Chapter 26

Maybe the changed colour of his hair had had something to do with the softening and refinement of his face. His heavy thatch, previously black as a raven’s wing, had turned grey—in patches. It was sprinkled with grey throughout, but at his temples and where the hair grew low on the middle of his forehead, there were broad strips of white, snow-white. His formerly unkempt black beard had been shortened; it too glistened with white. Peter’s face had lost its austerity and had taken on dignity…Mencius, who once had had a fleeting glimpse of the gigantic man running down the street, recognized nothing about him but his extraordinary height, and told Captain Fulvius, when he rejoined The Vestris, that the massive Galilean, who directed the meeting on the Day of Pentecost, was the most august and majestic figure he had ever seen.

But perhaps the chief distinction of the transformed disciple was his arresting voice: deep, resonant, commanding. It had the tone of authority. When he began by saying that he was speaking on behalf of the Living Christ to a selected company of men reverently awaiting tidings of him, it was evident in the faces and postures of the audience that Peter’s commission was, in their opinion, authentic.

It had been the hope of God from the beginning, he said, that His children would inherit the Kingdom. He had not compelled them to accept its benefits. He had endowed them with free will to claim or refuse their heritage.

But God had not left them in darkness concerning the results of their decisions. Every generation had had its inspired prophets who had entreated men to receive and enjoy their heavenly legacy. Only a few had heeded these messages. The lonely prophets had been imprisoned, flogged, and stoned by the forces of greed and the lust for power.

God had been patient with the evil-doers. Again and again, through the ages, humanity had reaped such appalling harvests of its own misdeeds that even the kings and warriors had stood aghast at the tragedies they had contrived. And always, in the midst of ruin and the fear that had chastened both the just and the unjust, the prophets had shouted, ‘Now we shall begin anew! We shall rebuild the wastes! We shall repair the world’s desolations!’

But when a brief day of peace had brought prosperity, new tyrants rose up and another era of rapine, slavery, and slaughter would bring distrust and terror to the children of men. The sceptre had passed from one bloody hand to another as the nations clamoured for power, and yet more power, over the lives of the helpless.

Here the Big Fisherman, after pausing for a moment, continued in an ominous tone that deepened the silence. He had done with his calm review of mankind’s unfortunate history. It was time now for the world to be shaken wide awake. God had sent forth His Son with power to heal the sick, bind up broken hearts, open blind eyes, and proclaim a new era of good-will among men.

But the world would not receive him. He had been scorned, whipped, and put to a shameful death! But he had come alive again—and had been seen of many. Now he had returned to his Father’s House.