Grams Writes

Faithful to the End

Legs pulled up under him, the old man sat quietly on the sand. The waves rolled gently toward him, tugging at his toes. To the passing observer, he was just an old man enjoying a moment in the sun. But, he was more than that, much more.

John slowly got to his feet, brushing sand from his robe. The low rumble in his stomach told him it was time for lunch. After a short nap he’d come back and watch the sun slide into the sea.

His home was a small island called Patmos. He did not see his family and close friends anymore, but he didn’t mind. He chuckled to himself. He had not known he was such a troublemaker. The emperor had exiled him here in an effort to squelch the spread of Jesus’ followers. Somehow John knew man’s efforts would not stop the preaching of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

The hardest part of his day had become the walk back up the hill to his cottage. It wasn’t very far but the pain in his knees made it seem longer than it was. Someday soon that would no longer be a problem. The anticipation of a new body and being at home with his Lord and friend brought a smile to his lips.

John finished eating the bit of baked fish left from his last meal. He’d have to do something about food for tomorrow, but right now he just wanted to lie down. He spread out his sleeping mat and settled down for his mid-day nap. These were becoming more frequent and necessary. He had finished the writing and had sent it by courier to the leaders of the church in Jerusalem. When one’s work is finished, it’s a good time to rest.

A gentle breeze ruffled the edges of John’s robes, but he didn’t seem to notice. He turned toward the open door where he could catch the glint of the sun’s rays as they danced across the water. It was a quiet time, a gentle time. It was a good day to go home. Well, why not? Slowly John’s eyes blinked, he let out his breath, and smiled. He was home.

Faithful to the end.