Come with me to the temple. It's the Sabbath. And the baby Jesus, the long awaited Messiah, is now a grown man. (The following is an excerpt from my newest book, AT THE GATE CALLED BEAUTIFUL): Jesus came through the temple gate called Beautiful, a normal-sized Jewish man and a carpenter by trade. Some claimed He was different. They said He had power directly from God. He moved through the crowd without trying to get anyone’s attention. There was no air of self-importance about Him.
Jesus stopped to touch the heads of some children, and kneeled down to talk with them. His calloused hands touched their shoulders, lending encouragement to their little hearts.
Odd, but Jesus didn’t look any different from other men. But He was different. His piercing eyes searched each soul that He came into contact with, opening a new life to those who were willing to reach out for a new hope.
A boy with a crippled leg dragged his body close to Jesus. Some people watched and noticed that neither had said a word. Their spirits had spoken.
The youngster, who had heard of Jesus’s healing, tilted his head up, and smiled at the Son of God. And Jesus knew all about his life. He knew everyone’s lives.
Jesus crouched down to be on the same level as the youth, and gazed into the boy’s eyes. Within a few minutes the lame lad got to his feet. His crooked leg had straightened. While onlookers gazed in amazement, Jesus had healed the child.
No one could miss what had happened. Everyone's eyes widened, expressing their amazement. Like hungry infants, every mouth flew open. "Will this man heal me, too?" they whispered among themselves.
Among the people crowded around, a few chose to believe that this man named Jesus was the incarnate God. But though fresh hope was discovered in that ordinary-looking man, some among the congregation were disturbed by Him. After all, there had never been anyone like Him.
The great I AM had entered the world and walked in the flesh among His people.
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