Headcanons | John & Big James comforting you about Jesus’ words on what is to come | Platonic
Requested by Mari
John
John the Beloved is a soft comforter, which means that he’ll sit you down and gently rub your back as you cry into his shoulder.
At first, he doesn’t ask you about the cause of your tears at all, what has gotten you into such a panicked state. He is well aware that you are in no condition to talk right now, allowing you time to gather yourself.
When you feel calm enough, you explain to him that what Jesus said right before riding into Jerusalem on the burro has given you great fright.
Sniffling, you’ll rub your nose on a handkerchief he offers you.
“What did Jesus mean by that, that ‘no matter what happens, He loves us as His own’? It sounds like something horrible is about to take place!”
John has taken note of that as well, and honestly, it has also been a cause of concern for him.
He validates your fears by saying that it has scared him, too. But that you need to trust in Him now more than ever.
“Jesus has helped us through many difficult and terrifying situations before, hasn’t He? We can trust that at His side, we will be able to go through everything coming our way.”
Although the words ring true, neither of you could have expected what that week actually brings.
Nevertheless, you trust the words of your brother John, and he sits with you for as long as you need, gently rubbing your back.
Big James
Your oldest brother is a protector, making it so that he will make sure you’re feeling safe.
When he finds you in tears, he instantly goes full big-brother-mode.
“Who has hurt you? Did Judas say something stupid again? Tell me, so that I can do something about it.”
You shake your head, sobbing softly. “No, it has to do with Jesus.”
That instantly melts away his anger, making place for worry. After all, the Messiah would never hurt you in such a way.
He pulls you into a hug and allows you to cry into his chest until you’re ready to talk.
The moment you tell him why you’re so upset, namely because Jesus’ words terrified you about what is to come, James only now realises the true impact and implication behind the message. Something dangerous is about to happen, otherwise He wouldn’t have warned everyone like that.
James makes sure to hold you tight, making you feel safe and protected.
“Stick close to me these days, okay? If you ever feel worried, don’t hesitate to talk to me about it, so that I can help you stay grounded and comfort you.”
Grateful for that offer, you nod and embrace him a little tighter, definitely going to take him up it. God has blessed you greatly with a protective brother like James.
John the Baptist | Like Mother, Like Daughter | Platonic
After gathering enough courage, you head into the dungeons to check out what has piqued your mother’s interest and find a rogue preacher who doesn’t seem as crazy as he may first appear.
Requested by Aria
During your years in Machaerus, ever since you were a little girl and your parents were posted here to serve the client king Herod Antipas, you have never dared to go down to the dungeons. Not that you had any business there to begin with, but the sounds that occasionally drift from underneath the palace make the hairs of your neck stand on end. Shouts and screams from prisoners going haywire or pleading their innocence would sometimes reach all the way to the courtyard, always leading you to read your book in the gardens a little away just so that you wouldn’t have to listen to their desperate cries. The place terrified you and you had vowed yourself to never descend the stairs towards the prison.
Now, you know you can’t do anything else but break that promise to yourself. When you first noticed your mother, Joanna, take occasional trips to the dungeons, you had initially reckoned it was because she had to converse with a specific prisoner that the king needed advice on, but when these trips started to take place at unreasonable hours, you started to realise that this was not done by Herod’s command.
One evening, you have gathered enough courage and find a candle that will last you long enough to stay there a while if the need arises. Cloaked with a mantle that is a bit too big for your body, you sneak down to the dungeons and walk up to the two guards standing next to the heavy locked door from underneath which drift uneasy sounds.
“What are you doing here, kid?”
You take a sharp breath and straighten your back, attempting to sound intimidating.
“That is none of your business,” you try to appear confident, “My mother asked me to deliver something on her behalf.”
The centurions give one another a look. “She’s the girl of Chuza and Joanna, right?”
“I think so, yes. I don’t want problems and I’ve already received a warning earlier this week.”
You look from one to the other, raising an eyebrow. “Well? May I pass, or should I get—”
“You may,” one of the guards cuts you off, unlocking the door for you, “Please stay away from the iron bars, miss. These prisoners may seem malnourished, but they’ve got vice-like grips.”
Humming, you nod at them, appreciative of the warning. Then, you step into the dungeons, trying to keep down the wavering in your breaths as you nervously traverse the slippery tiles. You light your candle and take in the environment; the place smells of iron and urine alongside something sour you’d rather not know the origin of, and there is barely any natural light that comes in from the shallow windows overhead. You gulp hard against the intrusive smell and carefully walk on.
A gasp leaves you when three rats chase one another past your feet, nearly tripping over them. Someone watching you from his cell cackles a toothless laugh as he slams himself against the iron bars. “Hello, sweetie,” he mutters, “What are you doing here, eh?”
Another prisoner hears him and decides to join in. “Pretty thing you are. Come over here, let me take a better look at you.”
You quicken your step and ignore them, unable to keep your breath from quickening in discomfort. From somewhere further in the dungeons, a loud scream echoes and bounces off the walls, causing you to flinch. The reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by the prisoners, who cackle mockingly. “Ah, she’s got no meat on her bones anyways!” someone taunts, “She would snap like a dry twig in a second!”
“I like me some skinny things,” another mutters, causing you to gulp down the lump in your throat.
“She is just a child, you mongrels,” a voice suddenly comes from one of the cells a little away, “Leave her alone.” A hollow, unkempt face pushes against the iron bars of the prison, something glittering in the man’s eyes. “Hey. You’re (Y/n), aren’t you?”
Your eyes narrow as your heart skips a beat inside your chest. “How do you know my name?” you suspiciously ask, approaching him cautiously. Somewhere in the distance, a steady drop of water resounds as it falls into a bucket.
The prisoner lowers the volume of his voice. “I’ve spoken to your mother. Joanna,” he mutters, not wanting the others to overhear. Quickly, you walk up to him.
“Who are you?”
“Your mother might have told you about me.”
You give a small shake of your head.
“I know that she has been sneaking around down here, but I have no clue who you are.”
The prisoner seems to realise something. “You weren’t there on the evening I got arrested. Very well. My name is John. I’m a preacher.”
“A preacher, huh? What does that have to do with my mater?” Your eyes narrow at him, “You’re Jewish, so my mother doesn’t care.”
“Oh, but she does,” John smiles at you a little. “She was offended that I didn’t call out your father’s affair whilst I chastised Herod for his wickedness. When she came to see me, I soon realised that there was more to her that meets the eye.”
“Have you been seeing my mother in secret?” The idea of your mother having an affair with this strange, rugged man makes you blink in confusion. John hums, smiling at you reassuringly.
“Not in an inappropriate way, don’t you worry,” he promises, “But she has been listening to my teachings about the Kingdom of heaven.”
“The Kingdom of heaven? You know we aren’t Jewish, right?”
“Yes, but the Messiah has also come for the Gentiles. Non-Jews, for the record.”
You blink in puzzlement, your angry frown making place for confusion instead. “I don’t get it.”
John hums and gestures for you to sit with him. Looking around, you attempt to find a clean place to sit on the floor, but find none. He looks up at you with a knowing smirk. “Does the dress matter all that much?”
In spite of how uncomfortable the mouldy place makes you, you dare to take a seat with him, cross-legged as you attempt to get into a somewhat decent position on the hard stone. “So, what is the full story? Your full story?” you ask, “I mean, my mother has deemed you interesting enough to regularly visit you down here… And I know that it costs her quite a few bribes for it to stay secret.” You look up at a passing guard, “Luckily, I do not have to give them money due to my younger age, but still. What is the deal with all that? And the Kingdom of heaven?”
John chuckles. “One question at a time, alright? As I said, I am a preacher. I used to travel through Judea to preach repentance from sin. I baptised people in the Jordan river in order for them to show outwardly that they choose the path of salvation. In the meantime, I told them to turn away from their sinful lives and instead live a life that God intended for them.”
“God? Which one?”
Letting out a sound of amusement, the odd preacher shakes his head. “There is just One. Adonai.” He points up, and for a moment, you follow the gesture with your eyes, meeting a cobweb-filled ceiling instead. You shudder as you once again witness how dirty this place is, reminding yourself where you are at the moment.
“Okay,” you reply, “One God. But He is just for the Jews, right?”
“No. God’s love is way too great for that. It has been prophesied to our people that a Messiah would come out of the Jewish nation in order to save the people from their sins. After all, mankind cannot save themselves.”
You let the words sink in and patiently wait for him to carry on. “So, God sent His only Son, Jesus Christ, to show the world Who He is, and to deliver them from their wrongdoings.”
“Why is that necessary? Why can’t we just make sacrifices to earn His favour?”
“Sacrifices aren’t enough. They are mere rituals made to show devotion and atonement for sins. Rituals are meant for men, not for God. It is not about the animals being offered, but about the meaning behind the action: genuine sorrow for wrongdoings in the past. However, God is so extremely holy that no amount of sacrifice or good works are able to cancel out the sins we’ve committed against Him. And because God is just, He has to do something about these wrong things in our lives, because otherwise He wouldn’t be just, the same way as someone convicted of murder should be sentenced to prison by the judge, or else that judge wouldn’t be just. Does that make sense?”
You nod a little, shifting a bit closer. “Yes, I think so. But that is bad news, right? It means that we cannot earn God’s favour.”
“Not by ourselves, no, because we have fallen short. However, God loved us so much, that He sent His only Son, Jesus, to take on the sin of the world and to deliver her from it.”
“And this Jesus… Is the… What did you call it again? Messiah?”
“Right,” John says, “What’s more… Your mother is about to leave Machaerus to go and listen to a sermon given by Him.”
Your eyes widen. “Wait… The Messiah you speak of is here?”
“You have picked an interesting age to learn about us, my friend,” John smiles at you, “But yes, He is here, and I have prepared the way for Him. Preached for people to turn back to God and repent from their sins… The same way I tried to get through to Herod.”
Humming, you rub your chin. “So… If I understand it correctly, you were trying for king Herod to repent from his sins and turn back to your God?”
“Correct,” John says.
“But why does he take offence to that? You are just trying to help him, right?”
Letting out a long sigh, John runs a hand down the side of his tired face as he smiles at your innocent question. “Ah, it is not as black and white as you might think. You see, mankind is prideful and doesn’t like to be faced with the things they are doing wrong. They either want to keep doing these things or they don’t want to think about the consequences. It is very confronting when someone tells you about all the things you are doing wrong right to your face, after all. And you might love some of these things that you shouldn’t be doing. Another reason might be is that they are convinced that they don’t need a Saviour.”
“It is all vanity,” you whisper, averting your gaze. “But that doesn’t make it fair that you are here. You are just trying to speak the Truth.”
“And I have done so. It has been the very purpose of my birth in the first place, to make the way for He Who comes after me. And that Messiah is here to save you, too.”
You swallow hard, feeling your face grow warm at the notion. Your own deities had never come close to your heart, never making you feel like you had a personal bond with them. What John is speaking of, however, sounds very different from what you’re used to, and honestly, it resonates with you way more than distant gods carved from marble and granite.
“It’s not justified that you are here right now,” you say, “King Herod may call you a disturber of the peace, but it is unfair of him to keep you imprisoned for such a long time. Perhaps that my mother could convince him of releasing you—”
“—That won’t be necessary, (Y/n)—”
“—But I want to help you! This isn’t fair!”
John sighs softly. “A lot isn’t fair in this world. It is broken and sinful. Just the way things are, but now that Jesus is here, everything will change.”
He puts his hand over yours through the iron bars, and you strangely do not pull away no matter how cold and bony his fingers are. “This prison means nothing, for my soul is secure. If you want to help me, go with your mother to listen to Him. Report back to me what you’ve heard and seen. That is more than enough.”
Your lips part a little as your head perks up. “When is my mother leaving?” John thinks for a moment, peeking out of the tiny window in an attempt to figure out the time of day.
“Ah, I think Joanna is headed that way in about an hour from now. If you’re quick, you may be able to catch up.”
Instantly, you raise to your feet, pulling your hood back up, the hem of your skirt a little damp from sitting on the floor. Quickly, you grab your candle, the flame dangerously flickering back and forth from the violent movement. “I… I’m going to see Him, then,” you breathe, “I need to know more about this Jesus you speak of. If it has held my mater’s attention for so long, well...”
John smiles up at you. “That’s good. Now remember what I said. Go towards Him with an open heart, and tell me everything that you learn.”
“I promise,” you say, nodding as you step away from him. “Thank you for this, John. I’ll see you soon!”
“Soon…” he murmurs with a smile on his face, an inside joke that you do not understand.
Rushing away through the darkness of the dungeons, you aren’t afraid anymore of the hands reaching out for you through the iron bars. You run as fast as your feet can carry you, seeking out your mother upstairs, who you find in a state of departure.
“Mater!” Joanna looks up with a shocked expression on her face at how urgently you call her name. Out of breath, you stand still, attempting to calm yourself down.
“My dear, is everything alright?” she worriedly asks. You look at her with a large grin on your face as you remove your hood.
“More than alright,” you inhale and exhale sharply, “I’ve… I’m coming with you.”
Her eyes narrow a bit. “What? You can’t, I’m going on a business trip that will take several days—”
“—I’ve spoken to John.”
A few moments of silence give Joanna the time to process what you’re saying, her jaw falling open a bit as it sinks in. “Oh…?”
You smile a bit, stepping forward. “Please. Take me with you. “
Taking a deep breath, your mother instantly nods, her own smile growing as well now that the initial puzzlement fades away.
“Alright,” she promises, “We will go to see Him and report back to John everything we find out.”
Determined, you join her on this mission, unknowing of the trails that are to come, as queen Herodias comes up with a plan of her own in order to get rid of the Baptiser, who feels more than encouraged by the seed of faith he has placed inside your heart.
On death row, you have a chance encounter with a strange preacher from the wilderness.
Requested by Pia
With a nail chewed into a sharp little claw, you carve yet another line amongst the others in the wall, your teeth gritting at the uncomfortable yet necessary sensation. The moon, now waxing, passes above your cell, and so, you count another week. The tally marks reach beyond one-hundred now, but you’re certain that you’ve missed a week or two somewhere along the way. It’s difficult to stay sane in the dark, dank dungeons of Herod Antipas.
You’re lucky enough — or unlucky, depending on whether it’ll eventually drive you mad — to have an opening in the ceiling to at least indicate the time of day. However, not only the sun or moon trickles in through that gap: bugs, vermin and unforgiving rain. Part of you doubts they are planning on executing you altogether, or that they might just be waiting for you to die at the mercy of the weather itself, coupled with that illness that’s been lingering under your skin and inside your lungs for a few weeks now. Or months. You’ve lost count.
Dragging yourself to the side of your cell to rest your back, you sigh and close your eyes, attempting to catch some sleep in the chaos of the prison. A fellow captive is hitting the iron bars with something firm, causing for a sharp echo of iron upon iron to bounce off the walls and through your skull. “Shut up!” someone yells, but you know better than to plead for the man in question to stop, having learned by now that picking a fight with the other prisoners will only result in—
“—You shut up!” The slamming against the bars becomes more violent, causing you to squint and sigh, rubbing your brow as you attempt to block out the horrible noise. You’re too young to rot away like this, you think to yourself, and too tired to even deal with this. There are hardly any tears left in your system due to malnutrition and dehydration, but if you could, you’d have been crying right now due to the overstimulation.
“If you don’t stop, I’ll escape this cell just so I can break into yours to bash your skull in with that stupid iron bar!”
“That’s some tough talk! Come on, then! You want to fight, huh?”
You rarely wish for guards to show up, but a jolt of something hopeful shunts through your chest the moment the door opens and heavy footsteps approach, and you scurry closer to the prison door in order to watch the soldiers put the disturbers into their place. Instead of the anticipated punishment of those tormentors who don’t know when to cut it out, you see three soldiers dragging inside a rugged looking man with fire in his eyes.
“—You don’t know what you are doing,” he proclaims, “Let me tell you! You are actively fighting against the Kingdom of God, hindering the prophet of the Lord, Who prepared the way for He Who is to come! But no matter! I’ve already done my part, and He is already here!”
“Shut it, weirdo,” hisses one of the soldiers. As they approach you, headed for the empty cell opposite from yours, you shift away a bit, hiding in the shadows to witness them shoving the strange man into the small space and slamming shut the door. The sound echoes louder than the hitting of the bars earlier, but you do not flinch this time, your gaze trained upon the wild-looking Jewish man. “This is what you get for mocking our king and his wife!”
One of the soldiers spits on the ground and the preacher simply chuckles, unfazed by the vile gesture as he grabs the door of the prison, fingers wrapping around the bars. “You think you can get to me, huh? You serve an impostor king who performs the worst of acts, and his unholy wife who only cares about her own gain—”
One of the others soldier bashes the knuckles of the preacher, causing him to flinch and pull back in agony. The dull crack that the movement brings forth is a clear indication of a breaking bone. You grit your teeth at the sound. “If we hear another peep from you, you might just die in an accident sooner than you can beg for your so-called ‘Adonai’.”
As the three Romans head back upstairs, having completed their arrest, the dungeons are filled with silence for a good minute, until the hammering against the iron bars resumes, just like the argument about it. With a sigh, you scoot closer to the new prisoner in order to distract yourself from the other events unfolding and testing your sanity.
“Hey, pssst.”
The man looks up, raising an eyebrow. “Hello...” He gives you a once-over. “You look a bit too young to be in here.”
“Tell that to Herod,” you huff.
The man hums. “I don’t think he’d be willing to hear me out anymore.”
“That makes two of us.”
Your new prison mate scratches through his beard and narrows his eyes thoughtfully. “What did you do? Must have been something rather intense, seeing that you’re no older than what? Nineteen? Twenty?”
Shifting to sit against the iron bars a little more comfortably, you purse your lips to think. “I think I’m twenty by now, yeah. Not sure about the passage of time anymore these days. I believe that my birthday has been somewhere during my imprisonment. Maybe twice.” You point at the wall, “Pushing one-hundred tallies.”
“Days of imprisonment?”
“Weeks,” you correct him.
The man whistles through crooked teeth. “Wow… Been some time.” He shimmies closer to the edge of his cell, “I’m John, by the way.”
“(Y/n),” you introduce yourself. “So… What did the guards just drag you in for?”
John shrugs. “Oh, I just confronted them with cold hard facts, explained the Law of Moses to the tetrarch and emphasised that he is not exempt from it just because he’s king. He cannot marry the wife of his brother whilst his brother is still alive… And then the fact that it’s nothing short of incest…”
“I bet his wife didn’t like it,” you mutter, at which he chuckles a bit.
“I bet she has everything to do with his wicked ways.” John adds, “Herodias married uncles of her twice. But how about you, (Y/n)? What is the reason you deserve a punishment like this? Did you steal something whilst trying to survive? Did you accidentally drop an expensive plate costing more than an entire year of your earnings? Did you try to overthrow the king?”
You’d have laughed at his attempt at banter if it weren’t for the sudden looming dread that creeps up on you. Part of you had pushed away the reason why you were here in the first place, deliberately ignoring the knowledge that what you had done would make it so that you’d never see the light of day ever again.
“Well, I… I used to be a handmaiden here at Machaerus for a few years, ever since I was fourteen. I was born here in the palace from my servant mother and stablehand father. It was pretty much decided from the moment of my conception that I’d be serving here for the rest of my life, so to speak.”
“Ah,” John mutters, “Like a curse.”
You smile a little, glad that he’s on your side in this case, “Yes, like a curse. It’s funny that you see it that way, John. I mean, most people try to justify my fate by saying that ‘at least I’m not homeless’ and ‘I’ve got a decent plate of food twice a day’. True as that may be, we ladies-in-waiting still sleep in unpleasant quarters, and we still have the leftovers that are long cold. As opulent as the palace may be, it hides plenty skeletons.”
John hums and lets out a noise. “One of the reasons I travelled here, actually. The skeletons, I mean. But I didn’t mean to cut you off so rudely. Please, carry on.” He gestures at you, and you nod before continuing your story.
“I served my queen, the daughter of the Nabatean King Aretas the fourth, with a true and genuine heart. She treated me well, as well as the other servants, unlike her husband, Herod Antipas. Then, he divorced her in order to marry Herodias, his niece.”
You shudder at the idea.
“I’ve got an uncle, and I definitely do not wish to marry him. I can’t even imagine being attracted to him in the first place. But I digress… He divorced my mistress to marry Herodias, and unlike the princess of Nabataea, she was not kind to us. She does not treat us the way Adonai would want her to.”
Sighing, John shakes his head. “I never understood the way people completely disregard human decency and politeness just because someone serves them.”
“Right?” you agree, “Just because she’s royalty doesn’t mean that I’m no longer a human being with emotions and feelings. Anyways, all the other handmaidens and servants just listened to her complaints and demands with no protest at all, and it angered me to see the injustice in it all. I… I voiced that one evening to the other handmaidens. The next day, I was interrupted during my morning chores for an audience with the new queen. Someone had tattled.”
John shakes his head in disbelief. “To what end?”
“No clue,” you sigh, “But Herodias said, and I quote: ‘You think I treat you like a dog? I’ll show you how dogs are treated, and I’ll make you’ll yearn back for this paradise that you’ve spat on.’ After, she called me a few names that I shall not repeat for the sake of staying decent.”
A long exhale leaves the rogue preacher’s lungs. “Yikes. That sounds like something she’d say. And now… Where does it bring you?”
Brief silence. It stretches into something longer. Your eyes grow sullen and a heavy gulp is visible as you swallow the lump in your tightening throat.
“Most likely on the end of a rope,” you whisper, suddenly agitated, “I… People have been executed for less.”
It hangs in the air for a while. A true statement. Neither of you will see the outside of these walls ever again.
“Injustice is a cruel thing,” John states, “More so when all you did was call her out for her wickedness. You’re a very brave young woman, speaking up for yourself and your peers.”
You bite the inside of your cheek. “It won’t make a difference, now,” you whisper, “Look at where it landed me.”
A beat, then another. The two prisoners a little away have stopped bickering. A few rats are scurrying around the cell of another, indicating the presence of a corpse. By now, you’ve managed to cope with such facts happening around you, but it doesn’t mean that it has quit nagging you.
“I just… Honestly, John, I’m terrified. I’m… I’m terrified that this will be a never-ending cycle of people in power exerting said influence over their inferiors and not looking upon Adonai for aid. It is a breeding ground for evil, like the one happening upstairs.”
Giving you a thoughtful look, John offers a smile. “You’re wise beyond your years. Let me share something with you. This cell we see, right?” He gestures up at the ceiling, as if you’d forgotten your surroundings. You hum, an indication for him to continue. “This cell, it’s only temporary. Now that Jesus is here, everything is different.”
You narrow your eyes a bit, puzzled. “Jesus?”
“The Messiah.”
Your heart skips a beat. “The Messiah? He’s… He’s here?”
“Not in this palace,” John adds, “At least, not yet. He is my cousin, actually. I’ve prepared the way for Him, and now He is preaching everywhere in these lands. Mainly in Galilee these days. What I’m trying to say is that now, the first will be the last, and the meek will be glorified, because of Him.”
Your eyes begin to glitter in wonder. “Are you serious?” you ask. The other handmaidens would have called you naive for taking the odd preacher for his word — and frankly, past you would have agreed with them. Now, however, you’ve got little hope left, and for some reason, the way the rugged man is speaking makes you believe him right away. “What do you see?”
When he senses your sudden enthusiasm, John chuckles and shifts closer to the bars of his cell. “The blind can see. The deaf can hear. The lame walk. The sick are healed, and the poor hear the Good News about the Kingdom of Heaven.”
You let out a shaky exhale, beaming brighter. “That’s fantastic news.”
John nods. “And even if we are here, on the sidelines, far away from all that is happening right now… It is enough. This prison is temporary. Just my faith is enough.”
Sitting against the wall, you cast your eyes upwards, as if you’d catch a glimpse of heaven itself. “But if the Messiah is here,” you muse, “Then everything will change for good. If He glorifies the dregs of society… That means that we will get out of here too, right?”
John’s eyes flicker to the ground, suddenly a bit sorrowful. “That’s not promised,” he whispers, “Perhaps, our suffering here will end. Here, on this Earth, with shortcomings and sin around every corner.”
You gulp hard. “And if not?”
John the Baptist inhales sharply through his nose, and says something that rings so certain that it knocks the air from your lungs. “Then we’ll see the glory of Adonai on the other side. The Kingdom of God is at hand… And perhaps closer than we’d like.”
Survival is human nature after all. You’ll cling to it for as long as there is life in your form.
This baptiser you’ve met only minutes ago, the moment you meet his gaze, it suddenly feels as if you’ve known him since forever. There is sorrow in his eyes, a fierceness that touches your very soul. You’ve known this man for such a short time, and yet, there is…
…Finality.
In spite of the Messiah being here in this day and age, you won’t get out of here alive.
“…I see,” you whisper, letting the man clad in camel hide know that you know, “The Kingdom of God, then.”
When the door leading out of the dungeons opens, your face turns that way. Holding your breath, you watch how two soldiers are headed your way, chains in hand.
John gulps hard and meets your gaze for a moment as the iron door of your prison cell is unlocked.
“I know we hardly know each other, but I know this… I’ll see you on the other side.”
Dialogue prompt: “I knew what I was choosing when I chose you.”
When John tells you that his ministry will be starting very soon, you have a conversation about both choosing and losing one another.
Requested by Kacey
After years of being acquainted with the man who was once your friend and eventually turned into your lover with vows of eternal loyalty as a result, you’ve become thoroughly familiar with his cues and expressions. John the Baptist has been nowhere near ordinary at any point in your childhood nor adolescence, and more than a decade into adulthood, nothing about that has changed.
Not that you’d ever want it to be different. John and you love one another more than anything, having had this deep connection of unconditional understanding that made you able to communicate with just one exchanged look. The two of you had been inseparable from a young age, and you had always known that John was someone special.
Neither of you could have expected what that would entail, the knowledge beforehand that John’s birth was no accident and a blessed one at that, from the womb of an elderly woman far past her child-bearing age. It hadn’t scared you off to dive into the deep end with him, accepting his proposal in your late teens. Your vows had been different than the ones usually exchanged by couples in your culture, both of you well aware that one day, the dynamic between you was bound to change.
Your seven-year wedding anniversary is just around the corner. So yes, you know John better than anyone.
You catch on right away when he crosses the threshold one late afternoon after a visit to Bethany’s market. There is a heaviness visible underneath the muscles of his shoulders as he places the bag onto the table in order to unpack it, but you don’t let him get far.
“My love,” you murmur, “What’s going on?”
He tenses at the feeling of your hand on his arm. Running a hand through his wild hair, John attempts to straighten himself out and ease your worries. “I’m still figuring it out, but I’ll tell you later.” That doesn’t exactly calm the sudden nerves that claw at your throat. Still, you decide to trust him as much as you’ve always done. Giving a small nod, you begin helping him put away the groceries wordlessly, not pressing the subject any further.
Even though you prepare him one of his favourite meals, John barely touches it that evening. You chew a spoonful of lentils as you observe him, watching how he prods around the food, having only taken a small bite or two so far, even though you are well on your way to finish your bowl.
There hangs an awkward tension in the air, the kind that has rarely crossed between the two of you during your years of being together, and you instantly miss the usual spark that John’s eyes carry. When he lifts his head to look at you, you can tell that something is indeed very off.
Putting your spoon down, your own appetite shrinks fast. John senses your concern and sighs. “Love,” you begin, “What’s going—”
“—I’m leaving soon.”
Your chest constricts and for a moment, you have to remind yourself to breathe, taking a moment to manually do so until the initial shock passes. “What? Why? When? And… Where to?”
John lets out a huff and averts his gaze. “Can we sit on the sofa?” he suggests, “Just… I want to be close to you.” You chew your lip and nod, shoving away your unfinished dinner as you stand, wiping your mouth before joining him at the fireplace. You watch how John puts in a few blocks of wood to stoke the flames.
For a few long beats, the two of you watch the timber being consumed by the crackling fire. It warms your faces. Your husband takes a seat next to you and avoids your (e/c) eyes for a moment.
“Do you remember my… Well, my origin story, so to speak?”
You nod, thinking back on your late parents-in-law and how they had received their son at such a late age. It had been a story that Elizabeth, may she rest in peace, has told you plenty of times throughout your childhood; the way that her husband Zachariah had been visited by an angel and initially did not believe the promise from the Lord, rendering him quite literally speechless until John had been given his name. From the moment of conception, John had been destined for something great.
Since the two of you go so far back, you know that his cousin Jesus is the reason for your husband’s existence in the first place. The prophecies had foretold that there was one in the wilderness that would come before Him to pave the way.
“It is time, isn’t it?” you whisper. John looks at you with heavy eyes and slides his hand into your own, gently squeezing your fingers. His palm is unusually cold. “To do what you have been called for?”
John nods. “Today, whilst I was out in nature to pray, I was… Hit by the conviction that these are the days that my ministry must start. That means… Well, you know what it means.”
The two of you had often discussed the moment that it would come to pass that John had to leave you behind in favour of his ministry. Although it hurt your heart to the point of breaking, you had felt such gratitude that you could be part of that journey. Now that the time is actually here… Why are you feeling so afraid?
“When do you think it will have to officially start?”
John shrugs. “I… I didn’t get an exact date, but… I know that I must leave without any supplies on my form, just the clothes on my back and nothing else. I’ll… I’ll have to withdraw myself into the wilderness for a while in order to… To get in touch with Adonai better.”
A sudden feeling of dread spreads through the cavity of your chest. “You… You mean… That you’ll be going out alone? Could I… Maybe…” Part of you had always hoped that John would ask you to come along, but the way he shakes his head tells you that he’s already made up his mind. No amount of convincing would change that.
“You know that I’d much rather have brought you along, but this is something I must do alone. The fact that I was lucky enough to meet and marry you has been such an immense blessing in my life, and… Well, we knew that we’d have to miss one another eventually because of my ministry, right?”
You chew the inside of your cheek, your eyes suddenly hurting. “Yes, but… I didn’t realise it would be so soon.”
John looks at his lap and picks at a small hole that a moth has eaten inside his tunic. You swallow the urge to tell him that you could fix it before he leaves, for you know that he would refuse. “Every day I got to spend with you has been wonderful, (Y/n),” John whispers, squeezing your hand. A few tears roll down your face, but he doesn’t wipe them away. He himself is also struck by deep emotion, not wanting to suppress that intense grief for either of you.
“…But this is my very legacy. My purpose in life had been established the moment I began to grow inside my eema’s womb. And that was not to get married, to settle down and become a family man.”
You sniffle, nodding as you stare at your intertwined hands. It is a sight you do not want to forget, committing to memory how his fingers feel wrapped around yours. “I… I wish that somehow, you could have been part of the ministry, but it is not the plan of the Lord. Not to say that you’d be a distraction, but… Well, I have to fully focus on this, now.”
Your heart clenches— Shatters. You had known that this day would come sooner or later, but you had secretly wished to already have a family with him, then. On the other hand, it would have made it infinitely more difficult to let go, for both of you.
“When will you be going? And where?”
“Wherever the Lord will lead me,” he says, “Somewhere into the wilderness, all over the region. I’ll… Have to stay in close connection to Him for a long while. I’m going to study the Word, to learn how to become a preacher in order to bring people to Adonai. I need… To submit and… To sever my Earthly bindings. My love, in my heart, I will always be your husband. But on this Earth, at least for the time being, I can no longer be with you in that way.”
This is a sacrifice that you knew you would have to make. Your love for Adonai ran impossibly deeper than the one you felt for one another. It doesn’t ease the hurt that shunts through your gut. You resist the urge to throw up.
“As to answer your question for when that time will be…” John’s voice trails off and he closes his eyes, brow furrowing in sorrow. “…I fear that it would be tonight, after you go to sleep.”
That pushes all air from your lungs. This morning, when waking up next to him, you hadn’t expected it to be the final dawn together. You instantly dread the moment you can no longer stay awake, knowing that the love of your life will be gone the moment you open your eyes again.
“So soon…” you breathe, letting out a pained noise, “Oh, John.”
He pulls you into a tight embrace that you readily give into, willing yourself to not cry. It is, however, as if a dam has burst. Tears streak down your face uncontrollably as you sob inside his chest, your entire body shaking in grief as you lock away his scent into the deepest part of your memory. It will fade from the sheets of your bed, the clothes hanging in his closet, the comfort of your home. You don’t want to forget the way he smells.
A gentle kiss is pressed to your forehead, where his lips linger. There is a wetness that hits your skin, tears that aren’t yours, and you realise that he is crying, too. “My love,” he croaks, “I will never forget you, and we will meet again, although under different circumstances, with a… Well, another dynamic between us.”
“I know,” you whimper, “But it hurts.”
“It pains me, too. More than anything,” John admits, holding you near. The softness of your (h/c) hair almost aches as he slides his fingers through it. Part of him is still convinced that you’re too good to be true, still wondering why you chose to be with him. After all these years, you are a beautiful dream. Everything he ever wanted.
“I love you,” you whisper, holding onto him, clenching your fists into his tunic, “And I will never forget you, never stop thinking of you. I will miss you deeply, without end.”
John lets out a shaky breath. “And I love you as well, my (Y/n).”
A brief silence passes before he speaks again. “Can you promise me something?”
Looking up with reddened, raw cheeks, you find his gaze. “Yeah?”
“One day,” John whispers, “Although things will be different, please come to see me on the shores of the Jordan River. Listen to my words, and trust in Jesus no matter what comes next.” He tucks some locks behind your ears and observes your immense beauty in spite of the grief on your face.
You nod, biting your bottom lip as you gaze at him. “I will,” you whisper.
Your husband nods slowly, his soft smile falling into sorrow. “I’m sorry.”
A frown finds a home on your brow. “What for?”
“For not being the husband you pictured me to be.”
The words take you by surprise. Then, you shake your head. “Nonsense,” you reassure him, sniffling as your nose is a little runny. You wipe it on a handkerchief and sigh. “No matter how much this hurts, I regret nothing of it.”
John hums, a soft smile playing over his lips. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“I knew what I was choosing when I chose you,” you continue, “You had been very clear about this from the beginning. Jesus had spoken to me about it as well. I made my choice to be with you with my entire heart, very consciously.” You nod at him, making sure he mirrors the gesture to indicate that he’s locking it away into his memory. “I love you, and I’ve never regretted doing so. And I never will, no matter how much I will miss being with you.”
Your words warm and break John’s heart at the same time. Part of him wants to say that you deserve better than anything he could have ever offered you, but he knows that it is a lie. That you want him no matter what he’d say to you. He needs to give himself more credit.
The way your voice wavers makes him tighten his grip on you. “Hold me,” you plead, “At least until midnight comes.”
It is a request that he cannot deny. You had never asked for more and never would. Grateful to have you, to keep you close, John pulls you against his chest, where you melt into an intimate embrace, until sleep pulls you under.
Dialogue prompt: “That’s the stupidest idea you’ve ever had. Count me in.”
Requested: No
John has the most dangerous and perhaps dumbest idea on Earth, but Spirit-filled, you don’t feel like remaining silent either.
John had paved the way far before Jesus’ ministry started and continues as He slowly gains momentum. Although John’s preachings have become less frequent after Jesus is baptised, for the attention shifts from the rugged wanderer to Him instead, he goes from place to place to preach the Kingdom of Heaven being at hand, that people must repent and turn away from their sinful ways, for the Son of God is here at last.
Growing up together in the mountains in Judea, you and John had always been close, for you didn’t have much. He had often told you about many things you didn’t understand, but as time passed, you slowly began to see it unfold in front of your eyes during the visits of his cousin Jesus. Into adulthood, John began to take lengthy trips to the wilderness to preach near the Jordan River, and you remained living in your childhood town.
And every so often, he comes into the village to spend some time with you, like right now, as he is standing on the threshold of your house, a wide grin over his face, looking and smelling like he hasn’t touched a clean spring in weeks.
“Shalom, (Y/n)!” he beams, opening his arms. Despite his unkempt state of being, you can’t resist embracing him tightly, not minding the smell as much. “It is good to see you.”
“Shalom John, happy to see you alive and well. You feel thin, have you been eating at all?”
He gives a small shake of his head as you pull away, stepping back to look at him. “Not really,” he admits, “Did some fasting as I was going through some spiritual warfare. Things are better now. They always get better when spending time with God.”
“I’m glad to hear that, but now it’s time for you to recharge. Come, I was just about to prepare dinner, so you can take a quick bath in the meantime.”
John hesitates yet slips his bag off his shoulder, intending to stay for a bit longer. “I don’t mean to soil your water nor to drain you from any resources regarding food. I know that it’s difficult enough to get by already.”
You hum. “I only have myself to care for. My parents have passed, I have no siblings nor am I married. I always eat alone and thus I’m nothing but delighted to share a meal with my best friend.”
A little more convinced now, John gives you a bright grin. “Thank you.” he says, “I appreciate it.”
“You need enough energy in your system to properly preach the Kingdom, hm? I trust you know where you can wash up?”
John nods and gives his feet a quick rinse before heading inside. “Of course, (Y/n). I have not forgotten you telling me that your home is my home.”
With a soft smile, you head for your kitchen whilst John goes into the bathroom, where a tub of water still stands. Although you adore John, you make a mental note to put in clean water before using it yourself tonight.
“Would you like some warm water, John?” you call out to him.
“No thank you, I’m good!” he shouts back, voice muffled due to the distance and a thick curtain as well as a door separating you two, “Can’t allow myself too much luxury.”
Chuckling, you shake your head whilst you continue preparing dinner, increasing the originally intended portions due to your unforeseen guest, and chop up a cucumber that you sprinkle with lemon juice because greens are an essential part of any healthy diet.
John finishes washing up surprisingly quickly and pads into your kitchen with a content look on his face, already appearing so much fresher. “It smells good in here,” he compliments the scent of the mutton roasting above the fire, and you smile.
“Better than crickets and honey?”
“Crickets and honey aren’t very difficult to beat. However, when it comes to your cooking…”
“Hey!”
You point your ladle at him and he holds up his hands, chuckling. “I’m just teasing you.” he laughs, and you huff a laugh before continuing to stir lest the vegetables get burnt.
“Can you lay the table?”
John doesn’t need to be pointed to the place where he can find your bowls and cutlery, for he has been here plenty of times before.
“It has been some time since I’ve had mutton,” he says, sighing. “Usually, I refuse anything. But I reckon that for this, I can make an exception. I’ve known hunger, so I also know how to appreciate a meal offered by a friend who is also close to Jesus.”
You smile and scoop some food into the bowls that he is still holding in front of him, and you chop the mutton into a few even pieces to add on top.
“I would have asked for the more fatty kind if I had known that you’d be stopping by.”
“Anything from you is wonderful, (Y/n). You don’t owe me a thing, so thank you.”
Once you’ve tossed your apron over the hook on the wall, the pair of you sit down at the dinner table and say blessings over your meal. When opening your eyes again, John is looking at you with a beaming smile on his face.
“I’m excited to eat this.” he breathes, grabbing a spoon to dig in. You watch how he bites down into the food, relishing in the taste with great fervour. “Mmm!” he hums, huffing a bit to cool down the food inside his mouth, and you watch with great amusement how he fans his tongue with his hand, as if that would work at all. Upon offering him a clay cup of water, he gulps it down, gratitude in his eyes.
You take it easier upon taking a bite, blowing on the food to cool it down beforehand, and prod around your bowl whilst John wolfs down half of the contents before realising he might appear rude, and he forces himself to slow down. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, some food stuck to his beard, he swallows his food in order to speak up.
“This is marvellous. Thank you, (Y/n), I don’t deserve this.”
“But you most certainly need it,” you tell him, concerned. “You’re skin and bone. I know that you’ve surrendered yourself to this lifestyle to follow Adonai, but it is difficult to see you like this.”
John falls silent and takes another bite. “I know you’d rather see me with more flesh on my bones, (Y/n), but as you say, it’s so that I can completely focus on my ministry. Of course I appreciate your concern, my friend, but I am glad that you can also see why I live this way. Indulging in a good meal like this one is not something I can do too often.”
You nod in understanding and take a slice of cucumber. “So, what have you been up to?”
Your friend takes a deep breath and smiles. “Well, a lot, actually. I’m sure that word about Jesus has travelled here, too.”
“It has.” you reply, grinning, “It’s hard to miss it.”
With a spoonful of food hovering in front of him, John hums before putting it into his mouth. “Right, so that’s going on. I’m going to see Him soon. We’ve got some things to talk about before I am going to do something important.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Something important? What is it? Can I come with you, like I used to do before Jesus’ ministry started? I’ve still got that fire, you know.”
John hums and scratches through his beard with a thoughtful look on his brow. “I’m going to do something potentially dumb.”
Curious, you narrow your eyes. “That is nothing new for you, John,” you say with humour in your voice.
Letting out a small noise, John rubs his chin. “This time around is different,” he explains. “It’s possibly the most foolish thing I’ve ever done, but sometimes it is necessary to do the unthinkable in order to spread the Word of God to those who need to hear it.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
A short silence falls over the two of you as John scoops the final bit of food into his mouth and slowly chews it away, avoiding eye-contact for a few moments.
“I am going to head to the fortress of Herod Antipas down at the Decapolis. He is planning on marrying the former wife of his own brother, which is of course disgusting behaviour that should be reprimanded. If I don’t do it, nobody else will, so I will take it upon myself.”
Your eyes widen.
“You’re right. That’s the stupidest idea you’ve ever had. Count me in.” you exclaim, “I mean it, let’s go there together. I’d pay good money to see the looks on their faces once you give them truth they cannot avoid for once. Plus, it would mean that I could keep an eye on your antics in case you get yourself into trouble. Come on, John! Just like we used to go on these trips together.”
John’s eyes meet yours and at first he grins, but as a few seconds pass, his smile falls into a concerned frown. “I don’t know if I want you to come. Not this time.”
You narrow your eyes. “Why not? I don’t want you to go in there alone, it may be dangerous!”
“(Y/n), you know that I’m never alone, right?” He points up at the sky and you sigh, realising what he means – and you know that is right – but it remains difficult.
Suddenly, your eyes feel hot, and you rapidly blink to fight the urge to cry.
“You’re a great friend, John,” you whimper, “And I care about you a lot. Which is what makes it difficult to see you running off into the blue every so often and just praying that you’ll pop back up one day or the other. I just… I fear that there will be a day that you don’t return, you know?”
A few tears now roll down your cheeks and you sniffle.
“Hey now,” John shushes, rubbing your arm up and down in an attempt to console you, “Don’t you worry about me, now.”
You huff. “But I do, John. Have done so since we were children. You have the tendency to get yourself in trouble because you just speak your mind no matter the situation. Don’t get me wrong, it’s good that you know how to speak up for yourself, but… It’s dangerous in some situations, and that worries me.”
John sighs and his brow furrows, a thoughtful look falling over his face. “I know.”
“And-And I know that you’ve got God on your side, but that doesn’t make letting you go any easier. You’re my friend and I’d much rather see you in a safe situation. They’ll eat you alive over there.”
Smiling softly, John leans closer to you. “You know that safety on this Earth means nothing when it comes to the Kingdom of God? There is no use in being anxious. Although it is okay to feel emotions, they should not overpower us. The state of your soul is way more important, and with Jesus around, things are going to change so much. Aren’t you excited that we are part of that?”
His eyes are glittering so brightly that you cannot help but smile. “I am,” you breathe, “Truly. My fear regarding your wellbeing does not overpower me, but it’s there.”
“Healthy fear,” John clarifies, then sighs and seems to zone out for a second, chewing his bottom lip. “But… We can make a compromise, (Y/n).”
“That being?”
“If you were to join me, I want you to keep your distance so that people do not know you belong to me lest something happens to you as well. I’m not saying that things will turn sour, but if they would, you’d be able to run away.”
You are almost offended at that final insinuation: “I wouldn’t run away if you were in trouble!”
“In that case, I don’t want you to come.” John firmly states, but at that, you inhale sharply.
The words of protest get stuck in your throat and you sigh. “Fine,” you say at last. “I will keep my distance. If things go wrong, I will flee and wait for you for about a day. If you don’t return before then, I’ll get help.”
John chuckles. “You would break me out of a cell in Machaerus? Who ever would you ask for that?”
You let out a small sound of amusement and then almost embarrassedly rub your neck. “The fishermen from Capernaum? Philip and Nathanael?”
Laughing lightly, John slowly shakes his head. “My friend, don’t put yourself in danger for my sake. I know what I’m getting myself into and shouldn’t drag you into this.”
“Hey, I’m not doing it just for you. You forget that I, too, am fond of Jesus and want to see how God works through you. I have been at your side ever since the start and I am planning to be there until the very end.”
John bites the inside of his cheek and smiles. “You’re one of my dearest friends, (Y/n). Thank you.” He reaches over and puts his hand on top of yours, squeezing it. “But do not make such hasty decisions.”
“I am not making hasty decisions. I want to come with you.”
Something sad glitters behind his eyes. “If I may be frank with you, (Y/n), I’d rather that you’d stay away altogether. I cannot guarantee your safety… Nor that I will come back.”
Your throat runs dry and you cannot fight your sob that suddenly escapes your lungs.
“This is a dangerous world, John,” you whimper, “And I know that in service of the Most High we must be prepared to give up everything we hold dear. But constantly letting you go breaks my heart more often than I can handle.”
John stands and opens his arms. Wordlessly, you jump to your feet and allow yourself to fall into them, holding him close. Sniffling, you bury your face into his shoulder, your body feeling weak. “I know it is all for the Lord. And I know it’s for the best. But it doesn’t make it any less hurtful.”
Rubbing gentle circles over your back, John blinks away the wetness of his eyes and inhales deeply.
“I know, and I’m sorry that I cannot take that pain from you. However, I implore you to bring them to the Lord. Cast all your worries on Him. He can mend your broken heart and he can still use you in your state of misery.” He pulls away and cups your face into his hands, pressing a kiss onto your forehead. “You’re one of my closest friends, (Y/n). And Adonai knows about the sacrifices you’re constantly making to keep supporting the ministry. Tomorrow, I will leave to meet with Jesus to talk over my plans to head for Machaerus. If it is okay with you, I will stay here tonight, but if not, I shall out outstay my welcome. So then, if we do not see one another anymore after tomorrow morning, then we’ll see each other in heaven.”
With tear-stained cheeks, you shake your head slowly, your bottom lip trembling. “Don’t die, John.”
“I cannot promise that.” he whispers, “But imagine what we would gain. Everything is for Him. My heart, my soul and my life is His. He gives and takes away.”
“I know.”
“So focus on Him and all will be well.”
“I will.” you whimper. “I promise.”
John shows you a watery smile and nods. “Good.” he whispers, pulling you into another hug.
You stand like that for a while, and even though you already dread the moment that you have to let him go, you know that John will be in the presence of God no matter what happens, be it in life or in death.
John (the Baptiser) | Wherever The Spirit Leads Us | Romantic
Dialogue prompt: “As long as we’re together, we can deal with this.”
Requested: Yes
There has always been more between you and John, but the voice of God is louder than any earthly relationship. Both of you are aware of that, no matter how much it might hurt.
You have always been proud of John.
From your early childhood in Judea, the two of you had been friendly with one another. There was something about him that drew you to him, no matter if it made you an outcast, too. Since you stuck up for him one day when a few children from the village picked on him, a friendship was born, one that extended into adulthood.
Crazy John and his crazy friend (Y/n). It was what you often heard throughout your youth and it didn’t sting anymore. Even now, when overlooking the river Jordan, leaned against a tree for some shade, the strange glances cast your way go over your head.
“Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!” John preaches time and time again, “For this is He who was spoken of by the prophet Isaiah when he said, "The voice of one crying in the wilderness: ' Prepare the way of the Lord; make His paths straight .'"
You know Jesus - used to play with Him when He came over to visit John when you were children. He had always said that God would use you for His Kingdom some day. You had never understood what He meant, until now.
Day after day, you assist him with his baptisms, guiding people to the front that want to repent of their sins.
One morning, a familiar face pops up, smiling kindly at you as a greeting.
“Jesus!” you call out, rushing towards Him. John falls silent in his passionate preaching and lowers the finger he had pointed up to the heavens, all eyes turning to the One Who had caught the Baptiser’s attention.
“It’s good to see you, (Y/n),” Jesus softly says when you arrive at His side and you smile, looking over your shoulder to face your friend John, who gestures towards Jesus.
“Behold, the Lamb of God, Who takes away the sin of the world! This is He of Whom I said, ‘After me comes a Man Who ranks before me, because He was before me.’ I myself did not know Him, but for this purpose I came baptising with water, that He might be revealed to Israel.”
Your breath hitches in your throat as goosebumps spread all over your skin. As the people step aside to let Jesus through, you maintain eye-contact with John, who nods slowly at you. It sends butterflies through your system.
The crowd falls silent as Jesus steps into the water, wading towards his cousin until he is waist-deep, smiling gently as he waits for him to move, but John seems reluctant.
His voice wavers as he speaks up: “I need to be baptised by You, and You come to me?”
Jesus is patient and reassuringly hums. “Let it be so now, for thus it is fitting for us to fulfil all righteousness.”
You manage to get yourself to the front when John guides Jesus into the river, engulfing Him fully. With a coiling gut, you watch the scene with bated breath as do the rest of the people around, and right as He rises from the water, an almost blinding light bursts from the heavens for a split second.
When your squint relaxes, you witness how a crisp white dove descends from above and lands on Jesus’ bare shoulder, remaining there for a few moments. A voice calls out – too loud to be John, too intense and warm to be mortal – and you nearly fall to the ground as it rumbles through the sky.
“This is My beloved Son, with Whom I am well pleased.”
The horde erupts in a cacophony of shouts, exclamations of awe and pure puzzlement. Within a second, everything is chaos, though amidst it all, you find Jesus and John on the shore of the river, droplets of water gathering underfoot. The dove has left but Jesus seems to glow, and you can’t do anything else but let out a shaky exhale when He locks eyes with you, a wide grin spreading over His face.
“What did you think of that, huh?” He queries, winking at you.
John slowly shakes his head, grinning, “Oh, that was… I can’t even put words to it! Transcendental!”
“It was!” you gawk, “Is… Is the Kingdom of heaven truly at hand?”
Jesus hums and gives a slow nod, looking around at the dispersing crowd. Nobody seems to be paying attention to the three of you anymore now that everyone is either fleeing in panic or running back to tell the village what they had been witness to.
“May I invite you for dinner tonight?” you immediately ask, “I’ve got so many questions about what just happened!”
He chuckles and puts a hand on your shoulder, then looks at his cousin and back to you.
“Thank you for your offer, (Y/n), but maybe that you could invite John to go in my stead. He looks like he needs a decent meal and I’m going into the desert for a while.”
Shaking your head in confusion, you open your mouth to speak, but it is as if John steals them away from you. “The desert? Why?”
“I need to spend some time with my Father. Now friends, I will return. It will be a while, but do not be alarmed. This is something I must do Myself.”
Puzzled yet trusting that He knew what He was talking about, you whisper an affirmative answer. In silence, you and John watch as Jesus redresses, mutters a final greeting and heads off into the distance.
“Do you think He’ll ever not be an enigma to us?” you wonder out loud. John laughs and puts a hand on your back, something that makes your gut positively swirl with the butterflies you have mustered towards the odd preacher since the moment you met him.
“Are you seriously asking me if you and I could ever comprehend the mystery of God’s ways? I think not, (Y/n). But as long as we’re together, we can deal with this. ”
You flush and lower your gaze. “Ah, you’re right, that does sound silly.”
“Not at all,” John tells you, “I’ve got those questions, too, even though He is related to me. Now, does that offer for dinner still stand? I’ve got a feeling that I’ll be busy soon with my new students and I’d love to spend a quiet evening with just the two of us,” he smiles, “If that is alright with you?”
“Of course,” you breathe, helping him get the few belongings you’ve brought along.
_
Your heart is heavy.
Under the darkness of the cloud-packed sky, you stand in a barren field with Jesus, John and a recent addition to the group – Simon the Zealot. There is tension in the air that you cannot quite place, and your throat tightens when your eye falls upon John, who holds onto the strap of his bag, his hair blowing into his eyes. It has always been too long, too unkempt, but he always refused to have it cut, jokingly telling you that you’d only make it worse.
It always hurts to see him leave, but it’s nothing new. When you met Jesus, it had always been clear that you and John would not spend your lives being together, but rather in service of God.
A gust of wind blows a stray tear over your cheek as you stare at him, your bottom lip trembling. You do not trust your voice, so instead wait until Jesus finally speaks up.
“So, you're really going for it?” He muses.
“You know I can't be silent.” John says, smiling a bit. You mirror it, watery, almost desperate. Of course he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. It was in his nature.
“Soon, I will break My own silence as well.” Jesus promises to His cousin.
John clicks his tongue. “ Soon. Such a strange word, soon . It could mean anything.”
Your throat runs dry when the cousins embrace one another tightly. “I love you.” Jesus mutters, patting him on the back.
“And thank You… For letting me see that. I heard about the miracles, but I never thought I'd actually get to see one.” John muses with a sparkle in his eye.
Jesus hums. “Well, timing is everything, I guess. Now, go on, say goodbye to our friend.” He gestures towards you. You gladly accept John’s hug and inhale deeply, tears running down your cheeks despite your best efforts to stop them.
“Hey, hey, don’t you cry about me. I’m just going to do what is needed, alright? You and I will always be connected, no matter what happens. We’ll be alright, okay?”
You sniffle as he runs the back of his hand over your cheek, smiling sweetly. Passionate, Spirit-filled John, whom you will never call yours despite your feelings and the fact that he reciprocates them.
It’s time. He kisses your forehead before backing off slowly, his hand grabbing yours yet eventually slipping out of it, your arm awkwardly flailing in front of you for a moment before it slumps back to your side.
Jesus breathes in to call after him: “John… What you are about to do–”
“I've lived my whole life with warnings,” the Baptiser interrupts. “Warnings are how I know I'm on the right track!”
“It's not a warning. You're doing what you're supposed to do. I'm just reminding you to be sure to listen to God's voice as you do it.”
John waves. “Always.”
Always.
Jesus sniffles whereas you are full-on crying albeit silently. You stand like that as you watch John walk off, hoping that he’d cast one final glance over his shoulder.
One more time.
Before he disappears behind the hill.
He doesn’t look back.
An arm is draped around you and it takes as second to realise that it is Jesus who is pulling you into an embrace, which you immediately welcome, hugging him tightly whilst you remain in your state of grief for a minute before Jesus’ voice sounds against the top of your head.
“It’s okay.” He whispers, “I know what John means to you. I know what you feel for him and what he feels for you , and that it hurts the both of you very much. Not everybody is meant to marry in service of the Kingdom. What you will receive in return is so much more than this, and what you share with John is so much deeper than an earthly relationship.”
“I know.” you whimper, “I know,” for you completely trust in Him.
Jesus holds you for a while longer whilst you look at the road where John had gone, secretly hoping that he’d turn up back at the horizon, but you knew that he would not be back.
Mixed feelings of being both empty and fulfilled tugged at your heart as your tears dried on your face, until Jesus said it was time to go.
Writing Prompt 5 May 2021
Respond to the following statement in 300 seconds (five minutes) using any form you wish):
"Violence is good for something..."
Respond to the following statement in 300 seconds (five minutes) using any form you wish: “Violence is good for something…”Prompt by nevada jane arlow
I remember preaching a sermon once in Trinity College [Toronto] Lady chapel. All the Bible readings except the Gospel basically said, “Rejoice!” The Gospel was John the Baptiser calling out, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the…
