Minister of The Way

"Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit..." ~ Matthew 28:19

Read Blessed Feast before reading this Entry

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In the presence of He who comforts me, my palms lay bare. With fruit assorted at the base of this holy place, I can’t help but be in awe of the blessings He has given me.

As I wait patiently, staring at the fruit basket, my stomach rumbles once more. Then the wind whistles toward the basket, showing me a sign that it’s time to eat.

Stepping forward, I feel the urge to stumble over and begin devouring the fruit like an animal, yet, His spirit stops me from lowering myself to my knees.

That is until I reach the steps and sit beside the basket. My right-hand grips an orange as I begin peeling away the skin. It’s a methodical process, peeling an orange so that the skin comes off in one go.

It reminds me of the careful precision…

“Pardon me?” A voice suddenly breaks my concentration. I turn to the right and before me stands a young boy with blonde hair and blue eyes. He has garments that seem Gentile in design. As my gaze returns to his face, something about the boy seems familiar. As if I’ve seen him before.

“Are you alright, sir?” The boy asks.

I shake my head back to my senses, “Alright?”

“Hungry?” The boy smiles.

“Famished, but please excuse me for I failed to think if this fruit basket belonged to the owners of this dwelling place.” I stand up, setting the orange down halfway peeled.

The boy steps forward with his smile widening. He steps up to the door and swings it open, “Would you like to come in for supper?”

“If you’ll have me, may the Lord bless you.”

“As you enter the house, give it your greeting. If the house is worthy, give it your blessing of peace…”

Matthew 10:12-13

Entering the threshold of the boy’s dwelling place, I lightly kiss my fingers and press them against the wood beside me. Then, a short prayer…

Heavenly Father,

Bless this dwelling and the family who lives here, which graces me with their nourishment. May Your will sanctify this dwelling and make it holy.

In Your Son’s name, I pray

Amen

With my next step, I pause to take in this place, where You have called me to. The boy then calls out, “Harim, Eronadel, Vesper, we have a guest!”

Sounds of footsteps creak from the room to my right as the center of the small dwelling place is furnished with a square, wooden table and a fireplace on the wall furthest from me.

To my left, the boy goes into what sounds like a kitchen area as he begins preparing supper. Meanwhile, creaks continue to patter within the chamber to my right. I step forward to the table and pull out a chair which scrapes against the wooden floorboards.

“My apologies.” I quickly lift the chair to prevent the scraping, then position it for myself in a comfortable place at the table.

“Huh?” The boy is so focused that the sound of the scraping does not distract him. Perhaps he’s just used to it by now?

Suddenly, the door to the rightward chamber swings open as a taller man who has no hair on his head and dark skin that opposes the boy’s light skin steps out. He looks down at me with an expression of uncertainty.

“Markus!” His accent is Ethiopian, yet, he doesn’t adorn his cultural attire, “You invited a Jew?”

“Hello, I am Zaith of Capernaum.” I reach my hand out to him. As I gloss over his face once more, I am stricken by the same feeling of recollection I had with the boy, Markus.

He does not extend his hand out in union, but does give his name, “Harim.”

“Well Harim, blessings to you and your family.” I nod to him as he walks around the table and heads into the kitchen where Markus cooks.

Then the door swings open again with a younger boy and girl rushing out. Quickly, they both run around the table and into the kitchen, frightened of the stranger that rests in their dwelling place.

As I sit waiting, I overhear Harim and Markus arguing over my presence here. However, my Lord, You know what is right from wrong. It is not my place to eavesdrop on such matters. Therefore, Lord, I ask that You show me what to do through Your Spirit.

Harim’s voice amplifies, suddenly, “We can’t let just anyone in here! Especially people who slaughter for their God!”

Hearing this, it becomes much harder to ignore. However, I must be in Your Spirit. Aloud I pray…

Heavenly Father

Slow to anger are You, for Your children have sinned greatly. Yet, Your grace and mercy have washed our sins away, through the deep love and sacrifice of Your only, begotten Son. Our Christ, through Him, we are born again in His unquenchable fire and Your Holy Spirit. Through Him, the way to You is made whole. Lord, I pray, may Your Spirit shine through me to share Your will and plant seeds for a great harvest.

In Your Son’s name, I pray…

Amen

Opening my eyes, before me stands all four of them. The same hunger for righteousness that I had when I first heard Jesus preach in Capernaum all those years ago, I see in their eyes. My Lord, their faces are the same ones You showed me in my dream.

I smile with praise, “All glory to Him, for He has led me to you.”

Harim steps forward, “You are a follower of the one they called, Jesus of Nazareth?”

“Yes, and He has led me to you.”

Harim takes a seat, and the rest of them do the same.

“Before I feed You with teachings by His words, would it be alright if we enjoy supper together?”

Markus perks up, shaking his head, “My goodness, forgive me! I’ll finish that up right now!”

“Thank you, Markus,” I bow my head to him, “As for the three of you, what do you know of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ?”

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