Author's Note: This is a fic I wrote for Archive of Our Own's Yuletide Exchange. (For those of you still interested in Libélula, I have so much of it written and just need to finish the dratted next chapter. I haven't forgotten it!)
And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build My church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. - Matthew 16:18
A wooden boat lazily drifted atop the waters of the Sea of Galilee. A slender young man about the age of 25 angrily pulled it towards the shore, cursing at himself for ever having agreed with his father to make the eight-hour trek to Nazareth. There was word of a talented carpenter who could make anything from furniture to boats to toys, and even unique pieces of jewelry for the more copious spender. It was the boats that had caught Yonah's ears when he had heard the news. A man of 45, Yonah was getting sicker by the year and felt it necessary to make one last investment for his sons. Never had he purchased a high-quality boat, and he wanted to leave his children with stability in their profession. Simon, at least, was already talented in the trade, but his store of wealth was not sufficient to make any major replacements in the case of an emergency.
God, if you can hear me! Simon prayed. This is not the life I want. I know that this is and was the way of my fathers, but every time I think about spending the rest of my days on a boat filled with the stench of rotting fish, I begin to hate my life.
Simon dragged his arm across his brow, wiping away glossy beads of sweat. He typically was not a man of deep contemplation, but one day as he sat and stared at his father across the waters, really taking in his father's aging face, Simon realized that this is not how he wanted to die. He wanted more from his life than earning a living, more than just raising a family. What that might be, he didn't know. How would he even begin to search for the answer to that? Even more challenging was the question of how he would find it in such a place as Bethsaida. He also felt guilty, as he knew how hard his father had worked to provide his sons with a stable legacy. How can I disrespect my father after everything he has done for me?
And…where would I go? What would I do with my life?
He felt that it was too late to learn a new trade. His prayer for many months, including that day, was that God would provide the answer he desired.
.oOo.
Several months prior, Yonah had traveled to Nazareth to visit his sister Miriam. On the way, he had passed a carpenter's workshop. A man by the name of Yossef and his sixteen-year-old son Yeshua had been working on a unique piece of furniture, and the intricate woodwork caught the eye of the fisherman. He asked his sister about the carpenter's skill, and inquired as to whether the man was a reliable businessman.
"Yossef of Nazareth and his son are the most talented carpenters for miles and miles around. Everyone knows that! They attract a lot of business from even the Romans, and it is said that members of high society buy from them. They are a very good family." She paused. "Though…they have had somewhat of a scandalous reputation for years."
"What do you mean?"
"Well…and you didn't hear this from me, but the boy is rumored to have been fathered by another man."
"What? And he stayed with the woman?"
"Oh, don't worry, Yonah! They have proven to be a very reputable family. I will say, though, I believe the rumor. The boy…he's different from the rest of the family."
"What do you mean? Is he odd?"
"No, not odd. He is the kindest, most thoughtful boy I have ever met. It's nothing bad. It's just…sometimes, when he talks to you, he knows things."
"Knows things? What do you mean?"
"Yes. I can't really explain it. It's…as though he understands what people are feeling." Miriam paused thoughtfully, as though recalling something. "Once, poor Ezra fell out of a tree when he was still very young. It was the most horrible thing that has ever happened to us. He hit his head, and he was knocked unconscious. I didn't know what I was going to do. That day, a few hours later, the young Yeshua delivered a bowl I had ordered from Yossef. I didn't say a word when I saw him. I wasn't even crying, I was just worried. You know me. I don't usually like to show how I feel. But…I don't know…it felt like he knew what was going on in my heart. He put his hand on my arm, and all I could do was weep."
Suddenly remembering something, she gave a light gasp.
"And…I just remembered this! I haven't thought about it in years. He told me that Ezra would be fine. He prayed with me. And I just felt a noticeable peace come over me as he was speaking. I've never experienced such a thing. After he left, I went back to the room where Ezra was, and he was awake, as though nothing had happened!"
"What?!"
"Yes! He was healed! Now that I think about it, I haven't spoken about this with anyone. Come to think of it, the boy might have even told me not to say anything."
"Are you saying the boy healed your son?"
"I don't know. But there haven't been any serious injuries in Nazareth since that family settled here. It's as though the town has been blessed."
"Interesting. Well, if you recommend them, I will look into it."
So it was that Yonah the fisherman ordered a boat from Yossef of Nazareth.
.oOo.
Simon prepared his father's boat, irritated at the hot weather.
As they set sail toward Nazareth, Simon's father commented that he had high hopes for his order.
"What's so special about this Yossef? Why couldn't we have just gotten a boat from a closer builder?"
"I had high reviews from my sister."
Simon rolled his eyes but said nothing else. He had heard the story a million times and his interest in the skill of this mysterious man and his son was growing. He had heard the story of his cousin falling out of the tree over and over again since his father returned from that trip. Out of sheer curiosity, Simon initially consented to go with his father in place of his brother, Andrew, but now that they were on their way, Simon regretted ever having made the agreement.
.oOo.
A young man about the age of 16 sat quietly in the corner of the carpenter's workspace, observing his father, taking note of every stroke of the hand. The young man's eyes were deep and observant, as though he were memorizing every detail so that he could later mimic the work being done. At that moment, Simon walked into the shop.
After his eyes lingered on his father's work for several more seconds, the young man looked up, and Simon instantly felt drawn to him, as though he were looking at an old friend.
The young man smiled. "Greetings. I am Yeshua. How may I help you?"
"Yes, hello. I am Simon, and I come from Bethsaida. My father, Yonah, ordered a boat from you," Simon replied.
"Ah, yes, Yonah of Bethsaida. We have been expecting you. It would be the third boat we've ever made. It was quite a challenge, but I'm sure you'll find it meets the requirements."
"Where is it?"
Yeshua waited for permission from his father by virtue of a slight nod. "Follow me," Yeshua said to Simon with a strange grin on his face.
Simon followed him to a secluded location outside the back of the shop and gave a whistle as soon as he saw the finished product. The boat was beautiful, carefully crafted and shaped as though a fisherman had directed the placement of each wooden plank. The wood was of the highest quality, and even the design on the bow was elegantly crafted. Simon almost felt bad about using it to fish.
"You seem pleased," Yeshua smiled.
"I…just…wasn't expecting this."
"Did you doubt our skill?" he joked.
"Well, I really had no frame of reference to go by, though I had heard rumors of your family's work."
Yeshua's smile spread across his face. "I am glad you like it." He paused, watching Simon stare at the boat. "This boat should last you a very long time."
Simon's face slightly fell as the reality of his future suddenly sunk in. He had been trying to avoid thinking about it, but it was nearly impossible with his father gushing about how proud he was that his son would continue in his line of work. It was strange for Simon to behold an object that would be part of his life in the many years to come. He merely gave the young carpenter a "Hmm" in acknowledgement.
Yeshua squinted his eyes pensively before he made his next statement, "The desire of your heart is not to be a fisherman, is it?"
Simon spun his head to face the boy. Out of hotheaded instinct, he opened his mouth in protest, but his jaw simply gaped open as soon as the words sunk in. How does he know?! The tone of the young man standing before him exhibited neither blame nor condescension, but his words cut like a sword sharp enough to separate bone and marrow. Upon realizing that his father might be nearby, Simon quickly looked behind and around him in apprehension.
"Are you crazy?" he whispered, his anger rising, "what if my father hears you? Who have you been talking to?"
Yeshua ignored his question. "I believe that you were never meant to live your days aimlessly. You are skilled in catching fish, but you know that it is not your true calling."
Simon's eyes grew as wide as oysters.
"Who do you think you are?" Simon snapped, but he bit his tongue in guilt as he recognized that the statement was said in kindness and not spite. It compelled Simon to take careful heed. The eyes of the boy before him regarded Simon with something he had only seen from a select few people in his life—love? But he is a complete stranger! And he's just a kid! Despite this, Simon felt the young carpenter's words slowly make their way into his heart, working and shifting so he was forced to consider the possibility of what was being said. Simon recalled the prayer he had uttered that very morning; it was the same one he had been praying for so many months. Not wanting to let on that Yeshua's words had pierced him, he finally just shut his mouth and frowned.
"Who do you think I am?" Yeshua asked.
Simon stood in silence for a beat. What does it matter what I think? "I know you are a skilled carpenter," he eventually answered.
"Your natural eyes see that I am a carpenter, but a time will come when Someone else will reveal to you who I really am. Your destiny has yet to be made known to you, but one day we will meet again, and in that season you will be left with the choice to be a fisherman or a fisher of men."
Simon squinted his eyes in confusion. Fisher of men? What is he talking about? I'm not a cannibal!
Yeshua let out a merry laugh, as though he could read Simon's thoughts, "No, the eating of flesh will come later."
"Huh?!" Simon gasped, more at the boy's ability to read his mind than the suggestion that was being made.
Yeshua chuckled, "I am only teasing, my friend."
Just then, both of the boys' fathers walked in, interrupting them. They were laughing about something they had been discussing until Yonah laid his eyes on the carpenters' creation.
"This is sensational!" he shouted.
Yossef chortled happily, "I am glad you like it! My boy, Yeshua, did most of the work. He is sure to be the best carpenter in the region when I am gone. That is, if he chooses to be a carpenter."
Yonah looked at Yossef, puzzled. "He is training for more than one trade? This is fantastic work! Surely he would make a prosperous living with such remarkable talent!"
They all suddenly grew very quiet.
Simon turned to glance at Yeshua, but the look on his face gave him no clues. So. He doesn't want to follow in his father's footsteps, either? Maybe this is why he knows how I felt…then again, I really think he read my mind. He really can sense what people feel.
"My boy will make the right decision when the time comes. He is talented in areas other than just his hands. I believe God will bless him in whatever he does."
The answer seemed satisfactory to Yonah, so he left the issue alone.
.oOo.
Transporting the boat all the way back to the Sea of Galilee was a rough endeavor, and the heat added no respite. Throughout their trek, the words of the carpenter's son continued to burn within Simon. Something had been unlocked within him, as though he was finally given permission to consider a different life. Somewhere deep inside of him, he knew that his life's purpose did not lie within the natural sea. Normally, he would not have let anyone talk to him like that, but the boy knew just the right words to say, and knew just the right way to say them, that Simon could not stop musing on their implications for his future. Yeshua was so sure of himself and possessed such authority when he spoke that it was impossible not to believe that what he was saying was the truth. Could he really know something about my future that I don't?
I wonder whether I really will run into him again?
It would be another 14 years before Yeshua would see the boat he built for Simon again, and at that time, he would greet his friend with the same words: Follow me.