Monday, March 19, 2018


November 12, 2012 by  
Filed under Focus On Israel, Monthly Articles

(A view of modern day Yerushalayim)

A late autumn sun shone through the dark clouds hanging over Yerushalayim. Rain had come to the land of Y’hudah, softening the hard packed dirt. People were out and about, taking care of life’s demands, unaware that the very Author of Life was in their midst. Through the miracles, through the words in the scrolls, the truth was daily revealed to them, but the unbelief in their hearts kept their eyes from seeing, and their minds from understanding.

They moved through the narrow streets of the city like a human river clogged with striped robes and dirty sandals. Greedy hands ravaged the food and wares of the open markets and shops along the way. Stairs and high walls made it impossible to get anywhere fast. Still, one man pushed and shoved, trying to move beyond the mass of sweaty bodies and heavily packed animals. Desperate to get through, his progress was once again slowed, this time by a man fighting to get a camel under control. The din of the street sounds around him assaulted his senses until he felt he would go mad.

“The writings,” he mumbled to himself, “how…how could the rabbi have known? Unless he really is…” He looked around. His thoughts had become a constant torment, conflicting with the teachings of his elders.

“If.. if I could just read from the scrolls.” But that was impossible now, he could never return to the Temple. The chief priests had taken him into their confidence earlier about an event staged to ensnare the rabbi from the Galil. He was to witness the proceedings, but he had arrived too late. A woman taken in the act of adultery walked right past him, unscathed. She should have been stoned, but his peers were nowhere to be found. All he saw was the writing on the ground.

He drew his garments closer to his body, aware he was touching all manner of unclean things, but wondering if it even mattered now. Glancing around, he couldn’t shake the scene from his mind. “What if the rabbi was right about the others? What if he really knew about him?” The young priest shivered in spite of the heat from the pressing bodies, and kept his head down until he reached his room.

Slipping inside, he washed away the defilement and changed his garments. He refused his meal, choosing to fast. Hiding away, he recited the words of the prophet, Mikhah. “But thou, Beit-Lechem near Efrat, so small among the clans of Y’hudah, out of you will come forth to me, the future ruler of Isra’el, whose origins are far in the past, back in ancient times.”

Over and over he repeated the prophecy, but it gave him no peace. Like one delirious with a fever, he stumbled from his quarters, determined to uncover the truth. Turning away from the Temple, he made his way to the Mount of Olives, where the rabbi was known to pray. When he found no one around, he sat on a rock and buried his head in his hands.

Baruch attah Adonai Eloheinu, I have tried to live according to Your mitzvot in Your Torah. I have looked for Messiah to come, as You promised. Who is this man, this Yeshua? He is not from the right place,” he agonized out loud. “It is in the sacred writing of the Tanach that it must be Beit’Lechem. He cannot come from the Galil as this man. I don’t understand. I have seen the miracles. I was in the synagogue in Natzeret when he read from the prophet, Yesha’Yahu. He said he had fulfilled those words…that the anointing was upon him. I have heard his teachings in the Temple, and he is indeed anointed, for he speaks as though he wrote those very words himself.”

“Then why do you doubt?” A hand on his shoulder sent a fire racing through his being. He looked up into the eyes of the one who had daily haunted his thoughts. The question silenced his tongue.

Yeshua’s gaze burned with eternal brightness and pierced his understanding. He felt himself slip away as though in a dream, where he was shown every prophecy from the Book of Beginnings, through the entire Tanach to the end. One after another, the words flowed from Adonai’s own hand, confirming Yeshua as His Son.

The young priest had sought the truth. Messiah had come to him. Broken, he believed. When he opened his eyes, he was alone and at peace. He knew the writing on the ground was gone by now, covered over by the footprints of forgiveness, but what had been revealed to him would remain written across his heart…forever.
©Mid Stutsman
Yesha-Yahu (Isaiah) 61:1,2
Luke 4:16-21
Mikhah (Micah) 5:1,2

Shalu Shalom Yisra’el/Yerushalayim~Pray for Israel, Pray for the peace of Jerusalem

In His Love,

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