You maybe didn’t know this.  But if you think about it a bit, you’ll come to agree with me.  There were more disciples than the twelve named. 

I was part of a group of seven men.  We all had the same thing in common.  Each of us had been healed by the Man who did miracles.  A couple of us were previous lepers, a couple had been lame. 

My name is Zichri, and I joined the last three as one who had been blind, but now could see.  Someday soon I want to tell you the story of my previous life and how I was healed.

I guess you could say we were sort of a subcommittee that had formed out of basic gratitude.  We often shared, in our frequent meetings, what new things we were seeing, doing, or being a part of that we hadn’t been able to do before we were healed.

We didn’t have the ways and means to be a part of the twelve disciples who left their jobs to follow Christ.  We kept our day jobs and between keeping up at work, keeping the home fires burning, (for some of us, you see, had new brides; a part of life we hadn’t had access to before) and doing what our group had set out to do, left us running pretty much all the time.

Our group of men were committed to furthering the cause of this Man who had recently come to live among us.

In whatever ways we could, we tried to make it possible for the bigger picture to continue.  Which meant, often times, that after work we scraped together what meager means we could and bought take out for the disciples and Christ.  Or, if transportation was needed, we rented a suitable vehicle or boat to transport the group to their next location.

In some ways, it was really disappointing not to be in that group of twelve and Christ.  But our group had an advantage they didn’t.  They were so close to the picture, every day, that tunnel vision was an ever present adversary. 

For us fellows, the fact of being healed and the resulting gratitude springing out of us towards Christ seemed to clear up some of the mystery surrounding Him.

Like the one day.  I heard a few of the twelve going back and forth on something Christ had said about being in the grave three days and rising again.  It was like they couldn’t get it.  They were so focused in on the present.  They kept wondering what would happen to the kingdom some of them heard He was going to set up here on earth. 

For me, though, it was clear.  I don’t know if part of Him came to me in my healing and helped me to see it or what.  My mind went back to those old words of prophesy from Isaiah and it snapped into focus immediately. 

This was the Christ.  I believed that without a shadow of doubt.  I also believed that if He died, He would come back.  There was nothing too hard for Him to do.  He had power over my blindness.  He had power over everything.

I could see so well what sort of kingdom He would install when he finished his work here.

At least I thought I could.

Evidently somewhere I lost my grip on things.  I didn’t even know I had at the time.  I guess I was so enthused about helping along and getting things done that I reverted back to the old way of doing things in a few of my dealings. 

The old way is such a basic thing to us humans. 

I didn’t show so much on the outside, but you can be sure I was seething on the inside when it felt like I had been taken advantage of.

And, Heaven help the poor folks whom I thought were interfering with Christ’s plan.  I took on the importance of righteous judgment in those times, and I know it had to show as the most nauseous piety there ever was.

The bad deal was, mixing the old and the new has its own reward system that closely resembled the new way Christ was teaching. 

There’s a certain grim satisfaction to be had when a person carries a self-imposed righteous mandate. 

And while that grim satisfaction doesn’t last for the long haul, and while it has its own baggage to maintain, it filled in for the time being the void I didn’t realize I was beginning to assume.

Our group all had this problem, to some extent or another.  We had exchanged the real thing inside for a counterfeit thing on the outside.  For us it took on the form of good works and good Christian living. 

We had become a living hypocrisy.

Until one day.

Christ approached me, and in that kind, unforgettable voice said, “Zichri, what is it?” 

“Why, what do you mean?” I asked.

“You are troubled.”

“Me?”

“Yes.  I see it in your drawn countenance and in the abrupt way you have come to treat people.”

“Well.”  I said a bit huffily. 

“Yes,” He said, so very kindly.  “Yes, it seems you have been going from one crisis to another.  And, I’m afraid some of those crises’ are of your own making.  It seems you have a heart that’s at war with life in general.”

“Well . . .”  I said, not so huffily this time.  “Maybe you have a point.  It seems like it’s been a while since I felt quiet and peaceful inside.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed,” He said.  “It seems you have taken to yourself things that are carnal.”

“What!? Carnal? That word is for those who live in sin.”

“So it is,” He said.  “It is also for those who take too much government and good works of what they think is my Kingdom upon themselves.  Because, once they take it from me, it is no longer pure, but becomes soiled with human interest and pursuits.”

We stood quietly, as this all soaked in.  Finally, I looked up, eyes brimming with tears. 

“No words are needed,” He said quietly. 

The sun was sinking, and it would soon be dark.  My head cleared as the night air cooled around me and suddenly, I got it. 

What had begun as an effortless, autonomous flow through me had, at some point, turned into a lot of hard work.

What had started as love became severity and judgement.

What once was joy turned into drudgery.

Where there had been peace now was war. 

“Peace, my brother,” He said, as he extended his hand.  “All you have to do is let me flow through you to others. 

“There’s really nothing else required,” He said.