NOTE: My three-week series of short stories surrounding the ministry, crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus concludes this week. These stories are fictional first-person accounts of three different men who encountered and responded to Jesus in very different ways. My prayer is that, through the stories, you will see Jesus and be reminded of the Good News of Easter. 

The Rich Young Ruler (Reuben’s Story) – March 17

The Servant (Malchus’s Story) – March 24

The Brother (Jude’s Story) – This week – March 31 

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My name is Jude. I am my mother Mary’s fourth son, the third by her husband Joseph. I am six years younger than my half-brother Jesus, three years younger than my brother James and one year younger than my brother Joseph. I have one younger brother, Simon, and two younger sisters, Mary and Salome. My youngest sister was named in honor of a woman who befriended my mother as a young girl when she was pregnant with Jesus; she continues to be a life-long friend.

As you might guess, I am a carpenter, just like the rest of my father’s sons. I was fifteen when my father died, but I am grateful to Jehovah God for the years He gave me with him. My father was a righteous man, a loving husband, and a caring father. He and my mother stood strong when most everyone else doubted them, and he obeyed his God without hesitation, even in difficult moments. My father will always be my hero. I was allowed to see firsthand why Jehovah God chose him to be the earthly father to His Son. Of all the men who ever lived, God chose him for that honor, and my father wore the honor well!

I was six years old before I learned that Jesus was my half-brother. Until then, neither my brothers and sisters nor I knew any different. He was our big brother. We looked up to Him. He helped our father teach us to be godly men and hardworking carpenters. When our father died, He became the leader of our home for eight years until He said it was time for Him to be about His Heavenly Father’s business.

Two years ago, I saw the men in our village of Nazareth reject Jesus as the Son of God. Despite the wisdom He demonstrated and the miracles He had performed, they rejected Him. They scoffed, “He’s just a carpenter, the illegitimate son of Mary and Joseph. We know His brothers, and His sisters live right here among us.”(1) I overheard Jesus say, “A prophet is honored everywhere except in his hometown and among his relatives and his own family.”(2)

I regret to this day that it wasn’t only the village that had rejected Him, my brothers and I rejected Him, as well. It’s difficult for me to explain what was going through our heads. From the time we learned of Jesus’s true parentage, a degree of separation entered into our relationship with Him. 

First, it’s hard to live with and live up to an older brother who never does anything wrong. Don’t misunderstand me, Jesus never lorded over us as our older brother, let alone as the Son of God. We knew He loved us. He was always humble and gracious. He treated us with compassion, concern, and camaraderie.

We all worked hard together, but we also played hard together. We had good times together. He taught me how to swim, how to carve like a craftsman, and how to play ball. He taught us all how to honor our parents, how to study the Scriptures, and how to treat one another with love and respect. But Jesus never sinned –not once! Our parents were always careful not to say, “Why can’t you be more like Jesus?” But we still placed that pressure on ourselves.

Second, He had a special relationship with our parents that we would never have. I’m not complaining, because we knew our parents loved each one of us equally. We knew they viewed us all as gifts from God. But we also came to know the stories surrounding Jesus’s birth. It’s hard to compete when you know that angels announced your brother’s birth and wise men brought Him gifts from the east. As I said, our parents loved all of us … but they marveled at Jesus.

Third, He knew all things. Again, please don’t misunderstand me – He never acted like a “know-it-all.” But the fact was, He did know it all. I will never forget going to the synagogue with Him and seeing how the rabbis were in awe of His ability to teach from the Scriptures. My brothers and I knew no one would ever be in awe of our ability to teach.

You might say it was jealousy on our part, but I don’t think it truly was. I think it was more a feeling of inadequacy. We would never measure up – not that Jesus or our parents ever expected it. 

I think there were times even our parents didn’t completely know what to do or think. One of those times was when Jesus had remained at the temple in Jerusalem after the rest of us had begun our journey back home to Nazareth. When they finally found Him four days later, He told them, “You should have known that I would be in My Father’s house.”(3) He was doing what His Heavenly Father had called Him to do. How were my parents supposed to react to that?

More recently, Jesus was in Capernaum teaching in the synagogue. My mother, my brothers, and I had just arrived in the city. We were helping our mother get settled in her new home. She was concerned that Jesus was not getting enough rest, and He was wearing Himself out with His teaching and the many miracles He was performing. She wanted Him to come to her home and rest.

The crowd was so large we could not get into the synagogue – so, my mother sent word to Jesus that she and His brothers were waiting outside to speak with Him. He responded with the question, “Who is My mother? Who are My brothers? Anyone who does the will of My Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother.”(4) What were we supposed to say to that?

Now, let me be clear – my brothers and I never once doubted that Jesus was the Messiah. We knew the stories. We had the proof. Our confusion was not over whether He was the Messiah; our confusion was over what it meant for Him to be the Messiah. Even in the midst of our sense of inadequacy and insecurity, we believed He had come to establish His kingdom. We believed He had come to rule over the world, but we did not understand that He had come to save the world.

Last fall, my brothers and I looked for Jesus in Galilee before we traveled to Jerusalem to observe the Festival of Tabernacles. We asked Him to come with us. We wanted Him to put His miracles on display for everyone to see. Jerusalem would be filled with pilgrims. We knew a large number of His followers had recently abandoned Him after He called them to a life of surrender rather than the life of prosperity they were seeking from Him. We told Him the festival would be an opportunity to attract many more followers.

We knew the religious leaders were plotting against Him, and we did not want any harm to come to Him. We reasoned that the more the crowd honored Him, the safer He would be. And soon, the crowd would have to rise up and crown Him as their rightful King. We wanted that for Jesus – but we also knew it wouldn’t do us any harm, either. Surely, the brothers of the Messiah would hold positions of importance within His kingdom!

A number of Jesus’s disciples encouraged Him to follow our advice and join us. They, too, thought it was time for Him to declare Himself – particularly His disciple Judas Iscariot. But Jesus told us He would not be joining us. We were offended that He did not heed our advice. Jesus no longer seemed to care what we thought. Our feelings of inadequacy and uncertainty were now turning into bitterness. 

Later we learned that Jesus did arrive at the festival halfway through the week, contrary to what we thought He was going to do. There was quite a stir when the priests attempted to entrap Him by bringing an adulterous woman before Him. Apparently, their plan had again failed, but we accused Him among ourselves of having misled us. We decided we would no longer try to help Him since He didn’t seem to want our help!

Our mother kept telling us to trust Him, that He knew exactly what He was doing. He was following His Heavenly Father’s plan. She was now traveling with Him as a part of His ever-growing number of followers. Truth be told, we probably resented that, as well. In our minds, our mother was showing Him partiality by following her favored son.

A few weeks ago, my brothers and I again traveled to Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover. We were amazed as we watched the entry of Jesus and His disciples into Jerusalem. We had never seen anything like it. The crowd was overwhelmingly welcoming Him. It was quite a procession. We didn’t know what to make of it. Was Jesus finally going to follow our advice? But the next day, He created quite a disturbance in the temple, and it appeared that He was not going to do anything to declare Himself or establish His kingdom.

That Friday morning, we received word that Jesus had been arrested! Our fears for Him had come to pass. He had failed to do what needed to be done – and now, without the crowd behind Him, the religious leaders were going to destroy Him. We sincerely were afraid for Him. We took no pleasure in what was happening. But we also feared for ourselves. What would His arrest mean for us? The religious leaders would know we were His brothers. Would they now come for us, as well? Herod the Great had sought to kill all the boys born around His age when He was a baby. What would prevent the religious leaders from gathering up and murdering His brothers?

Though we decided to remain out of sight in the city, we still heard the passersby as they updated one another on the latest news about Jesus. He had been taken before Pilate. He had been taken before Herod Antipas. He had been brought back to Pilate. And now … He was carrying His cross to Golgotha. Our fear soon melted into sorrow over how we had abandoned our own brother. The darkness we felt inside prevented us from noticing the darkening skies outside.

A few hours later, we heard the news that we knew was coming. Jesus was dead! The religious leaders had won. They had defeated the Messiah. They had overcome the Promised One. Woe to them! Woe to our people! Woe to us – His brothers who had refused to stand with Him!

I cannot begin to describe our shame and our guilt. We thought of the grief our mother was experiencing. We should have gone to comfort her. But we were ashamed. When we, as a family, should have been consoling her, we abandoned her, as well.

Night fell and Sabbath began. We went through the motions, but we knew God was not answering our prayers. We had abandoned our brother. We had abandoned His Son!

The next night after Sabbath had concluded, there was a knock at our door. It was our uncle Clopas. Our mother had sent him to seek us out. She was staying in Bethany with Jesus’s other disciples. Clopas told us what had happened the day before while Jesus hung on the cross. He told us how in the midst of His own agony and pain, Jesus had consoled our mother. I don’t think he realized how his words added to the shame we were already feeling. Then he told us how Jesus had charged His disciple John with taking care of our mother as John stood there beside her at the foot of the cross.

He couldn’t have cut us any deeper if he had plunged a knife into our hearts. We had failed to come alongside our brother and our mother, so Jesus had given the one who stood there with her the responsibility to care for her. It should have passed to my older brother James, but neither he nor any of us had been there. Like I said, I don’t believe our uncle’s intention was to heap guilt on our heads, but his words had that effect, and we mourned even more after he left.

Late in the afternoon the next day, we received a message from our mother. It simply read, “Your brother is alive! Come quickly!” The messenger directed us to an upper room in the heart of the city. Though we could not believe that Jesus was truly alive, we were grateful that our mother wanted to see us, so we hurried to the meeting place. 

When we arrived, dozens of His followers were gathered in the room. In the midst of them was our mother, surrounded by the other women who had traveled with Jesus. A number of them were speaking excitedly about how Jesus had appeared before them earlier in the day. Several of the men also told us how they had seen Him, including our uncle Clopas.

Could it be true? Or were all of these people delirious? We knew that Jesus had reportedly raised others from the dead, but surely a dead man could not bring Himself back to life. We embraced our mother. She had not yet seen her son, but tears of joy were streaming down her face. As we gathered around her, suddenly her face brightened. She was looking at something behind us. We turned and followed her gaze. There, standing before us in the middle of the room, was Jesus! “Peace be with you!” He said.(5)

Suddenly our eyes, which had refused to see Jesus for who He truly is, were opened to the truth. The shell enveloping our hearts shattered. Our hearts of stone became flesh, and we believed. As I looked at my brother, tears began to stream down my cheeks. I fell to my knees and cried out, “Brother … Jesus … Master, forgive me.”

I soon realized that James, Joseph, and Simon were all kneeling beside me saying the same thing. Oh, the years we had wasted by refusing to believe. But no more! Jesus is risen and we will follow Him forevermore!

For the next forty days, my brothers and I saw Jesus on several occasions. One of those times it was only the five of us. It had been a long time since we had been together as brothers, and it would be the last time on this side of eternity. Jesus told us He would soon be leaving to sit at the right hand of His Heavenly Father. 

But He also told us that while His body had lain in the tomb, His spirit had entered into Hades and led all of the righteous to heaven. He told us that our father Joseph had been in that procession, walking right behind Him. Jesus would soon be with not only His Heavenly Father, but also His earthly father. And He told us that both of them were proud of us – the men we had become and the faith we now held tightly in our hearts.

Then He said, “Brothers, follow Me!”

I saw Him one last time. We all did. It was there on the hill outside of Bethany. Just before He ascended into the clouds, He told us He was going to send His Spirit to empower us. He said that through His Spirit, He would be with us always. He told us to go in His Spirit and make disciples from every language, people, tribe, and nation.

I looked at the One who stood before me – yes, my big brother – but forevermore my Master and my Savior! And I would forever be His servant. I knew I had been called to live in the love of God the Father and the care of Jesus Christ, for I truly am a recipient of His mercy … His peace … and His love.(6)

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This story is excerpted from The One Who Stood Before Us. The complete collection of forty short stories is now available through Amazon in standard print, large print, and for your e-reader. Click HERE for more information on how you can obtain your copy and read all of the stories.

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In multiple instances the dialogue in this story comes directly from Scripture. Whenever i am quoting Scripture, it has been italicized. The Scripture references are as follows:

(1)  Mark 6:3

(2)  Mark 6:4

(3)  Luke 2:49

(4)  Matthew 12:48, 50

(5)  Luke 24:36

(6)  Jude 1-2

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