I never thought my “testimony” (the story of how I came to be a follower of Jesus Christ) was worth telling because it seems so boring. I wasn’t saved out of years of drug abuse or violence or anything like that. But, I’ve been listening today to people’s testimonies on the Watchman River YouTube channel (@WatchmanRiver) and they are all so varied and beautiful, each in their own way. Maybe my story will be useful to somebody out there.
I grew up in a nominally Christian family; that is, if you asked them my parents would have told you they were Christians. And they might have been; they each had exposure to the gospel as children and raised us kids with good moral values. But for their generation in America, being a Christian was equal with being a good person, whatever that means. We were not a churchgoing family. I asked my Mom once why we didn’t go and she said, “only religious fanatics go to church every Sunday.” I said, “but we don’t even go at Easter or Christmas” and then she changed the subject. So I grew up with basically nothing from my parents . . . Except . . .
…Except I was given a children’s Bible, the old Golden Books version, which told Bible stories from Genesis to Revelation, and also a book of stories about Jesus called “My Good Shepherd Bible Story Book.”
As far as learning anything from them goes, I was left to my own devices. I skipped around the Children’s Bible, reading stories that looked most interesting, but I pored over every page of the Good Shepherd book. It was through the pages of that book that I first encountered Jesus and, even though I really knew nothing at all about God or the faith, I knew that I wanted Him. I was captivated and drawn to him by the time I was nine years old. Did that make me a Christian yet? I’m not sure but I certainly thought I was.
Other things planted seeds in me along the way, like stories with strong Christian themes (the Narnia books and others), and even music. Not “Christian” music per se, but music that had something in it that was beautiful, that planted in me a desire for something beyond itself. It’s hard to explain, but CS Lewis does a pretty good job when he talks about joy. For me it was mostly Bach and the Moody Blues, but I’ve learned over the years that God can and does use just about anything to reach people. He knows how we are wired and what it takes to get to someone’s heart of hearts.
When I was a teenager I spent a summer with my oldest brother and his family and went to church with them. One day at Sunday School the teacher said that you can’t just feel like a Christian, or think you are one. You have to say it, you have to actually make a commitment to Christ. If you haven’t said it, you haven’t done it. I was a little offended by that, because I felt like a Christian. But when I went back home I mulled it over in my head for a few weeks. Then, one hot and sunny August afternoon, I was going about my day, then suddenly decided to go ahead and do the deed. I went up to my bedroom, knelt down, and prayed something—I have no idea what I said—and officially gave my life to Jesus. Then I got up and continued going about my day.
I was a typical American happy-go-lucky teenager when I knelt down that day, no particular sins weighing on my heart at the time. I was about as clueless and frankly as shallow as a person can be. I don’t know what I was expecting after that; I don’t think I was thinking about much of anything at the time besides Shaun Cassidy and the dread of starting a new school in a couple of weeks. But, even so, that was the day I came alive and God began the long, slow, agonizing process of growing me up.
That was many, many years ago and today I don’t know how much growing up I’ve actually done. But my life has taken many twists and turns I never expected that August. I had little concept of sin and its consequences then. I have a very good concept of it now. Through the experiences I’ve had and the choices I’ve made, I have learned exactly who and what I am both without Christ and with Him. In my own nature I have broken every single commandment in either thought, word, or deed. It’s the truth and I have spent many long, painful nights having to face the absolute worst aspects of myself. But in Christ I know what true love is, and giving, and what it means to care about others and listen to them, and the value of praying for others. Anything good in me is all Him, it is not from my own nature.
I know the hell that I have been saved from. I know what I would be and where I would be for all eternity if I had not been saved by the atoning blood of Jesus Christ on that cross nearly 2,000 years ago. God himself came to earth, entering into his own creation and uniting with it, becoming the man Jesus and living a perfect, sinless life. Then, of his own free will, he laid down that life to save mine and yours. He took all our sins upon himself. He was nailed to a cross, his blood and life poured out on our behalf. He paid the full penalty for my sin and for yours. He died, and was buried. But, being sinless, death could not hold Him. On the third day he rose from the grave into new life, eternal, incorruptible.
Everyone who believes in Christ and lets him be the Lord of their life is born again. Our wicked nature and all our sins were crucified on that cross and died with him. If we put our faith in him, then our spirits are immediately made new, and one day our bodies will follow suit and we, like him, will also rise from the dead with new bodies that are perfect, sinless, eternal, and incorruptible. And we will be with Him forever and ever and know perfect life, love, joy, and peace, and fellowship with Him and one another.
I know the sins I’ve committed and what an ugly person I am without Christ. But I am not weighed down by them, because I have been forgiven. God forgives sin, then he forgets it. The Bible says our sins are cast as far away from us as East is from West, and God will remember them no more. The knowledge, hard won over my long life, of what I am without Christ and what I am with him, only makes the salvation he gave me sweeter and more precious with every passing day. I wanted him at nine, I made a commitment to him at fifteen, and now at sixty I can truly say that Jesus is the love of my life and my best friend, as well as my Lord, my God, and my Redeemer.
It’s been a wild ride, but so worth it. One minute with Jesus is better than a lifetime of earthly riches and pleasure. And that is a fact. And that is my boring testimony.
What is one of the main differences between all of us and Jesus of Nazareth? He sought to do the will of God the Father while we by nature want to do whatever we want, however we want, whenever we want. That includes not just the seven deadlies like greed, gluttony, sloth, etc., but the little choices we make every day that affect others. Not tipping the waitress who just brought us lunch. Going to the boss behind a coworker’s back, making an accusation against them to make us look better. A husband telling his wife how he wishes he had married his high-school girlfriend instead. A wife telling everyone what an idiot her husband is. A parent telling a child they will never amount to anything. Yammering at our friends for an hour about our day and never once asking them about theirs.
I’ve written before that there are only two wills in the universe, “my will be done,” or “thy will be done.” The first one is what every religion there has ever been — save one — boils down to. Your reward, whether you believe in Heaven/Jannah/Nirvana/reincarnation/becoming the god of your own planet/enlightenment/eat drink and be merry for tomorrow ye die, whatever it is, you gain it through your own efforts. Each belief system has its own rules, but it all boils down to yourself, your choices, and how well you play the game.
The other will is God himself. Christ Jesus,
Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and become obedient to death–even death on a cross! – Philippians 2:6-8
This wasn’t a cakewalk for Jesus. It really hit home for me reading through Matthew chapter 26 again. Jesus is in the Garden of Gethsemane with his disciples, after the Last Supper, and shortly before he is betrayed. It says,
He began to be sorrowful and troubled. Then he said to them, “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death.” Then, going a little further, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.” – Matthew 26:38-39
I’ve always thought that Jesus said this because he knew what was coming and dreaded it. The trial, the mocking and beating, the dreadful scourging, and then being strung up naked on the cross to die in agonizing pain, slowly drowning in his own bodily fluids. That in itself is more than enough reason to plead the cup be taken away. But, reading what came just before it, I think what was even harder for him than that was feeling the weight of the sin of everyone in the world, from Adam to the last baby ever conceived, being placed upon him.
I know what the weight of my own sin feels like. If not for the blood of Christ cleansing me it would be unbearable. I also know that the sins of others close to me weigh heavy on my heart as well. Just seeing broken marriages and families, addictions, etc., and the pain they inflict, is also a heavy weight to carry. They cause me great sorrow. Don’t the destructive choices made by the people YOU love also cause you intense pain? Multiply that by however many billions of people have ever existed, and that was the sorrow that Jesus was feeling that night, the unimaginable heavy weight he was carrying.
He didn’t have to do it. He could have walked away at any moment and left us to rot in hell. None of us can honestly say we don’t deserve it. He had the freedom to just walk out of that garden and disappear, but he didn’t. Just a few verses later, when the soldiers come to arrest him and Peter makes a feeble attempt to protect him, it says:
“Put your sword back in its place,” Jesus said to him, “for all who draw the sword will die by the sword. Do you think I cannot call on my Father, and he will at once put at my disposal more than twelve legions of angels?” – Matthew 26:52-53
A Roman legion at that time was about 6,000 men, so 12 legions = 72,000 fighting men. Jesus is saying he has endless resources at his disposal. But we see in these verses that he doesn’t just walk away, or destroy the people who want to destroy him, although he could easily do both. What he does do, is ask God the Father if there is another way. He’s suffering and not enjoying it one bit. “My father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me.” …Don’t ever say that God has no idea what you’ve endured in your life. He knows better than anybody. He’s felt it, he’s LIVED IT. Literally he’s felt both your sins and the sins of the people who have hurt you.
Jesus next prays the same thing again, but with a slightly different tone, this time resigning himself to his task:
He went away a second time and prayed, “My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done.” – Matthew 26:42
We see in these passages a glimpse of the pain Jesus was feeling, the overwhelming sorrow, and his desire for it all to be taken away. And he could have walked away. But he did not hold his own wishes as being of upmost importance. He knew what God the Father wanted him to do, and he knew that we are all doomed to an eternity of bearing the punishment for our own sins unless He paid the price that none of us can pay. It was him or no one. Only a firstborn male lamb, perfect in all its ways, without spot or blemish, could be sacrificed to cover sin (Read Exodus Chapter 12). None of us are perfect, we are all stained with sin. Jesus alone was perfect in all his ways, without spot or blemish. He alone could pay what we never can.
And it was possible because Jesus did not live to please himself and exert his own will. He loves us with all his heart, he lived to submit his will to God, and by his obedience all the world can be saved. We are saved not by our own actions or will, but by His.
The best we can do in our lives is to accept what Jesus did for us on the cross, and let him be the Lord of our lives. That means beating our own will down with a stick, and saying to our Lord Jesus what he said to God the Father: “Not my will be done, Lord, but yours.”
That is the difference between Christianity and every other religious or philosophical system that has ever been or ever will be. It wasn’t easy for Jesus, and it isn’t easy for us. But it is so worth it. Our will always leads to misery and destruction. His will leads to eternal life, freedom, and joy.
If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord, and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you confess and are saved…for everyone who calls upon the name of the Lord will be saved.” – Romans 10:9-13
Photo courtesy of National Nuclear Security Administration / Nevada Site Office – This image is available from the National Nuclear Security Administration Nevada Site Office Photo Library under number XX-34., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=190949
When it was almost time for the Jewish Passover, Jesus went up to Jerusalem. In the temple courts he found men selling cattle, sheep and doves, and others sitting at tables exchanging money. So he made a whip out of cords, and drove all from the temple area, both sheep and cattle; he scattered the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables. To those who sold doves he said, “Get these out of here! How dare you turn my Father’s house into a market!” – John 2:13-16
Did Jesus lose his temper here?
The vendors and money-changers were not OUTSIDE of the temple. They were inside, in the courtyard where Gentiles were allowed to come and worship the Lord (this is the area where Ahmose-Nebetta meets Jesus in my story, The Cat Who Looked at the King.)
Jesus makes a whip out of cords and drives them all away. He chastises them in a voice that must have sounded like thunder and maybe even made some people fear for their lives. We seldom see Jesus angry during his earthly ministry. So his actions this day must have been a true terror to behold, for it was a taste of the wrath of God Himself! I wish I could have seen it, but at the same time maybe I’m glad I didn’t.
Many, many years ago in Ireland I met a very cute Catholic boy named Stephen. How we got onto this topic I will never remember, but for some reason this passage came up. He believed that Jesus actually sinned here, because he lost his temper. I said no, it was righteous anger, then Stephen said it’s never okay to lose your temper. That little exchange has bothered me all these years, mostly because I knew he was wrong but, as usual, I am total crap at apologetics.
But now I see where Stephen was mistaken. Firstly, Jesus did not lose his temper. Anger at injustice is not the same as flying off the handle for no reason.
Secondly, this was not a knee-jerk reaction of the moment. In Mark’s account of this story (Mark Chapter 11), after the Triumphal Entry on Palm Sunday, Jesus went into the temple and looked around at everything, then left. The next day he came back and drove everybody out.
This gave him time to decide on a plan of action. I will bet that night, back in Bethany, he got some cords of rope from Lazarus and while everyone was sitting around, laughing and singing and telling stories, Jesus was calmly making his whip, taking his time and making it a good one. One or two people have have asked him, “Master, what are you doing?” or joked, “I hope that’s not for me, Lord!” And Jesus probably smiled and kept at his task. The next morning they were probably all curious and a little nervous why he brought his new whip with him when they went back to Jerusalem. Or, perhaps he did tell them his plans, and they were eager to see the show but then got the living crap scared out of them when Jesus sprang into action.
Whatever happened, this was NOT Jesus “losing his temper.” Jesus never lost control of anything, ever, and he never will. This was a deliberate plan and also a teaching moment. He was showing God’s character yet again. The God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob is not a “religion” that’s up for sale. The Temple was a sacred place, where people from all nations of the earth could come and worship the true and living God.
And as he taught them, he said, “Is it not written: My house will be called a house of prayer for all nations?” – Mark 11:17, quoting Isaiah 56:7)
That day in springtime, two thousand years ago, Jesus drove the greed and corruption out of HIS temple.
I haven’t posted anything for a long time. I thought a good way to get back into it would be with a story I wrote that takes place during Holy Week. Enjoy.
Her Most Royal Highness, Daughter of the Moon and Empress over All Things Elegant and Beautiful, Princess Ahmose-Nebetta the Twenty-third, made her rounds of the Temple courtyard as she had done every day for the past eleven years. “How fortunate the commoners are!” she thought as she glided by. If only they knew that when they gazed upon her majesty, her eyes of gold, her sleek fur the color of the Egyptian sands, her very form the pinnacle of beauty and grace, they were gazing upon the royal descendant of the great queens of Egypt. Yet every day she marveled how these lowly peasants merely walked on past as though they couldn’t even see her. Occasionally, though, one of them would give her a piece of fish or meat, smile at her, and tell her what a pretty little puss she was. It was insulting to be called puss, but she knew that even a princess needs to eat, so she forgave them.
Every day she saw people milling about, buying animals or changing money, talking, arguing, laughing, or, occasionally, remembering that they were in the house of God. The spring holy days were approaching and now the temple courts were even busier than normal. This morning, after being nearly trampled three times, she gave up making her rounds and leapt onto a low wall to watch the crowds in safety.
The Princess understood the language of humans well enough. It wasn’t difficult to learn, for they only ever talked about money, taxes, food, the Romans, or marrying off their children. She listened to such chatter now, not paying much attention, as the spring sunshine baked into her aging but still beautiful bones.
Then, suddenly, she perked up her ears. Here was something different! A voice. A man’s voice. Just like all the others, yet, somehow, not like them. It was a voice that almost seemed to speak her name even though it was not talking to her at all. She scanned the crowd, trying to find who that voice belonged to. It was hard to tell. These poor wretches all looked the same – worried, sad, tired, hungry, and they were all so incredibly ugly! No fur, no lovely whiskers, no graceful tails to help them keep their balance.
Then she saw him. He was speaking to a large group of people that had crowded around him. As he spoke, he surveyed the courtyard the same way she did on her daily rounds. He was no better to look at than any of the other humans; he looked like he needed a good meal and a hot bath. He seemed unhappy with what he saw going on around him. The princess could tell that the greedy money-changers, the loud gossipers, the poor animals–bleating and crying in fear while men haggled over them in angry voices–were distressing him.
She watched this most unusual human intently. Suddenly, he stopped. One of the men behind him walked right into him, nearly knocking him over. There were many people around him, jostling with one another to get closer to him and hear what he was saying. He seemed to be saying something important but the Princess couldn’t understand it very well. He wasn’t talking about money, or taxes, or Romans, or anything else she was familiar with. He sighed heavily as he looked around him one more time.
“Oh, Jerusalem, Jerusalem!” he cried in an anguished voice. “You who killed the prophets and stoned everyone I sent to you! How often have I longed to gather your children together just as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing!”
The Princess understood this well enough. At least, she understood the tone of his voice perfectly. Once, many years ago, a wicked old woman had stolen her newborn kittens away from her. She had searched and cried for them for days on end, but she never found them. This man’s voice sounded exactly the way her heart had felt – the way her heart still felt, if she allowed herself to think about it.
To her own astonishment, the Princess let out a loud yowl of sympathy. Everyone nearby jumped and turned around to stare at her. But she didn’t care. She yowled again. She wanted the man to know that she understood, that she cared, even though he was only a man and she was the descendant of the great Queens of Egypt.
She yowled a third time. This time the man himself turned in her direction. Just as they made eye contact, someone in the crowd swore and threw a rock at her. She saw it coming just in the nick of time and nimbly jumped to the side. Then, before another rock could come at her, she leapt off the wall and tore through the thick, dangerous forest of moving legs. She never stopped yowling. She had to get to the man. She had to let him know that he wasn’t alone, that SHE understood what these thick-headed dolts couldn’t. She could still hear his voice, not quite lost in the great sea of voices. People were arguing with him again. Other people were cursing at her and telling her to be quiet. Peasants! Telling a queen to be quiet! They didn’t know that this man needed her. He was hurting, and he needed the comfort and consolation that only a Queen could give.
She dodged, this way and that, straining not to lose the sound of that voice. Someone kicked at her, just nicking her on her side. She hissed but didn’t take the time to scratch them. She was almost there.
Then, before she had time to react, a sharp stone struck her just above her eye. Her yowl turned into a sharp cry of pain as blood suddenly gushed out over her beautiful fur and feet, splashing on the dusty stones.
“Vermin, who let you in the house of God?” an angry voice cried. “Git! Git out of here!”
She was dazed and momentarily forgot what she was doing. The blow had sent her reeling backward, and now blood was running into her eye, making it hard to see. It wasn’t the first time this had happened in her long and difficult reign, but it was always unsettling. The wanton cruelty of these creatures was impossible to ever get used to.
“It’s only a cat, Teacher,” she heard a voice say. “Poor thing is hurt.” The voice was gruff but not unkind. A long way from THAT voice, though.
“Ugh, I hate cats!” said another voice. “Those slit eyes, and they’re so sly and sneaky. Someone get rid of it!”
“Quiet, James,” said The Voice. “This is God’s creature, too, you know. Where is she?”
The fact that he said she and not it was not lost on the Princess. She tried to walk toward that beautiful voice but felt too weak and wobbly. The stone had hit hard. Then, although she couldn’t see very well, she could tell the throng was parting a little. The air suddenly seemed fresher and easier to breathe. But oh, how her head hurt! She cried again, not the mournful yowl of searching, but the high-pitched cry of a lost kitten.
Suddenly he was there, kneeling down to take a look at her. “Hello, your majesty,” he said. “Were you looking for me?”
He said this, not in the coarse language of humans, but in perfect, flawless Cat. She quit crying and gazed at him with the eye that wasn’t covered in blood. But her vision was fuzzy and he wouldn’t come into focus. He went on, “You came here to comfort me but I think for the moment you must allow me to comfort you. May I pick you up to examine you more closely?”
The Princess never allowed anyone to pick her up. If someone dared try, they would be rewarded with a sharp scratch or maybe even a bite. It wasn’t for peasants to pick up a descendant of the great Queens of Egypt! But she could tell now that this man was no mere peasant. “You may,” she said.
He picked her up as gently as she might pick up one of her kittens and looked closely at her eye. “Tsk, that is a bad cut,” he said. “But we will soon set you to rights. Peter, have you any water in your flask?”
“Yes, teacher,” said the gruff-voiced peasant, and he handed over the flask. The special man took a scarf from around his neck, doused it with water, and gently dabbed at the Princess’ eye. It stung, but she did her best not to flinch. He put gentle pressure on the cut until it stopped bleeding, then gently washed the blood off her face, fur, and paws. The whole time he soothed her in a gentle, unspoken language that only she could understand. The people who were with the man looked either surprised or annoyed, depending upon their own disposition. The others, who had been arguing with him, began to walk away.
“James, go and buy a piece of fish for our little friend here,” he said.
“You’ve got to be joking!” said James. But the man gave him a stern look and James walked away without another word. Peter went with him.
“No doubt so they could talk over this unusual turn of events,” said the man, smiling. “Come now, dear heart, let’s get you somewhere quiet where you can rest.” He carried the Princess in his arms as though she were a baby, and she didn’t even mind. They walked through the sunlit courtyard and into a shaded alcove.
The Princess’s head was throbbing, and her eye still didn’t want to focus, but she was so enthralled by this peculiar man that she almost didn’t notice. He talked to her pleasantly about interesting cat things as he gently dabbed her cut and rubbed her affectionately behind her ears and under her chin. He seemed to know everything there was to know about mice and fish, singing under the full moon, and the importance of plenty of naps, as well as all the business in and around the Temple.
“How do you know all these things?” she asked him with a purr.
“Oh, I’m very interested in cat things,” he replied.
“Why? I’ve never met another human who was.”
“Because I made them,” he said.
“You made cat things?”
“I made all things,” he answered.
A person might have doubted his words, or thought him mad, but a cat always knows when someone is telling the absolute truth.
“So you are more than a man,” she said. “That makes sense. I knew you weren’t like the rest of them. That is why you understand my language. That is why your words were the most mournful I ever heard. I wanted to help you.”
“Yes, dearest, I know,” he said, rubbing her under the chin again. She especially liked that. “And I thank you. You are a credit to your noble ancestors.”
“You know where I come from?” the Princess asked, surprised. “You know that I am descended from the Great Queens of Egypt?”
“Oh, yes, and I know more than that,” he answered. “I remember things you never even knew. I remember a particular ancestor of yours who crossed the great desert between Egypt and this land, so long ago. She, like you, was a great comfort to a grieving heart on that hard journey.”
“You?” asked the Princess.
“No,” said the man. “A little boy whose parents died on the way. A beautiful princess named Ahmose-Nebetta the Third was his particular friend and comforter.” Ahmose-Nebetta the Twenty-third purred even louder with pride in her ancestress.
“And, further back,” continued the man, “your ancestors were on the Ark itself. And, even further back than that, at the very beginning of all things, your noble line began, in a beautiful Garden.”
“And you made us?” asked the Princess.
“Yes, dearest,” said the man.
“Then you must love cats very much! You made us so perfectly! Are any of your other creatures so blessed with beauty and grace?”
“Not to mention a talent for admiring your own virtues,” said the man, chuckling.
“Yet you spend all your time with these wretched humans,” said the cat. “Such an unhappy, prickly lot! Not to mention ugly.”
“Ugly?” cried the man, surprised.
“Why, yes!” said the Princess. “They’ve no fur, just pimply, naked skin like plucked chickens. They lumber around like oxen. And they’re always unhappy, wishing for whatever they don’t have. They never think about anything else. Why did you make them so thick and stupid? None of them can even understand me at all, except for a few crude signs.”
“It wasn’t always that way,” said the man. “They lost their ability to talk with animals when they fell.”
“Fell?” asked the Princess. “What does that mean? Did they all trip and fall down?”
“Not exactly,” he answered. “But they are like someone who has fallen into a deep hole. The harder they try to dig their way out, the deeper they dig themselves into the hole. They’ve fallen in and they can’t get out.”
“So are they all going to die?” asked the Princess.
“Yes, unless somebody reaches in and pulls them out,” answered the man.
The cat thought about this for a moment, then her eyes brightened in understanding. “And that is why you are here? You are the one who is going to pull them out?”
“I am,” he said. “If they will accept my hand. Some will choose to remain in the hole.”
“Couldn’t you grab them and make them come out?” asked the Princess.
“If I did it would be unjust,” said the man. “They have the right to refuse my help.”
“If they refused your help then they would be very stupid indeed,” said the Princess.
“Well, it is hard to argue with that,” answered the man.
Just then Peter and James found them. Peter had a small piece of fish and James, looking none too happy, had a clay saucer filled with fresh goat’s milk.
“Are you strong enough for some refreshment, your majesty?” asked the man.
“I am since you were kind enough to help me,” said the Princess. Normally she would have acknowledged the kindness of a human with a little purr or rub around their ankles, but she knew now that this man deserved so much more. So she added, “Thank you, my Lord.”
After she had eaten and drank her fill, the man stood up and announced to his friends it was time to find the others and leave for the day. Then to the Princess he said, “You are coming to where I am staying tonight, and that is going to be your new home.”
“But the Temple is my home,” said the Princess.
“It has been,” agreed the man. “And you have guarded it well these many years. But it is time for you to enjoy a peaceful retirement and let another worthy guardian take your place. No arguments, now!”
“I would like to be with you,” said the Princess. “For always.”
“Yes,” answered the man, “but I have important business to take care of and I must be going away soon. My friends are good, kind people and you will be happy for the rest of your days.” He gently scratched her on her chin again.
The Princess felt a sudden sadness she had not known since the loss of her kittens. “I know I am old,” she said. “And I will be closing my eyes soon. Maybe before you come back.”
“Maybe,” the man agreed.
“Can I ask you one more thing?” she said.
“Anything,” he answered.
“Did you really make me?”
He answered yes.
“Then you really do love me?”
He answered yes.
“Then will I see you after I die?”
“Wait and see,” he said.
The Princess was content with this.
As they headed out of Jerusalem and into the fresh countryside toward the little town of Bethany, the Princess was quiet for a long time, riding on the man’s shoulders. The countryside was pretty, new and green after the spring rains. She could smell sheep, birds, mice, and, in the distance, even the hint of a fox. Being on the man’s shoulders was the deepest contentment she had ever known. How could any human refuse his hand when he offered it?
“It is so easy to be with you!” exclaimed the Princess suddenly. “And these silly, thick-headed people might actually refuse you? How could they? How can they not understand? They will cause you so much pain, just like you cried about this morning. Even worse!”
“Yes,” agreed the man.
“Are they really worth the bother?” asked the Princess.
He answered, “Yes.”
She pondered it for a moment then asked, “Which did you make first, people or cats?”
“Cats,” the man answered.
“I thought as much,” said the Princess. “You should have stopped at cats.”
The man’s laughter could be heard from Jerusalem to Bethany, and beyond.
Bible Traveler 