Men Called Him Master Part 21

Peter looked at him narrowly. "We ought to ask him, Andrew," he insisted. "We must be sure!"

"There is time enough later on." Andrew was evasive.

"I believe you are afraid of what he might say!" Andrew would not meet his brother's eyes. "Come with me!" Almost by force, Peter pulled his brother along until they had overtaken Jesus.

"Master," said Peter, "tell us plainly what you meant by saying that you must die."

"If I go straight on with the task G.o.d has given me to do, I shall be killed. You know what the Prophet says about G.o.d's servant: 'He was despised, and rejected of men.'"

"But, Master," interrupted Andrew, "what good can dying do? If you are killed, how can we ever save the Jews?"

"Not even the Son knows the will of the Father in some matters," replied Jesus. "G.o.d's servants cannot always understand him. He asks us only to obey and trust him."

"You take away every hope!" cried Andrew. "What is going to become of us?"

Peter put his arm across his brother's shoulder to restrain him.

"Anyone who wants to save his own life will surely lose it," said Jesus gently. "But if you are willing to lose your life for my sake, you will find true life."

Andrew's mind was whirling. He could not grasp the meaning of Jesus'

words. Only Peter's strong grip on his shoulder kept him from answering with senseless protests.

They dropped behind the others and Andrew burst out: "We are wrong! All this time we have been wrong!" He looked desperately at Peter and whispered, "Let us go back to our fishing boats, brother!" They stood facing each other in a little clearing.

Andrew's panic shook Peter deeply. "Then you do believe that the scribes and Pharisees are right, Andrew?" But his brother would not answer.

"Do you think that the Master's power comes from Satan?" Peter asked again.

Andrew sat down heavily on a rock at the side of the road and buried his face in his hands. Peter could hear him breathing hard as he murmured, "Oh, I cannot escape from him--but I cannot understand him!"

The other disciples had disappeared into the woods on the opposite edge of the open glade. Their footsteps quickly died away. The silence of the murky forest settled around the two fishermen. Tears came through Andrew's fingers, but he made no sound. He did not observe that they were alone.

"Come, brother," Peter urged anxiously, "we must hurry. The others are getting ahead of us. This forest is dangerous after dark."

Peter was greatly relieved when he and Andrew finally caught up with the others. A half hour later the men emerged from the forest and climbed the slope that enclosed the basin of the Jordan on the eastern side of the river. Their sandals were wet from fording the river, but they hardly noticed it, so relieved were they to be once again in open country.

It was almost totally dark now. Only dimly could they make out the bulk of Mount Hermon rising directly ahead of them, hiding the evening star.

Jesus led the tired men to an inn.

"He must have intended to lead us here," exclaimed John, catching sight of the faint glimmer of a lamp in the courtyard of the building. He, Peter, and James stayed in a single tiny room.

"This has been a hard day," remarked James wearily, stretching out on the bed.

"I do not believe we shall leave Galilee again until we go to Jerusalem," observed Peter.

"I wish we knew what would happen there," remarked John. "Do you think he will really be killed?"

"You know what Andrew says," replied Peter, avoiding a direct answer.

"I cannot believe that the Master is just discouraged," stated James flatly. "That is not like him."

Peter nodded his agreement. He thought of how Andrew was inwardly torn.

"I cannot escape from him--but I cannot understand him!" he had said.

James blew out the oil lamp. The men settled themselves for the night.

Peter spoke. "If we follow him to Jerusalem, we must be ready to suffer with him. We must not doubt."

"Tell me, Simon Peter, how can the Messiah of G.o.d die?" asked James.

The fishermen heard Peter sigh. "How it can be ... I do not know. I know only that we must decide whether we shall go on. Now is the time to decide...." His voice trailed off. Far into the night the fishermen stared open-eyed into the darkness. When at last they fell into a troubled sleep, they were no nearer the answer.

At dawn there was a knock at the door of their room. The men stirred, and Peter rose. Scarcely visible in the faint light stood Jesus. Peter stepped back, and Jesus entered.

"Will you come to pray with me in the mountain?" Jesus asked.

The men dressed and followed Jesus outside. The road on which the inn was built lay at the foot of Mount Hermon. Its snowy crest rose majestically above them, shining brilliantly in the morning sun. A few days before, the fishermen had seen this peak above the mist that lay over the Lake of Galilee.

The beauty of the mountain would have lifted the spirits of men whose hearts were less heavy, but Peter, James, and John had awakened with the same anxiety that had troubled their rest. They did not talk, but climbed steadily toward the summit of the mountain.

At last Jesus stopped. Below them lay the valleys of Galilee. Far to the south a blanket of fog covered the lake. As Peter looked, he could not keep back his homesickness; on the sh.o.r.e of that misty lake lived his wife and children. The flood of sunlight had gradually crept down the slope toward them, and now the four men felt its warmth. "Let us kneel here and pray," said Jesus.

While Jesus and the three fishermen were away in the mountain, a strange scene occurred at the inn where the other nine disciples had just awakened. Early travelers were moving along the road in front of the inn. Among them came a man leading a donkey on which a boy was riding.

He stopped at the inn.

"Has Jesus of Nazareth pa.s.sed this way?" he asked the innkeeper, who was standing there.

"Haven't heard anything about him," answered the man curtly. Suddenly he shouted, "Watch out!" The boy was falling off the donkey. His father leaped to catch him, but the donkey shied away and the boy fell heavily to the ground and lay still.

"Ah, my son!" cried the father. He lifted the child gently and carried him toward the inn.

"Here, you!" shouted the owner roughly. "Get that boy out of here. He has a devil!"

The father hesitated and then started toward a long bench. "Let me lay him here," he begged.

"Well, all right," grumbled the innkeeper. "But don't take him inside."

People had heard the noise and were looking out of the windows. Philip and the Zealot came through the doorway.

"What is the matter with your son?" they asked sympathetically.

"He has falling sickness," answered the man. "He often hurts himself this way." He was wiping blood from a cut on the boy's pale forehead.

The lad opened his eyes and tried to rise.

"Stay there, my son," urged the father. He turned to Philip and the Zealot. "Can you tell me where I can find Jesus of Nazareth? I have heard wonderful reports of his power to heal."

The two disciples glanced at each other. At that moment Judas and Levi came out of the inn.

"This man is looking for the Master," said Philip.

"Are you his followers?" cried the man. "I have traveled for five days to find you! If only you will heal my son!"