Chapter Text
I did not know why Jesus chose me until the end of his life.
I had simply believed that he chose me for the same reason as the other eleven, to spread his word and help others, that my reason for following him was the same as his for choosing me.
How I came to meet him was a coincidence, something that was not touched upon in any of the works of my peers. I assumed that they wrote it down, and I believe they did, but took it out after my betrayal. I do not blame them, and have no issue telling it again myself.
I was from Harvat Kerioth, a countryside village that was crushed by Roman rule like the rest of Judea. As told to us at a young age, we were led to believe that God would send the messiah, a great man who would crush all of our enemies and would save us from strife. I badly wanted to believe that the messiah would come and save us once and for all, like he did in decades past with the Hebrews and Egyptians.
My father, on the other hand, was not much of a believer anymore. He was amongst a group of people who, although believed in God, did not trust him to send someone, let alone save them at all. I was not shocked by my fathers dismissal, in every time of strife it was common for people to lose hope in God, and that just led me to hope for his sake that the messiah would come soon.
I knew that he did not care about the messiah, he just wanted to get through the day, and he knew that I cared deeply about the messiah and being saved. So we tended to not bring it up, and to just follow the rules that Moses set out for us years ago, and go on with our lives.
However, when the word of Jesus came to Kerioth, there was a tear that was ripped into our routine. I made the mistake of bringing him up one day and just like that, our bickering began. It was not a lot at first, just a small disagreement and it would never get more than a friendly disagreement. But it-of course- escalated.
When I heard about his sermons and his miracles, how he successfully argued with pharisees, I thought he had to be a messenger of God of some sorts. I believed in what he was doing wholeheartedly and not once did I think that he was a liar and a fraud. My father, however, thought exactly that. My father thought that Jesus was doing this to “persuade the masses” or to get money and that he shouldn’t be trusted.
What little time we had that wasn’t working in the fields, was now spent arguing about the believability of a man, and in the odd case that we weren’t arguing there was a tense air around us, one that would never fade.
I could have easily left any moment to go follow Jesus, but I respected my father too much to leave him alone with no more family and no one to help manage the farm. His siblings and parents were gone and we had not talked to their children in years. My mother died giving birth to me, and he never married again.
So, out of respect, I pushed down the feeling of getting up and going, and stayed put.
My father died a little more than half a year after that decision. It was not a surprising death, we both knew that his time was coming to an end. He was a resilient man, but not every battle was his to win.
Surprisingly, my mind did not immediately go to following Jesus, I had too much on my mind when it happened. My father and I were aware that he would die this time around, so we were getting everything in order. I would have to become a servant at some point we both decided. We had barely made it by with just the two of us on the farm, we were too poor for servants. Without him, I wouldn’t be able to do much before I wouldn’t be able to pay the taxes and would eventually be imprisoned, exiled, or killed. If I were to be a servant, I most likely would not have to spend the rest of my life in the field, and it was something I had been doing my entire life, so this couldn’t be much different.
The hardest thing about our plan, however, was me actually finding a job after his death. I did not know what I was doing, I was horrible at asking for things and at talking to people. I stumbled on every word I said, and my voice was quiet. I was isolated most of my childhood and didn’t grow around other children and I never liked to talk to people, a trait that followed me into adult life. Later, after I met the eleven others, they would describe me as a rabbit, timid and small. Of course that animal describer would be lost for the more favored description of a snake.
My pursuit for a job brought me to Capernaum, a long way from home. I do not know what I was doing looking for farm work in a fishing town, but I was desperate for anything at that point. Money from all my land that I had sold was slowly running out, and I knew that it would be a matter of time until I would have nothing left.
I hung around the streets during the day, doing mostly nothing. I would occasionally work up the courage to ask a person if they were in need of a servant only to be turned down.
It was another one of the days, when I started to notice a buzz of excitement. People were running up to one another with excited looks on their faces and leading one another away to some place. I assumed it was an arrest, and I had nothing better to do, so I followed the crowd.
People were tightly packed around a house, so much so that I didn't even know what I was supposed to be looking at. I started to make my way to the front of the crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever was going on.
When I broke the crowd and laid eyes on Jesus I knew exactly who he was. He was everything that he had been described to be, kind looking yet fierce at the same time, and standing taller than most. He had short dark brown hair and a well trimmed beard . He had beautiful brown skin that was without any blemishes, and beautifully white teeth that went perfectly with his kind smile.
Immediately, my want for being an apostle that I had lost all those months ago came rushing back in one big surge. I wanted so badly in that moment to be an apostle that it hijacked every thought that I had and every one of my actions.
I watched, mesmerized as he gave his sermon, healed the sick, and argued with pharisees when they came around. I wasn't even listening to what he was saying, I was just so focused on the fact that I would be becoming an apostle that I couldn’t bother enough to listen.
After he was done healing everyone and talking to the pharisees, I walked up to him, and the clear words “Let me follow you,” left my mouth before I could think of anything.
Jesus looked at me, smiled -he was always smiling- and asked, “Are you ready to leave everything you know behind?”
I nodded firmly, answering “Everything I own has been sold and my family is dead, I have nothing left but faith.”
Jesus’s smile grew wider and I felt my heart speed up for a reason I chalked up to nervousness at the time.
“Then pick up your things and follow me,” He said. And I did
That was possibly the single handedly worst decision I would ever make in my life.