After that day on the mountain, word about Jesus was spreading like wildfire. The gossipers of the town were having a field day. Rumors about him were flying everywhere, but one view was the most intriguing of all: some of his disciples had begun to claim that he was the Messiah. THE MESSIAH. The one that our people had been waiting on for hundreds of years, the one that God had promised would redeem our nation. And MY little brother went up to him and shared his lunch.
Don't get me started on Malachi. As if he wasn't spoiled enough, people all over the town began coming up to him, asking if he really was the boy who gave Jesus those "magical" five fish and two loaves. "My mother always taught me to share," he would say. What a ham. That made her so proud, but it really irked me. I love him, though. I've got to. He's still my baby brother. All the attention aside, little Malachi seemed to believe in this Jesus fellow. Faith like a child, I guess, as Jesus put it in one of his messages.
As exciting as the prospect of a Messiah in our midst was, I couldn't be completely sold on the idea. I still had to see more. I still had to hear more. I mean, I wanted to have a full, unabashed faith, like my brother, or Jesus' disciples, but I couldn't help but think that all of this stuff that'd been happening was just too good to be true. My father was certainly a skeptic. He warned me to take this Messiah stuff with a grain of salt and not to get my hopes up, because he'd seen false Messiahs before. Everyone just wants something that they can believe in, he said.
I understood what he meant and took it to heart, but I certainly wasn't going to stop listening to Jesus' teaching. It was too intriguing. So, I promised my father that I'd be cautious, and that was that.
I'd heard a rumor that Jesus would be sailing to the other side of the Sea, so I woke up early and dragged Malachi into sailboat to see if we could meet him and talk to him without the massive crowds. It was probably a mistake to take Malachi. We arrived at the shore, and the boat Jesus was on was still a few minutes away. When I began tying up my boat, a middle aged beggar came up to us. He touched my shoulder and I almost jumped at the sight of him. His hair was a rat's nest and his eyes were squinty and as red as fire. He began shouting things at me in a language that I couldn't understand. My first instinct was to run back to the boat and protect Malachi. He was quivering with fear as the man inched toward us. Then he saw Jesus.
The beggar shriveled up on the ground and began shouting in a crazed tone. He yelled, "What do you want with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? In God’s name don’t torture me!" Jesus simply asked his name. "Legion," the man said. Apparently he was possessed by many demons, and he greatly feared Jesus. Jesus then cast the demons out of the man, and into a group of pigs on a nearby cliff. They went wild and plunged into the sea. The beggar's eyes softened and he thanked Jesus, fell on his knees and began to praise him. I wanted to hear more, but Malachi was too afraid, so we began sailing back across the Sea.
As I sailed the boat, I pondered what had just happened. I had many questions. Had that really been a demon? How was Jesus able to cast it out? What does it mean to be the Son of God? And most importantly, if those demons were able to recognize and understand who Jesus really was, why couldn't I? What excuse did I have for my lukewarm faith?
good job Ian
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