The shadows on our faces flickered with the flames. They were covered by consternation and seeking to understand--no, to appreciate what he was saying to us. "The Father has placed within you the capacity to love him; still, you have the choice to release that love or not. You also have the power to determine by what measure it is released. You are free--free to release love or repress it. You are the only creatures on earth with that power." Was he saying that we were created so that the Father would have someone to love him because the impulse within us was so strong that we could not resist loving him? Such an inscrutable thought was too high for us.

"My Father and I want your love more than anything your minds can imagine," Jesus continued. "Look above you." Our heads lifted to behold a canopy of brilliance spread like a glorious, sparkling belt across a field of velvet darkness. "Can you count them? What you can actually see is an infinitesimal slice of what your eyes cannot see." I thought about that. How could there be heavenly bodies that we could not see? If they were there, why could we not see them? "Before these," Jesus said, "there were angels. Like you, they were created with the ability to love or withhold it. Those that loved were confirmed in their love. Now they love the Father because the thought that they could not would never occur to them."

It did not occur to me then, on that lovely, starry night, but on reflection I realized that what Jesus was giving us was the very rationale for creation. Moreover, he was telling us why he had come.

"Yet, even they were not created supremely. They were not created in the Image of God." He paused only for the briefest of moments, just enough to create a hunger, an anticipation for his next words. "You were," he said. "You were created more like God than you can now comprehend. Of no other living being can it be said that it was created in the Image of God." It was too much. Our minds were reeling. We needed closure and Jesus seemed to sense that. "That Image has been corrupted. I have come," he said, "to give the Image of God back to you so that once again, you may freely love the Father and his Son, whom he has sent. There is much to say; there is much to teach you, but this much is enough. For now it is all you can absorb." With that, he rose and shook the sand from his garments. "This day has ended. Let's get some sleep." He turned and walked toward the house. The twelve and most of the others followed. I remained. I needed to think.

The days at the home of Simon the Tanner turned into weeks. Before I realized the rapid passage of time, two months had passed. The days were noticeably shorter. We were approaching the shortest day of the year. One morning I rose from my bed while it was still dark. I loved to sleep in the coolness of night, but that morning, my thoughts would not allow me. I rose and stepped from Simon's house onto the beach. The sound of the surf is a beautiful thing. The light of the stars reflected on the water in the distance.

To my left a promontory of rock stood stalwart against the sea, dark waves roaring over and crashing against it in splashing foam and spray. Crashing and splashing. Crashing and splashing in the powerful rhythms of the deep. I felt the spray on my face and the water sucking about my legs as I stood in the surf. The sand around my feet washed away with the pulling water. The sensory response overwhelmed me. I burst forth in deep throated song. The notes of my melody were lost against the roar of the surf. I could not sing louder than the waves, but I didn't care. Tears of joy streamed from my eyes. God could hear and it was to him I sang with all my heart, with all my being.

And then I saw him.

Unaware of my presence, he was playing with his dog. I watched as he picked up a small piece of driftwood and hurled it into the sea. Abishag, her barking lost in the crash of the waves, plunged into the water in hot pursuit. After a few moments of surging in the waves and furious paddling, she returned with it in her mouth. Once reaching the firm beach, she dropped the stick and shook her coat as dry as she could, picked up the stick and pranced around him until, after much cajoling, she came to him. He took one end of the piece of wood in his hand, but initially she would not release it, tugging playfully against his grip. After an acceptable time of tugging had passed, she released it and stood looking in eager anticipation that he would throw it again. He did. Again and again. I wondered if they would ever tire.

I considered. This wonderful, wise teacher, this worker of miracles, this loving, compassionate Son of God loved to play with his dog in the hours of the morning, while it was still grey-dark, before anyone else was awake. What contentment he knew. On that morning, in that day, I knew it, too.

The shortest day came and went. Biting wind blew from somewhere in the vastness of the great sea onto the land and bowed even the strongest of trees into submission. Amidst the fury came also a peace, a contentment, an awareness of things over which we had no control or responsibility.

The months at Simon's home had given us time to reflect on ourselves and what we knew of Jesus--on the traveling we had done, the miracles, the teaching. The camaraderie we all felt with him and each other flourished. Our beliefs shifted, our thinking recast, transformed.

The return trip to Jerusalem was a quiet one, each of us not wanting to disturb the tranquility apparent in the other. Winter was already colder than normal, and we were relieved when we saw the glowing sky ahead, reflecting the warmth of festival.

During this time of merriment, on an especially cold evening, we found Jesus in the Temple area walking among the columns in Solomon's Colonnade. While the Temple was brilliantly lit as it had been during the Feast of Tabernacles two months ago, Jesus halted his promenade, gathered his cloak around him against the chill and sat down on a step. Clasping his hands in front of him, he surveyed the scene of people scurrying about. The expression on his face was serious. Concerned.

We left Jerusalem and set out for Jericho after which we crossed the Jordan to the place where John had been baptizing in the early days. We found a spot to make camp, and there we stayed for a while. Through the cattails and papyrus grass, the sun glinted off the slow current of the water. I could almost see John baptizing and preaching his calls to repentance. I could almost smell him.

Many people came, and Jesus made himself available to each one who sought him. They seemed to enjoy comparing Jesus with John. The consensus said, "Though John never performed a miracle, all that John said about this man was true." Some came to believe in him in this place. As the sun fell into the escarpment rising up to Jerusalem, as the evening purple descended, as the first star of the evening pierced the sky with its brilliance, Jesus could be seen moving among the people who loved him.