A Question
A question.
A question which can have but one answer.
He who asks, has sought an answer, a moment before, to another query. A question similar. It's perspective different. Others in the group of men answered with little hesitation. Now, this second question is directed at you.
The answer is on your tongue. It tickles your mouth. You have been with the one asking for a time now. The answer is the reason you tossed your nets back into the boat, left your family, and stepped where he stepped.
The others look at you. The question they answered was so much easier. They mimicked the responses of those in the crowds. Now, your companions, your friends, look to you for an answer, for your answer to the question. You have always been their rock. You can hear the youngest among the group, asking to which side of the boat should the nets be thrown. Often you were right, your instinct was good. You knew the trade.
Not all in the crowd are tradesmen like you. One worked for the Romans. Another was a scribe. The one asking the question was a carpenter. All their eyes focus on you. Your answer will be theirs.
A question.
This question doesn't hinder on 'They'. This question asks 'You'.
Miracles. You have seen a man speak and hear. A man who never had either ability. You have seen the man who asks, drive demons from men. You have stood witness as a legion of evil spirits infested pigs, and drove them off a cliff. You have seen him calm a storm.
Then, there are the words spoken by him. Words that touch your heart like no other have.
A question.
Not who do they say I am, but who do you say I am.
You open your mouth. The answer that has clung to your tongue takes shape and touches the night's air.
"You are the Christ."
copyright 2024 - Donald P James Jr
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