Chapter 2

“Goodnight, Mother!” Adina exclaimed cheerfully, pulling the soft, cozy sheets up to her chin as she nestled into her warm bed.  “Goodnight, my sweet child,” Mother responded lovingly, her voice warm and caring. Once the door was gently closed, Mother made her way to the living room, where Father was seated on the couch. They were joined by Apollonas, the family’s trusted physician, who had been caring for Adina for some time.  

Apollonas, a man of considerable experience and knowledge, cleared his throat, signaling the importance of what he was about to say. “I have some questions that will help determine a very significant matter regarding Adina’s health, specifically, her abnormally weak heart.” he began, his tone serious. Mother and Father exchanged anxious glances, feeling the weight of concern settling in the room. Despite their worries, Father gave a subtle nod, encouraging Apollonas to continue. Taking a deep breath, Apollonas asked, “Has Adina experienced any attacks in the past three months?”  

Mother hesitated for a moment before responding, “No, not any attacks recently. However, she has been complaining of pain in her chest, and we’ve noticed she’s had frequent fevers.” Her voice was laced with worry. A profound wave of empathy and sorrow washed over Apollonas’s expression as he spoke with a heavy heart, “I’m truly sorry, but unless the God of our people grants mercy on your daughter, she will likely not survive the next month or two.” 

“No! My daughter! My precious Adina!” Mother exclaimed, her voice breaking with despair. “Oh, Aaron! What are we going to do?”

With a resolute expression and a firm set to his jaw, he replied, “We are going to pray with a fervor we have never experienced before, Roza. Tomorrow, we will come together in prayer and fasting, imploring Yahweh for mercy on our child. We must trust that His will is what ultimately guides us.” 

Moved by his conviction, Mother nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, and echoed his words with newfound strength, “Yahweh’s will be done.”

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“Goodbye, dear,” Peter called hurriedly as he dashed out the door, wanting to start fishing before the hottest part of the day.

“Wait, Peter!” Eve shouted, waving a small wicker basket filled with his lunch. “You forgot your lunch!”

But he was already out of earshot. With a sigh, she closed the door, a mix of warmth and worry filling her heart as she looked down at the basket—another reminder of his tendency to rush out without stopping to think.

Eve returned to the kitchen, flour dusting her hands and dough clinging to her apron. The table was covered with white flour and patches of dough, ready to be kneaded into bread. She paused to whisper her prayer for protection and success, a ritual she always performed while Peter was out earning their living. 

As her hands worked the dough, she felt calm, binding her hopes into the bread. Thought of Peter gave her strength, and she poured her love and dedication into transforming the simple ingredients into a nourishing meal.

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Peter threw the net down into the cool, shallow waters with a dramatic splash, frustration boiling over. For what felt like an eternity, he had come up empty, not a single fish caught either the day before or during this dreary, overcast morning. Each time he cast his net, doubts crept in, but his mind drifted back to a conversation he had had with Matthew just two days earlier. The weight of his unresolved issues—namely, the impending deadline for his taxes—loomed large in his thoughts. Tomorrow was the day, and if he failed to scrape together the necessary funds, the consequences could be dire: eviction from the modest home he shared with Eve—or even the loss of his trusty fishing boat, which represented not just his livelihood but a deep connection to his past.

As he stood there, lost in his own worries and uncertainty on the shore of the sea of Galilee, his brother Andrew came running up excitedly. Peter, already in a sour mood, said angrily, “Look, if this is about that crazy, creepy John of yours, I have better things to do.”

Ignoring his angry brother, Andrew went on. “I just saw the Messiah! A man passed by while John the Baptist was preaching, and John said He was the Lamb of God!”

Peter dropped his nets and exclaimed in disbelief, “The Messiah? The One we’ve been waiting for?”

Andrew nodded his head vigorously. “Yes! He’s the One!”

“Where is He? I want to follow Him! Maybe He’ll let us enroll in His army!” said Peter.

“Come on, brother! I know where He is!” replied Andrew. Peter dropped his nets and ran after his brother. Finally! The Messiah is here! We won’t have to listen to Rome anymore! If only Abba were here! 

Little did the joyous fishermen know, the Messiah didn’t come to overthrow Rome. In fact, He came for a much different reason.