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He’s an old man, this one who sits on the stool and leans against the wall. Eyes closed and face soft, were it not for his hand stroking his beard, you’d think he was asleep.
Some in the room assume he is. He does this often during worship. As the people sing, his eyes will close and his chin will fall until it rests on his chest, and there he will remain motionless. Silent.
Those who know him well know better. They know he is not resting. He is traveling. Atop the music he journeys back, back, back until he is young again. Strong again. There again. There on the seashore with James and the apostles. There on the trail with the disciples and the women. There in the Temple with Caiaphas and the accusers.
It’s been sixty years, but John sees Him still. The decades took John’s strength, but they didn’t take his memory. The years dulled his sight, but they didn’t dull his vision. The seasons may have wrinkled his face, but they didn’t soften his love.
He had been with God. God had been with him. How could he forget?
- The wine that moments before had been water – John could still taste it.
- The mud placed on the eyes of the blind man in Jerusalem – John could still remember it.
- The aroma of Mary’s perfume as it filled the room – John could still smell it.
And the voice. Oh, the voice. His voice. John could still hear it.
I am the Light of the World, it rang…I am the Door…I am the Way, the Truth, the Life. I will come back, it promised, and take you to be with Me. Those who believe in Me, it assured, will have life even if they die.
John could hear Him. John could see Him. Scenes branded on his heart. Words seared into his soul. John would never forget. How could he? He had been there.
He opens his eyes and blinks. The singing has stopped. The teaching has begun. John looks at the listeners and listens to the teacher.
If only you could have been there, he thinks.
But he wasn’t. Most weren’t. Most weren’t even born. And most who were there are dead. Peter is. So is James. Nathanael, Martha, Philip. They are all gone. Even Paul, the apostle who came late, is dead.
Only John remains.
He looks again at the church. Small but earnest. They lean forward to hear the teacher. John listens to him. What a task. Speaking of One he never saw. Explaining words he never heard. John is there if the teacher needs him.
But what will happen when John is gone? What will the teacher do then? When John’s voice is silent and his tongue stilled? Who will tell them how Jesus silenced the waves? Will they hear how He fed the thousands? Will they remember how He prayed for unity?
How will they know? If only they could have been there.
Suddenly, in his heart he knows what to do.
Later, under the light of a sunlit shaft, the old fisherman unfolds the scroll and begins to write the story of his life…
In the beginning was the Word….
Resource’s Origin:
The Inspirational Study Bible by Max Lucado. Thomas Nelson, 1995, Page 1205.
