Title:

… and sit a while with me …

Author:

Mrs. Trabi

Timeframe:

1944 and 29 A.C.

Summary:

AU/Realization can be a hard thing and when it hits Hereweald Hrothgar, he's not too happy about it. Through an accident, he and his student, Jamie Novak, fall back to the year 29 A.C. to meet Jesus of Nazareth and His disciples – what will he, the dark and tough man from a different time learn from a man that knows him better than he knows himself? And what will the child learn from a man his parents have always said won't care about him because he has no worth?

Disclaimer:

Well … I do not own anything written in the Bible, neither the words nor the persons, places, or happenings – the words are God's words and any other things are the attests of witness from people who lived about two thousands of years ago, or rather the translations of their testimonies … I'm just borrowing things from that book, and even though I promise that I won't misuse anything written in the Bible, that I won't dishonour God, His name, His words or our belief in Him – I nevertheless do apologize for the chaos I might create in this story … I promise, I will bring it in as much order as is possible for a chaotically inclined writer … thanks for your understanding …

Rating:

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

Author's Notes:

Here, I'd like to say that this story isn't meant to discredit the Bible, God, His word, Jesus, or anything we believe in. God is and remains our first and most important priority – or at least that it is what should be. I am writing this in the hope that I'll live up to the responsibility every author has even though I am aware that this here will be very difficult.

I will be trying to handle the subject as delicately and as seriously as possible, I promise, and I do hope that not only I won't be flamed for this, but that also I'll find one or another of my readers who'll gain a new view and understanding … and that you'll like this one as much as you do my other stories, even though this concerns a different – and in my opinion much more important – book … thanks …

Added author's notes:

I apologize for all the months I haven't updated this story. I've had a Beta, but with all her studying and working and other things, there's barely time for going over some chapters – and now I have desperately looked for someone else. Regrettably I haven't found another Beta and so I fear that you will have to bear the mistakes which will certainly make their ways into these following chapters, seeing that you can't make an omelette without breaking eggs, like my grandmother always said. Maybe I'm lucky and it's bad enough so that someone has mercy with me and this story …

Warning:

Story will contain bad language and swearing.

Don't ever use such, it's neither good manners nor proper use of language and never mind how 'cool' it might sound, it surely isn't a sign of intelligence. It won't get you anywhere and people will think less of you if you are unable articulating properly.

Story will contain references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once having been abused, then try to help … there are too many people in our world who are or have been mistreated.

This does however not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be …^.~ … believe me - I am …

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Previously in … and sit a while with me …

"Mark is a good boy." He said, giving his attention back to Peter. "But like all boys he needs to learn his responsibilities. That is what the adults are there for, to teach him."

"Sure he's a good boy." Peter nodded his head. "But he's a handful anyway."

"You better get used to having a handful of boy around you." He mused, frowning for another moment before looking up at the sky, his eyes narrowed in concentration, but the only things he could see – were the stars.

"Is there something we should know about?" Peter asked, and he looked back down, watching his disciple that was his rock. For a moment he considered his words, but then he leaned back and relaxed.

"I'm not really sure, but I think that the upcoming weeks will become very interesting." He slowly answered, still not sure about what was to come, nor why his Father would plant the feeling in his heart without giving him details.

But well, what was to come, would come anyway – he would learn of the details the moment they arrived.

"When will you send Mark back home, Peter?" He then asked, still trying to listen into his heart, trying to find an answer to the strange thing he could feel.

"I will bring him over by tomorrow evening." Peter answered and he lifted his eyebrow at him. So far Peter had allowed the boy to walk home by himself, Mark was old enough, after all, the boy was fourteen. "There are a lot of strange folk wandering the outskirts of Jerusalem lately and I don't want the lad walking the streets alone. The feast of Tabernacles is attracting a lot of false healers, charlatans, and other scalawags this year. Not the righteous people you are searching for, Jesus."

"And yet they are but men, walking a wrong path." He said, shrugging his shoulders. "Why don't you lead them on the right path, Peter? They can be saved as much as anyone else, if only there is someone to teach them."

Again there was a shift in his mind, in his heart, a small, little knowledge being placed there by his Father – and he knew, yes, indeed, there would be a storm coming up and he better prepared for more trouble at hand than he had thought might arise – while at the same time he would – with some time and patience given – get a thirteenth disciple.

… and sit a while with me …

Part one – of teachers and pupils

Chapter seven – Lord, give me patience

Fall 29 A.C. about November – Jerusalem

Viewpoint of Peter

Interesting? He thought, lifting his eyebrow at Jesus. That man really had suggested that the upcoming weeks could become – interesting? What, in his Lord's name, had they been up to now then? All the past two and a half years, while they had travelled with Jesus, had been interesting! So – what was Jesus' view of – interesting?

He was sure that, if that man said things could get interesting, then it would get – rather breathtaking and in one thing his Master was correct, he better prepared himself – or got used to it as he had said. And he knew that Jesus was right, because, well – he'd always been right. Not to mention his glance at the sky, as if he was conversing with his Father in heaven – again.

Did this mean that Mark would be around them for longer than was planned?

But if so, then Jesus wouldn't have asked when he would send Mark back home, now would he? He would have known that Mark wouldn't go home, wouldn't he? Would Mark be back with them soon again? But, well yes, Mark surely was a handful – but clearly no reason for chaos, or to prepare himself for anything. He could easily handle the boy, and so he was sure that Jesus had not meant the lad.

Not to mention that – for Jesus, things, which were interesting and unbelieving, breathtaking, for them, well – for Jesus they were still normal and as often as sometimes they stood there, not knowing what to do, not understanding their Lord – well, Jesus too sometimes stood there, looking at them, perplexed for a moment because he didn't understand how they could not understand him now. He always found a solution then, in either explaining things to them, or in simply telling them what was to do, but that didn't change the little fact that there were miles between them and their perceptives sometimes.

It wasn't so long ago that Jesus had last thrown them into such a challenging situation without really understanding how they could not understand.

It had been a while that John, John the Baptist, had been imprisoned by Herod, because he'd said that it wasn't lawful for him to have his brother's wife. Herod had never harmed John in prison because he knew that John was still viewed as a prophet by the people – and Herod surely wouldn't incur the wrath of his own people. But then Herod's birthday had come and things had changed rather quickly.

Flashback

Hurriedly they went along the streets of Jerusalem in search for Jesus.

It's been Herod's birthday just a few days ago – unmistakably, as several feasts had been celebrated throughout Galilee – and horrible things had happened.

He knew that Jesus was on his way to the synagogue where he was to meet with them, and they'd been there already, but Jesus hadn't been there yet, nor had any of the other disciples. Sure, they could have waited there – but they were too upset, they just couldn't sit still and wait patiently! Not with the knowledge about the latest killing! And there Jesus always told them that everyone could be saved! Really! A fool was Jesus sometimes but not the Son of the living God! How could Jesus be so damn overcredulous! As if he hadn't ever seen slain and murder before!

"Sorry, Jesus." He mumbled while hurrying along another street. "I haven't meant it like that."

Of course, he hadn't. He would never really think that Jesus was a fool, and neither would he ever doubt that Jesus was the Son of the living God. But sometimes that man could get close to killing him!

"Pardon me." He murmured when he hurried 'round a corner and collided with someone, not even looking at the person but already hurrying on, in his mind already apologizing for the harsh thoughts he'd had concerning Jesus, when the man, he had collided with, grabbed his upper arm to keep him from hurrying on and he prepared himself for trouble, already casting a hastily and warning glance at Matthew who was with him, so that he wouldn't answer to any trouble the offended person might cause – trouble was the last thing he needed right now.

"Peter!" The person however called, and frowning he looked back at the man, away from Matthew and up at the person he had collided with, recognizing James and behind him John. "Matthew! Finally! Where were you?"

"Thank God, James!" He called out. "John! Where's Jesus?"

"What happened, Peter?" James asked, not answering his question and he nearly growled impatiently. "You look as if you had seen death itself."

"Where is Jesus, James?" He asked, again, gripping the other man by his shoulders and nearly shaking him.

But well, it worked and apparently James realized that he was in a hurry – and with bad news so – because without another word he quickly led them along the narrow street and towards the well beside the inn closest to the synagogue, and just a moment later he could see all the other disciples standing there, apparently having met there to go to the synagogue as a group, only waiting for Matthew and him, and now that he was there, he remembered Jesus telling something like that in the back of his mind, but with the news he'd heard on his way, he'd forgotten about it and had searched for Jesus in the synagogue already.

"You've found him, good." Andrew said to James and John the moment they arrived, but he didn't heed any attention to that, not now.

"Jesus!" He said, approaching the man and then he stood there, before his Lord, not knowing what to say, nor how to say it. For a moment he looked over at Matthew who had been with him when Jesus had sent all of them on their mission, in pairs, but Matthew seemed as much at a loss as was he himself, looking back at him helplessly.

Of course most people knew John, the Baptist, having been baptized by him some time ago, after all, but Jesus didn't just know that man because he'd been baptized by him. Jesus and John had practically grown up together. They had been cousins, they had been like brothers, they had been friends from their earliest childhood on, and Jesus loved John very much – how did you tell someone that his brother was killed? That his friend was killed? How did you …

Looking into Jesus' face however, he knew that there wasn't need to tell him, because Jesus already knew it, knew what he was thinking and a moment later the man placed his hand on his shoulder with a small nod, his dark eyes sad – he had understood.

"Go to the shore, we will leave the city." Was all Jesus said and he knew, he needed some time away from here, to pray, and to remember his friend and brother, because in the city they would have neither privacy nor leisure time for such.

"What happened?" James asked when they went towards the shore and the harbour.

"Herodias' daughter was among the dancers at Herod's birthday and Herod was very pleased about her skills." He darkly whispered while they all hurried along the street towards the shore. "And so Herod has promised her to give her whatever she should ask of him, and with an oath even, the idiot! And Herodias, that … 'woman' … has prompted her to ask for the head of John."

"What?" John asked, looking around as though he feared people would attack him at any moment and for a moment he frowned at the man, not understanding his rising panic.

"You're not serious!" James said, stopping and gripping his arm to stop him too, looking at him seriously. "Why would that woman ask for John's head! My brother has done nothing!"

"Not your brother!" He whispered, suddenly understanding and prompting James and John to go on walking as they were falling back behind the others. "John the Baptist. Herodias wanted the head of John the Baptist, on a platter!"

"Don't tell me that he commanded John's death!" James asked, softly.

"How otherwise could he have John's head on a platter if not with commanding his death! think, James! Of course he did." He answered. "For the sake of his oath he had sworn."

"So, John is dead." John said, and he nodded, understanding this man's emotional pain, too. "What are Jesus' plans now?"

"What do you think?" He asked back. "He has just learned that his friend and cousin has died, was murdered! What do you think he will be doing? He will go to a calm place where he can pray and grieve in privacy! That's what he'll do!"

End flashback

"My brother has done nothing." …

"John has done nothing." …

Somehow James was always occupied with defending his brother, he just realized with a small smile. But well, back to the thing with John, of course that had been Jesus' plan, going to a quiet and peaceful place where they could pray and grieve in privacy, but well, apparently there had been some people who had overheard James, John and him, and they had followed them. And while this hadn't been too challenging for them, it had been what had followed, what had had them struggling, even though Jesus himself had not understood why they would struggle with a task as easy as this – after all, it had been five thousands only!

Flashback

They had, indeed, gone to a desert place apart, just like they had planned, but a lot of people had followed, really a lot, it had to be five thousand at least, if not more even, and even though Jesus had been grieving, he had shown compassion on them anyway, because – that was what he'd said – they were like sheep without a shepherd, and so he had healed their sick. And the people had listened to him, like they did so often. All day long had they stood there, listening to their Lord, and Jesus had so far not thought of sending them home. Not that he ever did, if Jesus was in his element – what he always was when preaching – then he forgot time and place and anything else and he just sat there, preaching, and teaching the multitudes.

And now it was evening, and it was really time for them to go home, because they would need some time for their trip to the cities around the desert, and it was already getting late. They wouldn't manage to get a place in the cities before darkness if they didn't leave now, and there was no inn or guesthouse nearby that could house as many people as this – let alone feed them.

"Jesus." He softly said, touching the man's shoulder for a moment to get his attention and his Lord actually looked at him, questioningly. "All due respect for your teaching, but it is really late, Jesus, and here is nothing but desert land. You should send the people away so that they may go into the villages where they can buy food and get a place to sleep, before it is too late."

"There is no need to send them away, now." Jesus answered and he blinked at the man, stupidly, because – not sending them away? "Just give them something to eat."

He was sure that his gaze went a bit more stupidly even at these words than it had been before, but – giving them to eat? About five thousand people? Women and children not included even? How in Heaven's name could he not look stupidly at that?

"These surely are about five thousand people if not more, Jesus." He softly said, even though he was sure that the other man knew very well how many people there were. "We cannot feed all of them. We would never manage, even if we went fishing and hunting, and picking fruit right now. Not to mention that here is no fruit. And no deer either."

"What do we have?" Jesus then asked, looking at him as if he wouldn't understand the problem, as if there were no problem at all.

He absolutely loved Jesus, he really, really did – but sometimes this man was so very much getting him off the hinges, it was impossible to keep calm and to not worry – or to not thinking that this time surely Jesus had lost it.

"Five loaves of bread and two fishes only." James answered, coming into the conversation and he was glad that – he wasn't the only one who didn't really understand and thought that Jesus should send the people away. "That will never be enough. It wouldn't even be if it were fifty people only but here are five thousand! Peter is right, Jesus, you need to send them away so that they can go to the villages around."

"Bring them here to me." Jesus said and he sighed.

"The people?" He asked, his sarcasm taking the upper hand for a moment, but he only got a lifted eyebrow from Jesus for his comment.

"No." Jesus seriously shook his head, not dwelling on his comment. "Them, you make sit in groups of fifty, there's enough grassland here where they can sit. I am speaking of the bread and fish."

No other explanation!

Just that they should bring the five loaves of bread and the two fish, and that they should have the multitude sitting down on the grass in groups of fifty.

Nothing like – alright, go and run to the nearby villages and order some food there, and nothing like – have them gather in groups so that a retreat in orderly fashion could be ensured. No, nothing like that! Just that they …

Well, alright! For the sake of Heaven!

He could watch Jesus looking up to heaven, speaking a thanks to his Father, while they made the people sitting down in groups of fifty, and just when they were finished, just when there were sitting a lot of groups – about hundred groups, actually – they turned just the moment when Jesus had finished blessing the bread and waved them over.

With a sigh he went back to his Lord who gave him barely half a loaf of the bread and then told him to share it with his eight or nine groups of fifty people each and he took it, looking at Jesus, helplessly. The other disciples looked just as lost, just as unsure and just as uncomfortable as did he, but none of them dared to say anything.

"You're not really serious." He then said, shaking his head. "This will last for but a few men only, not for four hundred of men. What do you think they will say? You have promised to feed them and now they will get naught but a crumb. You have made them listening to you, you have gained their love, and their respect or they would not have followed you to listen to you all day long, you cannot – they will … damn, Jesus! You'll lose all the respect you have worked so hard for!"

"Do not swear, Peter." Jesus seriously said. "And just feed them."

Closing his eyes he took a deep breath before turning – because if Jesus wanted them to feed the people with crumbs, then he couldn't change it. Well, sure, he could say no. He could refuse making a fool of himself, and he could refuse to allow Jesus making a fool of himself either. It wasn't too late yet to change things and to just tell the people that – they had been wrong and they should hurry to go to the next village so that they could buy some food for themselves … but … that was not an option, not for him anyway. He was sitting in the boat together with Jesus and he would not abandon him, not even while making a fool of himself.

And so he turned to his first group, feeling anything but well in his heart, and for a moment he really stopped before them, looking at the people who looked up at him expectantly, looking at the small piece of bread in his hand – and with a heavy heart and while ignoring the starting whisper amongst the people he broke the bread, giving the first man the smallest amount of bread with the advise to eat it as slowly as possible before he broke the bread again, giving the next man the smallest amount of bread. About two or three bites only he gave them, not more, and even though, he was already thinking of his words when he needed to tell the others that he hadn't any more bread left for them.

He refused to look at them, not really ready in his heart to see the disappointment and then the anger, or the disdain, and the laugher in their faces – but when he had broken from the bread about twenty times, had fed nearly half of his first group, he frowned upon still having the same amount of bread in his hand as he'd had in the beginning, and wondering how many people he might have forgotten and left out he looked back at those he'd given bread already – and he could see that they too were still holding the same amount of bread in their hands he had given them, even though they were over and over breaking small parts from the bread to put them into their mouths, and there was no anger upon their faces, no disdain, and no one was laughing at him either.

They all were looking in wonder, talking amongst each other happily, and looking over at some other groups, where James, John and Peter were feeding the people together with the others, he could see that not only were they as successful as was he with feeding their groups, but that they too were looking back at each other in wonder.

It wasn't long after, he was still sharing from the bread with his last group, when he could hear children's laugher and looking around he could see the children running through the groups, already being filled, while their parents were sitting amongst each other, talking in wonder and for a moment he too looked up at heaven, silently thanking God that he had let down neither his son, nor them, the disciples.

End flashback

Of course they had gotten used to such things with time since their journey together with Jesus had started.

Jesus had long before already healed the sick, had provided others with things they'd needed, had even woken people from the dead. But feeding five thousand, that had been very, very close to his limits of what he could imagine. Healing people was one thing, Jesus was the living Son of God, after all, and even waking someone from the dead, as unbelievingly as it seemed, it was one way or another explainable to him that – if there was someone who could, then Jesus could do such a thing. But – providing five thousand people with food if there was nothing to feed them with? Going against all the rules of – of life? Of nature? Of math? Of science? Or of natural science? Whatever?

But then – "Would I speak about science or arithmetic, then I would need to say things so complicated that nobody would understand them, even with the parables."

No, he had learned that there was absolutely nothing that was impossible for Jesus, and Jesus was not working with arithmetic, but with prayer to his Father.

His problem right now was that – as there was nothing that was impossible for Jesus, and as even the miracles were normal for Jesus, as all their adventurous lives they were living as Jesus' apprentices were normal for Jesus – what would then come now? Now that Jesus was saying that the next few weeks could get interesting? What, in Heaven's name, could be interesting for Jesus? And how world-turning would it have to be for them, then?

God in Heaven! He thought for a moment, close to a panic attack. Give me strength – and patience – and anything else I'll need for the upcoming weeks, because your son has something on his mind, again.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Viewpoint of Jesus

Watching Peter, he smiled at his disciple asking his Father for strength and patience – and anything else he'd need for the upcoming weeks – nearly shaking his head at the man's addition – because he had something on his mind? No, he hadn't. It was his Father who had something on his mind, and he, Jesus, he did know as little as did Peter.

For a moment he considered the man sitting in front of him.

Peter was one of his most beloved, together with James, who had gone for a walk, and together with John, who had gone to bring Nathaniel to bed. And just like the sons of Zebedee, Peter was a fierce follower. Roughly, daring, anything but a soft man – but strong and loyal in his believes – even though he still had his times where his faith left him. But he knew that in the end Peter would be the rock in the stormy sea, unrelenting and solid, and he knew, in the end it would be Peter who would lead his sheep, who would be the rock he'd build his church on.

Flashback

He'd sent his disciples ahead with the boat.

Originally he had meant them to have some rest after they were all back from their journey. He had sent them on their own mission, after John had been imprisoned, so that not only they could – kind of take over some of the work John had done, but also so that Herod knew, the preaching of the gospel would continue, never mind if he imprisoned John, any other disciple, or not. If John was imprisoned, then others would continue his work. Not to mention that – well, he would send the twelve out after his demise anyway, and that was a good way for them to learn and to practice. They would know what was to do then after they'd done such a thing before.

Well, and after they'd come back, he'd recognized their need for a break, and so he'd led them to the shore so that they could depart in privacy, because in the city they wouldn't have the time to rest and to deal with all that had happened – and they wouldn't have the time to grief either, and he knew that they needed to grief.

They were grown-up men, sure, but they were his disciples anyway and not only was he generally responsible for their well-being, but even more so after he had sent them on a long and strenuous mission. And if he realized that they needed a rest, then he had to make sure that they got that rest. His disciples had thought that it was him, needing time to grief and pray in privacy and he smiled at the thought of their line of thinking. He hadn't corrected them but had simply sent them to the shore for departure.

But well, the people had followed them, and even though he hadn't been too happy about it, knowing that his disciples desperately needed a break, he'd anyway preached and taught the crowd of people – and he had anyway shown to them what the trust in the Father could bring about. But after that, he'd sent his disciples ahead, on the boat over the sea and toward Capernaum alone, knowing that they wouldn't have any peace if he was with them. Maybe he should have told them that he would meet with them later, just so that they wouldn't worry, but he didn't generally explain himself, rarely he did. And so he had just sent them, and they had done as he had told them.

Well, he'd then sent the crowd of people away too, to go and seek shelter and to sleep for the night, and then he'd gone up into the mountain by himself to pray, alone, needing this short moment for himself and his Father.

Taking a deep breath, enjoying the smell of the grassland that spread over the soft hills, and enjoying the last rays of golden colour, caused by the sunset, the golden rays colouring the clouds, the sky and the nearby land for a moment, he once more thanked his Father for the moment he gave him as a present.

It wasn't long until the colours changed into the grey and then the black of the darkness late evening brought, into the shadows of the night, and looking up at the dark sky, at the fast moving clouds masking the stars, he frowned for a moment at the upcoming and increasing wind, knowing that his disciples wouldn't be too happy about a storm while they were on sea, knowing that they would be very worried indeed, especially as he, Jesus, was not with them. And yet, he knew that they worried less over themselves, but over him, because he was missing in the middle of the night and during a storm, and so, with a sigh, he went down the mountain and to the shore, then on the sea himself and towards the boat.

But well, he should have known that it wouldn't be as easy as this – because the moment he approached the boat, they started panicking, actually calling him to stop, telling him that they didn't want a ghost on their boat, threatening him with Jesus even and for a moment he didn't know if he should laugh or if he should get angry, but then he shook his head.

"It's me, Jesus, I'm not a ghost so calm down and have no fear!" He called back to them, knowing that both other reactions would neither be fair nor appropriate – and not necessary either. Because not only was it in the middle of the night, and not only was he walking on the water, not to mention the storm they had to deal with, but also were his disciples exhausted. It had been a long and strenuous journey they had been on, it had been a long and strenuous day, and it had been an even longer night so far – of course they would react strongly to such a thing like him, Jesus, walking on water.

"If it is you, Lord, then command me to come to you on the water." Peter, his ever enthusiastic disciple prompted him, and he lifted his eyebrow at him, but then, with a simple "come" he called him out of the boat and onto the water.

Not the other disciples, even though he knew that James and John, surely would like to do the same – as well as Thomas whom he could see being eager, too, but unsure at the same time, but they hadn't asked. It had been Peter, who had asked, and in his asking, Peter had demonstrated a quality of faith that was – a quality of faith that simply was Peter. He had asked, he had sought the Lord's will first before just getting out of the boat, waiting for his answer instead of demanding anything – he had asked, he had sought his, Jesus' will, not his own.

He could just as well have been jumping off the boat, trying to walk on water, tempting his Father, just like Satan had dared him to tempt his Father in telling him that he could surely jump off the cliffs and his Father would protect him, had challenged him to step out on the promise his Father had made to protect his children and to keep them from harm. And while he knew that he not only could, but also should trust those promises, he also knew that neither he nor his brothers were to put the Lord, their God and Father, to test.

And that, what his Father was asking his children of – Peter was doing it.

He had asked, instead of just doing what he pleased, he had then waited for his answer instead of impatiently starting his deed, and he was now climbing out of the boat, putting his confidence in God, even though he rationally knew that his own inability to walk on water could only be broken with God's help, could never be achieved by any human being, never mind how strong or powerful.

He didn't hesitate, he didn't stop to reconsider or ask him to supply a visible way on the water, he didn't need to be pushed overboard by the other disciples and he didn't need further reassurance or prompting – he just climbed out of the boat and went on the water, walking towards him, his face bright with happiness and wonder.

But then Peter felt the boisterous wind on his face, watched the waves of the water around his feet dancing in the wind – and got scared. He could actually see him looking at the water for a moment, looking up at him with wide eyes, and the next moment – with a "Lord, save me!" – he began to sink, crying out for help, reaching out his hand towards him.

Immediately he reached out his own hand, took hold of Peter and pulled him back to the surface, holding him there above the water.

"Oh, you of little faith!" He said, with his eyebrow lifted. "Why did you doubt?"

"I'm sorry, I just … started thinking." Peter answered with a sigh and he lifted his eyebrow even higher.

"And before that, you didn't?" He asked. "I highly doubt that. You just got scared. Didn't you know that I wouldn't abandon you if I called you? Let us get back in that boat of yours so that we finally reach Capernaum."

End Flashback

The wind had ceased the moment they got into the boat and his disciples had been very happy, had been talking excitedly all at once in one mess of confusion. But again they had seen that he was truly the Son of God – they were learning, and they were learning more each day that passed.

"There is a lot of strange folk wandering the outskirts of Jerusalem lately, and I don't want the lad walking the streets alone." Peter answered him. "The feast of Tabernacles is attracting a lot of false healers, charlatans and other scalawags this year. Not the righteous people you are searching for, Jesus."

"And yet, they are but men, walking a wrong path." He said, watching Peter daringly. "Why don't you lead them on the right path, Peter? They can be saved as much as anyone else, if only there is someone to teach them."

"Me?" Peter asked, looking at him incredulously. "I'm not a teacher, Jesus. I'm but a minor disciple – a man without regard and repute."

"And I tell you, that it is not important what men think of you or say behind your back, but our Father in heaven." He answered. "But a few years you will reside here on earth, whereas you have eternal life at God's home in heaven. Do not burden yourself with the troubles of this world, because our Father in heaven will not abandon you, he will lead you, just as he led you when you were walking on the water, and he will be with you through all your troubles."

"People follow you, Jesus, because you have the power to lead them, because you are able to hold their interest." Peter said, scowling at him. "Would I do the same, then not only would they laugh at me before walking on, in the best case, but most likely they would even kill me for my daring, in the worst case."

"Oh, you of little faith." He said, and not for the first time since he knew this particular man.

Peter was – followed by James and John – his most beloved disciple, a man that was loyal and faithful, while at the same time he had again and again short times of faithlessness. And yet, he loved him more than the others, because he knew – out of these sequences of disbelief, Peter would grow stronger and more faithful than ever. Peter would be the one who would lead his sheep, and Peter would be the one whom he would entrust all his disciples with.

"Do you not know that I would entrust you with my life?" He asked, scowling at the man himself. "Do you not know that I will entrust you with my sheep? You will be the one to lead them, Peter. I have told you – you are the rock, and unto this rock I will build my church and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. You will grow, Peter Simon, and even though you will deny me before my end, before your end, you will have grown hundredfold and nothing will be able to withstand your ministry of the gospels. And I will give you the keys of the kingdom in heaven, and whatever you will bind on earth, shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you will loose on earth, shall be loosed in heaven."

"I am not you, Jesus." Peter said, looking at him seriously. "You are a theologian teacher, you are a true spiritual leader, in the truest sense of the word even, not so me. And what do you mean with – I will deny you before your end? I love you, Jesus, and I would never deny you! Where you go, there I will go too! To whom would we go if not to you? I have told you so."

"And I have answered: Didn't I choose you, the twelve, and one of you is a devil?" He answered.

"So – I am the one who will betray you." Peter said, slowly, shock on his face, already getting off his seat to leave – and he knew, Peter would rather leave forever, than betraying him to death.

"Sit." He said, commanded, and again, just like with the boat when he had told him to come onto the water, and just like when he had called him from the boat when he had seen him the first time, to follow him and become a fisher of men, Peter obeyed, and sat down. "It is not you, who will betray me into the hands of men." He then said, knowing that he had to ease the other man who had gotten really upset. "You will deny me, but you will not betray me, do not worry needlessly. And out of your denial, out of your faithlessness, your faith will grow stronger than ever. I did mean it when I told you that you are my rock, and that on you, I will build my church. It is you, whom I will trust my sheep with, because in the end, you will be a fearless missionary for Christ."

"I would never consciously deny you, Jesus." Peter said, softly, his voice nearly broken – and he knew that the other man actually meant it, that Peter actually meant each word of it. But he also knew that Peter would do just that anyway.

"I know – and anyway that is what will happen." He answered, just as seriously, calmly. "Go to bed, Peter, and sleep. You look tired and the past weeks were strenuous. You will feel better by tomorrow morning."

"You are right." The man said, but he could see that he didn't feel like it. "Good night."

"Good night, Peter." He said. "May the Lord watch over your sleep." And he knew that his Father would do just that – because God was already sitting at the wooden bench beside him when he looked back down, watching him with interest and with a smile on his face.

"Jesus." Was all his Father said, but there wasn't more necessary, because this one word was love and happiness at the same time, love for him, his son, and happiness for being here, together with him, in a physical way.

"I have missed you, Father." He said, for a moment feeling as if he would explode with happiness, because his Father had come here, to visit him.

Sure, for his Father nothing was impossible, his Father could do anything, and for his Father – after all, he always was, he always had been, and he always would be – for him, creation of the universe was possible, so of course he could come here if he so wished, and easily so. But he didn't do so normally. Few men, very few men, had he allowed to speak with him from face to face, and he, his son, he was one of those few.

"Am I not always with you?" His Father asked, knowing his thoughts, and he smiled.

"You are." He answered. "But that is different."

"Let us walk a few steps." His Father said, and he smiled. Like that it must have been back then, when God had created Adam and Eve, had walked with them through the Garden of Eden from time to time, and with a happy smile he stood, slowly leading his Father through the small courtyard.

"A nice house you have here, Jesus." God said. "I am well pleased in Joseph and what he had taught you."

"This house wouldn't be half as nice, had you not always had your hand over its roof, Father." He seriously said. "I do thank you for that, for your protection we have here, even though you have never before seen the dwelling personally."

"Have you not asked for my protection?" His Father asked, looking at him seriously.

"I have." He sighed, again being reminded at how his disciples must feel when he spoke to them in half-riddles. "Anyway I do thank you. It is a dangerous time for any follower of your son, and they will need it."

'After my demise.' He added in his mind, but he didn't speak it, because he knew that his demise would be essential, because he knew that they had agreed on that beforehand, and he knew that there was just no other way. There was no need to mention it to his Father – at least not now, even though he knew very well that there would come a time when he would mention it, when he would ask his Father for a different way.

"As long as you dwell here on Earth, you are human, Jesus." God beside him said, stopping him by taking his arm. "It is normal that you feel like men do, and it is normal that you show human reactions too, Son."

He looked at him for a moment, not sure if he should respond, not sure what he even should respond – that he didn't like it? That he didn't want his human reactions? That his human reactions scared him? But then he simply inclined his head, because there was no need to say anything, because his Father knew. Following him when God took the lead, he noticed with a small smile that their environment slowly changed – and just a moment later they were in the Garden of Eden, one of his favorite places and his Father's most beautiful creation ever, except for men, and he took a deep breath. Because nowhere was as soft and as beautiful air as was here, because nowhere was as warm and soft light as was here, and because nowhere was – there wasn't any place existent in all universe that was as beautiful as was this garden which God had created for man.

"What is it you have on your mind, Father?" He asked, running his hand over the bark of a nearby tree, feeling its texture and even though it was a tree, a tree like any tree outside of the Garden of Eden, he enjoyed it more than he enjoyed touching a tree back there.

"On my mind?" His Father asked back with a smile. "Why do you think that I have something on my mind?"

He'd often been here before he had come to earth. He'd often been here together with his Father and together with the spirit, and even later, he had often been here sometimes when his Father had visited him – or when he had visited his Father – since he had come to earth as a human, and he always felt like coming home.

That was his only comfort, because after he would be betrayed into the hand of men, and after he would be slain, he would come home.

Feeling his Father's hand on his shoulder, warm and calming, he leaned back against the strong form, glad that – while he, Jesus, was in his human form, his Father always came to visit him in human form, too, and he took a deep breath to calm his own nerves, drawing strength from the physical contact for a moment.

"You know that I am always with you." His Father said. "I will not abandon you in your darkest hour."

"I know." He answered, feeling in his heart that his Father was correct, of course. He was a demanding God, but a God that was good and fair, a God that was righteous, and a God that demanded nothing of his children of what they couldn't accomplish. He wouldn't be alone in his darkest hour, he knew.

"How are things? How is the spirit?" He then asked, looking up at his Father with a smile on his face.

"The spirit is just well, Son." God answered him, and he knew from his tone of voice that he didn't buy his diversion, he never had, always knowing when there was something that bothered him – well, that was one of the things if you had a Father that was almighty, if you had a Father that was – God. He knew everything, there was nothing you could hide from Him, neither word, thought or emotion – He just knew.

"And Gabriel?" He asked, smiling. He had always liked Gabriel, had in younger years often played with him, very much to the annoyance of his Father as Gabriel was his Father's messenger to men, and often had God been in search for him when he should do his work, but was playing with him, Jesus, instead.

One time he had even searched for Gabriel, so that the angel could bring the message to Mary that she would give birth to a son – to him, Jesus, and Gabriel had been playing with him. Not that they would have played hide and seek or tag, like he had done with John when he had been a small child on earth. He had never been a really small child in heaven, and so he had rather had – kind of discussions with Gabriel, than playing real games. They had just been sitting together, having fun, kind of.

"I fear that Gabriel will be very happy the moment when you are back home, Son." God answered, with a wink of his eye. "Even though your old Father will be rather annoyed at the two of you playing around when he should do his work as the Lord's angel. But right now Gabriel is keeping Michael busy, I fear."

"How so?" He asked back. So far Gabriel didn't have too much business with the archangel. Michael was – strange, somehow, but he guessed that came from being his Father's army leader. If you had so much responsibility, leading an army as great as God's army, then you had to be strange a bit.

"I fear that Gabriel has learned a – few games from men lately." God sighed. "You know, over the centuries the angels are changing too, and even though I am still very pleased in them, even though they are still what they need to be, sometimes I think that Gabriel especially adopted a few things from men which annoy the archangels – and Michael in particular."

"Maybe that's the reason as to why I always liked Gabriel." He smiled, walking towards the small well. "Because Gabriel is – more free, not as reserved and tight-lipped as are the archangels."

"Tight-lipped?" God huffed. "You better don't let Michael hear that, he is moody enough lately as it is and were it for him, then he would gather all his army and come down on earth to destroy mankind for their betrayal on God. No, you really better don't let him hear that, Son."

"He will know how it is meant." Jesus said, smiling. He'd never had problems with Michael anyway, the archangel had always protecting him more than anyone or anything else, and he would be very happy seeing any of them again. "And after all, as your army leader, he needs to be more severe than are the others, I know that. But now, what is it you have on your mind, Father? You have sent me more than one short feeling about a change, about a small boy."

It was nearly thirty years, after all, that he had last seen them and he remembered that Michael had always been very protective over him while Gabriel had been the one angel who had taken a lot of time to play and to talk with him. He at once believed his Father's words when he'd said that Michael would even gather all the armies of heaven to bring fire and death over the earth should he be harmed and he did really not envy his Father for his own task he had to fulfill in heaven, namely keeping Michael from doing just this when he needed to be killed in what surely would be no quick death, even though Michael, too, knew that it was a necessity. He knew that the archangel would call each angel to the arms, that the archangel would gather each and any angel of his army to take the weapons and to bring death and pain over earth if his Father wouldn't be careful.

"I take it you are speaking of Hereweald and his student." His Father said and he looked over at him.

"Hereweald." He said, inclining his head. "An old name, and the name of an army leader, too. I have not seen him, only a small boy of four or five years maybe."

"Jamie." His Father answered with an inclining of his head. "He is seven, actually."

"Seven?" He frowned, because the boy he had seen was surely not seven years old. He had seen Mark when he had been seven, and his younger siblings had been seven too at one point or another and this child didn't look like a seven year old, he looked as young as Nathaniel was. Sure if his Father said that he was seven, then he was – but he knew that it didn't bode well.

"They are living at war." His father said, pointing at the soft grass at the foot of a large tree – the best place to sit down in the Garden of Eden, the large roots of the tree being wide enough to give space while they could lean against the velvet wood. "And in several ways so. They are living at a time of war in the world, and they are in a war between themselves – and within themselves even."

"And why would you send me the picture of the child?" He asked, even though he already knew that – his Father would send them, in person.

"Because I need you to save them, I need you to save their souls in more than just redeeming their sins, I need you to get them together." His Father answered, and he frowned, because he knew that such a thing wouldn't be easy – and there wouldn't be too much time left.

"You do know, that with the little time that is left, this won't be easy." He more said then asked, because it just was thus.

"I do know." God answered, calmly as if this wouldn't matter. "But it is a few weeks still, after all, and I need you to do this. You will know my reasons the moment you see them, Jesus."

"So mote it be." He said, because he knew from experience that discussion would not be necessary. His Father had his reasons and they were good reasons, and God didn't explain himself.

It wasn't long after that, that he fell asleep and he didn't even know when they had sat down. The only thing he perceived just before falling asleep was that he was laying with his head in his Father's lap, his Father running his hand over his face, calming him, relaxing him, prompting him to close his eyes and to sleep, and he knew that all was said, that he would wake in Jerusalem, in the house he had built together with his disciples – and the two, Hereweald and Jamie, being sent.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

At the same time, still running his fingers through his son's hair, God knew that it was time, God knew that there had been an air raid, and so he created a shift in time, and a shift in space, and while two particular persons had been in America, in Whitechapel Mount, Indiana, living in the future, in the year 1944, they would be waking in Jerusalem in the year his Son lived there.

While the area of the building the man and the child had been in, had been hit by a bomb from a stray Japanese fire balloon, they were safe nevertheless, because he had taken them away from there, bringing them to his Son – and he knew, Jesus would have a hard time with both of them, because the man was a hard man, a man who had sinned, and a man who saw no worth in neither himself nor in anyone else either, but a man who had never had a chance in his life – and neither had the child.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

To be continued

Next time in … and sit a while with me …

Jesus, not being the only one who was waking in Jerusalem after having been at a different place, and meeting some strangers …

Added author's note

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too, thank you …

you might forgive me my daring concerning God's appearance in this chapter, but like I already mentioned, I've always done the daring things in life … *shruggingshoulders*