The Fisherman Read Online Free PDF Page A

irritation. He grabbed the pitcher from the servant, then charged over to the groom and began scolding him for saving the really good wine until so late in the feast.

    The waiter’s words brought two immediate responses. The groom whirled around and stared at the waiter with a look of helpless confusion on his face. At the same time six friends of Jesus grabbed goblets and bolted back to those pots. We must have looked ridiculous, pushing and squirming our way through that crowd, like a footrace mistakenly routed through the center of a public market.

    One taste of that wine was all I needed. It was good—as good as any I had ever tasted in my life. But it wasn’t the wine I was excited about; it was the future. I didn’t know how he had done it; I just knew he had. And the implications were staggering. If he could do it again, we could sell this stuff and be rich overnight. If ever Jesus needed a partner, it was now, and I was clearly the man for the job. I could handle the whole business wing of the thing, and he could devote his time to the production side.
    It was Andrew who finally jolted me back to reality. I glanced over at the pots and saw him sitting next to one of them in a sort of stunned silence. I went charging over, cup in hand, and blurted out, “Wow, little brother, did you see what he just did?! ”
    Andrew looked up at me and said, “No, Simon, did you see what he just did? This man just accomplished the impossible. Listen, Simon! This man isn’t just a prophet. This man just performed a miracle. Prophets preach. Prophets exhort. Prophets don’t change 180 gallons of well water into wine. And Simon . . . Simon, he didn’t do this for them, for all those people out there laughing and having a good time. They don’t even know about it. Simon, he did this for us, for you and me and James and John and Philip and Nathanael. He wanted the six of us to see his power. Use your head, Simon. Even the great King David never did anything like this. And when our God performed miraculous works through Moses and Elijah, he did it to meet some critical need affecting our entire nation. But not like this! Not at their cousin’s wedding! And certainly not simply because someone forgot to order enough wine.
    â€œListen, big brother—what just happened here isn’t about wine. It’s about him and about us. This man doesn’t need us. This man turns well water into wine without even speaking a word. What in the world could we offer him? And yet, for some reason he wants us with him; he wants us to see the supernatural power God has given him. Something just happened here today that hasn’t happened before in the history of our nation. And, Simon, I’ve never felt so honored in my life.”
    After hearing Andrew’s words I decided to put my wine-selling scheme on hold for a little while. Somehow it just didn’t seem like the right time to bring it up. I knew Andrew was right about one thing—Jesus planned this miracle for our eyes only. What a day! It began with a neat little bundle of expectations and assumptions about what it meant to be a disciple of this fascinating new prophet. Those expectations now lay in a shattered heap. In their place I was left with a man I couldn’t even begin to understand.
    The feast continued until well into the night. When things finally quieted down, we all found a corner in which to sleep for a few hours. We regrouped in the morning to discover that our little band was now considerably larger. The miraculous appearance of all that wine the night before demanded some explanation. Though Jesus said nothing himself, the servants were more than willing to fill in the blanks. Rumors flew throughout the crowd, and Jesus became an instant object of fascination.
    Our trip back to Capernaum took on the look and feel of a caravan. Along with a number of fascinated followers, Jesus’ mother and several