Men Called Him Master Part 22

Travelers had stopped and cl.u.s.tered around the lad on the bench. Almost all the guests at the inn had come outside. The four disciples looked at one another; none offered to heal the boy.

"Some of you visited my own village and healed many who had evil spirits," said the father hopefully. He could not understand why the men hesitated. They still made no move toward the boy. Andrew came out of the inn.

"Can you heal my son?" the man asked Andrew. Andrew glanced at the others. He knew why they hung back. He looked at the boy. The father's voice was urgent. The people watched intently as Andrew stepped up to the boy, lying limp but conscious.

"Be gone from him!" commanded Andrew, as though speaking to an evil spirit in the boy. A shiver ran through his body, but then he lay still again.

Scornful smiles curled the lips of the people who watched. A great healer, this man! He tells the devil to leave and the boy is worse off than before!

Andrew flamed scarlet--but he was not thinking of the bystanders. In his heart he knew he was powerless to help the boy. The father bent over his son and then suddenly stood up. "You cannot help him! You have no power!"

Andrew was stunned. For a moment he stood stock-still. Then he turned and walked away.

"A fine proof of the power of the Nazarene!" remarked a man sarcastically. The people recognized him as a priest who had stopped a few minutes before to watch. The father of the boy looked around at the people, desperately seeking someone else to help him.

"Where is your Master?" cried the father desperately.

"Yes, where is your Master?" echoed the priest in derision. "You had better go and find him!"

"He left a couple hours ago with three others," said the innkeeper, in a very matter-of-fact way. "He went up there." He waved toward the great mountain. The people looked where he pointed.

"There he is!" cried a man in the crowd. Distant figures were moving down the mountainside.

"Now we shall see if this Nazarene can do better than his followers,"

remarked the priest bitingly.

As Jesus approached, he took in the whole scene at a glance: the sick boy, the despairing father, the sneering official, and the beaten disciples.

"O sir, my son has a terrible sickness!" said the father. "He even falls into the fire and hurts himself." He gave a pitiable little gesture toward his son, stretched on the bench. "Your disciples could not help him at all!"

Jesus turned to his disciples. They looked at him dully. Andrew stood a distance away; his face clearly showed his humiliation.

Jesus' voice had in it more of weariness and sorrow than sharpness. "How utterly faithless you are! You turn your backs on G.o.d himself! How long must I teach you? How much longer must I endure your cold hearts?" He turned to the man.

"How long has your son been like this?"

"From the time he was a little child," replied the father. "If you can do anything at all, help us! Do have pity on us!"

"Why do you say, 'If you can'? Do you not believe that I can heal this boy? Anything can be done for one who has real faith!" The disciples knew that Jesus might as well have been speaking to them.

"O Master," the man cried pa.s.sionately, "I really do believe! Help me to be rid of my doubt and fear!"

Andrew realized that the man was like himself: torn between faith and doubt. "Master, help me to believe too," murmured Andrew.

Jesus turned to the boy and spoke to him. He gave a loud cry and then relaxed.

"He is dead!" the father exclaimed.

Jesus stooped and took the pale hand of the youth. Immediately he sat up; then to the astonishment of everyone he stood.

Jesus did not wait for the father's thanks. He did not even glance at the crowd, but turned to his disciples.

"You had no power because you had no faith," he said directly. "If you truly believe in G.o.d, evil cannot stand against you. Without faith, you are helpless. But even the tiniest bit of real trust is mighty enough to change the whole world!"

[Ill.u.s.tration]

12. THE GREATEST AMONG US

The next morning the disciples could not help noticing that Peter acted differently. He had been as downcast and silent yesterday as the rest--but now he was talking eagerly with James and John as they walked ahead of the other men.

"If John the Baptizer really was Elijah," exclaimed Peter, "then the Kingdom ought to be very near!"

"Will John be raised from the dead?" asked James.

"Jesus said that the Messiah would rise," remarked Peter.

James said, "I don't see what he could mean by that."

"Do you remember the voice from the cloud?" interrupted John. "Those were the same words that he heard when he was baptized: 'You are my beloved Son!' Only this time we heard the voice too."

"It said, 'Listen to him!'" Peter's voice showed the awe he felt. "I don't know what this vision means, but I am sure he is the Messiah himself!"

James and John did not reply. They needed their breath because they were climbing a steep hill.

When they reached the crest, all the Twelve stopped to rest. The road had gradually turned east, and now the green lowlands of the upper Jordan Valley lay behind them. But the men did not look back; they had eyes only for the gleaming city that lay in the shallow valley ahead of them, Caesarea Philippi. Beyond the domes and colonnades of the city rose more mountains, ridge after ridge, climbing finally to the snowy crest of the range, over nine thousand feet above. The level valley before them, however, was green and fertile. Groves of trees and neatly planted fields reached to the very edge of the foothills on all sides of the city. Caesarea Philippi seemed like a diamond set among green jewels.

The columns of several pagan temples reminded the travelers that this lovely city was the home of Philip, the son of Herod the Great. He had spent much money to make it beautiful. But the disciples found little pleasure in the sight.

"Heathen people building temples to worship idols!" murmured James. As the men descended the hill they walked along the foot of a high cliff, rising to their left.

"We will not enter this city," said Jesus. The men knew that a road branched to the south toward Lake Huleh, which was not far from the Lake of Galilee. John happened to look up at the cliff. "Where does the water come from that runs down here?" he asked curiously. Shrubs of all kinds clung to crannies in the damp rock wall.

"Perhaps there is an underground stream," replied James, hopefully. They were all thirsty. A moment later he saw a deep pool almost hidden at the very foot of the cliff. "There it is!" he exclaimed. Several of the men started toward the spring.

"Wait!" called Peter sharply. He pointed up at the face of the cliff.

James looked up and saw that a deep hole had been carved in the rock. It was framed by two stone columns and a stone arch. Under the arch stood a statue of Pan, the pagan G.o.d of nature.

"Stop!" cried Peter. "That water is unholy!" The other disciples caught sight of the idol and shrank back.

"This place is defiled!" exclaimed James in disgust. "We cannot drink this water!" The presence of the idol was an offense to the men and they deeply resented it.

"Just wait until we get control of this land again!" burst out the Zealot. "We will break these filthy images to pieces!"

"Just to think that the land of G.o.d's promise is filled with heathen idols!" Peter was seething. He turned to Jesus. "How much longer must we endure this?"