The Boy Who Would Become The Savior
mustapha umoru@umorumustapha596358
23 days ago
YOUNG CHRIST (Chapter 2)
Biblical Fiction.
©️ Copyrighted
✝️
The small family home in Nazareth was modest but warm, a blend of practicality and comfort. Sunlight filtered through linen curtains, casting soft patterns across the wooden furniture and clay pots that lined the shelves. The scent of fresh bread wafted from the kitchen, where Mary busied herself, her movements quick but deliberate.
From the window, she watched as Jesus and John walked down the dusty path toward the School of the Spirit. Her son, taller now and growing into himself, walked with a quiet confidence that both reassured and unsettled her. She knew his path was unique, ordained before his birth, yet she couldn’t help but feel the weight of uncertainty.
Joseph entered the room, wiping his hands on a rag after working on a piece of furniture in the small workshop out back. His face, weathered from years of labor, softened when he saw Mary staring out the window.
“Still worrying about him?” Joseph asked gently, setting the rag aside.
Mary sighed, turning to face him. “I can’t help it, Joseph. He’s different. He always has been. And now, sending him to that school…”
Joseph walked over and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “That school is exactly where he belongs. It’s a place for young people like him, ones with gifts and callings. He’ll learn, just like the others.”
“But he’s not like the others,” Mary said, her voice trembling slightly. “He’s not just gifted. He’s…” She hesitated, glancing down as though the words themselves were too heavy to say aloud.
“The Son of God,” Joseph finished for her, his tone steady. “I know, Mary. I know. But he’s also our son. He’s still a boy trying to figure out who he is, just like any other. And he’ll need us—our guidance, our love—to help him.”
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Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in hues of orange and pink, Jesus returned home. He entered the house, his satchel slung over one shoulder, and smiled when he saw Mary and Joseph waiting for him at the table.
“How was your first day?” Mary asked, pouring him a cup of water.
“It was good,” Jesus replied, sitting down. “The school is…different. There are students with all kinds of gifts. Some see visions, some speak languages I’ve never heard. And the teachers—they’re wise, but they expect a lot.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Joseph said with a small chuckle. “You’ve always been one to draw attention, even without trying.”
Jesus looked at his father, sensing the deeper meaning behind his words. “Does that bother you?”
Joseph paused, his gaze thoughtful. “It doesn’t bother me, son. But it does make me think. You know, when I first learned about who you were—about who you’d become—I wasn’t sure if I was the right man for the job.”
Jesus tilted his head, his expression curious. “Why not?”
Joseph leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Because I’m just a carpenter. I build tables, chairs, things that people need for their homes. How could I possibly be a father to someone who’s meant to save the world?”
Mary reached over and placed her hand on Joseph’s, her eyes full of understanding.
“But then,” Joseph continued, his voice softening, “I realized something. I may not understand everything about you, and I may not be able to guide you in the way others will. But I can teach you about life, about people, about how to use your hands to create something good. And more than anything, I can be here for you, no matter what.”
Jesus smiled, a warmth spreading across his face. “That’s more than enough, Father.”
After dinner, Mary pulled Jesus aside as Joseph cleaned up in the kitchen. She led him to the small prayer room, where an oil lamp flickered softly, casting long shadows on the walls.
“You know we love you, don’t you?” Mary asked, her tone gentle but firm.
“Of course,” Jesus said, his brow furrowing slightly. “Why do you ask?”
“Because it’s important for you to remember,” she said, taking his hands in hers. “As you go through this journey, as you learn and grow, there will be times when people don’t understand you. They may question you, doubt you, even reject you. But your father and I—we’ll always be here.”
Jesus nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I know. And I’m grateful for that. But I also know there’s more ahead. More that I have to do.”
“There is,” Mary said, her voice soft. “And when the time comes, you’ll know what to do. But for now, remember to stay humble. Listen. Learn. And trust in the plan that’s been set for you.”
As the house grew quiet, Jesus sat on his bed, staring out the window at the starry sky. The words of his parents echoed in his mind, grounding him while also reminding him of the immense responsibility he carried.
He closed his eyes, offering a silent prayer.
“Father, guide me. Help me to walk this path with wisdom and grace, to honor those who have been placed in my life. And when the time comes, give me the strength to fulfill what you have called me to do.”
The stars seemed to shimmer in response, their light brighter than before.
Jesus falls asleep, his face serene. In the quiet of the night, the weight of his calling feels lighter, carried not by him alone, but by the love and faith of those around him.
