Read Online The Redeemer by Linda Rios Brook - Free Book Online Page A

all been a mistake, and Jesus was no one special after all. Certainly the angels had appeared, and maybe He was born of a virgin, but could all of that have been nothing more than a trial balloon, a dress rehearsal?
    I pondered this while I watched Jesus carving a table for His mother. Perhaps God was playing out a possible scenario to test its viability before committing to a final plan to save the Jews. “Then again, maybe not,” I said to myself. “Jesus is Adonai in the flesh, there is no doubt about it.”
    I flew outside to continue talking to myself. I was never sure whether He could see me or hear me, and just in case He could, I didn’t want to be caught criticizing Him, which is what I was about to do.
    “Jesus,” I wanted to say, “do You really think this is the best use of Your time? There are a dozen young men in this neighborhood who can make things out of wood, but not a single one can blow on a dead bird and bring it back to life. Have You thought what might happen if You tried it on a dead human? When Your brothers and sisters begged You to do something to heal Joseph, why didn’t You?
    “Pretending to be—let me rephrase that— being a human can’t possibly be as exciting as being the second person of the Trinity. Why spend Your time making tables and chairs, when in Your natural state You can make galaxies?”
    Life around Jesus was about as unremarkable as could be if one were expecting supernatural fireworks. It stayed that way for years until the day John came back from the desert. I don’t know what the Essenes taught John, but just let me say there were no classes on grace or charm in the curriculum. He came back with terrible taste in clothes, eating little more than honey and locusts, and was the perfect representation of an angry young man. It didn’t take long to figure out what he was angry about.
    He went down to the river and called out for people to come, repent, and be baptized. A lot of the regular folk went down to see John, and out of curiosity, so did a number of priests. They went to see what some had reported as a religious zealot at the Jordan, and John did not disappoint them; he was indeed peculiar. Let me also add that John was not a slave to fashion. He wore a knee-length toga made out of camel’s hair, of the cosmetically untreated variety. The Essenes should have taught him how lasting first impressions can be, especially when meeting religious royalty. He gave them a shout-out as soon as they arrived.
    “You brood of vipers! Who told you to flee from the coming wrath of God? What makes you think you can pretend to repent and God will accept you? Don’t think being a child of Abraham exempts you. I’m telling you that the axe is being laid at the root of your dead religion, and every one of you who doesn’t change and live a life in keeping with true repentance will be chopped down.”
    I stood on the riverbank next to the priests, elders, and ordinary folk, and here’s what I thought we should all do: run as far away as possible. John the boyhood friend and cousin to Jesus had become John the madman. I expected the crowd to clear out immediately. What person in his right mind would wade out waist deep in the river and let a crazy man hold him under?
    This was one of the few times in human history when people surprised me. They didn’t run away at all. They formed long lines and stayed for hours as they waited their turns to go down one by one to repent and be baptized by John.
    “What must I do?” asked a middle-aged man.
    “If you have two coats, give one to someone who has none.”
    Even the tax collectors went down.
    “What must we do for forgiveness?”
    “Collect no more than you’re supposed to; don’t line your pockets by stealing from your own brothers.”
    I couldn’t believe what I was seeing when a couple of the Roman soldiers stepped into the river.
    “Teacher, what should we do?”
    “Don’t extort people or accuse then falsely. Be