Lest We Forget

His heart was heavier than his feet. Yet it was his breaking heart that put one foot in front of the other. He knew, when he started out, that it would take seven hours to get here. Even if he got what he came for, there was no guarantee they would return in time. For all he knew, it might already be too late.

When he had run from the house in Capernaum, his son lay at death’s door. But he couldn’t wait helplessly at that bedside, watching for the lad’s last breath. It might be the eleventh hour, but he would do something. There was a vestige of hope in Cana.

At the top of of that town’s hill, he had no trouble locating the man he wanted. But could he persuade the one with the healing touch to go back home with him? Name-dropping, he already knew, would not give him an edge.

This Jesus didn’t give a fig about the social ladder. The emperor was no more important to Him than the lowliest slave. Presenting himself as the distraught father he was, he “began to beg Him to come down and cure his son, for he was lying at the point of death” (John 4:47 AMPC).

He couldn’t believe his ears! Jesus’ response was some nonsense about signs. They didn’t have time now for an apologetic discussion! Every second counted! Desperate to make Jesus understand the dire circumstance, he tried again:  “The king’s officer pleaded with Him, Sir, do come down at once before my little child is dead!” (John 4:49 AMPC).

Time and distance were of no consequence to Jesus, as His decision proved. “Jesus answered him, ‘Go in peace; your son will live!’ And the man put his trust in what Jesus said and started home” (John 4:50 AMPC).

May we never forget that God has but to speak the word, and it is so.