John's Story: The Last Eyewitness

by Tim LaHaye

  “I CANNOT STRESS enough how important it is to not draw attention to Peter and John,” Mark’s mother told him now. “The Teacher Himself asked that no one outside our household know that they will be here.”

  “I am not to greet them?”

  She shook her head. “That you are carrying a pitcher will be their sign to follow you.”

  “But they know me already!”

  “You are not to speak to them until you have arrived back here.”

  MARK FELT conspicuous filling the pitcher with water from the well not far from the Water Gate. He prayed that no one would recognize him and demand to know why he was doing the work of a woman.

  At the appointed hour, Peter and John approached, Peter with a dead lamb over his shoulders, dried blood staining his garment. Mark could tell by how the men looked at each other, nodding and raising their brows, that they were surprised it was he they were to follow. Neither spoke as they followed at a distance until they came within the shadows afforded by the olive trees lining the portal of Mark’s home.

  “Mary,” they said in unison when Mark’s mother appeared. She directed them to the great room, where a servant took the lamb, and Mary signaled Mark to fill a basin with water and also to pour them cups to drink. As they drank, she washed their feet with the water from the basin.

  Peter said, “The Teacher asks, ‘Where is the guest room in which I may eat the Passover with My disciples?’”

  Mary nodded to her son as she finished drying the men’s feet. They stepped into their sandals and followed Mark up an outer staircase to the spacious area atop the house, made airy by arched openings in the walls. The servants had already set the large dining table up there with the finest candles and dishware in the house and encircled it with reclining couches.

  Not far from a grate over a fire of coals, the lamb lay on a wooden preparation table, on which were also arrayed knives, bread dough, wine, and bitter herbs. Peter whispered to a servant, “And for the charoseth?”

  “Yes!” Mark said, embarrassed. “Fetch the ingredients, now!” he ordered the servant.

  The man hurried off, and Peter drew Mark aside. “Son, a word,” he said. “Remember that these people are serving not only you, but also us and the Teacher. They deserve our respect.”

  “But Mother had instructed them to have ready everything you need to prepare the—”

  “We are all but men, John Mark. Capable of mistakes.”

  “But we want everything perfect for—”

  “And it will be. That is why we are here now. By the time the others arrive, all will be made ready.”

  Mark felt his face redden. “Forgive me.”

  Peter threw an arm around Mark’s shoulder. “Fret not. I too have had to learn to treat all the way the Master treats me. It has been a hard lesson.”

  Standing so close to Peter, Mark could tell he had strapped a heavy sword and scabbard inside his tunic. “You carry a weapon?”

  Peter held a finger to his lips. “One cannot be too careful.”

  The servant returned with dried fruit, spices, pomegranates, nuts, dates, and a goblet of vinegar. He bowed, eyes downcast, and appeared surprised when young Mark thanked him profusely.

  “Now leave us,” Peter said, “as we prepare the meal.”

  AS THE OTHER disciples began to arrive—in pairs or small groups—the servants were pressed into assisting Mary and Mark in welcoming them, washing their feet, giving them water, and directing them upstairs. Simon, Thomas, and Philip arrived together, and several minutes later Matthew and Judas Iscariot. James—the brother of John, Andrew, the other Judas, and Bartholomew were next, and finally the other James accompanied Jesus.

  Mark had long been fascinated by these men, all about twice his age, save John, who was just ten years older. Some—like Judas Iscariot and Andrew—were friendlier than others; some—like Matthew—kept to themselves. Though Mark knew Peter best, he found Judas and Andrew personable and animated. He was drawn to Jesus, as most seemed to be, and yet he felt most self-conscious when he had the Teacher’s attention. The Man seemed to study his face and truly listen to every word, somehow making Mark feel as if he had hardly anything of import to say. He also felt somehow unworthy in the Man’s presence, as if Jesus knew what kind of person Mark really was. Had his mother told Him of his propensity for deceit? For conceit? Of his impatience? His temper?

  This evening, however, Mark didn’t have to worry about Jesus’ searching eyes. The Teacher and all the others seemed pensive and secretive.

  For a man so revered and reviled, so appealing yet feared, Jesus certainly did not appear out of the ordinary. Yes, He carried Himself with a quiet confidence and authority, and if Mark could believe Peter’s stories, Jesus was nothing if not fearless. He was by no means the tallest of the thirteen. That honor fell to the reserved Matthew. Nor was He attractive, as were Bartholomew and John. Jesus was vigorous and strong-looking—no surprise for a man who had been a carpenter. But to have become the center of so much attention? It didn’t make sense to Mark, at least from the Man’s appearance. Listening to Him, though, was another matter. The young man relished the opportunity, after his duties had been fulfilled, to sit at the top of the stairs, just out of sight behind the door, and simply listen.

  By the end of the evening, he would hear and see more than he ever dreamed—even in his worst nightmare.

  TWO

  John Mark, you are the master of this house now,” his mother said as they lit the candles and sat to celebrate their own Passover seder. Her eyes bore a faraway look. “And yet you are also the one to ask the ceremonial questions tonight.”

  “I know.”

  Mark longed to go back upstairs. He did not want to abandon his mother on this special night, especially when she seemed wistful, but often when such emotion gripped her, she wanted to be alone.

  As they began their ritual, a servant who had been assigned to the upper room rushed past, begging the mistress’s pardon. “The Teacher has requested another pitcher, basin, and towel,” he said.

  Mark’s mother appeared confused. “He is aware we have washed everyone’s feet, is He not?”

  The servant looked nonplussed as well.

  “Carry on, carry on,” she said quickly. “Give Him whatever He asks. Mark, we must hurry, so you can supervise the servants.”

  Though they wasted little time between the fifteen separate elements of the observance, it was impossible to finish in less than half an hour. Mother and son served each other, and it fell to Mark to ask and answer the traditional questions and recite the story of the Passover. How Mark missed his father! He could only imagine how difficult this was for his mother.

  “This night is different from all other nights because once we were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt, but God took us out with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm. If God had not brought our ancestors out of Egypt, then we, and our children, and our children’s children, would still be slaves in the land of Egypt.”

  Mark had to admit he was distracted by a single voice from above. During brief silences between his questions and his mother’s responses, he tried to make out what the Teacher was saying. Jesus was earnest, that was clear, and His tone was urgent. But Mark would have to ask Peter what was said. He could not tell whether their seder had begun or whether Jesus was merely teaching, as He often did.

  The singing of traditional psalms was one of Mark’s favorite parts of the Passover observance. His mother’s eyes filled as they quietly harmonized.

  “I love the Lord, because He has heard my voice and my supplications. Because He has inclined His ear to me, therefore I will call upon Him as long as I live. The pains of death surrounded me, and the pangs of Sheol laid hold of me; I found trouble and sorrow. Then I called upon the name of the Lord: ‘O Lord, I implore You, deliver my soul!’

  Gracious is the Lord, and righteous; yes, our God is merciful. The Lord preserves the simple; I was brought low, and He saved me. Return to your rest, O my so
ul, for the Lord has dealt bountifully with you. For You have delivered my soul from death, my eyes from tears, and my feet from falling.”

  John Mark believed in God, loved Him, and prayed for the coming Messiah. He thrilled to the stories of old, how God had delivered His chosen people time and again despite their failings. Mark knew what it meant to fail, to not be the man he believed God—and his mother—wanted and expected him to be. Besides the constant need to put his wishes above others’, he frequently had to seek forgiveness for being selfish, cross, or disobedient.

  “I will offer to You the sacrifice of thanksgiving, and will call upon the name of the Lord. I will pay my vows to the Lord now in the presence of all His people, in the courts of the Lord’s house, in the midst of you, O Jerusalem. Praise the Lord!

  Praise the Lord, all you Gentiles! Laud Him, all you peoples! For His merciful kindness is great toward us, and the truth of the Lord endures forever. Praise the Lord!”

  Even as they sang the beautiful old passages from the Torah, Mark’s mind wandered, and he was eager to finish and listen in on the disciples and the One they called their Master.

  Mark had to admit that having in their own home the Man some believed was Messiah Himself made him doubt it all the more. What was the likelihood that after all these years, Messiah would come in Mark’s lifetime, know his mother, and visit their home? Interesting and fascinating as Mark found the Man and His friends, the very idea was preposterous. And while Peter’s stories included acts that would certainly qualify the Man as the Chosen One, Mark knew also that grown men loved to exaggerate, to thrill gullible young people.

  Jesus seemed a wonderful man, and His disciples obviously believed in Him and were devoted to Him. But Mark would have to see one of His miracles himself to even consider that Jesus of Nazareth might be the promised deliverer and king.

  With the singing of the psalms completed, Mark began helping his mother and the servants to clear their table, but she urged him to hurry upstairs. “The Teacher informed me that He and His disciples may stay very late and that I should not feel obligated to wait up for them. Please give Him my regards, as I do feel I will turn in early.”

  “Shall I stay with you, Mother?” Mark said, willing, but hopeful she would decline his offer. “Are you all right?”

  “No, please. Memories tonight are sweet and painful, but I will feel most comforted if I know you are seeing to our guests.”

  AS MARK MOUNTED the steps he could hear Jesus speaking again. Near the top he was met by the servants coming down. “Where are you going?” he whispered.

  “He has excused us, master,” one said, carrying a pitcher, a basin, and a towel.

  “What’s this?”

  “He washed their feet. The Teacher.”

  “Did He not know that we already—”

  “He knew.”

  “Very well. Remain nearby to restore the room when they have left. I will signal you.”

  Mark sat on the top step where he would remain out of sight and yet be able to hear. He tucked his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, for he was wearing only a thin linen garment, and the night was growing chilly.

  He listened intently. For whatever reason, Jesus had washed His disciples’ feet. They continued to murmur about it, and one or two seemed to be weeping.

  Then Mark heard the Master speak.

  Jesus said, “Assuredly, I say to you, one of you who eats with Me will betray Me.”

  “What?”

  Mark recognized the sorrowful voice of Peter, echoed by others. They all seemed to protest at once, then asked Jesus one by one, “Is it I?”

  Jesus spoke quietly. “It is one of the twelve, who dips with Me in the dish.”

  Several gasped at that, and it was all Mark could do to keep from peeking to see who it was. Jesus continued, “The Son of Man indeed goes just as it is written of Him, but woe to that man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been good for that man if he had never been born.”

  Suddenly came the sound of rushing footsteps, and Mark pressed himself against the wall as a figure swept from the room and clambered down the steps. Judas Iscariot! Could it be? Mark stopped himself from calling out, knowing he would give himself away, and he so wanted to hear more.

  There was more murmuring, and finally silence, save for the sounds of bowls being passed and cups lifted and set down on the table. Jesus quietly prayed, thanking God for their bread. Then He said something so strange that Mark thought he had not heard correctly: “Take, eat; this is My body.”

  Jesus gave thanks for the wine and said to His disciples, “This is My blood of the new covenant, which is shed for many. Assuredly, I say to you, I will no longer drink of the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God.”

  What was He saying? Mark was a diligent student, but he could make no sense of this. And then he heard one, a voice he did not recognize, ask which of the disciples should be considered the greatest. Jesus said, “The kings of the Gentiles exercise lordship over them, and those who exercise authority over them are called ‘benefactors.’ But not so among you; on the contrary, he who is greatest among you, let him be as the younger, and he who governs as he who serves. For who is greater, he who sits at the table, or he who serves? Is it not he who sits at the table? Yet I am among you as the One who serves.”

  Was that why He, the Teacher Himself, the one they called Master and even Lord, had washed their feet? No wonder they found this Man astounding.

  Jesus continued, “If I then have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have given you an example, that you should do as I have done to you. Most assuredly, I say to you, a servant is not greater than his master; nor is he who is sent greater than he who sent him. If you know these things, blessed are you if you do them.

  “But you are those who have continued with Me in My trials. And I bestow upon you a kingdom, just as My Father bestowed one upon Me, that you may eat and drink at My table in My kingdom, and sit on thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel.

  “You call Me Teacher and Lord, and you say well, for so I am.”

  What in the name of heaven did He mean? The disciples had to be wondering the same, but when Jesus continued, He sounded just as perplexing. “Most assuredly, I say to you that you will weep and lament, but the world will rejoice; and you will be sorrowful, but your sorrow will be turned into joy.”

  Why would they weep? What was to become of Him? Mark rose and stole into the room, quickly moving to the back as if tending to details. When no one seemed to notice, and Jesus did not stop speaking, Mark lowered himself out of sight, where he could see the Teacher and most of His disciples.

  “I do not speak concerning all of you,” Jesus said. “I know whom I have chosen. Now I tell you before it comes, so that when it does come to pass, you may believe that I am He. Most assuredly, I say to you, he who receives whomever I send receives Me; and he who receives Me receives Him who sent Me.”

  Jesus was making astounding claims about Himself, but maybe Mark was just too young to understand. He would have to ask Peter what he thought of all this. If anyone understood, Peter would.

  Jesus said, “Little children, I shall be with you a little while longer. You will seek Me; and as I said to the Jews, ‘Where I am going, you cannot come,’ so now I say to you. A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another as I have loved you. By this all will know that you are My disciples.”

  Mark could see the disciples’ consternation. They could not have understood this any more than he did.

  “Let not your heart be troubled; you believe in God, believe also in Me. In My Father’s house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you may be also. And where I go you know, and the way you know.”

  They did? Mark certainly didn’t.
He was relieved when Thomas said, “Lord, we do not know where You are going, and how can we know the way?”

  Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me. If you had known Me, you would have known My Father also; and from now on you know Him and have seen Him.”

  He was claiming to be the Son of God!

  Philip said, “Lord, show us the Father, and it is sufficient for us.”

  Jesus cocked his head and smiled. “Have I been with you so long, and yet you have not known Me, Philip? He who has seen Me has seen the Father; so how can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? Do you not believe that I am in the Father, and the Father in Me? The words that I speak to you I do not speak on My own authority; but the Father who dwells in Me does the works. Believe Me that I am in the Father and the Father in Me, or else believe Me for the sake of the works themselves.”

  Had Mark seen all the works Peter told of, he would have found it easier to believe this. Now he didn’t know what to think. This Teacher was fascinating, captivating even, but could this be true?

  “Most assuredly, I say to you, he who believes in Me, the works that I do he will do also; and greater works than these he will do, because I go to My Father. And whatever you ask in My name, that I will do, that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If you ask anything in My name, I will do it.”

  Was that a promise just for the disciples, or might it be something Mark could try too? He might just have to put Jesus to the test.

  “If you love Me, keep My commandments. And I will pray the Father, and He will give you another Helper, that He may abide with you forever—the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees Him nor knows Him; but you know Him, for He dwells with you and will be in you. I will not leave you orphans; I will come to you.”