Previous Challenge Entry
Topic: Fishing (06/07/04)
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TITLE: NOT FISHING, BUT FISHING By Marie B. Corso 06/14/04 |
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His wife Sophia awakened. She sleepily turned to him, “Peter, where have you been these last two days? I have worried.”
Peter, never one to talk softly, whispered loudly, “Sophia, get up. I must talk to you!”
“Now? It’s the middle of the night! And don’t talk so loudly, you’ll wake up Mother. She is sick again with fever. I will look in on her and meet you in the courtyard. What can be so important it can’t wait until morning?”
While Sophia tended to her mother, Peter washed the smell of his last fishing trip off his hard and muscular suntanned body. Fishing was hard work. His thick fingers scrubbed his face. He threw the towel in the corner, and went to the courtyard. In a moment, Sophia joined him under the date palm. The night was dark, but stars filled the sky and a cool breeze blew. Somewhere, a dog barked.
“Peter, what is happening? You look so…so…different.”
“I am different,” Peter said. “Sophia, if only you could have been there these last days…with us…and Him. I know this is going to surprise you, but I am giving up fishing.” He took a deep breath before he continued. “I am going to follow Jesus.”
Sophia looked at him with her dark eyes blazing. “Peter, are you mad? How will we live? Is this the teacher everyone is talking about? The women at the well this morning were chattering like magpies about someone who talks strangely about God. Yes! Yes! That’s his name…Jesus…I remember one of the women called the man Jesus.”
For hours Peter talked. He told her how he was casting his net at the edge of the Sea of Galilee when Jesus called him and Andrew to follow Him. Then, he also called James and John and they left their surprised father immediately, and followed Him, too. He talked about the crowd on the mountaintop who sat down to listen while the Master told them so many new things. He taught them how to pray. He taught them the way to treat each other. As Peter finished, he could see she was distressed.
“Peter, how will we live? What about Mother? She is ill and I just don’t know if I can manage if you aren't here.”
“Sophia, please try to understand. I must do this. I must.” Peter could see it would take time to convince her, and he didn’t have much time. “Come, let’s go to bed. Things will be clearer tomorrow.”
The next morning the explaining to Sophia continued. About mid-morning, loud talking outside their home drew Peter and Sophia to the street-side door. A crowd separated and Jesus approached. Peter immediately called to him and invited Him and His friends to come in.
Once inside, Jesus looked directly at Sophia with warm compassion. “Where is your mother?”
“Come with me,” Sophia answered, wondering how he knew her mother was here. Strangely, she was unable to ask any questions.
They walked down the hallway. Sophia entered the bedroom. Jesus followed. He walked over to the bed where Sophia’s mother lay with a cloth on her forehead. Her face was rosy; her eyes glazed. Then, he gently took her hand and said, “You will be able to get up now; you are well.” He turned and left the room.
Sophia’s mother looked at her daughter through tears of gratefulness. The redness had left her cheeks. Her body was cool. She was well. Healed.
“Who is He?”
“Jesus,” Sophia said softly.
Immediately, her mother began to plan what the visitors would eat: lentil soup, fresh fruit, and bread. She went to the kitchen and started the fire.
Later, as Sophia watched Peter and the other men with Jesus, she knew why he would no longer be fishing at the edge of the sea. She knew why he had to be a fisher of men. She just knew.