I am writing this to you, in your century, to warn you about the Lord’s Supper. You see, my hope is that we might share this memory of Jesus with you across all of the centuries that separate us. But yes, I need to warn you, hoping that you will not dishonor the words of Jesus just as we did only hours ago.

The day was dawning under heavy clouds, portending a storm on the lake.  We fishermen, with our nose for the weather, could feel it coming.  So, we stayed close to shore, huddled in the boat, ready to dash to safety.  

You don’t know rejection. You may think you do. And of course, none of us lives for very long without experiencing some amount of it. But I am here to tell you that you don’t really know rejection as Jesus did. Not even close.

I’m an old man now. And like old men everywhere, I spend a lot of time reflecting. Reflecting on events that I have witnessed, reflecting on people I have known, and reflecting on my own life and what it all means. I hope my reflections are honest.

You know me. I appear in all four of the Gospels in your Bible. For a time, you may recall, I was thought to be a prostitute, saved by Jesus. Well, in truth, I was saved by Jesus, freed by his healing power from forces attacking me; but I was not a prostitute. In fact, I was a respectable woman who followed Jesus and who, along with others, gave financial support to his ministry. 

“Then the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had told them to go. When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. Then Jesus came to them and said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.  Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.”

When Jesus told us of the Holy Spirit, my brother apostles and I were not impressed. More than that, we were confused and frankly, disappointed. After all, we had been with Jesus for three years.

When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.” A second time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Tend my sheep.” He said to him the third time, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?” And he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep.”

Please don’t call me a “doubter.” If you must call me anything at all, I prefer that you call me “a practical thinker.” This doubting thing, you see, has gone on far too long and you must help to dispel that image of me.

Thomas here again. Note I did not call myself “Doubting Thomas” as you might have desired, and if you did, that is your problem and not mine!

This time I want to talk with you about faith. Now, you may believe that someone like me would not be qualified to even bring up the subject of faith.

“So when they had come together, they asked him, ‘Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?’ He replied, ‘It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority.  But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.’”

My name is Ananias and this is my story. I have told it many times and each time, I pray that the retelling will glorify my Lord, Jesus Christ.

Now when they saw the boldness of Peter and John and realized that they were uneducated and ordinary men, they were amazed and recognized them as companions of Jesus. When they saw the man who had been cured standing beside them, they had nothing to say in opposition.

“After his suffering he presented himself alive to them by many convincing proofs, appearing to them during forty days and speaking about the kingdom of God. While staying with them, he ordered them not to leave Jerusalem but to wait there for the promise of the Father.” (Acts 1)

“Therefore, to keep me from being too elated, a thorn was given to me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to torment me, to keep me from being too elated. Three times I appealed to the Lord about this, that it would leave me, but he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ So, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities for the sake of Christ; for whenever I am weak, then I am strong.”

My name is Lydia and this is my story, written to you from what you call the first century. Of course, in my day, it was not the first century, since time in the Roman Empire was measured from the founding of Rome.

I was originally from the city of Thyatira, in the Asian kingdom of Lydia; hence my name. You see, in my time it was customary for slaves to be given the name of their home territory. So, I was Lydia from Lydia! And yes, I was a slave.

Before I go on, let me interject something important here. Because you must understand this: my story is not my own. No, as you will see, my story is God’s story, though I didn’t know it for the longest time.

“I thank my God for every remembrance of you, always in every one of my prayers for all of you, praying with joy for your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now. I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work in you will continue to complete it until the day of Jesus Christ. It is right for me to think this way about all of you, because I hold you in my heart, for all of you are my partners in God’s grace, both in my imprisonment and in the defense and confirmation of the gospel.”

I am a self-made outcast, isolated from my own culture. No, I’m not a leper, though I might as well be. I often feel like a leper, anyway. And I wasn’t born blind, either. My infirmity is private, hidden from view. I look normal and healthy on the outside, but I am anything but that on the inside.

You might call me a “late bloomer.” In fact, I am just that, a person who, late in life, found himself involved in things he never dreamed of. And if you knew me, you’d be as surprised as I am. Why? Because no one could have predicted what transpired in my later years. Not my friends, not my family and especially, not me!

Go back through your Bible and see how many of us late bloomers you find. I wager that you’ll be amazed.

“As for me, I am already being poured out as a libation, and the time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight; I have finished the race; I have kept the faith. From now on there is reserved for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will give me on that day, and not only to me but also to all who have longed for his appearing.”