Prior to that woman’s healing I saw Jesus’ power as being something he possessed. It was remarkable power. It was apparently limitless power. But it was simply something he had been given by God for his prophetic ministry. It was a tool he could choose to use or not to use, under the control of his will, requiring the active involvement of his mind.
But following the incident with that woman, I was forced to take a giant step forward in my understanding of this man. Power wasn’t something Jesus had, it was something he was. This woman wasn’t healed because Jesus chose to give her health; she was healed because Jesus was the source of all health. And because she believed he was the source of all health, she knew she could simply touch him, even without him knowing it, and be healed. She was made well not because Jesus possessed the power to heal but because he himself was health and power—they were woven into the very fiber of his being.
During his few years here on earth, Jesus chose to accept the limitations that come with a spirit’s existence within a human body. His mind, like our minds, could focus on only one thing at a time. Because his mind was focused on following Jairus to his home, it could not at the same time be focused on the woman who touched his clothing. But the limitations of his physical mind did not in any way alter or impair the true identity of his spirit.
Step by tiny step Jesus was leading me ever closer to the one truth upon which all other truths must be built—this man, this person with whom I lived each day, was our Creator God in a human body.
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Demonic spirits cowered in submission to his will. Storms ceased at his command. Dead bodies returned to life at his word. People touched his clothing and went away healed. Then came the day when he shared his power with the Twelve of us. It had been nearly two years since he first entered our world, nearly a year since he called twelve men to himself. Though the division between Jesus and our nation’s leadership seemed to be widening, his popularity with the Jewish people was, understandably, at an all-time high. The only limitation he ever seemed obligated to submit to was the limitation imposed on him by time. Each of his days, like each of ours, had just twenty-four hours. The sun moved from east to west as quickly over his head as it did over ours. There were only so many people he could touch each day, only so many minutes he could talk, only so many questions he could answer, only so many times he could express his love to individuals within the endless sea of humanity surrounding him.
His decision to extend his impact on the nation through equipping us and sending us out in his name was certainly motivated in part by the time limitations he faced. We were all with him that morning, just a few days before he sent us out, when we woke once again from a few hours’ sleep to find another crowd of desperate people packed around our door. As Jesus looked out the window, he said, “The harvest is great, but there are so few workers.” Then he encouraged us to pray that the Lord of the harvest would send out more laborers into his fields. So many people, so little time. The overwhelming need in the lives of those around him was certainly part of the reason he sent us out.
But there was another reason as well, one I would not fully appreciate until the day of Pentecost following his resurrection. The Master was going to permit each of us to serve as channels through which his Holy Spirit could perform miraculous works. But he wanted us to know through experience the difference between this sovereign work of God, unrelated to any true change of heart within us, and the glorious infilling of the Holy Spirit that would come to every believer following his death and resurrection.
We knew something unique was about to happen the day he sent us out, but none of us were prepared for what it was. That day, rather than returning to the crowds waiting for his appearance, he took the Twelve of us away by ourselves. I loved those times when he did that. It always meant there was something special he wanted us to learn or do. Those times always involved a bit of a battle between Jesus and the people waiting for his appearance. Everyone had something they wanted, some urgent need they hoped the Master would meet. His telling them there would be no public meetings today was never well received.
We followed him out of town, down to the beach, then along the Sea of Galilee, until we found a place where we could meet in privacy. When we were all seated on the sand around him, he shared with us what he was about to do. He told us that this day he was going to equip each of us with the power and the authority to perform many of the miraculous works he was performing throughout Israel. He was giving us authority over unclean spirits to cast them out and the authority to heal all kinds of sickness and infirmity.
To say his words sent a shock through us doesn’t begin to describe what we felt. For the past two years Jesus had formed the center of our world. He was the sun. He was the light. He was the power. He was the only one in the history of the world who possessed such gifts, such authority. These were not skills a person could learn. These were not techniques people could take and apply to similar situations in their own lives. King David couldn’t do what this man did. Elijah never did once what Jesus did daily. The Prophet John, with all of his authority, all of his insight, and all of his faithfulness to God could not perform such works.
We all knew the great honor bestowed upon us when Jesus chose us for his disciples. It gave us the privilege of being with him, of learning from him, of growing under his personal supervision. But none of us held any illusions that we would one day be like him. I want very much for you to understand me here. There have been times in human history when God sovereignly selected a man to play a crucial role in his plan. Elijah was such a man. Samuel was such a man. Moses was such a man. The Prophet John was such a man, filled with the Spirit of God before he was born. But I was not such a man, nor was my brother, Andrew, nor my friends James and John. We were just ordinary people who somehow ended up standing next to the most extraordinary man who ever lived.
And yet now here we were, listening to Jesus tell us he was about to equip us to do the things he could do. Crowd control I understood. Following Jesus I understood. Listening and learning and living with him I understood. But working miracles I did not.
The Lord spent the rest of the morning instructing us on the proper use of the authority he was giving us. We were to go only to those he called “the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” We were not to go to the Gentiles or even to the Samaritans. We would go out in teams of two, and our basic message was to be the proclamation that the kingdom of heaven is at hand. Jesus strongly impressed upon us that we were not to sell our healing powers. We could accept meals and housing from those who offered but nothing else in return for our ministry. We were to take no supplies with us but rather to trust God to meet our needs along the way. When we encountered people who resisted our message, we simply were to move on to the next village, shaking the dust from our feet as we left.
Jesus talked with us once again about God’s deep love for us. He wanted us to know we did not go out for God; we went out with him. He told us God had numbered even the hairs of our heads, and we could trust his protection and his leadership as we went. I loved it when he said things like that. The idea of God numbering the hairs on our heads got us all laughing, especially because it was obvious God would have a much easier time with some of us than others.
As he talked with us that morning, I realized I didn’t know this God the Master was talking about—not really. My God was a rather unpleasant being who demanded what I could not deliver and controlled through fear of judgment. He was a God created for me by the religious leaders in our nation, a God who kept track of every fish I caught and kept a record of every fish I tithed to make certain I was giving the required amount.
But a God who cared about me so much he numbered the hairs on my head was new to me. As the Master talked, I found myself longing for it to be true. I wanted such a God. I wanted to know him, to serve him. I wanted to learn how to love him.
If it was true, if what the Master was saying was really true, it meant . . . well, then i
t meant God was just like Jesus. It meant he delighted in me the same way Jesus delighted in me. It meant he valued my friendship the same way Jesus valued my friendship. It meant he loved me with a love that did not cease when I said it wrong or did it wrong or took years to understand what should have been obvious from the day I was born. It meant he didn’t turn his back on me when I turned my back on him, when I let my flesh run wild or let my fears or my greed or my anger or my lust lead me into sin. If God was really just like Jesus, it changed everything forever. I suddenly wanted to ask the Master if this was true. But, when I formed the thoughts into words in my mind, it sounded stupid, and so I kept quiet. But oh! If only it could be . . .
The heart of our message was clear—we were going out to tell our nation about Jesus. We were to teach them what he had been teaching us. We were to point them to him, to create within them a hunger for him. Jesus told us that if we would confess him before our fellow men, then he would also confess us before his heavenly Father. And he linked us to himself in the most remarkable way. He said, “He who receives you receives me, and he who receives me receives the one who sent me.”
Some of it I understood; some of it I only thought I did. At that point in my life, I assumed this was a brilliant alternative strategy for the Master. With all of us performing wonders and pointing the nation to Jesus, we would certainly create a groundswell of popularity so massive it would be impossible for the established Jewish leaders to prevent Jesus from rising to power.
Jesus divided us into six teams, pairing me with Judas. I was pleased with the match. Judas was a great conversationalist with a quick sense of humor and a keen mind. I knew he would be good company on our big adventure. We all shared a final meal together, made some decisions about who would go which direction, and then headed on our way by early afternoon. The excitement among the Twelve of us was intense. We had no idea what to expect, but we knew this would be unlike anything we had ever experienced.
It felt strange not having Jesus with us. Judas and I headed toward Chorazin, a small town several miles north of Capernaum. As we walked we fell into conversation about the Master, the movement, and the hope of bringing our nation under his leadership. At that point in our lives the two of us shared a great deal in common. We both believed Jesus was the obvious, the only, hope for Israel. We both believed the purpose of our mission was to help move the Master into some political or religious leadership position that would then enable him to restore Israel to its former glory. We differed in the details of how we believed this could best be accomplished but felt we understood perfectly the meaning of the message the Master had instructed us to proclaim: “The kingdom of heaven is at hand!” Obviously we were being sent out to herald the arrival of God’s kingdom on earth and the presence of Jesus, God’s designated king. And one other thing Judas and I agreed on—our personal futures, our hopes, our success depended on the success of Jesus.
Knowing now what I do about Judas and about his fate, I have thought back over those days and tried to see where he and I differed at that point in our lives. I certainly didn’t see it clearly then, and perhaps not at all. But if I saw any difference at all between us, I would say that whereas Judas was wholeheartedly committed to the success of the movement, I was wholeheartedly committed to the success of the Master. At the time, of course, we believed the two to be identical and saw ourselves as comrades in a common cause. It was not until very late in our relationship, when Jesus forced us to redefine the success of his mission in terms of the cross, and the crowds turned away from him in fear, or anger, or disgust, that the different allegiances of Judas and myself became evident. By then, however, my own world was in such chaos I could not see what was happening in those around me until it was all over.
We distracted ourselves with conversation as we walked the few miles to Chorazin, but inside I was so excited I felt as if I would explode. I couldn’t wait to find someone who was sick so that I could try out the power. I was like a kid clutching the best birthday gift in the world, anxiously waiting for the party to end so that I could run outside and play with my new treasure.
I didn’t have to wait long. We arrived at our destination by late afternoon and headed straight to the marketplace in the center of town. The daily business of buying and selling was winding down for the evening, but there were still a number of people in the area. And of course there were the beggars—the lame, the deformed, the crippled, the injured—hoping for a small gift from a compassionate merchant or customer.
I saw my target almost immediately. He was young, certainly not over fifteen or sixteen years old. He would have been a good-looking lad if a person’s eyes would not have gone first to the little stubs protruding from where his arms should have been. I pictured him sitting in this same place as a child, his coin container between his little legs, calling out for kindness. I couldn’t help but wonder if his success in competing with the other beggars for coins had diminished now that an insecure and awkward adolescent sat where a pathetic little boy once pulled at the hearts of those who passed by.
He looked up when I approached, and the sadness in his eyes jolted me out of my self-centered excitement. This wasn’t a target. This wasn’t a test case. This was a real, hurting human being before me. For a few seconds I just stood there, staring at the lad, not saying a word. A rare bout of self-doubt flooded over me. What if this didn’t work? What if nothing happened? What was I doing here without Jesus? What if I ended up looking like some sort of sadistic fool? Then I heard Judas’s voice beside me. “Go ahead, Peter! Do it! He said we could. Give it a try. We’ll never know if we don’t try.”
Now I understood why Jesus sent us out in twos.
I knelt down in front of the boy, reached out and put my hands on his shoulders, and said, “Be healed!”
Instantly two little stubs of flesh were transformed into strong, young, whole shoulders, arms, hands, fingers, and thumbs. To this day I’m not sure which of us was more surprised. For a few seconds we both sat frozen in position, staring at the transformation in his body. Then the boy sprang to his feet and began waving his hands wildly in the air. As soon as I stood up, he grabbed me, wrapped his two new, miraculous arms around me, and gave me the first hug of his life.
The boy’s yelling and waving and bouncing around the market attracted the attention of everyone within hearing distance. Judas and I looked at each other, and above the boy’s squeals of delight, I heard Judas say, “It works! It really works!” As the crowd gathered around us, I saw Judas reach down and touch the eyes of an old blind beggar and restore his sight.
For the next half hour, the two of us moved throughout the marketplace touching and healing every disease and deformity we encountered. By the time we finished, most of the community was packed around us watching in stunned amazement. When we finally ran out of candidates for healing, I jumped up onto a wide stone wall, held up my hands for silence, and then began to speak.
It was the greatest moment in my life up to that point. Never had I experienced such a sense of power. As soon as the people saw I was about to speak, silence filled the marketplace. The sun was setting behind me. It was the time of day when most people would have been heading home to their families. But not today. Not now. Not with me standing on that wall before them. I knew already what my first words would be.
“My fellow Israelites, THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN IS AT HAND!”
I must have stood on that wall for more than an hour talking to the people before me. I told them we were disciples of the man they had been hearing about, Jesus of Nazareth. I told them he had given us the ability to perform these great works. I told them about his work, about his message, about his powers. I told them he was the great hope and future for our nation. I finally stopped when it grew too dark for them to see me. My young friend with the new arms stood directly beneath me throughout my lecture. As soon as I jumped down from the wall, he grabbed my arm and urged Judas and me to come to his parents’ home for the night.
The only way I can explain that phase of my life is to say that for a brief period of time, my Lord allowed me to know what it was like to express the power of God with the mind of the flesh. The time would come following the resurrection of our Lord when for the first time in the history of the human race, every true child of God would be filled with the Spirit of God. Our great burden of sin would be placed upon the shoulders of Christ, and he would carry it away from us forever. He would then create within each of us a new heart, a pure, perfect heart, a heart that loves him and longs to serve him. With that new heart within us, and his Holy Spirit working through us, he would then be freed to reshape our minds and our emotions into greater and greater conformity with his own glorious image, while daily expressing himself through our personalities in ways perfectly matched to the unique people he designed us to be.
But that was not what was happening at this point in my life. This was not the infilling of the Spirit of God given to every Christian. This was not the outflowing of the life of God from a heart in submission to him. This was simply the specialized gifting of the Holy Spirit, equipping us to perform acts of healing for the purpose of powerfully proclaiming the person of Christ throughout the nation of Israel. It had little to do with us. It certainly had nothing to do with the quality of our lives or the purity of our hearts. As Judas and I traveled together, I watched the power of God performing mighty miracles through him. And yet, in a matter of months he would sell out the Master for a few coins, and I would recall the words of Jesus: “Many will say to me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, didn’t we prophesy in your name, and in your name cast out demons, and in your name perform many miracles?’ And then I will say to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from me, you who practice lawlessness.’”
The Fisherman Page 11