The Wayside Pulpit No.23
"I am coming tomorrow!"
The words kept ringing in her ears. She had been watching the Gentle Healer for
some days as He performed miracles in and around
And then it happened! Why should it happen? How did He know her thoughts? There
were so many others crowding around. Turning to her He said, "Woman, I am
coming to visit you tomorrow. Prepare yourself." She just stood there with
wide open mouth, not knowing what to say or do. Many faces were looking at her
with searching interest, but the Healer had already turned away, to attend the
needs of a leper.
She hurried back home. It was approaching eventide, and there was much to be
done. Mind you, she had an orderly house, and was proud of it. But everything
had to be made ship-shape for the advent of the Healer from
Morning arrived, and there were still many small tasks to be done. But before
she had even begun, there was a tap on the door. With heart beating fast she
opened it, only to find an elderly man standing there leaning on his staff. She
sighed with relief.
"Drink," was all he said in a husky voice.
"I'm sorry. I'm very busy. The village well is just round the
corner."
Shutting the door, she proceeded to shake rugs and polish furniture. A while
later there was another tap at the door. "Oh no!" she thought,
thinking it be another vagrant. Lifting the latch she was confronted by a
beggar girl with bowl in hand. She looked so dirty. The flies swarmed round her
face.
"I'm sorry. I'm very busy. Can't you try next door?"
She sighed with relief. Beggars were becoming so frequent these days. Normally
she would have been a little more considerate, but today . . . . no, not today.
Time passed without another caller. It was now mid-afternoon. She had finished
her preparations when there was the third knock. It was by no means a tap, but
a good hard thump, repeated three times. "My goodness, who dares to knock
like that?" She knew instinctively that her Healer friend could not be on
the other side of the door. Opening it, she was confronted by a big burly
fellow with a gruff voice.
"They said you'd let me sleep on the roof tonight."
Who were "they", she wondered, and who was HE, in any case? Mind you,
the steps were on the side of the house, and there was no way he could have
gained illegal entry to her dwelling. It was common practice to allow strangers
to sleep on the flat roofs of dwellings. But she didn't like the look of the man.
"I'm sorry. I'm expecting an important guest. I cannot attend to
you."
Closing the door she sat in her immaculately cleaned and prepared parlour,
waiting. Time passed. . . . . It was now sun-down, and
the start of another day. Bewildered, she shed a few tears. Why had He changed
His mind? She was unable to sleep that night, turning over in her mind what
could have prevented Him from coming.
Morning came. Rather fearfully she crept over to Simon Peter's house, where He
was wont to stay. Yes, there He was, talking to a few who had already gathered.
Turning, His eyes fell upon her and drew her to Him. She stood there, not
uttering a word, but her eyes were questioning.
"What ails you, woman?"
"I waited for you yesterday, but . . ." She couldn't finish her
sentence.
"I came to you three times yesterday, but you turned me away. I asked you
to prepare yourself, but you prepared your house instead."