Come With The Wind - Nicodemus Tells His Story

If I had any thought of laying aside contemplation of those hours with Jesus for a more convenient time, I was mistaken. To begin with, the intellectual battle with my heritage versus the teachings of Jesus was quickly acquiescing to an emotional battle with conscience. No matter the rationale or lack of it, the question loomed larger than ever. “What will I do with Jesus?” No man could have been more greatly favored than I. To have heard from his own lips the revelation of his claim to be my personal redeemer. To have been the first non-disciple to confront his claims to be the fulfillment of our Messianic hope of national deliverance. To have personally witnessed such love and commitment as to offer himself up to the indescribable suffering of a cross for the salvation of his nation. To be personally taught a new and different resolve for sin and uncleanness of which our Mosaic Law was supposedly the forerunner. To be standing on the brink of a historic breakthrough when that law would achieve its divine purpose through the fulfillment of its prophecies. I could never have guessed that all of my heritage, all of my education, all of my success in life, my very position in the Sanhedrin would bring me to the greatest challenge of my life. Faith! There was no backing down! Either I believed him, or I didn’t. And if I did, then I would have to stand in the breach before the Sanhedrin and risk the loss of everything I had striven so successfully to achieve. Though I did not realize it then, I was now engaged in the very personal battle for the salvation of my very soul. The battle that had its beginning before the very foundation of creation. The battle that would achieve its victory on a cross! There surely could have been no soul on earth in more misery than I as we each left the room to grapple with our own private thoughts. Oh, it had been a long time coming. A whole three years of struggle with an itinerant roaming preacher that had set a whole nation on edge. And now the plot was in motion. Surely the dastardly act could not be stopped. There loomed only one last hope. Someone was going to have to stand in his defense. But at what a price!….. .……..It was all his doing! Jesus I mean! I will not repeat myself with the intimate details I have already written in this book, suffice to say that, consciously, even if not fully understood, I was being propelled by uncontrollable circumstances that I now know were intentionally sculpted to my soul’s need. I must, however, be willing to trust my God to lead me into new revelation and the resolve of soul issues that had eluded me throughout my religious life. The sincerity of my belief system and my position in the religious hierarchy of our nation were just not a part of this equation. I know you are anxious to ask if at this point I was converted to Jesus Christ. In fact you have probably made this conclusion. I confess to some monumental issues that held me in spiritual limbo between my religious disciplines and a soul-gripping conviction that Jesus was truly the Son of God, our Messiah; Yes! Even my Savior! Such a confession was yet to be supremely tested by the subsequent challenges that lay before me, lest you should determine that my present state was some whim born of the enormous emotional rollercoaster these days had inflicted upon me. Those challenges were very real, even to the point of ominous! Oh, I have shared earlier in my story some of the more obvious material and social issues that even the slightest involvement with Jesus might impact. But now, the price tag of such a relationship loomed very large, even to the potential forfeiting of my life, resulting in immeasurable consequences that would be inflicted upon my wife and family. To whom could they turn for consummate support if my life was taken, indeed if even they themselves were spared? Was it fair that our children should bear the stigma born of the incomprehensible actions of their father, or even perhaps, both parents? And where did all this lead? What would be the end-result? Jesus was now dead! His disciples in hiding! Caiaphas on the warpath! Would-be converts left with only whimsical memories of a moment of hope! Already it was too late! I had gone too far, devastated by the weight of raw power and sinister hatred unleashed from within the very bowels of a religion that boasted us Jews to be the chosen people of God! And then came the knock on our door!