Timotheus rose when called. “Peter,” he said, smiling, “was impulsive, inattentive, and sometimes incompetent. The only time Scripture records he caught fish, Jesus was the one telling him where to cast his net!”
The crowd roared with laughter.
“But Peter loved Jesus,” Timotheus said, voice breaking. “A love between two men never better documented.”
He paused, struggling to speak. “The only creature that would try to walk on water to reach me—if it saw me walking—would be my dog. That was Peter: affectionate, loyal, courageous.”
He began to cry openly.
“That eagerness to please, that courage, that love—what does the Lord see when He gazes upon you?” he asked, voice trembling. “Ask yourself that question in your quietest moments.”
“Word! Word!” the crowd shouted.
Timotheus sat, weeping into his hands.
Then Ed Ricketts—our Old Professor—stood abruptly. “That’s a great question, Brother Timotheus,” he boomed. “But remember—being a sweet-smelling incense to the Lord makes you a prime target for Satan, the accuser!”
The euphoria quieted. Timotheus nodded. “God is here,” he whispered.
Ed Ricketts continued, quoting from Luke:
“Simon, Simon, Satan has asked to sift each of you like wheat. But I have prayed for you, that your faith will not fail.”
Then, louder: “After Pentecost, Peter saw himself as incense—pleasing to the Lord. He became a prisoner of Christ, spreading everywhere the fragrance of His knowledge!”
As he spoke, a strange electricity filled the air. People convulsed, cried, shouted “Jesus!” The harmattan wind picked up again. Dust shimmered in the moonlight.
Ed Ricketts concluded, voice shaking:
“Whatever the Lord sees you as, all creation will see you as that thing. Every physical law will recognize you to be what the Lord has declared!”
“Amen!”
“If God calls you a rock,” he thundered, “then unbelief in your rock-ness becomes unrighteousness! Let your faith be credited to you as righteousness. Therefore—be a rock!”
“Amen!”
“Otherwise—you oppose God!”
“Do not oppose God!”
The crowd erupted. People ran in circles, weeping, laughing, shaking.
Timotheus sat still, eyes closed, smiling peacefully.
Faith, Sight, and the Cripple
Ed Ricketts finally sat, exhausted.
The Oldman turned to me. “Finish it up.”
I stepped forward. “When Peter said, ‘Silver and gold have I none; but such as I have give I thee…’—was that not a dare?” I asked. “How could he have known the cripple would rise and walk?”
Silence.
“When Peter lifted the man by the hand, the laws of biology had two choices: back Peter up, or put the universe in a double bind. The Bible says, ‘Immediately his feet and ankle bones received strength.’”
“Amen!” Ed Ricketts shouted.
The air was thick again with prayer and tongues. The Oldman’s voice broke through the din:
“Trust God! Think about it: how could a man who failed to walk on water say to a cripple, without a shadow of doubt, ‘Rise up and walk!’? See yourself as God sees you! Trust God!”
“Amen!”
“At the moment when human history hung on Peter’s faith, he came through. God honoured him. God will come through for you when you take your eyes off your limitations and see yourself as He sees you.”
The people shouted “Amen!” again and again.
“Peter’s ‘Rise up and walk’ did not return void. Neither will yours,” the Oldman declared. “So—let’s go do our final vows! Let’s be like Peter. Let’s go change the world. Our frailties don’t matter. God will equip us.”
And as we walked toward the showers, the singing began:
You’re our tower of strength,
Our holy mountain.
In You and You alone,
We place our every hope.I want my Jesus… I want my Jesus… I want my Jesus—and Jesus alone.
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