A Gospel Story

A Gospel Story: Matthew’s Perspective

Please Note: The following story is simply an anecdotal form of prose based on the Gospel. The writer took some artistic liberty in laying out such a work, and therefore this story is not a literal documentary taken from its Model. May the LORD forgive me if I have abused His Grace in this, or in anything at all. Take this with a grain of salt, and look not to the minute details, but to the overarching message: how that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures; and that He was buried, and that He rose again the third day according to the Scriptures: and that He was seen of Cephas (that is, Peter), then of the twelve: after that, He was seen of above five hundred brethren at once. After that, He was seen of James; then of all the apostles.

Source: https://stock.adobe.com/images/tomb-empty-with-shroud-and-crucifixion-at-sunrise-resurrection-of-jesus-christ/326764509?clickref=1110lgrtG3S&mv=affiliate&mv2=pz&as_camptype=&as_channel=affiliate&as_source=partnerize&as_campaign=pkrat

Chopin Sonata No. 2 in B-Flat Minor, Op. 35 (Movement 1):

It all started with a kiss. Of lust? No. Of love? No. Fidelity? Fraternity? No, no. It was the kiss of treachery. And to think that he was one of the twelve. How could he? Judas Iscariot, that traitor of Belial, sold his Master for but thirty pieces of silver (and I thought I was the acquisitive one!). What had Jesus done? Nothing but good. He had visited the fatherless and widows in their affliction. He had healed the sick, cleansed the lepers, raised the dead, cast out devils; He had broken the yoke of bondage that our old, hard master - Sin - had put over us. The poor, the lepers, the children, and, yes, … even publicans and prostitutes … He had healed them all. He had given them new life, and, in return, what did He receive? Death. There He hung. Hanging. On that horrid Cross. His face more marred than any man, and His form more than the sons of men. There they mocked my King. There they mocked my LORD. There … there they scourged my Elder Brother. Rather than bestowing upon His temple a crown of splendor, they pressed upon His head a crown of thorns. How could this be? This Son of man who had done so many wondrous signs and miracles - now hanging on that tree, dying, His clothes having been parted amongst His murderers… this… what good might come from this?

It all started on a normal day. Men, women, children were coming to pay their debts (honestly, though, they were debts they didn’t really owe). I was at the front, at the receipt of custom, greedily eating up widows’ and orphans’ livelihoods.

Matthew: “No, woman! Those shekels go in this box. These other ones go in that one.”

Marianne: “Oh, oh, oh. Ok.”

She hastily obeys the orders. Then, to himself, Matthew says “These people, they never learn” just loud enough so that Marianne could overhear him.

Matthew: “No, no, no kid! Woman, you really should have a leash on that little brat.”

And then He came. Jesus. My Beloved Elder Brother. He came and told me, “Follow Me”, and, for reasons beyond me, I followed. Why He chose me, I know not. Why He picked me, even out of the brightest scribes or scholars, is beyond me. What I do know is that I’m glad He did. And so, that night, Jesus came to sup with me: me, my buddies, and … Jesus. And from that day forward, my life was forever changed, all through repentance and faith.

Schubert Impromptu No. 1 in F Minor (Op. 142 No. 1):

My journey with Jesus was an unexpected one. I would not exchange it for all the gold in the world. My friends, Jesus’ other followers, one of them was Simon. He was a Zealot, and, for those of you who don’t know, the Zealots were part of a (in my opinion, quite radical) Jewish sect. Long story short, just as publicans are penny-pinching pocket-padders, even so Zealots are zesty and zazzy mavericks - it would have been the duty of a Zealot to kill a publican. You see why this journey was so unusual? I mean, this entire story seemed like it came directly out of a Book. Remember, brother, how Jesus made a Christmas feast for us on that mountain top? How could I forget? The feast was not only for us, but for five thousand men too. We ate to our full (and, speaking for myself at least, ate more than I really should have). Yes; and it all came from that young child’s lunch pail. Mmmm. I could almost taste those victuals even now. Matthew, read that entry again, will you? Oookay. Here it is:

Matthew: “Look, Jesus, at the multitude below!”

Jesus: “Fifteen thousand people. Each one.. hungry.”

Matthew: “So many people! And on Christmas too!”

Jesus: “Children, I have compassion on these ones.”

He turns to Philip, the local of the area: “Whence shall we buy bread, that these may eat?”

Philip: “I know not, my Lord, for two hundred pennyworth of bread is not sufficient for them, that every one of them may take a little.”

Jesus: “Be of good cheer. But bring Andrew here, will you?”

Andrew: “Here am I… and here is James. (now James was a child.) Tell Him, James, what you told me.”

James: “Mr. Jesus, Sir, I know that it is Christmas, and that this isn’t much. But Mother packed for me a lunch of five barley loaves, and two fishes: here it is. I-I believe that You can magically give me better food. … After all, it’s Christmas day!”

Jesus: “My child. According to your faith, may it be so; may it be so.”

Jesus: “Friends, make the men, women, and children sit down.”

Philip: “All of them?”

Jesus: “Yes; all.”

Now there was much grass in the place. So the men sat down, in number about five thousand. And Jesus took the loaves; and when He had given thanks, He distributed to the disciples, and the disciples to them that were set down; and likewise of the fish as much as they would.

When they were filled, Jesus said unto His disciples, “Gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing be lost.” And when they had gathered the bread baskets up, they counted them: one, two, three, four, .. five, six, .. seven … all the way to twelve.

Jesus: “Call James to Me, please.”

Simon: “Here he is.”

Jesus: “Did you enjoy the meal, James?”

James: “Yes! I didn’t know fish and bread could taste so good!”

Jesus: “Yes, My child. That (then, whispering into James’ right ear) that’s what would be called ‘Fish & Chips’ in centuries to come.”

James: “Whoa! My tongue just time travelled millions of years!”

Jesus, chuckling: “Well, not millions, but perhaps thousands.”

And can you believe that? That was only one of the countless miracles that Jesus did. Yes, Matthew. And yet, there were countless to come. Like when He made a blind man to see. Oh. You mean me? Well, yes, but I also mean Phinehas. Oh, yes, dear Phinehas. I could see it even now.

Phinehas: “Alms! Alms! Alms for the poor! .. please.. Alms for the blind and destitute...”

Matthew: “Master, why is it that this man is blind? Was it his parent’s sins, or his own?”

Jesus: “Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him. I must work the works of Him that sent Me, while it is day: the night cometh, when no man can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”

When He had thus spoken, He spat on the ground and made clay of the spittle, and He anointed the eyes of the blind man with the clay.

Jesus: “Go, My Beloved. Go, wash in the pool of Siloam.”

With the help of the Lord’s right hand, Phinehas goes to the pool and washes himself. Returning, he came seeing, mind, eyes, and head clear. More than this, though, was that his heart was made clean. Nevertheless, when he was come to the temple, there was confusion, for some said “Is not this he that sat and begged?” Some said, “This is he”, while others said “No; only that he is like him”. But Phinehas replied, “I am he”. With such a kind of opening, the news spread rapidly throughout the city. When he was asked how his eyes were opened, he answered and said, “A Man that is called Jesus made clay, and anointed mine eyes, and said unto me, ‘Go to the pool of Siloam, and wash:’ and I went and washed, and I received sight.”

Despite having witnessed such an astounding miracle, there were a number of elders who were upset with Jesus, simply because He had done this on the Sabbath day. The leaders reviled and persecuted Phinehas, even to the point of casting him out of the temple. And yet, afterwards, he seemed even joyful. Not only in spite of persecution, but it seemed that he was joyful because of such persecution. Perhaps this was because our Master visited him after that brutish excommunication.

You know, brother, that story never wears old. Each time I think back on that miracle, I see something new. It’s as if I behold the past with new eyes every time I think on it. A new past. Huh. Come to think of it, brother, that is true of me also… I have a new past. Same! Speaking for myself, it’s as if I got a complete redo, only that the redo was already did-done-doed for me. It is that I had a new life given to me, and one that I need not have forged of myself! Yes! That’s the same for me! And, I guess that was like how it was for Lazarus, too, when he was given new life. What a miracle! Read that entry again, will you, Matthew?

March 6th,

Jesus told us today that one of our dear friends, Lazarus, is dead. He told us that we should go unto him, and awake him from the dead. And so we went. I wonder, though: could not this Man, which opened the eyes of the blind, have caused that even this man should not have died?

Yes, yes, but don’t just stop there! Read on!

March 10th,

Wow! What a miracle! Praise GOD!

Today, we arrived to Bethany, where Lazarus was lain. The journey had taken just less than an hour (as the journey was under three miles). He (Lazarus) had lain in the grave four days already. When Martha heard that our Master had come, she went out to meet us. She said to Jesus, “Lord, why did You not come? Surely, y-you snif love us. You weren’t even half a day’s journey away. … If You had been here, my brother would not have died.” Jesus said unto her, “Your brother shall rise again.” Martha thought He was talking about the resurrection at the last day. But then Jesus said unto her, “I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believes in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever lives and believes in Me shall never die. Believest thou this?”

Though this seemed to be directed to Martha, Jesus’ Words pierced deep into my own heart. Do I believe this? … I … think?

When we arrived at the tomb, there was a crowd of mourners waiting for us. Most of them wept. Very interestingly, our Master also wept when He saw His friends weeping. Clearly, He loved Lazarus. … would He weep if I died? Does He love me that much?

When Jesus was brought to the grave, the stone at the entrance was rolled away. Then, after He said a prayer of thanksgiving, He simply called Lazarus out of the grave, and he that was dead came forth, bound hand and foot with graveclothes, his face bound about with a napkin! What a funny sight! (Jesus instructed them to loose him, of course).

And so Jesus literally rose someone again from the dead! He defeated death! Of all the astounding miracles that He had done, this might have been (at least up until now) the greatest. What a privilege to even witness this!

Chopin Concerto No. 2 in F Minor (Movement 1):

Well, I guess I was wrong, brother. If Jesus truly had the keys of death, then why would He let Himself be scourged, mocked, beaten, persecuted in every way imaginable (and unimaginable, at that), and brutally slaughtered? Don’t you remember seeing Him? There He hung. Hanging. On that horrid Cross. His face more marred than any man, and His form more than the sons of men. Dead…  ? His body limp, literally nailed onto that Cross at Calvary. We were promised redemption for Israel. And now… ? Subjection. Oppression. Declension. You know, I’ve been wondering if those elders were right. He saved others. Yet, could He save Himself? I - I’m not sure - Whoa! Watch out! Someone’s coming. Sshhh… … Ok. Now, Simon. Hurry. We must not tarry here. Let’s go back to Galilee, Simon, and then we’ll be safe (I hope). Yes, Matthew, but if only we could find the others… Wait a minute! That was Peter! Not a legionary.

Matthew: Over here, Peter!

Peter: Aah! … oh, it’s just you.

Simon: Where have you been this entire time?

Peter: Sshhh! Not so loud. Quick. Let’s go back to my home… the old one.

Simon: That’s just what we were thinking.

And so, Matthew, Peter, and Simon all went back to Peter’s old home by the wharf. Once there, they shut the doors, locked them, and sat down in trepidation to discuss all that happened. Christmas dinner. The garden. The kiss. And then this? On what should have been a joyous, very merry Birthday, what came about? A grievous, tortuous death day. Suddenly-

knock, knock

Peter: Aah! Quick. Grab your knives!

Simon: Wait… th-that’s only Philip and Nathanael.

Matthew opens the door. “Come in!”, he calls. And as two old friends enter the room, Peter could see their flushed faces, red eyes, disfigured mouths … it was clear that they had been weeping profusely.

Philip: I’m glad we found you guys. We have been all over the city, running through the outskirts in hiding looking for you.

Nathanael: And, praise the LORD, we have finally found you all.

Simon: Not yet. There are still eight left.

Matthew: Seven, you mean.

Peter: That’s right! After all, Judas Iscariot will no longer be amongst us as a brother. That … that traitor! … That brat of Belial! I’ve a good mind to stab him in the back - literally!

And with that, the seven other disciples appeared behind Philip and Nathanael, having seen and followed them at a distance of a mile or so back.

When they had all gathered round in Peter’s old living room, the now-eleven disciples, each of them, bolted the doors, nailed the windows closed, and hid in the attic. It was noon of the next day - Saturday. Already. The heavy, drawn-out hours flew by. As the floodgates of their eyes emptied themselves out, the boys half-heartedly went back to their old way of living. With their Shepherd having been smited, the sheep were now scattered abroad. Peter began fishing again. Even at that same hole he had grown up at. Nathanael took up the piano in such a manner as he had done so before he met Jesus. Matthew, though he was once a tax collector, chose to take up fishing with Peter. So did Simon. In like manner, each of the other disciples returned to his old life. And yet, though there was that aspect of familiarity in these activities, life just wasn’t the same. Yes, they used the same equipment, the same nets, played the same music, cooked the same meals… And yet, there was just something different. For one thing, their appetite was completely gone. All those hours, all those days, the twelve disciples ate no pleasant bread, neither came flesh nor wine in their mouth, neither did they anoint themselves at all. Yes, they certainly had time to cook. And many of them did. They tried to eat. Nevertheless, their soul abhorred all manner of meat; and they drew near unto the gates of death.

Then they cried unto the LORD in their trouble. Yes, He had died. He had been buried. They had seen their Master scourged; such was the suffering of not even the most vile slave. But, … perhaps He would still hear… or would He?

And then Mary and Mary came: Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of James and Salome, along with some other women. They reported that they came to the tomb, saw two whose countenances were like unto that of the angel of the Lord, and were told by one of them, “Fear not: for I know that you seek Jesus, which was crucified. He is not here: for He is risen, as He said. Come, see the place where the Lord lay.” Apparently, after they beheld the tomb, the angel also said, “And go quickly, and tell His disciples that He is risen from the dead; and, behold, He even now goes before you into Galilee; there shall you seek Him: lo, I have told you.”

Such was the message that these two women testified of.

And, yet … still, these are women! Women are not legitimate witnesses! They’re not … they’re not honest! And Mary Magdalene! That woman - she who was once possessed with seven devils. I- … I mean. Surely it must have been a relapse of one of her former demons. This couldn’t have been. No. This vile sinner? The first witness of our LORD’s supposed resurrection? No. I can’t believe it. I… I won’t believe it.

Simon: Yes, but, Matthew, didn’t Jesus say, when He was still with us, that those who are forgiven much love much, and that to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little? I mean, you, Matthew, should know. (then, under his breath) After all, you’re the tax collector.

Matthew: Who’re you calling a tax collector, Zealot?

Philip: Brothers, brothers! Calm down!

Nathanael: Certainly! Here comes Peter and John!

Matthew: Those lunatics? You mean the Peter and John that hastened to the tomb after Mary’s words?

Simon: Who else?

And with that, huffing and puffing, Peter and John returned, each with certain expressions as it is hard to put into words. Astonishment? Certainly. Hope? Yes. Confusion? A little.

Peter: The grave! The grave is empty!!

Simon, pushing aside the other twelve: Whatever do you mean?!?

Peter: That’s what I mean! We went to the tomb, and all we found were those graveclothes lying by themselves.

John: Yes! The linen clothes and napkin were there … (he goes pale) as if someone were there!

Matthew: You mean as if someone stole the body?

John and Peter together: Yes!

Matthew, looking down: It’s like I’ve always said - you just can’t trust women.

Thomas: I doubt you could trust anyone. …(then, quieter)  perhaps not even Jesus.

Judas (not Iscariot): Tell us, brothers, what happened.

John: Well, after Mary gave us the news about the empty grave, Peter and I ran both together: (then, with a slight smirk and with a glance at his brother) and I did outrun Peter, and came first to the sepulchre, and stooped down … (demonstrating) like this… (he gathers himself again, and, with an air of confidence, says) and looking in, saw the linen clothes lying;

Peter, cutting in with a flush of embarrassment: Yet went you not in. … I was the one who actually had the courage to go in: I went into the sepulchre, and seeth the linen clothes lie, and the napkin, that was about Jesus’ head, not lying with the linen clothes, but wrapped together in a place by itself.

Now John’s the one that cuts back in and quickly interjects: Then went I in also. (then, he adds) which came first to the sepulchre.

James: Look, John. Chill. You’re getting all worked up over nothing.

Andrew: Yes, both of you. Now, please tell us, what actually happened?

scene shifts back to the sepulchre.

J.S. Bach Goldberg Variations BWV 988 - Aria:

Mary is weeping. It is a cool morning, yet not too cold. Other than her tears and the chirping of a few birds, all is serene. Mary looks back into that hollow grave. Her stomach churns. She looks away, crying some more. She looks again. She looks away. Finally, she looks in once more. Wait a second… no. She must be imagining things. … Hallucinations! That’s it. Oh, but their countenances are so sharp as lightning, so bright as the sun, so.. so very vivid! Two men, dressed in white, sitting inside the empty tomb? Do they know where her LORD’s body is? But then, …

They speak.

“Lady, why do you weep?”

She saith unto them, “Because they have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid Him.”

And when she had thus said, with tears still streaming down her eyes, a soft and gentle, yet firm and loving hand touched her.

She turns herself aback. There, … there was just something so elusive about His face. His countenance as pure as a fresh blanket of snow, His eyes as just as lightning, His wholly white garments almost as beautiful as …what was it? .. Well, He just looked so rugged, and tender. So handsome, and humble. So… so, so holy, holy,.… very holy.

In the light of His face, all of her worries suddenly grew strangely dim. All her tears of agony and grief were forgotten, like a bad dream that you awake from and remember no more in light of a beautiful, simple, refreshing breakfast of bacon & eggs (& potatoes & toast), or of last night’s left over pizza, or of yogurt and honey .. or of whatever kind of food is very dear to you. Perhaps it’s even cereal and a bagel.

There was just something so familiar about Him. This Man reminded her of her past. No, not her old self. Not the old man (or woman, if that is more pc for you liberals). Nor did He remind her of her wretched lovers, all who had broken her once calloused heart. No. He reminded her of an orchard. A garden. A vine.… And then she remembered her grief. Him. Jesus, the Master of her life. The Good Shepherd. The True Vine. The Beloved.

Suddenly, this Man spoke. “Dear lady, why do you weep? Whom do you seek?” And then she remembered. She, supposing Him to be the gardener, saith unto Him, “Sir, if You have taken Him away, tell me where You have laid Him, and .. and .. and I will take Him away.”

And then He said, with infinite affection and unquenchable tenderness, “Mary.”

Immediately, she turned herself around and saith unto Him, “Rabboni”; which is to say, “Master.”

And just as she was about to cast herself upon His feet, Jesus said unto her, “Touch Me not; for I am not yet ascended to My Father: but go to My brethren, and say unto them, I ascend unto My Father, and your Father; and to My God, and your God.”

Mendelssohn Symphony 4 (Movement 1):

Unity. Perfect Oneness. Such were the words of her LORD. As she milled over His words in her spirit, perfect strength filled her. Though she be beyond the flower of her youth, nothing stopped her, nothing deterred her from hastening to her brethren to tell them such wonderful news: Jesus is alive! He’s alive! He’s alive! Hallelujah, He’s alive!

And so she went. Mounting up with wings as eagles, running and not growing weary, walking and not fainting, she came to her brethren. What would they say? I bet they would be so very happy - so ecstatic - so agawed with the news she would tell them.

What met her was not what she expected.

Fantasy-Impromptu in C sharp minor:

Mary: “Brothers! Brothers! You aren’t going to believe what I just saw.”

Thomas: “I doubt I would believe it, coming from you.”

Mary: “Jesus! He’s alive! Jesus! He- He’s alive!!!”

Simon: “Ok, ok, Mary. Calm down. I’m sure that this must be some form of PTSD. A little knock on the head, perhaps. Or some indigestion.”

Simon looks Mary one-to-one, eye-to-eye. Then, he says “Look, Mary, if He is alive, where is He?”

Mary: “I- … exact-... I don’t precisely know. I think… He’s now with His Father and yo-... He’s with His God and your…”

Simon: “Oh, come now, Mary. You mustn’t be carried about by the slight of man and cunning craftiness. Don’t believe idle tales.”

Matthew: “Look, Simon. This is quite enough. Can’t you see it? .. can’t you see that she’s taken quite enough? .. why must you be so merciless? so relentless? so ruthless? why.. why don’t you just zip it, Zealot?”

As soon as that final sentence came forth from my mouth, I regretted having even taken the breath for to speak those words. But… it was too late. Ashamed, I slinked back.

The room was tense for a moment. Death was (still) in the air. Everyone looked to Simon, who was dumb with silence.

Simon: “...ok. I see it. I see when I’m not wanted, publi… bye.”

And with that, Simon took up his sword and went out.

Mary, in a saddened, quenched ecstasy: “Oh, come, come. Come, brothers. Be strong therefore, and shew yourselves men. Come with me. See the empty grave!”

Matthew, lifting up his heavy head: “Look, Mary.  Please.  Enough.”

Philip speaks with just enough strength to calmly and quietly beckon to Mary: “Yes, Mary. Come. Follow me, sister. Let’s go into the garden…”

As those words were finished, Peter notices something interesting about Mary… she .. her face .. her face is twisted. her complexion grieved.. tears welling up in her eyes…

Mary, with just enough courage to restrain herself: “No, no… you don’t see…”

She rushes to depart from their presence. As the door closes in from behind her, she quietly weeps .. alone. And yet she wasn’t alone.

…

No music:

Philip starts to follow after her. However, just as his hand is about to reach for the door knob, he stops. Slowly, he turns back to his brethren.

Philip: “... I … I … I just don’t know.”

Nathanael: “It’s like I’ve always said: Can there any good thing come out of Nazareth?”

Philip, scratching his head: “..well. He lived, He died, and now…”

Nathanael: “and now we remain. Forgotten. Abandoned. Cast away. … brethren, we gave our hearts to a Nazarene.”

Philip: “..well.. You know, Nathanael, we ought to at least come and see His grave. That way, this Word may be established: (he looks to each of the eleven, and Peter) so that we may all know whether or not the grave truly is empty. (he looks toward the sun) Let’s go after supper.”

Then, to himself, he says “Hopefully then, we’ll be under the cover of the shadows.”

…

Bach Brandenburg Concertos:

May 30, ‘33 AD:

Dinner was the usual: fish and honeycomb, with a few loaves of bread. There is something spiritual, though, about the breaking of bread. For it was while we were eating that two other brothers came and testified of Jesus like as to how Mary Magdalene has been doing for .. for what, forty days by now? Well over a month. According to Cleopas, our Lord was known of these two in the breaking of bread.

But… as they thus spoke, Jesus Himself stood in the midst of us, and said unto us, “Peace be unto you.”

Terror took us. We were so afraid. Was this a ghost? a spirit?

But He continued, saying “Why are you troubled? and why do thoughts arise in your hearts? Behold My hands and My feet, that it is I Myself: handle Me, and see; for a spirit has not flesh and bones, as you see Me have.”

And when He had thus spoken, He showed them His hands and His feet. And while we were yet so awestruck that we believed not for joy, and wondered, He said unto us, “Have you here any meat?”

So, what did we do? I gave to my Beloved Elder Brother a piece of a broiled fish, and of an honeycomb. He took it, and ate before us.

Then, Jesus spoke, saying “I have come into My garden, My sister, My spouse: I have gathered My myrrh with My spice; I have eaten My honeycomb with My honey; I have drunk My wine with My milk: eat, O friends; drink, yes, drink abundantly, O beloved.”

What is truly interesting though, is that, although logic would have it that He were speaking to a woman, or even the women that we so pig-headedly disbelieved, I had the strong conviction that He was talking directly into my own heart. … it’s almost as if … He, being the greatest, most masculine man ever, was talking of such a love only present in .. Beloved.

But, Jesus continued to speak, saying “These are the words which I spoke unto you, while I was yet with you, that all things must be fulfilled, which were written in the law of Moses, and in the prophets, and in the psalms, concerning Me.”

Then He opened not only the Scriptures, but our understanding also, that we might understand them.

And He said unto us, “Thus it is written, and thus it was good for Christ to suffer, and to rise from the dead the third day: And that repentance and remission of sins should be preached in His name among all nations, beginning at Jerusalem.”

And these next words that Jesus spoke, it’s as if He were speaking them directly to me specifically, though it seemed that He also spoke these directly into Peter’s heart, as well as into Simon’s heart, and Philip’s heart, and Nathanael’s heart, and… well, and the rest of the individual disciples’ hearts.

These are the words: “And you are witnesses of these things.”

And so He continued, “And, behold, I send the promise of My Father upon you: but tarry in the city of Jerusalem, until you are endued with power from on high.”

And so, He led us out as far as to Bethany, and He lifted up His hands, and blessed us. He blessed us! Yes, He blessed us as His little flock, but He blessed me also - that is, me specifically,.. and, .. well, and the rest of the disciples individually also. What a blessing!

And so, it came to pass, while He blessed us, that He was parted from us, and carried up into heaven.

And we worshipped Him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy: and were continually in the temple, praising and blessing God, where we abide even now. Amen.”

And so, this is I, Matthew, not Matthew the publican, but now Matthew the preacher, who testifies of these things, and wrote these things: and you know that his testimony is true. If I wouldn’t suffer such persecution as I do now for money, how much greater must this Message be than cankered and rusted gold and silver. I wouldn’t put up with such ridicule, such forced fasts, such sleep deprivation, such beatings, such hatred, for anything, save the Gospel of Jesus Christ. This is more than just the truth. This is salvation! God, the Holy One of Israel, has made Him to be sin for us, who knew no sin; that we might be made the righteousness of God in Him. The King of Glory, the LORD strong and mighty, the LORD mighty in battle, fought the battle for the eternity of your soul and came out the Victor, Himself covered with His own blood by the which He hurled Sin into the grave, by the which He put Death to death. Look: I know that I’ve probably eaten up countless of elderly widows’ and helpless children’s livelihoods… but, if you had only known those words that Jesus spoke to me. If only you were there! If only you knew! Friend, my thievery, your thievery, was imputed unto Him. The King of Glory took the many floggings I deserved and that you perhaps still deserve. The Man of sorrows, the Son of suffering, suffered for your sins. Christ, the Good Soldier, made the ultimate sacrifice to seal the payment of your eternity. He died for you. He died… for me. The chief of sinners. And now He crushed the head of our old overlord so that if you would only turn from your sins and turn to Him, you will have everlasting life! This is the hope of life eternal! This is the hope of love everlasting! This is the hope of peace beyond measure! This is the Gospel! Please, friend, you must listen, I implore you… I urge you,.. please, friend. Turn from your sins. Acknowledge, and see through the glory of the heavens, that your sin is exceedingly sinful. No amount of striving or of giving or of fasting or of excelling or of working or of volunteering .. or of whatever! .. could save you. No. You must turn from your sins and turn to Christ. The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand: repent and believe the Gospel. He that believes on Jesus is not condemned, but he that does not believe shall be damned. This Jesus: He is the stone which was set at nought of you for you, yes, even you, friend, which is become the head of the corner. And don’t try to look to money. I tried that, and .. and it failed - miserably. You see, neither is there salvation in any other: for there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved. I.. I don’t know what else to say. This, this love letter to you, friend, is… is… well, I don’t know what else to say. This love letter itself must be your eyewitness. I mean, yes. Many other signs truly did Jesus in the presence of His disciples, which are not written herein: but these are written, that you might believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God; and that believing you might have life through His name. You know, tell you what. If all these many other things which Jesus did were written every one, I suppose that even the world itself could not contain the books that should be written. Amen.

Dear friend: I would like to again mention that this short story is but an inadequate reflection, a dark glass, a simple allegory to the greatest Love Story ever - the Gospel of Jesus Christ. The events in this simple story may not be entirely accurate. For a perhaps more excellent and accurate order of events, please refer to Answers in Genesis. If, however, you would like to read first-hand this glorious Gospel, come. Come, friend, and I will show you such poetic Love Letters you can’t even imagine. And the more you receive them with meekness (James 1:21), the more you will see the beauty of the LORD JESUS CHRIST.