That morning I went to the market with the usual products:eggs, milk, etc. Little Jeremiah came along to help me as well. The morning was monotonous and uneventful as usual. It wasn't until late afternoon that things started stirring up. Around four, I heard someone talking about a Jesus of Nazareth being tried under Pontius Pilate. Intrigued, I decided to check it out. When I got there I saw an innocent looking man standing before Pilate. I assumed this was Jesus. He was being questioned. Strikingly, he stood silent through testimony and questioning alike. What could this simple peasant have done to cause such trouble? Meanwhile, Pilate seemed to be debating something with himself, looking very nervous. Pilate started talking to the crowd about something I couldn't hear. Then suddenly everyone around me started screaming, "Crucify him! Crucify him!" Would they really give this seemingly harmless man such a painful and gruesome death? I decided against it, I could see in his eyes that the man had done nothing wrong.

Pilate once again addressed the mob, which had so previously been a tranquil crowd. He said he was washing his hands of this Jesus' blood. I couldn't believe it. How could they do that to such a compassionate looking man? The next thing I knew Jesus was carried away. I returned home that night, disturbed and interested. I must learn more about this Jesus, I told my wife, Esther, after explaining my bizarre encounter that afternoon.

The following morning I went into town early, determined to learn of this man. From a pharisee I heard he had blasphemed, from a weeping woman that he was our (the Jews) Savior and Messiah, and from a Roman soldier that he was a revolutionary. Who was this man? Confused, I made my way towards Golgatha, the location of the gory crucifixion about to take place. The event had already begun when I got there. I saw the poor, beaten Jesus struggling up the hill. Some people were weeping, but many spitting and cursing violently. Although something told me to stay and learn more about this dying man, I went home after a few minutes. I couldn't make myself watch. I thought it would all be over by that night, and Jesus forgotten.

About two months later, I realized how wrong I had been. There was a large commotion in town that day. I saw some poor men preaching about this Jesus character. I learned about the kingdom of heaven and love of your neighbor. I learned Jesus had risen from the dead. At last, I thought, our Savior has come to save us. Exuberant, I fought to get closer. People were being baptized and praising the Lord. Strangely enough, the preaching men were talking to people of many nations, being understood by each. How could this happen? From this I knew these men were truly filled with the Lord. After retrieving my family, we were all baptized and converted to Christianity.

Now we come to the present, the day after this conversion experience. There is still a commotion in town about this Christ figure, but the real question is whether or not this fledging religion will survive or not. I don't know, but I am going to do everything in my power to see that it does.

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