But Wait...

I haven't posted a Fiction piece in a long time. Friday Fiction is hosted this week by Catrina Bradly at A work in Progress. 

Have you ever thought of well known Bible stories and wondered...what if...? This is one of those stories I dared to imagine outside the small boundaries of a few verses and used what my childhood pastor, John Tappero, used to call our sanctified imagination. What if...?

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“Yes, I’ve been redeemed,” I assured the dear girl who took time to care of an old woman like me. “I had a personal encounter with the Promised One.”  I struggled to sit upright. I needed to tell this young soul my story. “But wait…there’s more.”

I can’t help but think how blessed I am to have walked in the footprints of the promised Messiah.  From the seed of Abraham, to the house of David, and the fulfilled prophecy of Isaiah…for unto us a child is born…and his name shall be called Wonderful!

He is Wonderful. I remember when I first saw Him. I watched from a distance when He healed the lame and the blind. I heard what people said about His miracles. I knew if I could get close enough, He’d sense my need and heal me, too.

I watched Him leave in a boat and the crowds gather on the shore. They knew eventually He’d be back. I waited too.

When He returned, people swarmed around Him. I eased my way through the crowd hoping no one noticed me because I was unclean. Suddenly, a leader from the synagogue pushed through the crowd and fell at His feet. He begged Jesus to come heal his dying daughter.

 I panicked. Not yet! I screamed in my mind. I need His touch, too!

In a final desperate effort, I did the unthinkable. I reached out and touched the edge of His cloak. Instantly, I felt whole. Amazed, I stood still while the crowds forged their way around me, my mission complete.

But wait…there’s more.

He stopped and looked among the throngs of people. “Who touched me?”

Fear welled inside me. His disciples tried to brush it off and continued toward the dying girl’s home, but Jesus wouldn’t have it.

“I felt power flow from me.”

Somehow I knew He knew. How could He not know? I sensed He was calling me out for a higher purpose. I fell at His feet and confessed my unclean condition, weakened by years of blood loss. I told Him I knew He had the power to heal me if I could only get close enough.

Amidst the shoving and pressing crowd, He took the time to assure me my healing was complete. “Your faith has healed you. Go in peace.”

Go in peace? Go where? I had nowhere to go. My husband declared me unclean and left me for dead years ago. He certainly couldn’t stay with a bleeding, impure woman. So I chose to do what all the other women did that came into miraculous contact with Jesus. I joined the band of constant followers.

I met His mother. I sat in awe of this woman whom the Almighty One chose to give birth to the promised Messiah. The mother of God shared the story of the night He was born; how she wrapped Him and laid Him in a manger of fresh hay. The way she told it, I could almost feel the still of the night, and smell the mixed scents of the stable. Jesus’ eyes sparkled when he smiled during the re-telling. He loved her so much.

She was deeply grieved on the dreadful day they nailed Him to the cross. That horrific moment will forever be etched in my mind, even though I know and understand the final outcome. It is, after all, part of the promise.

But wait…there’s more.

The news of His resurrection spread among the group.

When I saw Jesus again he was different, transformed… no longer a man. His final instructions before He disappeared into the clouds were to wait for the gift the Father promised, the gift of the Holy Spirit.

I waited amid the group crowded into an upper room after the disciples chose Mathias to replace the betrayer. Distracted, my mind replayed the things Jesus told us. My senses were alert. What would the promise of the Holy Spirit be? How are we to be baptized?

I sat pondering these things when all of a sudden, an earsplitting roar full of fire, surged through the room. The flames spread into individual tongues of fire and fell on us. The raging noise transformed to our voices shouting praises to God in languages not our own.

I often think to myself: How can one person experience so many fulfilled promises of God?

I scooted back down on my bed and patted the girl’s hand. “Yes, I’ve been redeemed. But you wait…there’s more.”

♥ Thank you for reading. ♥