The Prisoner in the Third Cell Read Online Free Page B

need Him the most?”
    Not a single sound rose from the third cell. Whatever John might be thinking, he was keeping his own counsel. Protheus, on the other hand, could not help but wonder: “The prisoner in the first cell blames everything on men. The prisoner in the second cell blames everything on God. I wonder whom the prisoner in the third cell will blame. Man? God?
    â€œOr perhaps his cousin?”

Chapter 12
    The scene is a village in Galilee called Nain. It is early evening. The streets of the town are packed with people waiting to bring their sick to Jesus.
    Some of the infirm are blind, some crippled; one is deaf; another, frothing at the mouth, is held in restraint by his family. An anxious mother holds her small, fevered baby in her arms. Another mother cradles a crippled child in her lap. All manner of people are there, wracked by every disease known to man. All have one thing in common. They are seeking Jesus, hoping to receive healing or liberation at his hands.
    The focal point of this crowd is a house located on one of the smaller streets of the village. In every direction the streets leading to this house are jammed with people. Walk through the courtyard and you will see that it, too, is filled.
    There is pathos and anxiety everywhere. Perhaps the thing that makes the waiting ones most anxious is to hear a cry of joy coming from within the house and then, a moment later, watch someone depart, praising God for healing.
    At this moment, three roughly dressed, leather-skinned men appear at the courtyard gate. One of the disciples of Jesus recognizes these men. He rushes into the house. Just as he is about to tell his master the news of the arrival of these men, a cripple rises on his feet, raises his hands to heaven, and cries out to God in praise for being cured.
    â€œLord, the disciples of John are here.”
    Jesus looked up. For one brief moment there was anxiety in his eyes.
    â€œPlease. Dismiss the people outside. Bring John’s disciples here. Immediately.”
    With that, the Lord seated himself on the floor and waited pensively for the appearance of John’s disciples.
    In a moment, the three men solemnly took their place in front of Jesus. There was a long pause. Then Nadab broke the silence.
    â€œWe have come from John. He is in prison. Herod had him arrested for . . .”
    â€œYes, I know,” replied the Lord.
    â€œA few days ago we were allowed to visit our teacher. He is chained inside a filthy pit. There are rumors that it will not be long before Herod has him killed.”
    There was a pause. Nadab waited to see if Jesus had some response to this word.
    â€œJohn sent us to you, to ask you a question. It was the only request he made of us. We have traveled far to find you, yet it is but for the answer to one question that we come.”
    Again Nadab paused. Again no one spoke.
    â€œTeacher, the question that John would ask of you is this.” Nadab paused again, his face flushed. “John’s question is, ‘Are you the Messiah, or should we look for another?’”
    A long, stunned silence followed. Pain was felt in the heart of every man in the room. You could read it in the faces of John’s three disciples, it was evident upon the faces of the twelve, but it was most evident upon the face of the Lord himself.
    Jesus sighed deeply. For one brief moment, he dropped his head in what seemed to be a gesture of anguish. Looking up again, he addressed the question.
    â€œNadab, return to John. Tell him, for me, these things.
    â€œFirst, tell John that the blind see, the lame walk, and the deaf hear.
    â€œThen tell my cousin that the gospel is proclaimed—not only proclaimed but received with gladness—and that men and women are being set free.”
    The Lord paused, took a deep, labored breath. Then slowly, purposefully, he continued. “Lastly, Nadab, tell John . . . tell John . . .”
    The Lord’s voice choked