, or remembering them in a time of need, or if they are celebrating a life event.
Eventually, they begin to realize that you are not “weird” but that you really do love God and want to love on people. People will begin to see that you and your way of life are so different from anyone they have ever known. It happened to Jesus. This can lead them to ask or to be open to hearing how to accept Jesus Christ into their life.
People don’t like to be controlled; they prefer to be led.
You could put it this way: people don’t want to be told what to do. But they are sometimes open to being led in the way they should go. Jesus is the way. Show people the way. Show people, Jesus!
Jesus replied, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. John 14:6 (NET)
Be imitators of me (Paul), just as I also am of Christ. 1 Cor. 11:1 (NET) (The insert of the name “Paul” is mine.)
Have you ever read something or heard something and had a new thought? Something that has never crossed your mind before? That happened to me today. Now, I have listened to or read Psalms 23 many times. Most of you probably have as well.
The line: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death” got a new thought today.
The part that got my attention was the “shadow of death.” It is not actually “death” but its shadow. Shadows may appear scary, but they are not as frightening as the thing that is casting the shadow. Then, and this is big, there can only be a shadow if there is light! Jesus said of himself that he is light. In fact, the light of the world.
Again, Jesus spoke to them, saying, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” John 8:12 (ESV)
No wonder one doesn’t have to fear evil when they go through a valley or time in their life that can be filled with uncertainty because “thou (Jesus) art with me!” It’s comforting to know that Jesus, our shepherd, walks with us in life. He leads us and guides us like beside “still” waters so we can quench our thirst. Or to tables so we can eat relaxed, even in the presence of our enemies. If you miss what is going on here, it’s this: if you can trust Jesus with your life, you can live life even though things around you are not as good as you would desire them to be.
You will be comforted; you will be anointed so the smallest parasites of life can’t harm you. In fact, although life may be unstable around you, you will be blessed beyond anything you can imagine. Goodness and mercy will follow you wherever you go, and then, at the end of it all, you will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
It’s not a bad gig for simply placing your trust in Jesus. You’ve got nothing to lose and real life to gain. The kind of life God intended for you all along.
On any spring Friday afternoon in a small town in Iowa, there is a baseball game. It is for anyone who wants to play, who used to play, or who wants to sit, watch, and root for their favorite team. As for me, I used to play pee-wee ball. I was never very good compared to the other boys my age. I had severe allergies, so, therefore, my muscles were not as developed as theirs were. Since I couldn’t play like they did, the coach would have me run bases after he hit the ball in different locations on the field. Since that is what I practiced, I became good at base running.
But this story isn’t about me. However, I will add the fact that on game day, when we were wearing our jerseys, they would make me “Brady” sit to the left of the other bench warmer, whose last name was “Bunch.”
No, this story is about Harry Stamford. He played second base on the team opposing mine. Harry was good. Actually, he was an outstanding player. He seemed to be gifted in knowing where to put the ball in play.
In one particular game, I made it to second. Harry got mad because he barely missed the tag that would have thrown me out. Seeing his disappointment in himself, I began teasing and harassing him when I happened to look down, and I saw a tear in the base. I went on to score, but our team still lost. After the game, I asked my coach about the rip in second base. I asked, “What damaged second base, and why hasn’t it been replaced?” He immediately shushed me as he quickly looked around to see if anyone had heard me.
He leaned into me and said, “During a game about twenty years ago, Harry was on second base when all of a sudden, there was a flash of light, and something hit the bag, tearing it. Harry fell, and so the umpire called “time” to see if he was alright. He said something scraped the back of his leg. We raised his pant leg, and there was a bleeding scratch, so we bandaged it. Harry said he was okay with staying in. After the game, when I was gathering the bases, I saw the rip and reached in. I found a rock. I took it to the community college here in town, where the science professor identified it as a small meteor. Ever since that day, we have noticed that Harry’s baseball skills have improved, and he plays like a young man in his late twenties, but we don’t talk about it.” “Would you believe Harry is 79 years old?”
“Wow! That’s an amazing story, and no, I certainly had no idea he was that old.” After that day, I stopped heckling Harry anytime I was on second base. And I started watching him closer.
One afternoon, before the end of the season, I noticed Harry getting out of his car. He was moving very slowly, although he still had on his uniform as if he was going to play. I walked over to him and apologized for all of the times I had heckled him when on second base. He said, “It’s okay. Just part of the game.” I then took his arm to help him to his team’s dugout. I asked, “Harry, are you okay?” He sat slowly on the bench and replied, “I saw my doctor on Monday. He said I have a fast-moving cancer. He told me to get my affairs in order.” I knelt and said, “Harry, I am so sorry to hear that.” He looked into my eyes and said, “I will miss my wife, family, and grandchildren. I will also miss playing baseball, and maybe you.” I laughed and then told him I would be praying for him.
The other players showed up, and the game was about to start when one player on Harry’s team noticed Harry’s eyes were shut, and he was slumped over. One of the doctors in our small town came to the dugout and, after a few minutes, announced that Harry was gone. A silence grew over the ballfield as word got out. They laid Harry down on the bench, and his best friend went over the flagpole. He lowered the flag but then removed it and used it to cover Harry’s body. He told everyone that Harry was a veteran.
“Now what?” asked one of his teammates. His coach said, “I think Harry would want us to play ball, so let’s go out there and win this one for Harry,” and they did.
The following week, Harry’s funeral was held. There were a lot of people in attendance, and many spoke publicly of Harry’s life and how he had not only helped them in one way or another but also talked to them about God and always asked if they wanted to accept Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior. Many of them said they did.
Some may look back and say that the meteor gave Harry Stamford some extra strength that day while he was playing second base. I would say that it was God who was so pleased with Harry’s life and witness that He blessed him with what he needed to do the things that he enjoyed.
If you have never accepted Jesus Christ, know that you can. He is waiting for you to accept his offer of forgiveness for your sins. With that begins a relationship that brings hope, encouragement, comfort, and guidance with the added bonus of eternal life. Along the way, you can ask for help with anything. Problems in life, relationships, and healing. Having a relationship with Jesus is the best thing you will ever do with your life. God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit are real. So are heaven and hell. There are no other alternatives. Accept Jesus and truly live life.
My whole life, people laughed at me. They called me names that weren’t the ones my mother and father gave me. And what they called me hurt, too. When I was young, I would get mad and try to fight, but I usually only wound up getting beaten. As I got older, I would laugh along, but it still hurt deep inside.
What I should be called is Zacchaeus. In case you don’t know me, I am short. In a crowd, I am easy to miss or overlook. As I just mentioned, I was an easy target for jokes and for being picked on in general. I always tried to think of ways to get back with people. It usually didn’t work. It seemed as if someone would always see me and report me to the one I was trying to get even with. That usually resulted in more punishment and pain. Life was not that fun or even enjoyable.
Even as I grew up in the same town, people didn’t let up. They continued to heckle me mainly because of my size. I couldn’t believe how many ‘’short’’ jokes there were. There definitely was no ‘’shortage’’ of them. Just when I thought I had heard them all, someone would come up with a new one. I simply wanted to fit in. To be accepted. Not to be known as the short man with the short fuse.
When I was coming to the end of my education, I still hadn’t decided what career path to take. My father was putting a lot of pressure on me to decide. Then I thought of the perfect job for me to do. I would become a tax collector. That seemed like a good choice. If I wanted to, I could get back with everyone in town. There would be nothing they could do concerning their taxes because I would have Rome backing me up. I liked it. My father was disappointed, though. He said, ‘’Son, listen to me. No one likes to pay taxes, and they hate the tax collector just as much.’’ I quickly replied by shouting, “THEY ALREADY HATE ME!’’ “Well, then, you have nothing to lose. Just be an honest tax collector. Keep good records,” he retorted.
I tried, but I was always tempted to get even with those that laughed at me. An honest tax collector is unheard of. I would overtax on purpose, and when I did get caught, I paid the property owner back four times what he had overpaid. No other tax collector would do this. I really thought it would help with my reputation. It didn’t that much. The people still picked on me. I guess it never dawned on them to treat me nicely, and perhaps I would be nice to them. I wanted to treat people right out of respect and honor to my father, but at times, I couldn’t overcome the temptation. Life continued like this year after year. People kept teasing me, and I kept taxing them, according to Rome.
Then, one day, we heard news of a man coming to Jericho. His name was Jesus. What we heard was he taught about a new way to live. He taught about the kingdom of God. We also heard that he could perform miracles. Just this news coming to our town performed one miracle, and that was people forgot about teasing me. They were too busy talking about him.
The next day, people were clamoring for a good spot to see and hear this man Jesus. I went to work that morning as usual but found shops closed. I was thinking, Is this a holiday? Then I remembered what was happening that day. Evidently, I must have a short memory too. Because I was so late getting to the party, all of the good spots to see Jesus were taken. Every place I could think of that would get me elevated enough to see over the crowd was gone. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. I started panicking when I heard the roar of the crowd getting louder and more excited. I thought they must be able to see something, I thought. I really didn’t want to miss it. Or should I say, “I didn’t want to miss him.” I mean, this was the biggest thing that hit my town since the walls came down. I wanted to see a miracle just like everyone else did, but I mainly wanted to see the man who proclaimed to be the Son of God.
I believed in God. I had learned about God when studying The Tora, and from my father. My father was a firm believer in God and His words. He also believed in the prophecies of the coming King. That is why I wanted to see this man, Jesus, so badly. It was difficult to believe that these prophesies could come to pass in my time, but why not in my time? I mean, they had to come to pass in someone’s time. If this indeed was the Son of God, and I believed that it was, then I wasn’t going to miss it.
I ran fast ahead of the crowd. I found a sycamore tree that would hold me, but I could also climb. I scrambled up the tree fast. I got squared away by finding a branch to hold on to. I certainly didn’t want to start getting teased for falling out of a tree. I knew I would hear jokes just for climbing the tree in the first place, but I didn’t care. I tore away at the big leaves this tree produces so nothing would block my view.
Here he came down the street, where I was excitedly waiting. My heart was pounding as my anxiousness grew. Oh my goodness! Any second now, I should be able to see the Son of God! I remembered thinking. There he was. Moving slowly down the street. Talking to different ones. Perhaps teaching as he answered their questions. Then he stopped and reached over to a paralyzed man lying next to the street. Jesus had to part the crowd to get to him, but when he did, he touched him. He said something, but I couldn’t make it out. The next thing I knew, the paralyzed man jumped up and started screaming with happiness, for now he was healed.
Jesus continued down the street. I did well. I had picked out a good spot. Now, as he got close, I could see and hear him. When he got right up, even with the tree I was in, he stopped. I thought, oh boy! He is going to perform another miracle right in front of me. Well, he sort of did. He turned, looked right up at me, and said, “Zacchaeus, come down out of that tree, for today I will be a guest at your house.” I couldn’t believe what I had just heard! No one could. First of all, he knew my name. Secondly, he didn’t make any short jokes. Thirdly, he wanted to be a guest at my house. No one socialized with a tax collector except another tax collector. This man was no tax collector. He didn’t come to take but to give.
Those that heard Jesus say this and were shocked. They were also indigent. They felt Jesus had no business being with me, much less in my house as a guest. They considered me a crook, and to be honest, at times, I was. When Jesus got to my home a little bit later, we talked. I asked him why he was there. He called me a son of Abraham and then said today was the day of salvation. When those words came out of his mouth, I felt a warm sensation in my heart.
That day and every day since I not only knew for a fact that Jesus was the Son of God, but I also believed. I continued to be a tax collector, but now I was truly an honest tax collector. I was able to bring honor to my father after all. For those who were struggling to pay their taxes, I helped. Some would get caught up with what they owed and pay me back. Others never did, but I never told anyone. Little by little, as people saw the difference in me, they knew I had been in the presence of Jesus and that my encounter had changed me. I was even able to witness to others and, through my encounter, see their lives change as well. Suppose one might say that in life, I didn’t come up short after all.
(The actual account can be found in the Bible. Luke 19:1-9)
If you have never had your own encounter with Jesus Christ, know that you can. He is waiting for you to accept his offer of forgiveness for your sins. With that begins a relationship that brings hope, encouragement, comfort, and guidance with the added bonus of eternal life. Along the way, you can ask for help with anything. Problems in life, relationships, and healing. Having a relationship with Jesus is the best thing you will ever do with your life. God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit are real. So are heaven and hell. There are no other alternatives. Encounter Jesus and change your life.
I once thought my thirst couldn’t be quenched, but that was before. Before I met the man who out of him I drew living waters. I’m getting ahead of myself.
I guess you might call me a strong-minded woman. I mean, others have. So what if I think of something and want to do it or say it? But some people, especially most men, have a real issue with that. I don’t understand why women have to be quiet in some places and, especially, around men. We’re just as smart as they are! Being like that has always gotten me into a lot of trouble. Even when I was a young girl growing up at home. I stood up to my father and challenged his teachings. That frustrated him to no end. He would even tell me, with my mouth, that I would have trouble keeping a man if I could even find one. My mother tried to change me, but I am also very stubborn.
Well, it turns out my father was right. I guess the men I married all thought they could change me after we were married. I certainly didn’t try to hide who I really was. There couldn’t have been any great surprises. I would think they all had to know what they were getting into. Perhaps they thought they were up for the challenge, but I have seen that when a strong woman challenges a man, it just drives him crazy. The man will usually either respond by trying to reason with me, get mad and walk away, or strike me. I don’t put up with that last response at all. I always tell them, “You just made a horrible mistake. Don’t ever do it again.” Of course, they don’t appreciate being told this either. I begin to think I should have been born later in time. I’m hoping women are treated differently at some point.
Husband number one: After I got married, he told me he was going to train me to be a proper woman. I had to laugh. I told him, “You know what I was like, so if you didn’t like it, why in the world would you marry me?” He replied by saying, “I thought sure I could change you.” I taught him that women like me don’t want to be trained. We want to be understood and accepted for who we are. I was only with husband number one for five months. We were arguing about what I should be doing around the house, and after an hour or so, I guess his tolerance level had been maxed out, and he struck me. I did stop talking. Instead, I gathered what I could hang on to in my arms and left the house. I went over to my girlfriend’s house. We talked about what had happened. She agreed with everything I had told my husband but suggested that life would be easier if I just kept my mouth shut and did whatever he asked me to.
He asked me to come back without even apologizing for what he had done. Foolishly, I did. Things were okay for a while, but then another argument came up. After he hit me for the second time, I told him I wanted a divorce. I got the piece of paper, but that was it. I guess he thought I would come crawling back to him if I couldn’t make it on my own. Ha! I’m cute, I thought. I’ll get by.
Husband number two: I tried to be more careful with the second man. I gave him more time to get to know me. I told him I was never going to change, and he said he accepted that. He courted me well. He would buy me nice things to wear. He would also buy jewelry. Fine gold necklaces and earrings. He traveled a lot. This is where he would get a lot of the gifts that were somewhat exotic for me. By that, I mean the things we didn’t see around here. It seemed as if he would buy me something after every trip. I told him he didn’t need to, but he always said he enjoyed showing me how much he loved me just as much as he liked telling me he loved me. And wow! He knew how to use words to express his love. The man’s tongue must have been as smooth as a nicely made clay jar. I think his ability to speak smoothly is what made him a successful businessman.
We did get married, and things seemed to be going well. I was happy with this man, and he seemed pleased with me. Perhaps this relationship was working because he got frequent breaks from me. He could get away from my stubborn personality and my unbridled mouth.
I learned from my girlfriend how to keep the house. I also learned from her that I should fix one of his favorite dishes for dinner on the days he was due to return home. I began thinking I had finally found a man who accepted me. We both settled into the rhythm of the relationship. We had even started to talk about children. Then, one day, I discovered a woman’s scarf in his dirty laundry. I knew it wasn’t mine, but I didn’t want to believe for even a moment that it belonged to another.
What is this? Why is it here? Where did it come from? These were the questions that I couldn’t answer, and I seriously doubted he would answer them. On the day he returned, I had the scarf around my neck. The look on his face answered all of the questions I had wondered. He stood there and gazed at me for a while. Then he bravely told me the truth. He told me he had another wife in another town. The town where he did most of his business. He assumed the lavish gifts would keep me quiet and help me never to question where he was and what he was really doing. He also admitted that I was a very strong woman and that he had never liked it, but that he enjoyed my beauty and my playful side, and that was why he married me. Then he spoke the real truth when he informed me that his trips gave him the breaks he needed from me.
Naturally, I was crushed. Life seemed so good. When he came home from his next trip, he handed me divorce papers. At least he was nice about it. He allowed me to take anything from the home I wanted or thought I would need. He gave me money, too. I didn’t want to live with a man whose heart was divided, but I wasn’t strong enough to ask him for a divorce. Perhaps my strength as a woman was fading. I was with him for two years.
Husband number three: After going through what I did with the first two husbands, I wanted to fight back. I wanted to hurt a man. Any man. I wanted to show them that a woman could play with one’s heart just as easily as they could. I went hunting for the right one. I would talk to them to see if they would expose any weaknesses. I wanted to learn if they were really in love with their woman or with her just for play. I wanted to try to find a man whose heart was wicked. One whose love would be untrue. I’m sad to say it didn’t take long.
I found a shop owner who seemed to be the kind of man I wanted to hurt. He was married, had several children, a high position on the town council, and a successful business. He had a lot to lose. As a bonus, I got to know his wife. A woman who thought she was the queen of Sychar, the town I lived in. She would so easily speak ill of anyone for any reason. I knew if I could pull this off, it would be a major victory.
I knew I would have to be very subtle in my plan to seduce him. I would have to start small. I would have to hold my tongue at times. Instead of my usual way, I would have to say words that a man likes to hear. I would have to list in front of him his greatness, his wealth, his status, and his power.
I put my plan into action. I would go by this man’s shop at first every other day. I would hope that on the days he didn’t see me in the flesh, he would see me in his mind that his thoughts would be turned to me. That the thought of me would begin to consume his mind. I noticed that, as I flattered him, he would look at me differently than he would at other women shopping. He would smile. I could see my plan working.
Then I started going there every day. Each visit seemed to last longer and longer. I held back from expressing my views and opinions. I complimented him on how smart he was and how he appeared to be extremely wealthy. I could see that, with each day and with each conversation, he was buying my act. And oh, how I made him pay!
It wasn’t long before he asked me to enter his shop via the back door. In the back room, he talked very seductively to me, and then he got comfortable enough to touch my arm or hold my hand. Then, one day, he leaned over and kissed me. He wanted to go further, but I told him, “No.” I informed him that if he wanted more, he would have to get a divorce first and then marry me. He let me know he was married. After weeks of playing around, I told him he needed to make a decision. Either her or me. Four days went by before he told me of his decision. He picked me. I couldn’t believe it.
It took what seemed like forever, but we got married, and I moved into his house. His previous wife was furious. She, really, was the one that started the rumors around town about me. She called me a home wrecker. My new husband told me not to let it bother me, but it did.
It was time for “Act 3” after I got him to trust me totally. I took most of the jewelry he gave and sold it. I took most of the clothes he had bought me over to my girlfriend’s house. Then, I hid whatever money I could get my hands on. When I had done all of this, I told him I wanted a divorce. He was devastated. As a result, he lost his position on the town council. He had to sell his business. His ex-wife wouldn’t come back to him. His children despised him. The feeling of victory didn’t last long enough.
Husband number four: This man was much older than the previous two. In fact, he was a lot older than I was. He was old enough to be my father, and he was a friend of my father’s. That is how I first met him. My father had invited him over to celebrate one of our holidays. At first, it felt really odd to fall in love with an older man, but I was drawn to him by his smile, and he was so funny. He made me laugh a lot. I always felt good when I was around him. He seemed as if he didn’t mind me for who I was, either. Maybe I made him feel young. I think, honestly, as people get older, they only get upset about the things that really matter. Somehow, they have figured out how to overlook the small things. Whatever it was, we seemed to work, and so when he proposed, I said, “Yes.”
Life was good with this man. Because he allowed me to be me, I found myself wanting to please him. For the first time, I felt like a man listened to me. He may not have always liked what I said, but he let me speak my mind. Occasionally, he would counter what I had said, but the difference between him and other men is he let me finish what I was saying first. I guess with him, I saw his respect and love. He would also ask me what I was thinking or what I thought about a particular subject. He would even engage me in matters of government. No man had ever done that before. I really loved this man. I think that is why his sudden illness and death took such a toll on me.
He had gotten sick, it seems, overnight. I had the physician come to our house, but it turns out there was nothing he could do. He gave me some powder, and I was instructed to mix it in water. I did this faithfully, but it didn’t seem to work. He passed away within a week. He left me lots of wealth, but I lost more than anything money could buy. I had lost love. I missed him so much. We had no children together, so I couldn’t share my grief with anyone who loved him as much as I did. My mourning lasted well over a year. Others tried to console me. I would smile and say, “Thanks.” But then when I was alone again, the hurt would come flooding back in.
Husband number five: About a year went by when I began feeling my heart had room to allow the love of another man. I truly missed the way my last husband accepted me and loved me. I missed his soft touch. I missed him brushing my hair. I missed him. I wondered if I would ever find another like the one I had lost. I decided it was time to look for another.
I put myself out there again. I met a couple of men, but they didn’t even come close to the kind of man I had. Then, one day, my girlfriend mentioned someone to me. I was skeptical at first. I hung out with him for a while. I didn’t disclose to him that I thought he was cute. I figured the longer I could hide my growing feelings for this man, the more I would see his true nature. He did seem to accept me. He was kind. He was hard-working. I told my girlfriend I liked him. Then I told him.
We got married the following month after a holiday. Everything seemed to be going well. It’s funny, after what I’ve been through with men, that I find myself trusting them so easily. Now that I was older, I had calmed down a bit with my mouth. Also, I had accepted what a woman in my time was supposed to do around the house. My girlfriend was proud of me.
The first sign of problems was when my husband told me he had lost his money belt. He said he needed to pay for some things at the market and asked me where I kept the money my last husband had left me with. I paused, and he yelled, ‘’What? You don’t trust your husband?’’ I thought about it some more, and then I told him where it was. I had the thought one can’t have real love without trust. So now he knew. Then, about two weeks later, he told me he had taken some so he could invest in a really promising business deal. I begin to get suspicious a little.
A month later, I asked him one evening how that business deal worked out. He first asked, ‘’what business deal?’’ Then he said, ‘’O yeah. That one. Real good. Really good. In fact, it’s so good I may need to borrow more until the first deal really gets going. You know, up and running. On its own feet, so to speak, but I promise you will get so much more back in return.’’
Six months later, I realized I hadn’t looked at the place where I had kept the money for some time. I couldn’t believe what I found. Nothing! Absolutely nothing. Everything was gone. All of the money. All of the precious jewels. Everything my past husband had given me. Gone. I just sat there on the floor and cried. I was sick to my stomach. How could I be so stupid? How could I have trusted him with so much? What did he do with it all? There was enough there to last both of us a lifetime. I was still lying there on the floor when he got home. He looked at me and said, ‘’I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. Those business deals didn’t work out after all.’’
I looked up at him with my soar bloodshot eyes and said, ‘’Tell me the truth. I deserve to know the truth.’’. He was silent for a long time, and then he said, ‘’I lost it all gambling.’’ “How could you?” I replied. Then, it all became clear to me. He just put up with me and married me for the money he suspected I had. He knew my previous husband and knew he had been a very successful businessman. Then, I learned another truth. My husband had lost his job several months ago. I was devastated. Needless to say, we got divorced.
The boyfriend: I needed help now to live. I was not able to survive on my own after my wealth was wiped out. Things were bad for me. Not only did I feel like a failure, I had to put up with the talk around town. People would stare and make comments whenever I walked by. They acted as if they thought I couldn’t hear them, but they knew the truth was I did. Their words hurt, but I just kept my head down and would keep going.
Because I became a social outcast, I found it less hurtful to draw water from the well at noon. The hot sun hurt, too, but at least it kept its commentary concerning my life to itself. My new life wasn’t the greatest, but I managed. The day-to-day duties kept my mind occupied most of the time. Then one day when I went to the well this man was there. I knew he was a Jew. Then he did the oddest thing. He spoke to me. You see, in my day, a Jew did not speak to a Samaritan. He asked for a drink of water. Then he said, ‘’Woman if you knew who I am, you would ask me for a drink.’’ I looked at him kind of crazy like and said, ‘’The well is deep, and you don’t even have a means to draw the water.’’ He went on to say, ‘’The water I speak of comes from within me. If you drank of it, you would never thirst again.’’ I certainly wanted some of this water, for I was so tired of hauling it. I asked him for some of this living water. He then told me to get my husband and come back. I wasn’t sure what to say.
After realizing this man didn’t know me or my reputation, I felt safe telling him that I had no husband. Then, the most amazing thing happened. He looked at me with tenderness and said, ‘’That’s nicely put. For you have had five husbands, and the man you are currently living with isn’t your husband.’’ I responded by saying that he must be a prophet. Then we talked about which mountain to worship on, and he informed me that one day, it won’t matter where you worship God, and even better, it won’t matter what you are called. That the only thing that will really matter is your heart. If you worship God in spirit and in truth. I wasn’t sure about all of this. I told him that, and I informed him that one day, the Messiah would show up to set it all straight. He then told me, ‘’I am He.’’
I ran back to town and started telling everyone, no matter what they thought of me, about this man at the well who knew everything about me. I challenged them by saying, ‘’I think this man is the Messiah! He was able to tell me everything about my life.’’ They all went out to see him for themselves.
I realized later in life that I was made the way I was for that very moment. In other words, I was not afraid to speak out loud to anyone. I was not afraid to express my views, beliefs, or convictions. After the day that went well, I never missed an opportunity to share with anyone about the Messiah, this man named Jesus.
(The actual account can be found in the Bible. John 4:1-42)
If you have never had your own encounter with Jesus Christ, know that you can. He is waiting for you to accept his offer of forgiveness for your sins. With that begins a relationship that brings hope, encouragement, comfort, and guidance with the added bonus of eternal life. Along the way, you can ask for help with anything. Problems in life, relationships, and healing. Having a relationship with Jesus is the best thing you will ever do with your life. God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit are real. So are heaven and hell. There are no other alternatives. Encounter Jesus and change your life.
The five of us had been friends for as long as I can remember. I’ve joked over the years that we were so close we probably came from the same mother. Okay, so we didn’t look alike. We all grew up in the same neighborhood. If the five of us weren’t at one house, then we were at another. Usually, one of our mothers would get tired of us boys being boys and send us to the next house. We did everything together. We played games together. We went to school together and a lot of the time we ate together. Whoever’s house we were at when it was time to eat, we did.
As we grew, so did our bond. When someone picked a fight with one of us, they really were picking a fight with all five of us. Whenever one of us got a new tunic, we would give our old one to whoever needed it. We also helped each other with school. I guess what I am saying is when one rejoiced we all rejoiced. When one experienced sorrow, we all did. At that time, I had no idea how long this bond would last or how far it would go.
The accident that paralyzed me from the neck down happened on a hot and muggy day. Being teens, we went off on our own to the local swimming hole. It was extremely crowded there that day, so we decided to go down a ways. We had never swam there before, but it certainly looked okay. I felt I had to be the show off that particular day, so I disrobed quickly, then ran and dove head first into the water. Yep. Sure enough, there was a rock ledge under the water that I didn’t know about. Instantly, my spine was snapped. The other guys thought I was joking around when I didn’t surface, but then they jumped in and found me in the murky water and got me to the surface for air.
They carried my limp body to my parent’s house. The local doctor was summoned, but there was nothing he could do but confirm my parent’s concerns. I would never walk again or do anything on my own ever again but breathe. I was thankful to be alive, but in some ways, I would have rather died that day. For this was life, but it was not really living.
Days turned to months. I finally accepted my new life. I finally accepted someone having to feed me, clean me, and, worst of all, change me. My buddies still came and got me. They would still involve me as much as I could to be involved. Whenever they played games, I would watch, and if there were any disputes, they turned to me to settle them. As we all got older, our attention turned to girls. At first, the guys thought I would be a drag, but as it turned out, I was usually the one the girls felt the most comfortable being around. Maybe that’s because I was safe. I couldn’t touch them. There were only two parts to me that could still move. My eyes and my mouth. Believe me, I learned to use them to draw the girls in.
I would use my mouth to make the girls come over to us guys. I would say things like, ’ Who wants to ride on a flying carpet?’’ Or when I would be talking to a young girl, I would say, ‘’I promise never to leave you!’’ Another girl I told, ‘’Look at the bright side. You will always know where I am hanging out.’’ Once, I told a young lady if we were to get married, not to say, ‘’You lazy pig! You constantly lie around doing nothing.’’ She didn’t think that was very funny. My buddies laughed. When a woman would get close to me, she would usually tell me that I had pretty eyes. It’s not like she could flirt by saying I was fast or strong.
No matter how charming I was with my words, I was never able to convince a woman to marry me. And why should she? It would be a lot to take on. Not to mention me not being able to pull my own weight around the place. So, I watched my buddies all get married and start their families. Sure, we would all still get together, but it just wasn’t the same. I never believed they felt sorry for me. If they did, I wouldn’t have seen it. I thought this was how my life would go until I died. I tried to stay optimistic, but honestly, there were moments I would feel sorry for myself. I often wondered what good could come out of this.
One day, all of my buddies came running into the house. They were all talking loudly at the same time. They were so excited about the same thing, it seemed, but I couldn’t make out what it was. I got them to settle down long enough for one of them to be able to catch his breath and tell me what they were all trying to say to me. Apparently, there was a man named Jesus in town. The word on the street was this man had the power to heal people of anything. It was too good to be true, I thought.
They grabbed me and put me squarely on my mat. Each one grabbed a corner, and off we went. Their speed was incredible. I’m sure I enjoyed this speed when I was younger. I asked the guys to slow down, but they didn’t and said something like they didn’t want to miss this. My body bounced all over that mat. I wish I could have hung on, but… um no.
They turned a corner and came to an abrupt stop. I asked, “What is it?” “The crowd,” they said. “It is so great!” They froze. I could tell each one was doing their best to problem solve. Then one of my buddies shouted, “Look! Jesus is in that house over there!” Another buddy sighed as he said, “Of course. The house with the largest crowd outside of it. What are we going to do?” Then, it hit them all about the same time. “The roof!” “Yes, of course,” said another. “It will work! It has to work. That is the only way to get him in front of Jesus.” I said, “Are you all crazy?” Collectively, they all responded, “YES!”
So off we went. They found some stairs that led to the roofs. When we got to the roof above Jesus, they set me down. Okay, honestly, they dropped me. Three of them got on their knees and started digging with their hands frantically. You would have thought they were digging for gold or something valuable. I guess to them, me being healed was. I was thinking, “I hope no one recognizes me, Ha! But who am I kidding? Everybody knows or has heard of me.”
As my buddies started getting through the roof, you could hear the people below yelling and complaining about chunks of roofing materials hitting them in the head. I was about to tell my buddies to stop and to put everything back, but I didn’t for two reasons: 1) the damage had been done, and 2) there was no stopping these guys. They wholeheartedly believed what they had been told about this man, Jesus. It’s like they knew he could heal me without any doubts in their minds.
After they had completed making the hole big enough, the fourth buddy returned with some rope. They fastened the rope to each corner of my mat. Then they pushed me through the hole. I don’t know if they had more faith in Jesus or in those ropes holding me. Now, the crowd below understood what was going on. Those who could reached up and helped me down, and they positioned me in front of Jesus.
I looked into his eyes. I wanted to apologize for my buddies’ enthusiasm and for them making such a mess. I wanted to say to Jesus, “I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up before I go.” But of course, I knew I couldn’t. Actually, I couldn’t speak at all. I just looked into his eyes, and I saw love, wisdom, peace, and power. Jesus didn’t know me, but he knew why I was there. He looked up at my buddies still on the roof, and he smiled at them. He waived as if to say, “Good job guys. You get me.” Then he turned and looked at my limp body. It was as if, at that moment, he had seen all my tears and hurts and all the times I had asked God to heal me. Again, he looked up at my buddies and said, “Because of the faith of your friends, take up thy bed and walk.”
I felt a fire go through my body. I felt my bones get hard. Actually, I realized at that moment that I could feel everything again below my neck. So I quickly obeyed as if before he would change his mind. I got out of the prison that had held me down for so long. For some, their prison is actual bars. For others, it’s their sins, but for me, it was my health. Not anymore. I stood up. I slowly took a step and then another. I turned back to look at Jesus. I smiled so big. He smiled, too. I told him I was so grateful. He just said, “I know.” The people were applauding, cheering, celebrating. I looked up at my buddies. They were so happy as well, but tears of joy were flowing down their faces. Oh, as for the roof, I paid out of the family trust for all of the proper repairs to be made. I secretly kept a piece of the roof, though. It was a reminder of what Jesus had done for me, not that I needed it, but mainly as a testament to the faith of my buddies. Faith that says, “I believe even though I don’t know how I believe.”
(The actual account can be found in the Bible. Luke 5:17-26)
If you have never had your own encounter with Jesus Christ, know that you can. He is waiting for you to accept his offer of forgiveness for your sins. With that begins a relationship that brings hope, encouragement, comfort, and guidance with the added bonus of eternal life. Along the way, you can ask for help with anything. Problems in life, relationships, and healing. Having a relationship with Jesus is the best thing you will ever do with your life. God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit are real. So are heaven and hell. There are no other alternatives. Encounter Jesus and change your life.
Like most young women, I was excited about my upcoming nuptials. My mother and I were anxious to see my wedding dress completed. I was the oldest child of six. My father was desperate for a son but wound up with daughters, so needless to say, he didn’t have a whole lot to do with us.
We all knew he loved us, but he had a funny way of showing it if he showed it at all. Perhaps that’s where my warped view of love and sex started. He loved my mother but wasn’t very affectionate with her, at least in front of us. To us girls, the only way we saw that he cared was by working very hard to provide for us. He was a fisherman. We offered to work with him, but he said it was no place for a woman. I think this is one reason he had always held out hope for a son.
My dress was now complete and just in time, too. My wedding was a week away. I met my husband down at the docks when I would go down there to meet my father. Every once in a while, he would allow me to help him bring his catch home. My fiancé was a tall, young, strapping man. It was definitely love at first sight. The first time he looked at me, a tingling sensation filled my entire body. We both just stood there, feeling awkward, but it was like we didn’t care. I think my father noticed us looking at each other as well because he called out for me twice, and finally, on the third time, I responded. That evening, on the way back to the house, my father told me his name and said he thought he was an okay guy because he was a good, hard worker.
As the days went on, I would go down to the docks more and more. I would take every opportunity to get to talk to him. Eventually, my father invited him over for dinner. Okay, I actually think this was my mother’s idea. No matter who thought of it, I liked it. I had high hopes he would not just be a good provider but a good man.
The wedding and the festivities afterward went well. That night, we moved into our modest home together. Of course, we consummated the marriage. It was so strange being away from my family. The next several weeks went alright, but how did I really know? From the kind of interaction I had seen between my mother and father, I really didn’t know what to expect. I started out doing everything I had seen my mother do. All of the cooking, cleaning, laundry, and everything else I knew to do. I tried so hard to please him. I prepared all of his favorite meals. Yet it seems I couldn’t please him. I knew he cared about me, but his touch was cold. It was as if his heart was having trouble opening up toward me. I don’t know, but I began feeling as if, to him, I was just a good-looking maid.
Perhaps he had picked up on the relationship between my mother and father and realized that I had been brought up to know my role in the home, which was to take care of the man. This is true I had, but…but I wanted more. I didn’t just want a roof over my head, food, and a new outfit every once in a while, but I wanted that as well as deep, passionate love and romance. Was that wrong? I don’t think so. Days turned into months, and I started to accept this was my life. It wasn’t bad, but I wanted more.
Then, one day, while I was shopping for our dinner, I bumped into a man and accidentally knocked his shopping bag out of his hand. I was so embarrassed. I quickly bent over and started picking what he had already purchased that morning. He just stood there, and before helping me, he laughed at my reaction to the situation. He took my hand and helped me back up after we had finished picking everything up. That’s when I saw his face. “Wow”, I thought to myself. And what was this feeling now flooding my heart as he touched my hand? I was instantly swept away with emotions. Why did he touch me? And in public? He had to have known I was a married woman. There was definitely something very different about this man.
What was his name? Where was he from? Was he married? I wanted to know everything about him there was to know. I started apologizing, but before I could even finish, he told me not to worry about it. Wow. This man is so kind, I thought. I didn’t know what to say to him, so I commented on what he had purchased. It was a basket, some fruit to go in the basket, I presumed, and some candles. He told me that he was on his way home from doing business there, and he stopped at the market to pick up some things for his wife. Okay. He’s married, and he’s not from here, I noted to myself. “So, where are you from?” I asked. “Just a couple of towns over,” he replied. I knew as soon as I asked it was wrong, but it was too late to pull the words out of the air that asked him how often does he go through my town and when would be his next visit. I couldn’t believe how forward I was. I had never been so bold in all of my life, especially with a man! He said he would be coming through town in a couple of weeks.
After saying goodbye, I finished my shopping and headed home. As I cooked our meal, I must have been on autopilot because all I could think of was this man. This man was so smooth in his words and his touch when he helped me get back up from trying to pick up his belongings. I allowed myself the liberty of fantasizing about him and being with him. I would think his romance is equally as smooth. I wondered if this was the kind of man that could make me happy.
The two weeks until his return dragged on. Each day felt as though it was forty-eight hours long. I tried to hide my excitement as the day got closer, but I’m really not sure if I concealed it completely. I tried my best to keep to the routine. I certainly didn’t want to tip my husband off that I was even thinking about another man, but I was. All the time.
The day had arrived that he had said he would be back in town. I put on my best dress and just a little perfume. As I was getting ready, I wondered if he had been thinking of me as much as I had been thinking of him. I got to the marketplace early. One because I was so excited, and two because I didn’t want to miss him. I waited for what felt like an eternity until I caught a glimpse of him. At one point, I was afraid I had remembered his face wrong, but then, when I saw him, I knew I had gotten every detail right.
He came over to where I was pretending to be shopping. We were both nervous when we greeted each other. He told me he wasn’t sure I would even show up. Then he informed me he couldn’t stop thinking about me. About the way I wore my hair. My smile. My soft blue eyes and how soothing my voice was. Funny. Things my husband had never mentioned, but a stranger noticed. These words made my heart flutter. We decided it would be better if we continued talking in a less busy place.
We walked a ways from the market. Soon, we found a quiet place near a little stream. We talked, but the tone of our conversation was flirty. I thought my husband and I didn’t speak to each other like this, but I really didn’t want to think about my husband. We laughed a lot. I enjoyed the time, and I enjoyed his company. The time flew by, and I knew I had to get home and get dinner going, at least before my husband got home and suspected anything. I told my new friend I had to go. He quickly looked around and didn’t think he saw anyone watching us, so he quickly leaned in and kissed me, but I think someone did see us kiss. I couldn’t prove it. It was just a feeling. We agreed to meet the following week at the same spot.
It was a struggle to get through that next week. Especially thinking about him and not giving it away, as my mind was so distracted. I don’t think my husband suspected anything. One of the big problems, though, was that I kept comparing my new love interest to my husband. Saying things like, “I bet the other guy doesn’t do that at his house,” but the truth of the matter is that I really didn’t know.
On the day of our meeting, I bathed after my husband had gone off to work. I put some perfume on as well, but only a little. I went ahead and fixed a dinner so I wouldn’t be distracted by the list of things I had to do at home. I decided to leave a little early. I didn’t want to be late for sure, but another reason I left early was my heart was burning with excitement, and sitting around the house waiting seemed to make it worse. My heart already felt as if it was going to jump right out of my chest!
I got to the quiet spot. This helped me relax, but only a little. The sound of the little stream seemed to be playing a love song. Then, before I knew it, he was there. He looked really nice. We talked for a bit, then he carefully looked around, and after seeing no one, he kissed me. The touch of his lips on mine felt like cream, for his kiss was soft. I was experiencing so many emotions all at one time. It was like I was several people living several lives all at the same time. I was a young girl being courted. A young wife cheating on her husband, but ultimately, I was a woman being romanced. I kissed him back. I began to feel he wanted more. He suggested we go to his room in the inn. I was scared. I was excited. I was curious, so I followed him.
When we got to the inn, I let him go first. Then, after waiting nervously and thinking everyone knew what I was about to do, I went to his room. Once inside, he handed me a glass of wine. I drank but kept my eyes on him. He had already closed the curtains. Now, he was turning back the covers of the bed. I noticed a fire in my gut. I started questioning myself. How did I get here? I realized I had succumbed to his flattery, to his compliments. I thought about my husband and knew the right thing to do at that moment was to leave, but I didn’t.
He sensed my hesitation and came over to stand behind me. His strong but gentle arms reached around me, and he began to caress my chest softly. I turned to face him and started kissing him feverishly. He then guided me to his bed. We both disrobed as we got into bed. I felt so scared to go through with this, but I wanted to know what it was like to make love to that kind of man.
We proceeded in the act of love when, all of a sudden, a group of men came bursting into the room as if this man was trying to kill me. To my surprise, they grabbed me. Somehow, I managed to grab and pull one of the bed covers with me. I got the bed cover wrapped around me just as I was dragged out into the street. It was all happening so fast! One moment, I was in eternal bliss, and the next, I was in a courtroom. The men who barged in stood me up in front of this man who was in town. They called him rabbi, but later, I learned his name was Jesus. They told Jesus I had just been caught in the act of committing adultery. My mind was racing as I thought to myself, who knew where we were and what we were doing? We were so careful! Oh no! What will my husband say and do to me? Will he want a divorce?
I looked up at Jesus as he tried to silence the crowd that had gathered. The men were hurling questions at him like, “Shouldn’t she be stoned?” I found it funny at the moment that the man I was standing in front of was called a rabbi, but they were telling him what Jewish law said. And by the way, I thought, what about the man I was with? Where is he at this moment? Shouldn’t he be standing here right beside me? He is just as guilty as I am!
The crowd kept yelling, “Do something!” “We can’t have this going on in our town!” “Finish her off with the law!” “We have the right to stone her!” Jesus looked around into the eyes of each man there, and women too. This Jesus, I remember thinking, seemed so different than any other man I had ever met. He stayed calm in the middle of the verbal storm that was going on all around us. I fell to my knees and tried to hide my face. Then he knelt and started writing deeds and acts in the dirt. He wrote things like “cheated on taxes,” “stole from a business partner,” “lied,” “killed a man,” etc. Each time he wrote a word or phrase, he would look up at someone. I began to wonder if he was looking directly at the one he wrote about. While he was writing the words, he said to the crowd, “If you are without sin, then cast the first stone.” Little by little, the men at first, but then most of the women too left. They went on to whatever they were doing before this spectacle took place.
I soon realized it was just this man, Jesus, and me who remained. He stood back up and quickly reached down to help me back to my feet. I couldn’t look at him in the eyes. I was so ashamed. He gently took my chin and lifted my face, so I now had to look at him. He reached over and wiped away my tears. Then he spoke the most beautiful words. He said, “Woman. Where are your accusers?” I quickly began looking all around and found no one left standing with us. All of the stones that had been picked up to punish me for my sins had been dropped. It was just Jesus and me. He then went on to say, “They are not here to condemn you, and neither do I condemn you. Now go and sin no more.” It was at that very moment I felt real love for the very first time in my heart. It was freedom; it was like warm sunshine inside, and it was real. I had finally found the one I named “Real Love.”
When I got home, my husband was there waiting for me. Somehow, he had heard of what had taken place. I didn’t know what he would do or say, but to me, it really didn’t matter. “Real Love” had cast out all my fears. He looked at me and asked, “How could you?” I told him that I didn’t understand it all myself. He started to get angry, and I interrupted him. I told him the story of what had taken place that day. I certainly didn’t leave out the part about Jesus writing in the dirt and making the statement, “Ye without sin.” My husband bowed his head and walked away. I knew he was hurt, but he didn’t say any more about that day. Ever. A couple of weeks went by when I learned that one of my husband’s friend’s wife had seen me and the man down by the stream. She had hid in the bushes and watched us but also listened to us making plans. She was the one who alerted the “religious” ones that day what was taking place. Come to find out, she did this to me for revenge for marrying the very man she had wanted for a long time. She thought when I found out it was her I would be so mad, but one thing I had learned from “Real Love” was he remembers no wrong.
(The actual account can be found in the Bible. John 8:1-11)
If you have never had your own encounter with Jesus Christ, know that you can. He is waiting for you to accept his offer of forgiveness for your sins. With that begins a relationship that brings hope, encouragement, comfort, and guidance with the added bonus of eternal life. Along the way, you can ask for help with anything. Problems in life, relationships, and healing. Having a relationship with Jesus is the best thing you will ever do with your life. God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit are real. So are heaven and hell. There are no other alternatives. Encounter Jesus and change your life.
I suppose my childhood started like most little boys. Hanging around my father, watching him work the family business as his father had taught him. Watching Dad was okay, but I got a little bored with it. As I got older, and my father would trust me, I would wander away from the shop. It was at those times that my curiosity would get me into trouble. I began stealing things to see if I could get by with it.
Yeah, sometimes I would get caught, but I usually didn’t. My father would scold me, but so what? This was nothing. Everything he would say went in one ear and out the other.
We lived on the side of the Sea of Galilee. The side where “the other people” lived. You see, we weren’t Jews. In fact, to the Jews, we were pigs. They really hated pigs. Something about the God they worshiped wouldn’t allow them to eat them. That pigs were unclean animals. Umm, I guess they considered us “unclean” as well.
As time went on, I got into more and more mischief. I became an avid gambler. I loved to bet on anything. Because I learned how to cheat, I usually won most bets and gambling games. Really, my life had become nothing but a game to me. What could I get into next?
I also became a lover of wine. It seemed as if when I was drunk, my life was tolerable to me. I really enjoyed hanging out with people like me. That was always the best. As you can probably figure out by now, I had lost interest in learning about the family business. I needed money, though, and found out there were people who were willing to pay me to do their dirty work. By dirty work, I mean they would ask me to put their competitors out of business. There were a lot of ways to do this. One way was to steal their inventory. Another was to set fire to their place of business. If that didn’t do it, you would send them a more personal message, like killing a family member.
Yes, I killed people. There was a weird sense of power after I would take the life of a human being. I sometimes thought of myself as a god. I became a pretty horrible person. I soon had a bad reputation in town. I wasn’t afraid of anyone or anything, and unscrupulous men in town knew I would do anything for the right price. That fearless attitude would someday be my downfall.
I also started dabbling in what was known then as the dark arts. I am talking about sorcery and the work of mediums. I thought it was cool that these people could communicate with the dead. In fact, I started telling them to teach me how to do it. It wasn’t long before I began to really get the hang of it. I wanted to do more, though. I felt powerful whenever I delved into these practices. After a while, those who taught me became afraid of me. They said I was going way too far into this and opening myself up to darkness. I liked it, craved it. I wasn’t afraid of it at all. I liked knowing things that others didn’t. I enjoyed them, thinking I was so powerful. At the time, I didn’t care where the power came from. All I cared about was getting more.
At first, everything was fine with me possessing this new power. I didn’t sense any harm in using it. Women were drawn to me as well. They liked being seen with such a strong, powerful, knowledgeable man. When a women wasn’t around when I wanted one, I would send for a prostitute to come to me. Then, one day, the owner of this power came to collect the cost of my using his power. I actually thought I could argue with him and win. Boy, what an eye-opener! One day, I thought I was at the top of the world, but the reality was that my soul now belonged to Lucifer, and when I couldn’t pay, I found myself in utter darkness.
He owned every part of me. I no longer had control of my mind or my body. He had me going around hurting anyone I saw. The people in town were now even more afraid of me. They would run in sheer terror. I was burning anything. I would kill anyone I could get my hands on. I would steal and destroy anything I wanted to. I had become hell on earth. What I thought I once possessed, I realized now possessed me.
The people in town even tried to overpower me so they could chain me down, but this proved to be a worthless endeavor as I could break the chains they attempted to use. Funny, now that I think back, I could free my body, but I couldn’t free my mind or soul. I really wanted to die, but after removing all of my clothes and cutting myself several times, I realized I couldn’t even control whether I lived or died. Some god I turned out to be.
To try to make things better, I moved out of town and into the cemetery. At least there, I couldn’t hurt anybody. The stench was fitting for what I had become. My life stunk. It was hell. One of the tombstones was for my father. I know when he died, he was ashamed of me. He was embarrassed for what I had become. At least he couldn’t see to what depth I had sunk. You know, I think every son, no matter what, wants their father to be proud of them. I never gave my father a reason to be.
Then, one day, I saw a boat heading toward me. I couldn’t believe it because no one ever came from the other side. And why would they come here? Hadn’t they heard about the evil man that lived in the cemetery? “Are they crazier than me?” I thought. They must have wanted trouble. Well, that’s certainly what they were about to get, and a lot of it.
I ran towards the boat as it landed. I was stopped in my tracks as soon as I saw the face of the first one out of the boat. I knew I had never seen this man before, yet something inside me knew him all too well, and with one look into his eyes, I could tell he knew me. I also got the distinct feeling he knew I had become possessed by many demons.
Those who were traveling with him jumped out of the boat with fury when they saw me approaching him. They yelled, “Jesus, no! Back away from that man!” I guess they thought I was going to hurt him, but I wasn’t, for before me stood a man who was not afraid of me or the demons inside me. I had never witnessed such confidence and peace from another individual. For the first time in a long time, I felt as though somebody had control of the situation. There was calmness in the air, but at that time, I had no idea it would soon come to me.
He asked me my name, but I was unable to speak for myself. The head demon inside of me spoke for me and said, “I am Legion. For there are many of us inside of him.” It was weird to me that I had no clue who was speaking to me, but the demons knew him. I could feel their fear swelling up inside of me. I think they knew their time had come to an end.
Jesus then began to call them out of me, but as he did, Legion quickly spoke up. He said to Jesus, “Wait! Don’t just send us out of him and back to hell. There is a group of pigs over there. At least allow us to enter those pigs.” I’m not really sure why he agreed, but he did. He commanded the demons out of me and allowed them to go into the pigs. I fell to my knees immediately. I felt so weak. Jesus commanded those with him to get a blanket, start a fire, and prepare dinner. As for the pigs, as soon as the demons entered them, the pigs began to squeal and took off, running for a high cliff that overlooked the sea. I thought for sure the pigs would stop as they approached, for they are relatively smart animals, but they didn’t. Right over the cliff, they went. Their handlers took off running for the town out of fear from what had just happened.
I guess those pig ranchers got to town pretty fast because the next thing I knew, a lot of people were coming upon us. When they arrived, they saw me sitting by the fire, eating and laughing with Jesus and his disciples. They couldn’t believe I was so calm. When they overcame their disbelief, they told how the pig ranchers came running into town and told them all that had happened. I think the townspeople were relieved I was acting like a human being again instead of like a demon, but then they had the nerve to get mad at Jesus for killing a large group of pigs. In fact, they were so angry that they asked him and his followers to leave immediately and never come back to their side of the sea again.
I would have thought they would have accepted him and begun to worship him as I had. It’s funny to me how people want the miracles of Jesus but not the lifestyle of Jesus. I enjoyed my new freedom. I had such a peace within me. It took me a long time to understand that by surrendering my life, I actually found life. I stayed on that side of the sea for the rest of my life. I knew that the others who lived there needed Jesus as well, and as badly as I had, even if they didn’t realize it. When those who knew me saw the change, it was easy to give them the reason for my conversion. I’m so glad that on the day of my transformation, Jesus told his disciples, “Let’s go to the other side.” I hope what I tried to do for him after that day made it worth it. I know it was for me.
(The actual account can be found in the Bible. Mark 5:1-20)
If you have never had your own encounter with Jesus Christ, know that you can. He is waiting for you to accept his offer of forgiveness for your sins. With that begins a relationship that brings hope, encouragement, comfort, and guidance with the added bonus of eternal life. Along the way, you can ask for help with anything. Problems in life, relationships, and healing. Having a relationship with Jesus is the best thing you will ever do with your life. God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit are real. So are heaven and hell. There are no other alternatives. Encounter Jesus and change your life.
brady, mark a. 