When Jesus Wept - By Bodie Page 0,9
is safe. Shall we stand in the middle of the river?” He leaned close. “I wonder where he is?”
I knew without further explanation to whom Judah’s query referred.
Judah pointed to distant rain clouds. “It’s going to rain. If he’s coming, he’d better get here soon.”
I surveyed the common folk, searching faces and expressions in hopes of spotting someone extraordinary. Children splashed in the shallow water. Women chatted. Young men carried themselves with a swagger, as though they were prepared now for the Son of David to lead them into battle. Old men frowned and remembered other wars and earlier messiahs who had come, which had instead led to disaster and defeat.
No more than a day’s journey from this place, the prophet Elijah had called down fire from heaven to destroy the enemies of righteousness. He had slaughtered pagan priests and turned back the troops of evil King Ahab and wicked Queen Jezebel in terror.
The Messiah would certainly wield that kind of power against the mockers and the tyrants who ruled our lives. All of us hoped, that morning, that if Messiah was among us, he would call down heavenly fire upon the forces who gathered on the west bank and lead us home in freedom.
Judah and I scrambled onto a boulder and observed as John the Baptizer, surrounded by disciples, arrived. The crowds parted and applauded.
A woman shouted, “Will Messiah come today?”
Others called out, “Where is he?”
“Who is he, John?”
“Show us who he is!”
Higher up the bank the mockers cried, “Yes, John! Herod Antipas wants to know where Messiah is hiding!”
“And why he is hiding!”
“Is the Messiah afraid of Herod Antipas?”
“Does he fear Rome?”
“Show us your deliverer!”
John bowed his head and prayed silently as the two camps hurled insults at each other.
“Traitors!”
“Rebels!”
“Hypocrites!”
“Ignorant, impious peasants!”
Dark storm clouds moved toward us. A gust of fresh wind touched my face, and I smelled approaching rain. I saw a flash of lightning and heard the low growl of thunder. The sky broke loose with a downpour, and suddenly hundreds scattered and ran for shelter.
Judah grabbed my arm as I turned to go. “Wait! Not fire this time, but rain. Look!” Judah pointed at the shaggy Baptizer who stood, fearless, in the water.
The Baptizer raised his hands and let the pelting rain wash his face.
I nodded and did not bother to cover my head with my cloak.
We watched as Herodian soldiers, Pharisees, and Temple lackeys scurried away like packs of drenched dogs to find shelter in the nearest villages. The clouds rolled after them, as if in pursuit of those who fled. Only a few hundred of us remained by the time the storm broke.
And there was John, undaunted, in the midst of the stream. His disciples, following his lead, remained with him, waiting.
The sun broke through, and a brilliant double rainbow sprouted and grew like a vine across the sky. Its unbroken arch spanned east and west.
John smiled behind his beard and looked past the remaining crowd. His words rang clear. “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!”1
All eyes followed the wild man’s gaze. And then I saw the one John was talking about. He was an ordinary-looking young man about my age, I guessed. Brown hair parted in the middle. Strongly built. Dressed like a laborer who had just completed a long journey. He was wet, drenched to the skin, like all of us. He walked straight toward John and the river.
John proclaimed, “This is the one I meant when I said, ‘A man who comes after me has surpassed me because he was before me.’ I myself did not know him, but the reason I came baptizing with water was that he might be revealed to Israel.”2
Judah and I moved nearer as the stranger waded into the water and stood before John. He put his hand on John’s shoulder and spoke in a quiet voice. John nodded once, sank to his knees in the water until the man blessed John, then helped him stand. The two men stood face-to-face for a long moment. Then, to my amazement, John baptized him, immersing him fully in the exact manner he had baptized the common folk of Israel.
Again the thunder rumbled, just above our heads. I imagined I heard, or rather felt, a deep voice in my chest.
“… beloved Son … I am well pleased … ”3
Had heaven spoken? Or was it only thunder and my imagination? I could not say for sure. Glancing at Judah, I asked, “Did