Experiencing God's Presence by Linda Evans Shepherd

Author:Linda Evans Shepherd
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: REL012080, Prayer—Christianity
ISBN: 9781441243102
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2013-08-21T00:00:00+00:00

Behold Jesus

I recently read about a traveling evangelist who actually kicks people in the face with his spiked boots as a way of laying God’s healing power on them. As this is not what Jesus did, I would advise you not to rush to join his healing line. Know that when Jesus healed the sick, he did so with love, a kind word, and a gentle touch. If anyone should know about the gentle, healing touch of Jesus, it was a woman I’ll call Nissa.

Nissa had gone to the Capernaum marketplace to gather a few vegetables to serve with the fish that she and her daughter Mariam were frying for their dinner guests. But even as she bartered over the garlic, onions, and leeks, Nissa could feel her head throb.

She rubbed her temples. Life had been more difficult for her family since her son-in-law, Peter, had taken to following that rabbi Jesus, leaving his fishing boat idle more often than not. But Nissa tried not to complain because this business was really between Peter and her daughter Mariam.

Nissa handed over her precious coins in exchange for her purchase and turned to leave, almost colliding with a Roman centurion who was hurrying through the market.

Nissa watched as the centurion burst through a crowd, which soon parted, revealing Jesus and his men. The centurion approached Jesus and said, “Lord, my servant lies at home paralyzed, suffering terribly.”

Jesus replied, “Shall I come and heal him?”

Nissa stood in the shadows, listening to the centurion reply, “Lord, I do not deserve to have you under my roof. But just say the word, and my servant will be healed.”

Jesus turned to the gathering crowd and said, “I have not found anyone in Israel with such great faith.”

Then Jesus said to the centurion, “Go! It will be done just as you believed it would.”

Nissa was watching the centurion turn to leave when she met the eye of Peter. He quietly approached her. “How go the preparations?” he asked a bit anxiously.

“No need to be early,” she answered. “The little ones have been trying Mariam and me all day.”

Peter looked worried, perhaps noticing the shine that had dampened her brow. “Aren’t you feeling well?”

“Just a headache. I’ll be fine,” she lied, trying to smile.

But by the time she arrived back at the house, she felt worse. Her daughter took one look at her, then touched her forehead. “You are burning hot, Mama. You have a fever.”

“I’m all right to help you, Mariam,” Nissa replied as her daughter led her to her pallet in the adjoining room.

“No, you’re not. You must rest now. I can handle the meal.”

Nissa’s protests must have turned to sleep because the next thing she knew the evening crickets sang as Mariam scurried around the house to light the clay lamps. Nissa coughed just as her son-in-law entered the house with Jesus, his men just behind.

“Mother’s not well,” Mariam told Peter, as if to explain why dinner was behind schedule.

The house was small, and even from the next room Nissa could easily be seen by the men.

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