Jesus sent me to tell you how much he needs you.”
Gabriel stepped between them. “Please don’t pressure her. She must decide for herself.”
Palms outward, Mary held up her hands and backed away. “I couldn’t return, even if I wanted to. I can no longer be a disciple of Jesus.”
John frowned. “If you had truly given him your heart, you wouldn’t have run away.”
Anger glinted in Mary’s eyes. “You know nothing about my heart. How dare you suggest that!”
Nicodemus prevented John from responding by inviting everyone to sit down. When Mary had reluctantly conceded and they were all seated in front of the fire, Nicodemus said, “Perhaps you should give Jesus the chance to explain himself, Mary. Why would he have sent John if he didn’t have deep feelings for you?”
“Please don’t give up on him, Mary,” John said. “Jesus wants you to know how much he cares about you.” Lowering his voice, he continued, “He has become increasingly concerned about the Zealots’ reckless tactics. He needs everyone who believes in his message of peace to help him spread it. Thankfully, after he healed a man with a shriveled hand, his popularity is growing. People are coming to him not only from Judea but even from the regions across the Jordan and around Tyre and Sidon.”
Mary could feel the blood draining from her cheeks. She thought of her aunt and uncle in Jerusalem. What a relief it would be to go and live with them. She could forget about men and avoid the pain of loving one. But what about her feelings for Jesus? He had hurt her, but if she left for good, would she ever get over him?
The fire drew her in as she pondered what to do. Would returning to Jesus lead to happiness or greater pain? She had never loved a man as she loved him, but the power of her feelings terrified her. What would she do if he didn’t return them? Her breathing quickened and her pulse began to race.
And what about the Zealots? Like Jesus, she worried that they would bring the wrath of the Romans on the entire nation. To help him win the hearts of the masses could prevent a bloodbath. She also yearned to know who Jesus really was. The claim that he was some kind of a god seemed outrageous, yet Nicodemus had made her curious, and she couldn’t deny that despite her hurt, she needed to decide the matter for herself. If she went to live with her aunt and uncle, she could never do that.
The tension in her chest was unbearable. It only began to ease as she said to Gabriel and Nicodemus, her voice choked with emotion, “I can never thank you enough for saving my life and offering to let me travel with you to Jerusalem. But I do need to go back and hear Jesus’ explanation. I owe him that much—and myself too.”
Nicodemus withdrew the scroll from his bag and held it out to her. “You should take this with you.”
“No, I want Jesus to explain himself to me in person, not through a letter.” Mary pointed at Nicodemus’ bag. “Please keep the scroll somewhere safe. Someday I may be ready to read it.”
Gabriel stood and intertwined his fingers with hers, and she felt the depth of his understanding. He had suffered at the hands of his betrothed and his brother, and Mary sensed that he still had feelings for those who had hurt him, as she had feelings for Jesus.
She gave his hands a squeeze as Gabriel said, “I don’t know what to think of Jesus anymore, Mary. But if he can offer us a way out of the Zealots’ madness, I hope you can help him. Otherwise the Romans will destroy our nation.”
“After hearing how your brother and your betrothed betrayed you, I’m more opposed to the Zealots than ever.” Her rising emotion made it difficult for her to speak. “God has brought us together for a reason. You saved my life. I hope to repay your kindness someday.” She turned to Nicodemus and smiled her thanks.
Then Mary reached out to John. “In the morning I
Gabriel stepped between them. “Please don’t pressure her. She must decide for herself.”
Palms outward, Mary held up her hands and backed away. “I couldn’t return, even if I wanted to. I can no longer be a disciple of Jesus.”
John frowned. “If you had truly given him your heart, you wouldn’t have run away.”
Anger glinted in Mary’s eyes. “You know nothing about my heart. How dare you suggest that!”
Nicodemus prevented John from responding by inviting everyone to sit down. When Mary had reluctantly conceded and they were all seated in front of the fire, Nicodemus said, “Perhaps you should give Jesus the chance to explain himself, Mary. Why would he have sent John if he didn’t have deep feelings for you?”
“Please don’t give up on him, Mary,” John said. “Jesus wants you to know how much he cares about you.” Lowering his voice, he continued, “He has become increasingly concerned about the Zealots’ reckless tactics. He needs everyone who believes in his message of peace to help him spread it. Thankfully, after he healed a man with a shriveled hand, his popularity is growing. People are coming to him not only from Judea but even from the regions across the Jordan and around Tyre and Sidon.”
Mary could feel the blood draining from her cheeks. She thought of her aunt and uncle in Jerusalem. What a relief it would be to go and live with them. She could forget about men and avoid the pain of loving one. But what about her feelings for Jesus? He had hurt her, but if she left for good, would she ever get over him?
The fire drew her in as she pondered what to do. Would returning to Jesus lead to happiness or greater pain? She had never loved a man as she loved him, but the power of her feelings terrified her. What would she do if he didn’t return them? Her breathing quickened and her pulse began to race.
And what about the Zealots? Like Jesus, she worried that they would bring the wrath of the Romans on the entire nation. To help him win the hearts of the masses could prevent a bloodbath. She also yearned to know who Jesus really was. The claim that he was some kind of a god seemed outrageous, yet Nicodemus had made her curious, and she couldn’t deny that despite her hurt, she needed to decide the matter for herself. If she went to live with her aunt and uncle, she could never do that.
The tension in her chest was unbearable. It only began to ease as she said to Gabriel and Nicodemus, her voice choked with emotion, “I can never thank you enough for saving my life and offering to let me travel with you to Jerusalem. But I do need to go back and hear Jesus’ explanation. I owe him that much—and myself too.”
Nicodemus withdrew the scroll from his bag and held it out to her. “You should take this with you.”
“No, I want Jesus to explain himself to me in person, not through a letter.” Mary pointed at Nicodemus’ bag. “Please keep the scroll somewhere safe. Someday I may be ready to read it.”
Gabriel stood and intertwined his fingers with hers, and she felt the depth of his understanding. He had suffered at the hands of his betrothed and his brother, and Mary sensed that he still had feelings for those who had hurt him, as she had feelings for Jesus.
She gave his hands a squeeze as Gabriel said, “I don’t know what to think of Jesus anymore, Mary. But if he can offer us a way out of the Zealots’ madness, I hope you can help him. Otherwise the Romans will destroy our nation.”
“After hearing how your brother and your betrothed betrayed you, I’m more opposed to the Zealots than ever.” Her rising emotion made it difficult for her to speak. “God has brought us together for a reason. You saved my life. I hope to repay your kindness someday.” She turned to Nicodemus and smiled her thanks.
Then Mary reached out to John. “In the morning I
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