The hair on the back of his neck prickled and a spilling warmth spread through his body.
Marcus ran into Bethsaida-Julias. “I’m looking for Paracletos,” he said, gasping for breath. “Do you know where I can find him?”
“I know of no one by that name,” came the repeated answer, nor had any seen a man who fit the description Marcus gave. Surely someone would have heard of such a man.
“Perhaps you’ve seen an angel,” one man mocked.
“Go sleep off the wine!” others laughed.
Marcus took the road to Capernaum, and it was almost dawn when he came near. He saw a man sitting by the gate. People passed by him, but he seemed to be watching the road. Was this the one Paracletos meant? Marcus strode toward him, and the man’s gaze fixed upon him intently. Setting aside his feelings of foolishness, Marcus obeyed Paracletos’ command and poured out the story of what had happened to him the night before.
“The last thing he said to me was to come to Capernaum and tell all this to the man by the gate. And so I have.” He expected the man to laugh and accuse him of being drunk.
Instead, the man’s smile shone. “The Lord be praised! I am Cornelius. I was told in a dream that a Roman named Marcus would meet me here. Are you he?”
“I am Marcus,” he said hoarsely, adding dryly, “Were you told what to do with me?”
The man laughed. “Oh yes! Come with me!” He led Marcus down to the sea. Marcus followed him into the water in confusion. Cornelius turned to him and put his hand on his shoulder. “Do you believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God?”
Marcus felt a moment of fear. Whatever came now would change his life forever. He clenched his teeth and fists, still struggling against himself. Did he believe? Did he?
Tense, uncertain, he knew he had to make a conscious decision. “I believe,” he said. “Forgive my unbelief.”
The man took firm hold of him and lowered him into the water. “I baptize you in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.”
The flow of cool water enfolded Marcus, burying him, and then he was raised up into the warmth of the sun. He planted his feet firmly as the man next to him rejoiced in the Lord. Others came running, and all Marcus could do was stand and stare out over the Sea of Galilee, surprised by the joy he felt.
Sudden. Inexplicable. Complete joy.
It hadn’t been a dream. He hadn’t imagined any of what had happened the night before or been said by the stranger who called himself Paracletos. Yet even more profound was the change he felt within himself now that he had made the decision to believe that Jesus was the Christ, the Son of the living God. He felt cleansed. He felt whole. His blood rushed through his veins with new life, new direction.
Marcus filled his lungs with the crisp air and let it out again, feeling free. He laughed and lifted his eyes to the heavens with a thankful heart. He wept at the same time. Was it really that astoundingly simple? I believe.
He glanced at Cornelius eagerly, responding to the new Spirit within him. “What do I do now?”
“You are to return to Ephesus.”
The words came like a physical blow.
“What did you say?”
“You are to return to Ephesus,” Cornelius said again, frowning slightly.
Marcus stood, dripping wet, feeling as though his heart had been wrenched from him. He stared at Cornelius, a man he didn’t know, and wished he had never asked the question. “Why do you tell me this?” he said hoarsely, angry that his joy should be stripped away so quickly.
“These are the words that were given to me. ‘Tell Marcus to return to Ephesus.‘” Cornelius put his hand on Marcus’ arm. “Do you know what the Lord wants of you there?”
Oh yes, he knew. The appalling fullness and mercy of the command struck his heart, but his mind rebelled against it.
“I know,” he said grimly.
God wanted him to forgive his sister.
33
“Tell me another story like the one you told me yesterday,” Julia said as Azar helped her to the couch on the balcony. “Something exciting and romantic.”
Hadassah’s heart sank. Over the past weeks she had told Julia many stories that had been told to her as a child. They were stories meant to reveal the attributes of God’s love and mercy, but Julia saw no significance other than as entertainment. They didn’t touch her heart. Was she always to be this way, wanting distraction from the pain of illness, blind to the truth of life.
She wanted something exciting. Romantic.
Hadassah wanted to shake her and tell her of Sheol and Satan, of Jesus coming again and taking judgment on the world, on her. Did Julia want to be among those cast into the fiery pit for all eternity? Was she so blind to the truth that was proclaimed every dawn of every day? Christ is risen. Christ is Lord. Christ reigns. Christ will judge.