David's Testimony...

Dear Blog,
remember David, my son, who was given just 4 hrs more to live when he was 10 days old 'cos of multiple organ failure? Well, he would like to share something with you now...23 years later.

   " It started 7 years ago, when I was in 12th std and had just joined Animation classes. I guess it was the long hours of sitting in front of the computer that started the migraine headaches, but it went on for quite sometime, even after I completed the course.
     Days went by... weeks, and months turned into years, and still the headache. Bright light always triggered it off and I couldnt find any healing for it. The pain was getting worse but the ophthalmologist couldn't find anything wrong, so they referred me to a neurologist. The pills he prescribed could have turned me blind as it shouldn't have been recommended for glaucoma - thank God we found out in time and stopped them! I decided to just trust the Lord to heal me.
        On some days (and it may be daily) the pain would be so bad I had to rest for hours with my eyes closed (even in the office) till the pain left. There were days when I would pray, wondering when my healing would come and I was comforted by a passage in the Bible where Daniel prayed to God for a long time, but didn't get any answer. Then Michael, an angel of the Lord,  came to Daniel and told him that he had to fight the Prince of Persia (the ruling spirit of the land) and the persistent prayers of Daniel was the only thing that helped Michael defeat the enemy.
        I held on to that and continued to pray and praise God for my healing that flows from the Throne Room of Grace. Day after day I prayed, believing that I was healed by faith. Until one day, a small still voice told me to start listening to Gospel music and I did. I repeated the songs over and over and I felt such peace; I knew I was healed.
   I realised that I could walk in to sudden bright sunshine and not get a headache. Its been 2 months now. Praise the Lord for healing me."
                                                                                          David M.S.

   Blog, isn't He wonderful? David's life itself is a wonderful account of God's faithfulness....and that's a story for another time.
         

Spirituality and Natural calamities.

Dear Blog,
   A post on FB ( http://www.americaneedsfatima.org/Articles/elephants-attack-in-orissa.html) and the subsequent comments got me thinking.

   The most basic fact we cannot ignore here is : Man's attempts at connecting  with spirits (simply summed up as spirituality) will ultimately have an effect on the Natural realm.We cannot disconnect the two.

   So, what do we do with this fact? .
Lets go back in history a bit first, Blog. To say that God loved Mankind so much He sent His son to die for us, then to turn around and accuse Him of causing deaths through natural calamities, is illogical. Where is the loving God we want to connect with?
So, here is what I have found: Since Jesus came to defeat the work of Darkness, there is a force we have to be aware of which will is not working in our favour, and Jesus is obviously not the force of Darkness.

 Jesus defeated Death through His resurrection - so what, you ask? What has that got to do with us, or better still, how will that help us?
   It cant actually, that fact is completely useless to all human being who are headed for death anyway. UNLESS - yes, unless, we tap into Jesus's sacrifice, and make His victory, our victory. To tap into all that He fought to get for us - healing, peace, prosperity, success, joy...in short, a life in abundance. Blog, have you seen the movie, The Passion? You'll get a glimpse...

So where does that connect to Natural calamities, you ask. Hmm, good question.
See, when you have tapped into all that Jesus fought for you to have, He calls you, the SALT of the earth...salt adds taste, salt brings healing, and salt helps preserve..Yes, I know that many of us who claim to belong to Him are pretty tasteless, and that puts off others...a pretty sad state of affairs. And where we should be praying for and bringing in His healing...well, thats a point of further discussion, Blog.

But - and this is the most exciting part - salt preserves! Wherever, we are, we are a kind of preservative, pockets of safety, our presence creates an umbrella for His grace to come through, a reason for our neighbours to prosper and keep the peace. When we are removed from the picture, the region is exposed, vulnerable to the forces of Darkness...and so we have terrible calamities happening. Darkness had been defeated by the work of the cross, but, he still rules this earth (through Adam),and will continue to do so, till Jesus returns...

So Blog, Jesus does not create calamities...

Getting a driver's license...

Dear Blog,
  I must tell you about a day at the RTO (Road Transport Office).
 Went with someone to get their driver's license. First of course, we had to present ourselves at the office of the driving instructor at 9.30am sharp, who merely directed us off to the RTO on our own. You must have heard of the notorious 'table -to table' pilgrimage anyone has to do at an govt office? Well this time it wasn't so bad...we got all done in nearly an hour; paid the fees, got the mandatory, thumb print, photos etc...now all we had to do was to clear the practical test.
  An hour later, we were still waiting....2 hours goes...waiting. By now, having to stand (no place to sit) was taking a toll so we snuck out for a 15 min break, hoping our place in the queue wouldnt go, nor that the examiner would come in between.
 Came back in a hurry. Everyone, still waiting...1 hour later...They ask us to move to another place, on the opposite side of the building for the test. Yeah! We rush...all queue positions gone, every man for himself!
  Our driving instructor is there, but avoids speaking to us. Huh. We start asking around - what is the matter? When will the test start?  Someone said, the examiner is not happy, expects our instructor to 'make his pocket heavier'...But the students don't know for sure.

 Ok, so we wait...and wait...Dear Blog, do you know frustrating it is to just wait...doing nothing? It is more tiring than if we were to be always on the move.

The sun has started moving over to the other side of the planet by now...Our instructor is walking over to us! We jump up from the foot path / stone bench / fence where ever we had found temporary rest, and move to him eagerly. He says" Examiner has left for the day."  !!!  "But there is another guy who will do the test, come to the park." I would have given him a piece of my mind, if I wasnt worried that it might spoil our chances..Ok, so we jump into our vehicles and go to the park.

Here, yeah, there is a Testing Car, so it looks real, so I think, maybe we are at the end of the wait. 2 students at a time, are pushed into the car, one at the back, one at the front, with the instructor and the examiner... The car jerks forward as the first nervous student puts it into gear, and they are off. Barely 3 mins later, the car comes from the other end of the road, with the second student at the wheel. Thats it, test over!
 And we waited nearly 5 hours for this!!!

NO Dear Blog, this is not the end of our wait. We had to wait for everyone to finish, then were asked to hand over Rs 500 each, to the instructor. "Where do we get the receipt?" I ask..stupid question.
He glares at me...Where did this dumb lady come from? "No receipt. This is for the test."
Ooooooh, I seee...

Then as if it explains everything, he says, "the license will come in the post."

Thank goodness its all over, Blog.

Choices at 50.

Dear Blog,
   You know we have planning to meet for some time now, but it just didn't happen. So why now, you say? well I just needed to talk to someone, and I guess you'r the best listener.
 So what do we talk about?
The trip to Conoor. But then, I wonder, if I put these thoughts into words for you, will they become more of a reality to me? Will they define the way I will perceive the future? I guess thats another reason why we didnt meet earlier either - not to define thoughts and encase then in a tomb of words.
So, do I tell you about the coming trip or not?To start with, why am I going on this trip at all?
 I have just turned 50! yeah, half a century of walking on this earth and using its resources.
 What do I feel about that?
Humbled, I guess, and conscious of Time.Also, looking back, I realise that the path I have walked  and the choices I had made made may not have been the best, but they've shaped me. I am harder, more suspicious, less trusting...Did you know that someone once told me that my name translated to "trusting' and that it was a very dangerous character to have in this world. I guess he was right.
So how come this trip?
Well, now that I'm 50, I want to do things for myself, before I am too old to do anything else. I had hoped that I would travel, see places, do things, explore possibilities and spread my wings, to stretch beyond my limitations. but now I'm 50, and I wonder...where did Time go? Bad choices; wasted time, limited goals, and folded wings. But who cares? If I wait any longer for my Choices to support me, then I am wasting even more time. Time is life, they say, and wasted Time is a wasted life.
Am I cribbing then?
Yes, I guess. But now that I have put them down in words, I guess I could shake them off and move on. So this trip to Conoor is the first step of independence and self discovery (even if my daughter is coming along).

Where were you when they crucified my lord? (In a Bubble of Time.)

“Then why didn’t you?”  John stepped in. “I’ll tell you why; because you believed the Master. We all did.... That's why we chose to stay.”

“But what good has that done us now, boy?” Matthew who had been brooding in silence now joined in. “We left all to follow him. And now he is dead. I don’t even know if I have a profession to go back to. It’ll be easier for you, Sons of Zebedee; your father will allow you back into his boat. But will the authorities re-employ me?  I am considered a rebel, along with the Master. I cannot hold another public office. I have given away much of my wealth - that which I had saved before I met the Master - I have nothing to go back to, no security.

“No future” he moaned. “Don’t look at me like that; think of yourselves,” he said sharply, “what have you go to go back to?  Will our lives ever be the same again? And for what?” with that, he lapsed back into his dark silence. And infectious silence. The others looked at each other.

“The Master promised us much.... In his kingdom we would have had a hundred times as much of all that we have given up - and eternal life in the age to come.” John remembered.

“What will your mother say to that now, John?” Simon the Zealot asked, watching as the younger man cringed in embarrassment.

“Leave him alone,” Andrew warned.

“Do you still want to sit, one on the Master’s right and the other on his left?” Simon taunted, encouraged by the others’ laughter.

“We weren’t the only ones who wanted a position in his kingdom,” John defended, angry, “you were all equally interested or you wouldn’t have been arguing about who was the greatest. What did you expect to be, Simon? Commander in chief of his army?”

Simon sprang to his feet, his dagger drawn. He had always carried it with him though well concealed from the Master. Simon knew Jesus wouldn’t have approved of his physical violence. He had almost used it at the Garden but skillful as he was with it, he knew he was no match alone against the soldiers, their swords and the Pharisees and their sticks and clubs and slaves. He had put it out of sight again then, and had regretted it ever since. He should have tried, done something. Given Jesus a chance to escape; at least he could have died trying. His moment of cowardice would always haunt him and now it goaded him into drawing it against the fisherman.

There was a gasp from the others as John got to his feet too. Simeon hoped he wouldn’t have to use it. He wished he hadn’t been so rash but he wasn’t going to be a coward a second time.

John, Son of Thunder, faced him. John’s eyes blazed. There was no fear in them. He who had wanted fire from heaven to come down and burn up a whole Samaritan village in his anger, now was itching for a fight. All the pent up anger and pain at having to stand by and watch helplessly as his friend had died - was now seeking release.

It was to John as if he had been in agony too. Yet he hadn’t been able to leave the foot of the cross. Couldn't leave Jesus. And in the darkness that had strangely enveloped the land, John had stood vigil in the flickering torch light. With nothing else to do, he had remembered. Remembered other days when he had leaned on those shoulders now stretched out so cruelly. Those hands that had reached out to those no one else would; picked up those children who couldn’t walk his pace and yet who wanted to walk the distance with him. Jesus.....

John had heard Peter’s declaration to the Master that he, Jesus, was the Son of God, and John, in his heart had believed it too.

Those hands that had flung the stars across the sky, shaped the mountains, painted the wings of a butterfly, now were outstretched, bleeding. Why didn’t he unleash his power?  What kept it in check, why was he allowing Man, whom He had created, to humiliate Him?

John couldn’t understand it. Couldn't accept that Jesus’ death was part of some great, mysterious plan of God. What good could possibly come out of it?

And young John, had allowed himself to cry. Who would notice anyway?  Who cared?

And now these men talked. Where had they been, he would have liked to ask. It was only his love for Jesus that had kept a control on his tongue. He had to force himself to remember that Jesus had loved them too. So for his master’s sake.....Till now.

But Simon had goaded him beyond control.

 “Oh stop it, the both of you.” Matthew commanded. “Start a fight and you won’t have to wait in suspense for the authorities to arrest you. Now sit down! And calm down. There is nothing to be done till the Sabbath is over. The Master is dead; The Kingdom is never to be - at least not in this generation and we had all better be thinking of our future plans.”

The moment was diffused. Simon put away the weapon and sat down. Cautiously, John did too, but never taking his eyes off the other man. It had taken him by surprise and he wasn’t sure if Simon could be trusted again. The others too shifted nervously, sure of only one fact - something was happening to what they had always thought was an unbreakable bond between them - a brotherhood - more than mere blood-ties between natural siblings; they were falling apart, coming undone at the seams. Their common thread, it was now obvious, had been Jesus.

____l-----------l___

“Mary, Susanna and I are waiting out the Sabbath. But where were you when the Master needed you?  Where was your loyalty to your ‘King?  You ran away when they arrested him in the Garden, and have been hiding ever since. You,” Joanna's pointed finger swept over the men. “You weren’t there when they brought him out to Herod. If your loyalty to him was as you boast, that was when you should have tried to free him. The people were all there - your loyal subjects. They had seen the signs and miracles - they would have followed you, surely.

“You fought over who was the greatest, who should sit at the Master’s right hand, but which one of your tried to set him free?  What happened to the Promises of the Kingdom?  Wasn’t it enough to prompt you to defend your king?  And you were expecting to be ministers in his kingdom?  Matthew, you a High Priest, maybe?  Being of the lineage of Levi?” her tone, scathing.

“Where were you, ‘soldiers of Christ’, when they brought him out bloodied and torn?-   his eyes trying to blink away the blood that ran down his forehead and caked on his lashes?  Did you wipe them away for him?  Did you help him to carry that heavy crossbeam?  Did you help him to ease its load, lift its rough wood off his back and shoulders where it rubbed into his torn and tattered back?  Did you even see it?  His flesh was ripped to ribbons where the bones on the whips’ tips had dug in.” She took in a deep, shuddering breath, trying to control her voice through the threat of tears..

“Bartholomew”, her anger had not yet abated, “you have moaned and grumbled . Where were you when Jesus stumbled on the stones, his legs weak; did you pick him up, steady him?  Did you try to offer him a cup of water?  Did you notice how parched his lips were?”  Her tears flowed freely,  “How…  How dare any of you even think of how much you have lost!. What have you lost?  Jesus gave you the best three years of your lives but he lost his life. What have you ever done for him, that you should boast?”

“Where were you when they crucified my lord?” she beat her chest with a bunched fist, her agony evident. Joanna stood there trembling, her eyes blazing with fury, with frustration at the disciples, at the unjust authorities, at her own great loss.

She finally sat down, her legs weak. She sat close to Mary, and put an arm around her friend who was yet to say a word. Surely Mary’s loss was much greater.

The men looked sheepish, uncomfortable. 
The knock on the door made them all jump.The knock repeated, persistent, authoritatively.

Simeon drew his dagger out and moved forward cautiously.

“Don’t.”  Suzanah pushed him aside. “I’ll open the door. We don’t know who it is. It may not be trouble.”  but she didn’t sound convincing, even to herself.

She lifted the latch, and opened the door a fraction; Simeon hid directly behind it, ready to pounce at the first sign of danger.

The Strange darkness... (In a Bubble of Time.)

chap 65:

Golden Gate, Herod’s Temple:

Another beggar pushed Elkanah, trying to get closer to Bartimaeus and his story.  . Elkanah shifted to make place.  . It was crowded.  . Most of his friends had come to hear the tale.  . Bartimaeus had had to repeat himself more than once, for the sake of the new comers, but his story had never changed.  . He had put his newly regained sight, to good use.  . But, to Bartimaeus it would have been better not to have had it back, than to witness the horror he had come to narrate about.  . Jesus, crucified!

 “Why didn’t he listen to me?  He could have saved himself, if only he had believed me.  . I should have been more convincing.,” he remonstrated himself.

Pilgrims streamed past into the Temple, but for once the beggars were too distracted to hold out their bowls.  . Some coins however dropped in automatically into the bowls on the floor, but went virtually unheeded by their recipients.

“You should have warned him, Elkanah, when you had the chance.”  Bartimaeus turned his focus on the man who leaned against the wall, his eyes closed, his face drawn.

“If he didn’t believe you, whom he knew, why should he have believed me?”

“Whether Jesus had believed you or not on that day, it would have made my warnings more credible later.”  Bartimaeus said.

Elkanah’s eyes flashed open.  . “Don’t you dare try to pin the blame on me!”, he glared.

Before either could say another word, the sun was blotted out.  .

Cries of fear, surprise and shock was all around them. Then pandemonium.

 Footsteps pounded down the steps.  . People pushing.  . Someone fell, bringing down others in his path, with him.  . Shouts of anger.  . Curses.

Elkanah moved himself as far away from the Beautiful Gate as possible, pushing his friends, forcing them to move aside.  . He didn’t want to be trampled on in the confusion.  . There was no point in asking anyone what had happened to the sun.  . It was obvious no one knew.

He saw the faint flicker of torchlight.  . It grew steadily brighter as its bearer came running out of the temple.  . The gold on the leaves of the massive doors reflected it greedily, lighting up the entrance.  . The priest’s face however didn’t seem to benefit from the glow of the fire.  . It was ashen, his eyes huge.  . As if he had seen a ghost.

  “The Veil.”  He gasped, to no one in particular, “The Temple Veil has torn!  From top to bottom!  It has been torn!”  With that, he ran off down the stairs, in the general direction of the High Priests’ house.  . And with him, went the light.

The silence his torchlight had brought with it, disappeared, swallowed up in a torrent of more confusion.

“Who tore the Temple Veil?”

 “No one but the priests are allowed into the Holy Place.  . Which priest would dare?  It would be tantamount to sacrilege.  . Blasphemy, even.”

“But no one man could have done it.  . It must have been a conspiracy.”

“What do you mean?”

“The veil is two inches thick and taller than the height of two houses, one on top of another.  . No man could have done it by himself.”

“Maybe it wasn’t man, but God Himself.  . The priest said it was torn from the top to the bottom.”

“Would God desecrate His own Temple?” came the scornful reply.

Maybe, Elkanah thought to himself, maybe God is showing his displeasure at Jesus’ crucifixion. But he kept his thoughts to himself.

It was evening as the horses’ hooves pounded into the city.  No one stopped them; no one would, not a Roman Centurion in full regalia.  . Where should they go now?  To Herod’s Palace in search of Joanna or to the Praetorium, to Pontius Pilate?

“I’ll take you to the Palace,” Marcus decided. “Try to locate your friend.  . See if there have been any new developments on the matter.”

“No Marcus,” she interrupted.  . “It’ll be too late.  . I don’t know where Joanna is.  . She may not even be at the Palace tonight.  . She may be with Mary, anywhere.  . Please, just go to Pontius Pilate and find out directly from him.”

“Woman, one can’t just barge in unannounced on the Prefect, even if he is only of the equestrian rank and I out rank him, technically.  . There is certain protocol to be observed; the meeting with Pontius Pilate will have to wait till morning.”

Deborah groaned.  . “But what if Joanna isn’t at the Palace?”

“It is a chance we will have to take.  . You have met your friend’s husband, haven’t you?  Didn’t you tell me he is an official of the Court?”  Deborah nodded. “Well, announce yourself and ask to meet him.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be your escort.”  He grinned.  . “There is nothing else for me to do tonight anyway.”

Deborah didn’t smile back.  . She was irritated.  . The journey from Galilee had been long and tedious. The strange darkness had lifted long ago, but the daylight had none of the comfort she had hoped it would bring. Now the day had given in to its natural night. The deep shadows inside the carpentum only compounded nerves stretched by Marcus’ proximity.  . She had deliberately maintained a stoic silence, barely answering any questions, till Marcus had also lapsed into his own silence.  . Now, she had to spend even more time with him.

                                               

That first Palm Sunday...(In a Bubble of Time)

Chapter 61: Jerusalem

 And the Zealots congregated in a secret room, above the bakery; they had been there a week, waiting, watching.

Jesus had ridden into Jerusalem on a donkey, which had puzzled them - a horse was better suited for war, surely - but no matter, the people’s shouts of welcome had the ring of triumph.

The Zealots had listened in glee as Jesus had defeated the Pharisees at their own game of words. They knew what he meant when he declared for all to hear, “As for these things which you see, the days will come in which not one stone shall be left upon another that shall not be thrown down.”  They had looked around to see if the Romans had guessed, but none had advanced to arrest him. And Abner and his friends returned to their Safe House to sharpen their swords and to string their bows.

They waited for Jesus’ command to attack.

Bartimaeus was the new beggar from Jericho. He had joined them barely three days ago.

“Do you believe what they are saying of Jesus?”  one of his friends was asking.

“It would depend on who you had been listening to,”Elkanah replied.

“He is a prophet,” said another.

“The leaders say he is a trouble-maker.”

“But the people follow him.”

“Some say he is Elijah the prophet.”

“Who does?” Elkanah asked.

“They that follow him around.”

“They should know, I suppose.”

“Why do the Pharisees call him a trouble-maker, then?  They should be the first to identify a prophet, but they don’t believe in him. So he must be a fake.”

“The Pharisees would call anyone who didn’t think the way they do, a trouble maker. As for identifying a prophet, I doubt if they could even identify the Messiah if He were to come amongst us!”

This was greeted by hearty laughter. The bond among them was forged by their poverty and their profession.

“I heard there was quite a crowd at the procession.”

“Tell us about it.”  That procession had the whole city in an uproar.It had shaken Jerusalem.Even the most impassive, neutral bystander had an opinion on it, and the city was unevenly divided."“The procession.  Aah…  It started in Bethpage, we were all coming from Jericho;. I thought Jesus would go directly to Jerusalem, but he stopped here. Most of us had gone off in search of food,” Bartimaeus was saying,

“But not you” observed Elkanah.

“No, not I.  I stuck to Jesus. I wanted to follow him anywhere he went, and I wasn’t the only one. Anyway, he instructed his disciples to bring him a colt, a donkey colt; and he got on it. Believe me – was I surprised.”

“But why should you be?” Elkanah asked. “Maybe the man was tired.”

“Well, I was not the only one who was surprised, let me tell you,” Bartimaeus wagged a bony finger at him. “Jesus had never accepted a ride if his disciples had had to walk. He’d rather walk too.”

“How would you know?  You’ve only been around him for a few days.”

“Five days to be precise, but who’s counting?  Anyway I heard Mistress Mary talking to her companion about it; that’s how I know. Just because I have my sight back doesn’t mean I have lost my hearing you know.”

“Who is Mistress Mary?”

“Where have you men been?  Don’t you know anything?  You really should keep up with current events. The most important man in Israel’s history is here with us and you know next to nothing about him.”  Then seeing Elkanah’s face darken, he quickly changed track. “Mistress Mary is Jesus’ mother.”

“His mother!  What is she doing here?”

“Well,” Bartimaeus  was bursting with superior knowledge, “First of all, it is the time of the Feast, you know, secondly,… er… she was telling Mistress Joanna, her companion, that this would be Jesus’ last journey to Jerusalem and so she  wanted to be with him.”

“What does she mean – Jesus’ last trip? Where is he going after the Feast?”

“Maybe he is going far away, maybe even to Rome.,”  one of the beggars piped in, “I don’t blame him. What with the Pharisees, the Sadducees, the Herodians and whoever else who feels like it at the moment, snapping at his heels, criticizing him at every turn…. I would leave too if I were him.”

“Did he say where he was going?” Elkanah felt a strange sadness.

“Well,” Bartimaeus scratched at his beard, “He said he was going back to his father.”

“Where is his father?”

“I don’t know, he wasn’t there at the procession. Now, do you or don’t you want to hear about that procession?  Then stop interrupting me with so many questions.

“The people cut down palm branches and waved them shouting ‘Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!’, and the children ran on beside the donkey, and people even lay their outer garments out on the road for the donkey to walk on!

“Some of us ran slightly ahead of Jesus, shouting out that Jesus was coming, and what a crowd came!

“Then Jesus went to the Temple and you know the rest.” Bartimaeus concluded.

“Just like Judas Maccabees.”  Elkanah muttered.

“Judas who?”  Bartimaeus asked.

“Never mind; it was a story my mother used to tell us - Judas saved Israel from the Greek yoke of conquest.”

“I’m sure Jesus has come to save us from the Roman yoke of conquest” one of the beggars said.

“Do you think so?” Elkanah was interested.

“Sure! Jesus performed all those miracles, remember?  It was to prove his power.” The beggar said, nodding his head in conviction.

“Where is his army then?  He has only twelve disciples.” Elkanah was silent. He didn’t know what to think. “They are going to kill him.”

All eyes turned to Elkanah. Silence.

“Who?  Who is going to kill him?!” Bartimaeus caught hold of Elkanah in his agitation, shaking him for an answer.

“The Pharisees. I overheard them talking the day after the Money Changer’s incident.”

“What did they say?” Bartimaeus’ voice was tight.

“That they’d arrest him before this week was over.”

“What are they planning to do to him?”

“Crucify him.”  Elkanah looked down, unable to face the stunned looks on his comrades’ faces.

“Why didn’t you tell someone?”

“They said they’d do the same thing to anyone who tried to help Jesus.”

“Today is the fifth day,” Bartimaeus spoke into the shocked quiet. “Tomorrow will be the last day before the Passover; it will either be today or tomorrow, that he is arrested. We must warn him!”

“If he really is meant to be the next king of Israel, surely God would not allow his servant to be taken.” One of them said.

“And if he wasn’t, and is arrested, then….”

“You can sit and debate over it,” Bartimaeus rose to his feet. “I am going to look for Jesus. I must give him at least a chance to escape.”  He ran down the steps.