The Boy Who Would Become The Savior.
mustapha umoru@umorumustapha596358
25 days ago
YOUNG CHRIST (Chapter 1).
Biblical Fiction.
©️ Copyrighted.
✝️
The sun peeked through the clouds over Nazareth Hills, illuminating the sprawling campus of the School of the Spirit. Perched on a gentle slope, the school seemed to glow, its ivory stone walls and tall arched windows radiating a sense of peace and mystery. A towering cross adorned the highest point of the main building, its silhouette a constant reminder of the school's divine purpose.
For decades, the School of the Spirit had been a haven for those with unique gifts—young people who often found themselves misunderstood in the outside world. Some could see glimpses of the future, others spoke languages they had never learned, and a rare few seemed to carry wisdom far beyond their years. But beneath its serene exterior, the school had a higher mission: to prepare its students to serve a world that would not always understand them.
This was where Jesus found himself on an ordinary Monday morning, standing at the base of the grand staircase that led to the main hall. He adjusted the strap of his worn leather satchel and glanced up at the towering entrance. His clothes were simple—dark slacks and a plain white shirt—yet something about him made people pause. Perhaps it was the quiet confidence in his eyes, or the way he carried himself, like someone who had already seen the depths of the world and returned with a steady heart.
“New kid, huh?”
The voice startled him. Turning, Jesus found himself face-to-face with a boy his age, broad-shouldered and sandy-haired, with an easy grin that put him at ease.
“John,” the boy said, offering a firm handshake. “John Zechariah. But everyone just calls me John.”
Jesus clasped his hand, his grip firm but kind. “Jesus. Nice to meet you.”
John studied him for a moment, then gave a nod of approval. “You’re not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?” Jesus asked with a soft smile.
“I don’t know. Someone…louder?” John chuckled, slinging an arm around his shoulder as if they’d known each other for years. “Come on. You’ll like it here. Well, most of it.”
The hallways buzzed with life as students filed into their classes. The walls were adorned with intricate murals depicting scenes from scripture—Moses parting the Red Sea, Elijah calling fire from heaven, David standing over Goliath. Between the artwork were shelves lined with books, each one detailing the gifts of the Spirit and the lives of those who had walked in faith.
John led Jesus down the main corridor, pointing out landmarks as they went.
“That’s the sanctuary,” John said, gesturing to a set of double doors from which a faint hum of organ music could be heard. “We have prayer sessions there every morning. And over there”—he pointed to a courtyard where a group of students sat in a circle, their eyes closed in concentration—“that’s where the visions class meets. Abigail’s probably there right now.”
“Visions?” Jesus asked, intrigued.
“Yeah, she’s incredible. She sees things no one else can. But don’t tell her I said that,” John added quickly. “She gets embarrassed.”
As they continued walking, the sound of raised voices echoed down the hallway.
“That’ll be Peter,” John said with a smirk.
Sure enough, as they turned a corner, they found a stocky boy with curly brown hair and a red face, gesticulating wildly as he argued with another student.
“Peter,” John called out, his tone light but firm. “Take it down a notch, will you?”
Peter turned, his expression softening slightly. “John! Who’s this?”
“This is Jesus,” John said, clapping a hand on Jesus’s shoulder. “New kid.”
Peter looked him up and down, his brow furrowed in thought. Then, without warning, he grinned and extended a hand. “Welcome. Just don’t take anything Judas says too seriously.”
“Judas?” Jesus asked.
“You’ll meet him soon enough,” John muttered.
—
Their first class of the day was Scripture Studies, held in a sunlit room with high ceilings and rows of wooden desks. The teacher, an elderly man named Rabbi Nathan, greeted Jesus warmly as he entered.
“Class, we have a new student today,” Rabbi Nathan announced. “This is Jesus of Nazareth. Let’s make him feel welcome.”
The room buzzed with whispers as Jesus took his seat near the middle. Abigail, a quiet girl with dark hair and piercing blue eyes, gave him a shy smile from across the aisle. Peter leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, while Judas, sitting near the front, raised a skeptical eyebrow.
Rabbi Nathan began the lesson by opening a large, weathered Bible. “Today, we’ll be discussing Isaiah’s prophecy about the suffering servant. Who can tell me what this passage means?”
The room fell silent. It was a notoriously difficult text, one that had puzzled even the most seasoned scholars.
Jesus hesitated for a moment, then raised his hand.
“Go ahead, Jesus,” Rabbi Nathan said, his tone encouraging.
Jesus stood, his voice calm but filled with an authority that made everyone sit up straighter. “The prophecy speaks of one who will bear the burdens of others, someone who will suffer not for their own sins, but for the sins of the world. It’s not just a prediction—it’s a promise of redemption.”
The room was silent, every eye fixed on him. Even Rabbi Nathan seemed momentarily lost for words.
John broke the silence with a low whistle. “Where’d you learn to talk like that? It’s like you’ve been studying forever!”
Jesus smiled, a faint twinkle in his eye. “Some things come naturally when you listen.”
Judas, sitting at the front, scoffed. “Natural or rehearsed? Nobody’s that perfect.”
“Enough, Judas,” Rabbi Nathan said sharply, though his gaze lingered on Jesus with quiet amazement.
As the students filed out, John caught up with Jesus in the hallway.
“Okay, seriously,” John said, his tone half-joking. “What’s your deal? You show up out of nowhere, ace the hardest question on day one, and act like it’s no big deal?”
“I’m just here to learn,” Jesus said simply.
John gave him a sidelong glance, then grinned. “I think you and I are going to get along just fine.”
From across the hallway, Abigail watched them with quiet curiosity, while Judas lingered near the doorway, his expression unreadable.
The School of the Spirit buzzed with life, but beneath its surface, a sense of anticipation hung in the air. For years, the teachers had prayed for a student who would embody the gifts of the Spirit in their fullness, someone who could guide others not just with power, but with wisdom and love.
And though no one could yet put it into words, they all felt it: something extraordinary was beginning…
Next Chapter on Wednesday.
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