Ok...so I've got this urge to write...and the only thing that's striking my fancy is to write a little piece of fiction based on a Biblical event. So that's what I'm going to do.
If anyone reads this (and if you do, please leave a comment and let me know what you think of this story), let me give a quick apology.

Remember, this is all stuff out of my head, based on something real. What I'm writing may have a basis in what really happened...but the details, dialogue and the who said what and when all comes from my own twisted psyche. Please just read it as such. This isn't a means of trying to develop doctrine...but more a means of trying to bring the story to life. We miss so much when we just read the text of the Word and don't put ourselves into it. That's all I'm doing here. It wasn't like my description of it...but it could have been.

I'm going to write this in stages, and I'm not sure how long it will be between them.
So without further ado...here's my story:
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IN WILDER WINDS
Part One

Andrew wrinkled his forehead and asked, “He said to do what?”
“He wants us to go on ahead of him to Gennesaret.” said Peter.
“Why?” Nathaniel piped in.
“Look, I don’t know…he just said to. You wanna’ argue with Him, be my guest.”
“Well…when’s he gonna’ come down there? What’s he gonna’ do here?”
“I’ll walk you right over there and you can ask Him, ok?” Peter was getting irritated. Not just at the questions he was left to answer himself, but at the whole arrangement.
“C’mon guys, we can stand here and try and figure out what he’s doing, or we can do what he said to and not get him pissed off for once!” John always could settle an argument quickly.
“I don’t suppose he noticed there’s a north east wind starting to blow?” said Andrew under his breath.
They set off down the hill side, following the tiny road that led back to the Sea of Galilee. No one spoke much on the trip. Each man was privately rolling over the details in his mind of the event they had just witnessed; each man had his belly full of bread and fish.
It didn’t take the disciples long to stow their bags and cast off in Peter’s boat. Hoisting the sail, and manning the oars, they set out into open waters. A chill ran up Andrew’s arms as he felt the stiffening north east breeze fanning his skin, and the rattle in the rigging of the boat caused him to look over his shoulder toward the northern mountains. He furrowed his eyebrows and said out loud, “I’m tellin’ you guys, this is not a good idea.”

The last of the stragglers had left the hillside just as the sun dipped the horizon. He had hoped to be alone sooner than this, but anytime alone was a gift he was grateful for. Jesus breathed a long sigh through his nose, and sank down on the ground. He was tired. All of the faces he had seen and ministered to swirled around in his head. His chest felt hollow, and his limbs felt numb. Yet, even in his weary state, anticipation began to well in his heart.

This was what he had been longing for, the quiet moments when he could soar into the Father’s embrace, above the limitations of his flesh. Here he heard from Abba, and could see the plan from a greater perspective. He closed his eyes and tilted his face toward the sky.
“Abba” he whispered.
In his spirit, the dance began. To observe him from the outside, he was a man on his knees with his head tilted back. Beyond the veil of things seen, he whirled in the courtyards of heaven.

In the midst of his weeping and laughing and times of barely breathing, his eyes suddenly snapped open. In a split second, he had seen where the Father wanted him to be, and what was happening to his friends. His look of amazement soon gave way to a wry smile that spread across his tanned face.
“Oh, this is going to be good.” He whispered to his Father.




to be continued