Come Unto Me
Three times I met this Jesus of
Nazareth, and each time I felt strange and
confused. Each time he
gently spoke three simple words, "COME UNTO ME." Yet each
time, gentle and tender as he was, it seemed almost terrifying. How can
I explain how my heart fought desperately to follow him.
Even to the grave, and yet I was held back by
some unexplainable force, stronger even than the intensity of my love for
him. Some would question that I did love Jesus, scoffing at my vow of devotion
saying, "then why didn't you follow him?" Why didn't I follow him?
Oh how I have pleaded with my heart to send
the answer and yet I did
not know then and I do not know now why I did not follow
Jesus.
The first time I met him I was
traveling to a neighboring town with several
of my comrades. As we
approached him and three of his disciples I knew, even from a
distance, that this man was different. My steps faltered as I stood
transfixed as he approached. My comrades, who had heard the rumors about
this King began laughing and jeering at him. One was even so bold as to
spit at his feet, but he walking only as if he saw me. If my thoughts reflected
in my eyes it's no wonder he gave such full attention to me. I was
scared, yet calm and immovable and only vaguely aware of my friends beginning
to shout at me for not joining in with their railing and
ridicule. He stopped
before me and looked into my eyes and it was like looking
into all eternity. I felt my heart whisper, "If you've never loved before,
and if you never love again, here is one to give your dearest and deepest
love to." I felt a surge of love for him as I have never felt before,
warm and pure. I am sure he felt this too for with kindness in his eyes,
he smiled so tenderly and said, "COME UNTO ME."
At that moment one of my friends came
up and slapped me on the shoulder and said, "Oh no, don't tell me
you're falling for the magical spell of this
might king."
Suddenly I thought how foolish I must look before my friends, and
almost unconsciously said, with a sly laugh, "Me? Of
course not. What do you take me for? A common peasant?" We all laughed and I turned to join my
friends but not so suddenly that I did not see his eyes change from love to
pain. That momentary glance pierced me deeper than any sword, but I
still walked off
laughing with my friends, at the common carpenter.
The second time I met him, I was
alone. It was early in the evening and I was drawing water from my well and he
walked up beside me and put his hand on my arm. I did not have to look up
to know it was him, nor could I look into those eyes again, so I avoided
his gaze and hurried with my task, the sooner to leave. Once again I was
transfixed. My eyes were soon enveloped on his own. All I could see in them
was forgiveness and that ever present sea of love, wide and deeper than the
ocean. He spoke out three words that cut deep into my soul and made my
heart gush with tears, "COME UNTO ME."
I longed to go with him. I wanted
desperately to run back and give him my heart, which he already had a firm
hold on, but didn't. I didn't even look back, I couldn't. I dropped to the
ground and tried to drown his words with my tears, but I couldn't do that
either. Why didn't I follow him? Why? I only saw him once more. It was the
last night in
wept, until there were
no more tears. How long I was there I do not know. I only
remember that suddenly I felt myself walking back to Cavalry. I didn't want
to return, but I was going. I walked slowly and thoughtfully, never stopping
until I was standing beneath his feet.
It was dark and I stood there several
minutes before my eyes rose to meet his, and when they did, strangely
enough, he seemed as he had before, radiant with power, glowing with
love. I knew they could not kill him, not
any more than they could
kill the love I felt for him. This time, he could barely
whisper, "COME UNTO ME." I fell to my knees and answered his three simple
words and said, "Yes, my Savior, I will come."
It was the next day that Roman
soldiers found the body of a man at the foot
of the cross. No one
knew the man, nor could they find the reason for his death.
In his hand he was clutching a small piece of paper that had written on
it, as if it were his last and final message to mankind, in a weak, scratchy
handwriting, "I didn't lack the love, I only lacked the Courage."
-Author currently unknown.
Received from Adam Krehbiel
From Peter Schwer
"...we know of their surety and
truth,
because of the Spirit of
the Lord Omnipotent,
which has wrought a
mighty change in us, or in
our hearts, that we have
no more disposition to do
evil but to do good
continually."