Someone To Love Me

Some of you probably weren't quite sure what I meant, when in my previous post I mentioned my series, Someone To Love Me. Well, I suppose I ought to tell you a little more about that. I started the series in January of '08, I think. I filled an entire little 160 page journal with the very first beginnings of Someone To Love Me, the first book in the series. After a few months, I expanded the story to five books, the four later ones titled Someone To Keep Me, Someone To Humble Me, Someone to Forgive Me, and Someone Who Loves Me. They're about Jordan, a Greek slave-boy sold to the Nazarene carpenters. But I guess I can't really tell you much more, or I'd give it away! :) But here is an excerpt from the first book, when Jordan is eleven.

“Tell you what – you give me the boy, and I won’t take your land. We could use a good cleaning boy.” The soldier gave me a sneering grin.

I shrank against Jesus’ side. Surely he would not sell me.

“That doesn’t sound like a very fair trade,” said Jesus, his voice steady. Gulping, I seized his hand. He held it firmly.

“Hardly.” The soldier grunted. “I’m letting you off easy. I ought to take your sister.”

“Sister!” James glared at the soldier roughly. “You touch either of my sisters, and I’ll break your filthy neck.”

“Shut up. You know you wouldn’t dare anything so drastic.” The soldier looked gleefully confident.

“I didn’t mean you were the one who’d be shorthanded. If I gave you Jordan, will a field be just payment?” Jesus raised a questioning eyebrow. My heart was pounding.

The soldier looked at him incredulously. “You mean, you think this cur of a slave’s worth more than your farmland?”

“This cur of a slave is a prince of a son to my Father,” said Jesus, a little crisply. “Would you sell your brother to save farmland?”

“Maybe, if he looked like that.” The soldier laughed derisively. “So small. Is he human?”

“What on earth else would he be?” James snorted angrily. “A pig? What do you think, Roman?”

The soldier quieted himself with an effort. “Alright, alright. I’m only joking. No need to get testy.”

“Jordan will stay with me,” said Jesus. He waved toward the large, newly plowed field. “That – you may have.”

Relief washed over me like a wave. I gazed up at Jesus with new affection. “Prince of a son.”

“And jewel of a lamb.” A smile spread across Jesus’ face. “Come on – want a ride?”

I sprang onto his back with delight. Leaning close, I kissed his jaw. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Jesus hooked his arms under my legs and gave me a bounce. Giggling, I scrabbled to stay on.

With a sudden jerk, I was pulled off. The soldier held me by the collar. “On second thought, I think I’ll take him. Keep your land.”

Jesus’ face grew threateningly grim. “I do not believe I told you you could have him.”

I tried to pull away from the soldier. He gave me a sharp yank. “I don’t believe that matters, does it?” The soldier pointed his spear dangerously close to Jesus’ neck. Jesus didn’t flinch. I’m not even sure he saw it.

“Let go of Jordan.”

The soldier didn’t obey. I watched my Master silently. I’d never seen someone, not even Rimdu, so menacing. How the soldier managed to have the courage to defy him was beyond me. One glance of his look, and I’d have been whimpering for his mercy.

“NOW!” His voice was deafening. Somehow, it didn’t disturb me, but disturb the soldier it certainly did. His spear fell from his hand with a clatter and broke in pieces on the ground. Staring in terror at Jesus, he pushed me toward him. I clutched Jesus’ arm tightly.

“Don’t hurt him, Master!” I begged, looking at the soldier fallen to his knees before us. His eyes were wide with fright; sweat trickled down his neck.

Jesus bent down to pick up the spear. It had been shattered – I’d seen it – but when Jesus’ fingers touched the spearhead, it became whole. I shut my eyes, and hid my face against Jesus’ side, afraid he was going to kill the soldier.

“Return to your commander.” I heard Jesus speak, and his voice was softer now. “You may tell him that the carpenters’ farmland is now at his disposal.”

I chanced a peek. The soldier was getting trembling to his feet; Jesus gave him his spear.

“Captain Marcus will punish me, sir, for coming in late.” The soldier’s voice was wavering and pleading. “I should have been back two hours ago.”

Jesus smiled kindly. “Tell him the King charges him to spare you. He will not hurt you.”

“The King sir?” The soldier looked confused.

“Yes.”

“Which king?”

“ ’The King’ will suffice.” Jesus touched the man’s shoulder and squeezed it. “Your sins are forgiven.”

A happy glimmer lit the soldier’s eyes, and he gave a tearful laugh. “Forgiven?”

“Yes, Galican.” Jesus’ eyes sparkled gently. It was strange to think that a moment ago, he’d yelled at this soldier so fiercely.

Galican looked for a moment at Jesus, and then, he bolted. Like a bowshot, he raced off down the street and vanished between the houses. I couldn’t help a smile. I wouldn’t have guessed Galican would have responded to Jesus’ mercy just like I had.

I looked up at Jesus and leaned against him. “I like him.”

Jesus pulled me close. “He is your brother.”

“Oh, yeah. Then I like him even more.” I squealed with delight as Jesus hoisted me up onto his shoulders.

“ ’Your sins are forgiven?’ ” James turned from watching where Galican had disappeared. “What sort of thing is that to say? Are you claiming deity?”

“I meant what I said,” said Jesus. “The man is forgiven.”

“Only God can forgive sins, Jesus. And that man is only a Gentile!” James was angry. The veins in his neck were swelling. “You should have given him the thrashing he deserves.”

“ ‘It is too small a thing for you to be my servant to restore the tribes of Jacob and bring back those of Israel I have kept. I will also make you a light for the Gentiles, that you may bring my salvation to the ends of the earth.’ The Messiah was sent not only to the Jews, James, but to the Gentiles as well.” Jesus watched James pace in front of him. “Gentiles need forgiveness as much as Abraham’s descendents.”

James suddenly turned on him and raised a hand. I cried out in protest, but James didn’t heed me. He smacked Jesus, hard, across the face. Jesus stepped backward from the force. He didn’t say a thing, but his body was tense beneath me – he was in pain.

“You aren’t God, Jesus!” James shouted at him, an anger in his face that seemed almost sorrowful. “You are a man – a man – and you need to realize it. You aren’t stupid – can’t you understand?”

“James,” said Jesus, and I was surprised to hear how patient he sounded. “It is you who needs to understand.”