The Spirit That Moves Mountains

Jeshua - Chapter 16

We were gathered in a small town in the area known as Galilee. A few of our friends prepared for our arrival in advance, securing homes to rest in and provisions for our little group. There was a total of sixteen of us now. Between the women who followed Mary and my band of merry souls, we were a joyful bunch of truth-seeking Jews (and one sweet Arab).

Mary and I walked together for most of the journey through the high-desert terrain. We navigated around shrubbery, plenty of rocks, and yards of sand. The heat of the sun on our backs was misery for some and a warm embrace for others.

There was excitement between the group members because we were still in the infancy of sharing information, discussing the nature of the universe and God, and getting to know our newer friends.

We stopped for a quick meal, and Mary and I broke off to talk with our growing group of friends.

"Rabbi, tell us what God is like," said Andrew.

These were my favorite times—a small group gathered together, hungry to learn about what I had discovered as the truth. Just by asking this question, Andrew would have been labeled a blasphemous member of our society. I was encouraged to see how much the curiosity for truth outweighed the concern and fear around our rather strict religious laws.

I looked around at our group of sixteen. Mary had made her way next to me and was breaking off pieces of bread for everyone to pass around. I also enjoyed this part of our talks because we were far enough away from any town or village that we didn't have to keep up appearances by separating the men from the women. It was still frowned upon for women to learn alongside men about scripture and the ways of our religion.

"All of you with two good ears should listen. God is like a parent, like some of you. He loves and loves and loves. No matter what you may do or think, all your Father knows how to do is love. One day you wondered what it would be like to be apart from your Father and to have a life separate from Him."

I broke off a piece of bread and swallowed it and then began one of my many different metaphors to try to explain the reality of the world, compared to the true reality of our Father.

"The moment you decided to leave and make a life of your own, you left the warmth and beauty of the Home of the Father. God continues to be God as you go off and explore away from your Father. Eventually, you will want to return. When you do, you will discover that your Father will greet you with open arms and more love than you have ever experienced."

John cleared his throat and leaned closer to the fire that was warming the group. "I think I understand what you are saying, Rabbi, but why would I want to leave my Father? I love God. I love my Father."

"That is a good question, John—good, yet not relevant to what you need to do every day. It's very simple, really. Every moment is a choice. If you want to return to God or continue down the path away from Him, you simply do so based on what your mind is focused on."

"Again, Master, I believe I understand this, but I know in my heart that I want to return to the Father. Why can I not return in this instance?" John's pained expression reflected the conflict that symbolized every aspect of his life.

"Do you dream, John?"

John turned to look at his fellow brothers and sisters, squinting his eyes. "Well, yes, I do. Why do you ask, Rabbi?"

"Do you ever have what you would consider dreams that inflict fear?"

John thought for a moment. "Well, yes. I have a recurring dream that I am hauling fish onto my boat, and the haul is so heavy I fall overboard and keep sinking into the dark and cold waters."