Episode Transcript
The following program is a first person narrative using authors'license to tell stories drawn from the Bible and the books of Ellen White. Welcome to Family Storytime with Karlie Fraser. Join us as we step back in time to hear about the innkeeper's daughter.
Hi, there. My name's Naomi, and I'm not someone who is able to remember every aspect of childhood with incredible detail. And to be honest, I'm a little bit suspicious of those who can.
In fact, I struggle to remember most of the things on my to do list each day. But there is one night that has left an indelible mark on my mind. It was crowded, very crowded.
And I don't mean, oh, there's a lot of people on the streets, and it's hard to walk home to my house crowded. I mean, I've lost my bed mat, and I'm sleeping in the corner with all six of my siblings because Mum and dad have welcomed what feels like an entire town to stay in our house. Dad said it was the census, whatever that meant.
All I knew was life got crazy busy very quickly. It was all hands on deck, and my chore list had doubled in size. Bedtime had well and truly flown by when I snuck outside to get some fresh air.
It was an attempt to reconcile myself to the fact that I would be sleeping with Sarah's knees in my back and Jerry's feet in my face, because for some reason, he liked to be different to everyone else. As I stood gazing up at the stars, breathing the cool air deeply and frankly enjoying the relative silence of the moment, I began to notice sounds coming from our animal shelter. Curious, I crept towards him to investigate.
I was only halfway across our courtyard when I heard a baby's cry pierce the night air. What in the world was going on? Soon, the voices identified themselves as a man and a woman. Seriously, have we come to the point where we are now putting people in with the animals? I mean, I thought that's what my parents did when they put me in with the rest of the kids, but this takes it to a whole new level.
Peeking through a hole in the wooden gate, I saw a woman resting in the straw with a baby in her arms. It looked like a very newborn baby. Her husband was moving the straw around to form what I could only guess was a place for them to sleep that night.
As I stood there, I heard a voice say, it's okay. You can come in. Startled, I realized the lady was talking to me.
Slowly, I swung open the gate and took a few hesitant steps inside. She smiled at me, an exhausted, small smile that suggested she'd been through quite an ordeal. Inching my way forward, I snuck up to her side and looked down at the baby.
He wasn't a beautiful baby, and his face was a bit red and wrinkled, but I had this overwhelming urge to ask if I could hold him. Being too shy, I settled for sitting in the straw beside them and holding his hand. His mother said his name was Jesus.
I hadn't heard of many Jesuses, but it sounded like a cool name. She also said he was a gift from God to this world. I didn't know what that meant and I wondered why God would put his gift in with the animals, but I just let that one slide.
I don't know how long I sat there, but it must have been ages. All I knew was I didn't want to leave. Eventually, Rachel came out looking for me, saying it really was time for bed as we had a big day coming in the morning.
So I said my goodbyes and left the little family behind with the animals. Later, as I lay sandwiched with feet in my face and bones in my back, I thought about what the lady had said and how the baby was supposed to be a gift to this world. The morning came way too soon, as I was swept up in the fast pace of life and chores.
The next months flew by very quickly. I wish now that I had spent more time enjoying each day for what it was and who I was with than I did, because soon it was all about to change. I remember coming back from the well early one morning with our water jug balancing precariously on my head, when I heard screams coming from the distance.
Walking faster, I was overwhelmed with the thunder of horses careering down the street. We were a small town and there weren't many who could afford horses, so any were a rarity. Then I saw a sight that sickened me.
There were soldiers who had come to town with the horses and they appeared to be systematically working their way down the street, house by house. The screams of mothers pierced the still air and some children were standing around crying, obviously not understanding what was going on. I ran to our inn, not caring about the water that sloshed out the top of the jug and down the side, wetting, my tunic slowing down.
As my home came into view, I saw my mother sitting outside, holding the limp form of my brother Jeremiah in her arms. My mind refused to believe what my eyes were telling me. As I walked closer, my hands lost their grip on the jug and it fell, shattering on the ground, the remaining water spilt into the dust.
My older brother Peter grabbed me quickly, holding me back, saying Mum needed to be left alone for a while. Everything changed that day. My mum became incapable of making any decisions regarding the day to day running of the inn, and my father became obsessed with an intense hatred of our rulers and their soldiers.
This hatred became shackles holding him back from any constructive work. To be honest, most of us Israelites seem to have been born with an innate dislike of anything Roman. We grew up hearing stories of a messiah who would come and overthrow the Roman rule, bringing us into a peaceful utopia of an independent Israel.
That morning, the dislike became a hatred that settled deep within my bones. While it wasn't necessarily Romans who killed my brother, it was the soldiers of those they had appointed, and that was enough to keep the hate fires burning. Time waits for no one, and soon most of the day to day running of our inn settled on my elder siblings and I.
Years passed and we became quite well known in the district as a safe place where you could find a fire to warm your bones and good food to fill your belly. One of the perks of being an innkeeper is the stories that you hear and, ah, the stories I heard. I could write a scroll with the stories that have come through here and have plenty more left over.
I still remember the day Jethro walked through the door. I was cleaning the front tables and I looked up at the sound of the door opening. I suddenly felt that strange sensation you get when you think you recognize someone, but it can't possibly be them because it just makes no sense.
Allow me to explain. Each year we Jews celebrate the Passover in Jerusalem, and normally I don't get to go because the men go and represent the family, while we women stay behind and keep the inn running. I mean, otherwise, how would the guests be fed? However, I do get to go about every five years, and each time as we walk past the pool of Bethesda near the sheepgate, I feel a pang of sympathy for those held in place by their inability to move elsewhere.
One of them had become rather well known. Jethro had spent 38 years fighting illness and been by the pool so long he was practically part of the furniture. That is, until he walked into our inn and sat at our table.
I thought my eyes had betrayed me and were coming up with a reality of their own. But after bringing him a meal and a much appreciated drink, his words began to flow. The entire room fell silent as our attention focused on his miraculous story.
It was a man named Jesus who changed Jethro's world. The day Jesus asked him, would you like to get well? Was the day the shackles fell off his heart and he began to live again, really live. This Jesus didn't even put him in the healing waters.
He simply said, Stand up, pick up your mat and walk. Imagine it. Can you get a more simple instruction than that? Jethro said his life hasn't been the same since, and he's never forgotten Jesus'final instruction.
Now you are well, so go and stop sinning. A stirring began deep inside me when I heard that. I witnessed the excitement that spilled out of Jethro's eyes and I longed for something that would fill me with the passion that now drove him.
It turns out he spends his days telling others of his encounter with this strange man, Jesus. As I washed dishes later that evening, I thought about my life. This evening is all I've ever known.
I grew up here with the understanding that I would one day help run the family business and I've never had a desire to do anything else. I'm proud of what we've built here and I enjoy caring for the strangers who pass through. But that day with Jethro I began to wonder is there something more? I made it to the passover next year.
The crowds were intense, reminding me of the census days of my childhood so long ago. As we entered Jerusalem, we felt a strange atmosphere envelop us. There was none of the joyful anticipation we had encountered previously.
Instead, we could almost taste the tension and hatred in the heat. There was a crowd making its way out of town and despite our best efforts otherwise we were swept up and carried along like fish in a net. Roman soldiers kept the people back as three men struggled their way up the dirt road carrying a large wooden crosses on their backs, sometimes collapsing and inhaling the dust at their feet.
One man struggled so much from blood loss apparent from the gaping wounds on his back that when he collapsed, he could barely move. A soldier reached into the crowd and grabbed an unsuspecting bystander pushing him to the ground and forcing him to carry the man's cross. As we crawled up the hill, it soon became very clear that there was something different about this middleman.
People called him Jesus and he had none of the anger and resentment that marred the faces of those either side of him. In fact, there was a strange peace coming from beneath the blood and sweat that covered his face. As we reached Golgotha, I saw through the crowd a small group huddling together near the centre cross.
They were quieter and calmer than the rest of the mob, so I moved to stand nearby. In doing so, I heard the words father, forgive them for they don't know what they're doing. Escape, Jesus'lips.
As they hammered his hands and feet to the wooden beams. What kind of man was this? When they raised the cross and dropped it into the hole in the ground, he gasped. From the jolting impact, the crowd continued to raise taunts to those on the crosses and as I looked closely I noticed one of the thieves trying to say something.
Licking his lips, he tried again. Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom. Stepping closer, I strained to hear.
Jesus'reply, I assure you today, he said, you will be with me in paradise. What was it about this man that enabled him to grant requests like that promise paradise to a thief, offer comfort to another when he was clearly struggling for breath himself? Raising his head again, he was able to look around, and as his eyes fell upon the woman and man in front of me, he said, dear woman, here is your son. And to the man he said, here is your mother.
I stepped sideways to get a clearer look at the woman who was evidently his mother. My heart stopped as I was thrown back in time to a smelly musty animal shelter and an exhausted young woman who smiled and invited me inside. The words I heard that night came rushing back to me.
This baby is God's gift to the world. Whoa. Instantly I realized that that baby, the Jesus who healed Jethro, and this Jesus on the cross, were all one in the same.
The sickening feeling I felt when I witnessed Herod's men kill the boys of Bethlehem came back with such force. It caused me to sit down before I lost my balance and my lunch. It seemed as though nature also rebelled against the events of Golgotha, as the sun itself refused to shine for hours.
When the darkness finally lifted, I heard Jesus utter his last words it is finished. Then he bowed his head and died. I didn't know what he referred to, but I sensed that what was happening today might possibly have repercussions for our entire human race.
I didn't have much time to pursue that thought far, though, because we were then thrown flat on our faces in terror. The ground rolled and shook with force. An earthquake split rocks open and sent them hurtling down the mountainside.
The dark cloud that had been covering the cross swept over to envelop Jerusalem, and those at the Evening sacrifice later spoke of how the curtain in the sanctuary was torn in two by an invisible hand. People were able to see directly into the most holy place of the temple, and in the confusion and noise, the lamb for the Evening sacrifice ran away. With the temple services having ceased operation and feeling a strong desire for familiar surroundings, we decided to quickly get home.
The sound of our rooster crowing worked its way into my brain, and I was reminded again why I always plan to go to bed earlier than I actually end up going. Struggling out of bed, I made my way to the kitchen to help with breakfast. Sarah was already up and had the whole food situation well and truly under control, so I headed out to the dining room to open up for any early morning guests.
He didn't appear to be anyone special, but he had a presence about him that was hard to ignore. His eyes shone with a light reminiscent of the kind that I had seen in Jethro's eyes the day he walked into our inn. We got talking and I asked what he did for a living.
He replied that he did what he had been called to do, and that was to share the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Curious, I asked if this was the same Jesus who had been crucified the year before. He said it was and inquired as to whether I had heard the rest of the story.
Intrigued, I sat down, and the morning flew by as I jumped up to serve any newcomers, only to then quickly return to his table so I could hear more as he spoke, I felt strangely drawn to his message, as though nothing else really mattered. I had dishes piling up out the back and Sarah getting on my case, but I didn't care. I wanted to listen.
I wanted that passion for life. He spoke of how Jesus came to Earth to do exactly what he did. He lived the perfect life in order that we, with our imperfect lives, could be saved.
He explained the prophecies of the Old Testament and showed how they pointed to Jesus as the Messiah, the true Messiah, not one who would save Israel from Rome, but one who would save the world from our mistakes and certain eternal death. As he spoke, I saw how the baby born in with our animals demonstrated God's everlasting self sacrificing love. And I began to feel a heaviness inside me and a strong desire to let go of the hatred and the failures in my life that had held me down for so long.
I had longed for peace without really knowing what it was, and I now knew it was time to make a decision. And so it was that in the dining room of our inn, sitting at our well worn table, I accepted Jesus Christ as my Savior and asked for the forgiveness of my sins. I can't begin to describe to you how it actually felt to know God accepted me exactly as I was, without the need for continual sacrifices and offerings.
The best I can come up with is that I finally felt light inside, and I knew that no matter what happened, everything was going to be okay in the end. And that's the key, I think. In the end, life doesn't just become all lavender and honeycakes after that morning.
In fact, in some respects it became harder. But since then, I have this peace deep inside me because I know that I am fully loved and entirely accepted it's. Knowing that the Creator of this world loved me so much, he was willing to lay down his life to give me life.
That puts everything else into the right perspective. I grew up in an inn. All I ever wanted was to be an innkeeper and to hear stories from travelers passing through.
Now I understand there is more going on beyond human sight than I could ever have imagined. No longer am I waiting for the Messiah. Jesus Christ clothed Himself in humanity and stepped down onto this earth to live and die for you and for me.
I know now that there is a greater purpose for my life and for yours too. I used to just listen to stories. Now I tell the only one that matters to anyone and everyone who will listen.
You see, I'm still an innkeeper, but now I'm an innkeeper with a mission. What's yours? Will you pray with me? Dear Father, thank you so much that you sent Jesus to live here on this earth as a human, to live that perfect life that we can't live, and to die for us so that we may live eternally with you. Father, that's incredible.
And it's really hard to kind of get our minds around, but I just thank you for that. And I thank you that you have given each one of us a mission to tell others about the love that you have for us and for them. And I just pray that you will guide us through Your Holy Spirit and you will draw us closer and closer to you each day, and that you will teach us to love the way that Jesus loved and the way that he still loves.
We are so grateful. We love you and we can't wait to see you. Amen.
Karlie, thank you for another incredible story about God and his grace and his love for each one of us, that he brought peace and goodwill toward men through the story of Jesus, through his birth, his death and his resurrection. But let's go to Jesse and Christopher now for a study out of the Bible. Thank you, Karlie, for another uplifting story about the life of Jesus.
So, Christopher, in our story today, did you recognise a recurring theme in all the different stories about Jesus? I think I did. Actually, all of the stories we listened to today were about Jesus meeting the outcasts or the lowly people in society. Yeah, jesus touched the lives of the untouchables people with all kinds of sicknesses and diseases which people thought were the result of sin.
We also saw Jesus meet with a gentile on his way to the cross. And even when he was on the cross, jesus took the time to talk to a thief and a criminal. I assure you, today you will be with me in paradise.
Even the very life of Jesus was lowly. From his first moments on this earth to his last breath. From being born in a humble stable with all kinds of animals, to dying the most humiliating death possible, jesus lowered himself all throughout his life.
Wow. Imagine that. The king of the universe becoming a human and living a life of humility, servitude and sacrifice.
That's how much God loved us. So much that he was willing to become lowly just like us, so he could save all of humanity from their sins. It really seems that God has a heart for lowly people, and we can find that really encouraging, knowing that no matter what, god's love will always be there for us.
Okay, Jesse, that sounds really good. But how do I know that God will always offer me this gift of his love? I just don't feel like I deserve this love of his. Well, that's the amazing thing about God's grace.
It's a gift that none of us really deserve, and yet God is willing to give it even to the lowest of us. It's a gift that we desperately need, but not one we deserve. But God still gives it to us anyway.
Okay, so now I know that God loves me, and I've accepted the amazing gift of his grace. But what do I do now? Well, Chris, the gift of grace is a bit like a soccer ball. It's great if you have it, but unless you share that gift with other people, it's not really that fun.
Sure, you can have a little bit of fun, maybe kicking the ball around against the wall or practicing your juggling skills, but it's just not the same as playing a game of soccer with all your friendship. Okay, so just like I need to share my gift of the soccer ball with others, I need to share the gift of grace with other people as well. Exactly.
Now that we have been shown this amazing grace, god asks us to show it to others as well, so that God can give everyone else his gift of love. And Jesus would be the perfect example for this, right? We don't just show grace and love to the important people or just our family and friends or the people that we like. Jesus wants us to go to the lowly people or the people that you may not get along with or even your enemies.
And I know that sounds really difficult because you're probably thinking, but they don't deserve that grace. But remember, neither do you. That's why it's a gift.
So Jesus has provided us with the perfect example of how to share the gift of grace with others. Will you choose to follow Jesus and tell everyone the good news of his love and grace? You have been listening to Family Story Time, a production of Three ABN, Australia. Radio.
