The Prisoner in the Third Cell
Page 4
“And blessed is that one
who is not offended with me.”
A sick baby will die. An epileptic child will go on having seizures as long as he lives. A fevered young girl will suffer weeks of pain before she regains her health. A deaf mute will spend the rest of his life begging at the city gate. These and many others, with even more tragic stories, departed the village of Nain that morning . . . each so downcast that words could not express their feelings of hopelessness. Worst of all, from God came no explanation concerning His ways.
Many were healed. But not all.
“And blessed is he
who is not offended with me.”
Chapter 17
Protheus pushed open the heavy prison door and stepped out into the sunlight to escape the stench of the dungeon and, for a moment, to breathe fresh air. Immediately the music from Herod’s palace caught his ear. Herod was giving a huge banquet for his friends that evening. “Honoring his own birthday!” recalled Protheus. There would be revelry. There would be . . .
Suddenly a cold chill gripped Protheus.
It would be just like Herod . . . to haul John the Baptist up to the banquet hall to make sport of him!
“That is exactly what he will do.”
Protheus whirled around and rushed back into the prison. . . . He wanted to warn John about what might happen to him before the evening was over. But before he could reach John’s cell, Protheus felt a strong hand on his shoulder. He turned. It was one of Herod’s personal bodyguards.
“It’s John, is it not? You have come for John. Herod is going to make sport of him.”
“Far worse than that,” replied the bodyguard, betraying his own apprehension. “Far, far worse than that. Salome, the daughter of Herod’s wife, has just danced for the guests. Herod is drunk, and in his stupor he offered Salome anything she wanted, up to half his kingdom. She, in turn, inquired of her mother just what to ask for in the presence of so lucrative an offer.” The bodyguard paused.
“Protheus, it seems that tonight Herod’s guests will not be entertained by making sport of John the Baptist. No, it will be far more macabre than that. John’s head is to be brought into the banquet room on a platter!”
Protheus lost his balance; his eyesight blurred. The bodyguard grabbed his arm and steadied him. “The same thing happened to me when I heard,” observed the guard.
“What now?” asked Protheus.
“I would say John has less than five minutes to live. Bring him to me.”
“May the gods have mercy on us,” whispered Protheus. “And if there be but one God, and if that God be the God of the Jews, we would be fools to believe He would show pity on us for what we are about to do.”
Chapter 18
“John, they have come for you. Much sooner than you had thought. In a few minutes you will be no more. There is no time to send word to your disciples. Nor to my mother, Mary, who has worried so much for your safety. You will not be given opportunity of even a single word to anyone. Nor will you be able to ask again the question you addressed to me.
“In less than four minutes now, you will be dead. How many thoughts can be crowded into one’s mind in four minutes? How many doubts? How many questions? Not many. But, John, worst of all, there will be no answers.
“And blessed are you, John,
if you are not offended with me.
“They have unshackled you. The staircase is before you. The door above is open. You can see the light of day above you.
“Why is this happening to you, John? You, of all people? Your head . . . severed from your body? Why? Because of an obscene dance by a teenage girl. How ironic.
“You will never live to see your thirty-third birthday, nor will you know exactly why I have called you. Nor will you know if your life on this earth counted for anything. Those long years in the searing desert, you denied yourself of everything this earth affords except food and water, and only enough of that to keep you alive. You did this all for me. Yet, as you face death, there is no evidence that your life was anything but wasted. Have I forsaken you in the hour you need me most?
“And blessed are you
if you are not offended with me.
“You have reached the head of the stairs. You are not sure which way they would have you turn. A guard points to the left. You follow. Is this happening? You have less than one minute before that immutable blank. You recall those long vigils before my face. Did you misunderstand me? Were you mistaken? Perhaps you did not hear my voice at all?
“In all those years you lived alone in the desert you never once knew love or comfort from another human being. Will I not extend such comfort to you now, at last? You never had the pleasure of your own children to climb up on your lap, to give you earthly joy. You never came in contact with a woman, ever; you never had a wife. You have never known intimate love. You have never even had a friend. Your whole life was lived for your calling, and for me. Will I not now, in this last moment of your life, part the veil and allow you to see something . . . anything . . . of my purpose in your life and in your death? You will die wondering why I ate and drank as I did, why I did not fast as you fasted, nor pray as you prayed. Was the Messiah not to be a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief?
“You will die today at the hands of unclean, uncircumcised, heathen, Gentile Romans. But your death at their hands will come about only by my sovereign permission. And you will die not understanding why I allowed this seemingly senseless act.
“And blessed are you
if you are not offended with me.
“You will not see the multitudes cry out in jubilation at my entry into Jerusalem. Neither will you see me crucified, nor hear of my resurrection and my triumph over death. You will die not knowing that you have proclaimed the coming of no less than the Son of God.
“Death is but a few seconds away, and still there is no answer to your question. You will die not understanding.
“And blessed are you, John,
if you are not offended with me.
“They have opened the gate to the courtyard. There it is, the block on which you will lay your head, and there the man who will take your life. You will be remembered as one of the greatest men who ever lived. But you will not know that, nor will you hear the Son of God say, ‘Of men born of women, there was none greater than John.’
“Even now as you kneel, you wonder if you are a complete failure. You gave so much, poured out your life so completely, lived for God so singularly. Yet, despite all this, you could not so much as win the favor of God to the point of His giving you one answer to one question. It was, after all, the only request you ever made.
“I did not give to you an answer. I never have. The question of why always remains unanswered in all my dealings with men; this is my way. But if there were one human being on this earth to whom I would make clear my purpose, it would be you. And it would be now. Above all other men or women who have ever lived, I would give an answer to you.”
John knelt and placed his head upon the block.
“When I called you, John, and told you that you would announce the coming of the Messiah, you assumed that because you were going to prepare the way for me, you would have the joy of seeing that wonderful day of my coming in glory. But today you have met a God you do not understand. Such is the mystery of my sovereignty. Such are my ways in every generation. No man has ever understood me, not fully. No man ever will. I will always be something other than what men expect me to be. I will work out my will in ways different from what men foresee.
“The guard has shifted his weight. The blade is raised above you. Death stands beside you. Die, my brother John, in the presence of a God who did not live up to your expectations.
“And blessed are you
if you are not offended with me.”
* * *
Shall we scorn that God has revealed so little concerning His ways, or rejoice that He has revealed so much?
* * *
Ch
apter 19
A day like that which awaited John awaits us all. It is unavoidable because every believer imagines his God to be a certain way, and is quite sure his Lord will do certain things under certain conditions. But your Lord is never quite what you imagined Him to be.
You have now come face to face with a God whom you do not fully understand. You have met a God who has not lived up to your expectations. Every believer must come to grips with a God who did not do things quite the way it was expected.
You are going to get to know your Lord by faith or you will not know Him at all. Faith in Him, trust that is in Him . . . not in His ways.
Today you are resentful of those who so callously hurt you. But no, not really. The truth is you are angry with God because, ultimately, you are not dealing with men, you are dealing with the sovereign hand of your Lord. Behind all events, behind all things, there is always His sovereign hand.
The question is not, “Why is God doing this? Why is He like this?” The question is not, “Why does He not answer me?” The question is not, “I need Him desperately; why does He not come rescue me?” The question is not, “Why did God allow this tragedy to happen to me, to my children, to my wife, to my husband, to my family?” Nor is it, “Why does God allow injustices?”
The question before the house is this: “Will you follow a God you do not understand? Will you follow a God who does not live up to your expectations?”
Your Lord has put something in your life which you cannot bear. The burden is simply too great. He was never supposed to do this! But the question remains, “Will you continue to follow this God who did not live up to your expectations?”
“And blessed are you
if you are not offended with me.”
Epilogue
“Captain, the third cell is empty.”
“It will not be empty long. I have just received word that we are to receive a new prisoner.”
“What has this one done?”
“I do not know. There is always the possibility this one is as innocent as was John.”
The soldier’s response was simple. “I hate having such prisoners! We have a prisoner in the first cell who rails against unfairness, against men, and against circumstances. We have a prisoner in the second cell who is hostile toward God because of what his God has done to him. . . .”
“The new prisoner has arrived,” called a voice at the head of the stairs.
“Take the rope,” said Protheus to the guard. “Lower the prisoner into the miry pit.”
Who is this prisoner? Who is this one who will now be imprisoned in the third cell? What name will be inscribed beside the cell door?
One thing is certain: It was inevitable that this person be sent here. Inevitable, unavoidable, and a sovereign act of God.
The prisoner’s name? Surely, the question is not necessary, dear reader; you are the prisoner in the third cell!
“And blessed are you
if you are not offended with me.”
“Cousin?”
“Yes, John.”
“Jesus?”
“Yes, John. It is I.”
“My Lord and my God . . . but I had so many questions as I faced death!”
“So did I when I faced death. Just as I did not answer you, neither did my Father answer me. We died in quite similar ways.”
“You died? You died as ignominiously, as I did?”
“Yes, John. But I rose from the dead.”
“You rose from the dead? But how?
“Come, brother John . . . take my hand. The moment has come. I will now take you to that place where you know . . . even as you are known.”
Dear reader, no one can fully understand the pain you feel as you suffer your present situation. Whether it came upon you because of circumstances or by the deeds of men, one thing is certain. Before this present tragedy entered into your life, it first passed through the sovereign hand of God.
“And blessed are you . . .”
Book Discussion Guide
1. Look at pages 17–19, which describe John’s absolute devotion to God, unimpeded by cares of this world. What would you require, or what thorns would you need to pull from your life (see Luke 8:14), to live unhindered before God?
2. We remember John for many things, not least Jesus’ praise in Matthew 11:11: “Of all who have ever lived, none is greater than John the Baptist.” But in this story, John never felt his ministry was great. What’s your opinion of your own legacy? How do you expect people will remember you?
3. How do you generally react to nonconformists—people who don’t fit in by nature or by choice? How does your immediate community respond to them? How welcome are they in your church?
4. How can we recognize a person of God? What are the hallmarks to look for, and how can we avoid looking at the wrong factors?
5. John railed against the Pharisees, who had burdened the people with man-made religious rules. Are there any religious or social systems today that might prevent people from connecting with God? What can you do to change or oppose those systems?
6. John answered God’s calling and, though he had questions, never looked back. What is God calling you to do? How can you be wholehearted?
7. Has God ever failed to meet your expectations? How did you respond to Him? What happened in your relationship with Him as a result?
8. Why did Hannel and Parnach land in the first and second cells? How did they respond to their predicaments? What is your response when you face adversity or trouble?
9. When John’s disciples brought his question to Jesus (pp. 48–50), what caused Jesus such anguish? Do you think Jesus has ever had a similar response to your own doubts or anxious fears?
10. Reread chapter 16. How do you respond to a God we do not understand, who is capable of healing many but does not heal all? Have you ever been offended with God? If so, what are the standards to which you were holding God? Why do you think He remains so difficult to understand?
11. Think of a time when you’ve prayed or pleaded and the only answer has been silence. How did this affect your relationship with God? What do you think God was saying by remaining silent?
12. “I will always be something other than what men expect me to be. I will work out my will in ways different from what men foresee” (p. 73). Do you agree with the author’s proposition? What can we know of God? What sort of assumptions about Him should we avoid?
13. Do you trust your understanding of God, or do you trust God Himself (ch. 19)? When is it easy to confuse the two?
Please turn the page for an excerpt from A Tale of Three Kings . . .
Chapter 1
The youngest son of any family bears two distinctions: He is considered to be both spoiled and uninformed. Usually little is expected of him. Inevitably, he displays fewer characteristics of leadership than the other children in the family. As a child, he never leads. He only follows, for he has no one younger on whom to practice leadership.
So it is today. And so it was three thousand years ago in a village called Bethlehem, in a family of eight boys. The first seven sons of Jesse worked near their father’s farm. The youngest was sent on treks into the mountains to graze the family’s small flock of sheep.
On those pastoral jaunts, this youngest son always carried two things: a sling and a small, guitarlike instrument. Spare time for a sheepherder is abundant on rich mountain plateaus where sheep can graze for days in one sequestered meadow. But as time passed and days became weeks, the young man became very lonely. The feeling of friendlessness that always roamed inside him was magnified. He often cried. He also played his harp a great deal. He had a good voice, so he often sang. When these activities failed to comfort him, he gathered up a pile of stones and, one by one, swung them at a distant tree with something akin to fury.
When one rock pile was depleted, he would walk to the blistered tree, reassemble his rocks, and designate another leafy enemy at yet a farther distance.
He engaged in many such
solitary battles.
This shepherd-singer-slinger also loved his Lord. At night, when all the sheep lay sleeping and he sat staring at the dying fire, he would strum upon his harp and break into quiet song. He sang the ancient hymns of his forefathers’ faith. While he sang he wept, and while weeping he often broke out in abandoned praise—until mountains in distant places lifted up his praise and tears and passed them on to higher mountains, until they eventually reached the ears of God.
When the young shepherd did not praise and when he did not cry, he tended to each and every sheep and lamb. When not occupied with his flock, he swung his companionable sling and swung it again and again until he could tell every rock precisely where to go.
Once, while singing his lungs out to God, angels, sheep, and passing clouds, he spied a living enemy: a huge bear! He lunged forward. Both found themselves moving furiously toward the same small object, a lamb feeding at a table of rich, green grass. Youth and bear stopped halfway and whirled to face one another. Even as he instinctively reached into his pocket for a stone, the young man realized, “Why, I am not afraid.”
Meanwhile, brown lightning on mighty, furry legs charged at the shepherd with foaming madness. Impelled by the strength of youth, the young man married rock to leather, and soon a brook-smooth pebble whined through the air to meet that charge.
A few moments later, the man—not quite so young as a moment before—picked up the little lamb and said, “I am your shepherd, and God is mine.”
And so, long into the night, he wove the day’s saga into a song. He hurled that hymn to the skies again and again until he had taught the melody and words to every angel that had ears. They, in turn, became custodians of this wondrous song and passed it on as healing balm to brokenhearted men and women in every age to come.
Chapter 2
A figure in the distance was running toward him. It grew and became his brother. “Run!” cried the brother. “Run with all your strength. I’ll watch the flock.”