Introduction

Over the many years I have been a Christian I have read the Gospels and followed the narrative of Jesus’ life. But as I was nearing the completion of my previous book, A Piece of Orange, I felt a stirring within to look at the miracles again, not from Jesus’ perspective, but from that of those who received the miracles. If you like, I was to stop following Jesus and stay with the people He healed with a touch or a word, or those He made a miraculous provision for, and consider the impact of what He did.

I found myself asking many questions and picturing the scenes from before, during and after the miracles. What went through Jairus’ mind as he contemplated going to ask Jesus for help, especially in his position as the synagogue leader? And after the miracle, how would he feel about facing the scribes and Pharisees in the temple the next morning?

What about the woman who had been bleeding for twelve years? What desperation did it take to go into a public place to find Jesus when she would make others unclean? But what did it feel like the next day to wake up to clean bedding and be able to take the bath of purification the other women she knew took every month?

The Bible does not tell us what happened to most of them; Lazarus and his sisters are the only ones we meet more than once. We have no idea what most of them did before their illness or inhibiting condition, or what they did after they received the miracle. We don’t know what difference it made to their perspectives of Jesus, or how many of them became followers as a result.

We often use the phrase ‘every now and then’ to describe things that happen occasionally, but this book is titled Every Then and Now deliberately. The book considers every recorded miracle of Jesus in the four Gospels, including His own resurrection. It takes poetic licence (please excuse the pun) and imagines what life was like for those Jesus touched with a miracle. Each ‘Then’ poem considers the miracle from a person’s perspective, whether the individual receiving it or someone witnessing it. The poem looks at what life was like before the miracle and what the person felt before and during the miracle, and describes the miracle itself. Each poem is then followed by its ‘Now’ equivalent which envisions what that person experienced and felt because of Jesus’ intervention and its implication for them.

I acknowledge that the scenarios are only my imagining of what it might have been like; the aim is not to define the circumstances but to cause us all to pause in wonder and amazement at the difference Jesus made to individuals by His engagement with them at their point of need and to be encouraged to remember that He offers us the same today.

I have included an additional chapter at the end of the book describing the disciples’ experience of Pentecost because Jesus promised that, when filled with the Holy Spirit, His Church would also bring miracles to the world.[1] This promise wasn’t just for His disciples then, but remains true and active today.

The cover and chapter heading pictures are a pictorial representation of the ‘then’ and ‘now’ experience. The butterfly’s left wing being tattered, torn and limited represents the ‘then’ experiences of those touched by the miracles. The right wing being whole and perfect represents the ‘now’ experiences after Jesus has reached out. And in the middle is the thorax which in a butterfly carries the wings. This represents Jesus, the One who transforms brokenness into wholeness.

I encourage you to take the time to imagine for yourself what each person felt and experienced. Feel free to create a different outcome in your mind for their experience; just stop and stay a while before rushing off to follow Jesus on to His next adventure. These people’s stories are recorded in the Gospels for a reason. My purpose in writing the miracle stories from a different perspective and in the genre of poetry is to cause you to stop for a moment and hear what God is saying to you personally. My hope is that you will be comforted and encouraged by the experiences of those you read about in this book to believe that the God of miracles, seen in the person of Jesus, is the same God today.

The layout of the book means it is one you can dip into and read a pair of poems at a time, small enough portions to read over your favourite beverage. If you choose, you could read the poems alongside the Gospel stories themselves in your daily Bible time. Each pair of poems has a reflective question or a prayer, and each chapter has a few additional questions to ponder and a longer activity for deeper reflection.

Bible study groups can read a pair of poems and the related Bible passage with the group and use the question following the poems as a starting point for group discussion. Alternatively, group members could read the poems in a chapter prior to the group session and then consider the reflection questions at the end of the chapter in their time together.

However you choose to read the poems within this book, I hope they bring enjoyment and introduce you to characters in the Bible who, if we are not careful, we can rush past in our efforts to keep up with Jesus. Stop a while and meet the people Jesus met; they have a story to tell of His goodness, if you will let them tell it.

Part 1

Miracles in the Natural World

Genesis 1 and 2 tell us the story of the world God created and how, when He looked upon everything, He saw that it was good. Unfortunately, the Fall meant that although He had created everything good, sin came into the world and has ever since spoiled that goodness.

The miracles in this section show that God is still in control of His creation, calming stormy waters and multiplying resources to meet need. We should be encouraged to know that He has not abandoned His world after humankind’s abandonment of Him, but is rather still making provision and giving protection to people everywhere.

The Wedding at Cana

(John 2:1-11)

Then

A Glass or Two

Oh, the excitement of this week, the culmination of a year’s planning.
Money saved up, friends having laid out the courtyard for days of celebration.
Flowers made into bouquets and garlands to announce this precious event,
And food and drink galore to entertain; so much taken into consideration.

Many people have come from across the land, a logistical nightmare
As accommodation and hospitality is provided for each and every one.
So much to coordinate in our effort to make this an amazing occasion
As we celebrate with guests our journey from betrothal to setting up home as one.

It’s the details that matter and are what we are being judged on throughout this week.
That’s my concern with the generous numbers here. Will it be enough? Will it all last?
My beloved’s family seems to have an endless list of acquaintances, all of whom have turned up,
And I can’t help but notice the portions getting smaller and smaller as the provisions decrease extremely fast.

And here we are, not yet even at the halfway point, and things are looking tight.
I can see the servants giving each other worried looks as goblets are less than fully filled.
This is a worrying sign, and I know that our reputation is teetering on the edge
As the wine is ceasing to flow and I’m about to see expectations unfulfilled.

The guests haven’t noticed, except perhaps distant Aunt Mary whom nothing ever gets by.
I can see her gathering the servants and her son, the one I hear others call the promise of Israel.
Well, whether He is or He isn’t, I certainly could do with a miracle to get me out of this tight spot.
My reputation about to be hung out like dirty washing for others to work into their gossiping tales.

I can’t quite see what He is doing but there’s a lot of to-ing and fro-ing with jugs of water
And the huge stone jars are being filled as my guests start to ask for top-ups of their drinking cups.

This is getting uncomfortable, even unbearable. I’m about to be declared as an ungenerous man
As there is nothing left to give, not even a dreg or two, there’s only emptiness on which to sup.

But the Master of the Banquet is handed a cup drawn from the jar of water.
How on earth is he going to be persuaded it is wine he is drinking?
I can’t look as the Master takes the cup in his hand, lifts it to his lips and swallows. I’m surely doomed!
Where can I run to? Where can I hide? I already feel myself, from his accusatory eyes, quickly shrinking.

But wait a minute! He is licking his lips and nodding his head to the servant to proceed,
And with a palpable excitement, the servants rush to the stone jars, their pitchers to fill.
Then there is the joy of watching guests’ faces as they almost do a double take,
Turn around, give me a wink and a smile, then return to conversation, resettle and chill.

And then the Master walks over to me. I don’t know what he’s going to say
But I’m hoping from the guest responses he is not going to call me out.
He says something about best wine being kept until the rest has gone,
Not usual, but a fine gesture to our guests; a good call, an excellent shout.

As I look across the courtyard, I see Him join His friends and Aunt Mary back at table.
No words spoken, no huge display, and yet a miracle engrained in my mind forever.
And as I look, He turns to me; a smile, a raising of His cup; all done in a second.
Not noticed by others but given to me, unlocking the most profound joy and pleasure.

Now

A Jar or Two

What a week! What an experience! My mind still buzzing
As I contemplate the moment that turned an event of joy into one of magnificence.
Not perceived by the many but savoured by the few that saw,
As He displayed, in something seemingly so simple, His amazing omnipotence.

I still can’t get my head around how and when exactly the water turned into wine.
All I know is that I saw Him speak, servants jumped to, and the Master of the Banquet’s eyes said it all.
As good as what we had provided had been, this was something beyond even great.
The flavour, the aftertaste of such quality, and a miracle to save from what was my close call.

The escape from shame, ridicule, dishonour far more of a miracle than cups filled to overflowing.
My family’s reputation intact, our hospitality admired and constantly praised.
My bride treated to marrying into a family of honour who gave her the best week of her life,
And parents blissfully unaware of our predicament and congratulated on an event that has the bar raised.

As I sit here with several jars still full to the brim with glorious wine,
I wonder what comes next for the wedding guest who stepped in to save the day.
Is water into wine the limit of His power? I, somehow, think not.
This is a man touched by God whose hands make, out of the impossible, a way.

Could He be from Yahweh? Is it too early to call Him our Immanuel?
My experience tells me that I can certainly call Him mine.
The most precious week of my life made one of overwhelming joy,
All because of His presence and that one practical, but so needed, sign.

Now as the morn brightens and my bride signals she is ready for the off,
I gather the loaded donkeys and we head to the synagogue with our offering of praise.
For we must thank our God for the blessings He has brought to us this past week,
And in adoration, offerings make, praises sing, and hands in worship raise.

Take a moment

Can you think of a miracle that Jesus provided at just the right time for you or your family or friends?

Oh, what a night, a terrible, crushing one of emptiness.
No fish in any place, not even the tiniest sprat.
Nothing to sell in the fish market, no coins to line my pockets,
Just emptiness in nets, stomach and purse leaving us all feeling flat.
I am devastated for my crew of fishermen who will get no reward,
Who will have to go home without any stories of the ‘catch of the day’.
Who will stand before their families empty-handed and with no food for the table,
Just as I before my wife, the one who depends on me in this way.

I just want to wash the nets, clean out the boats and head home to forget.
I just need to curl up, close my eyes and rest my weary head.
But suddenly, this new teacher is in my boat and asking to put out a little way.
Ironically, He says He must speak to the crowd, for they must be fed.
He’s already in the boat so I don’t really have much choice other than to do what He asks.
I guess I can mend the circular net’s tears while He gives His one-man show.
I must admit what He says is interesting and the crowd seems to feed off His words.
He is certainly different. He speaks of God with authority, as if Yahweh’s someone He knows.

After a while they disperse. What a relief! Now maybe I can get back and go home,
But before I can head the boat that way He asks me to steer out to where the water is more.
I, the fisherman, have caught nothing, so what does this preacher know that I don’t?
Is He going to land fish upon fish to cover my boat’s wooden floor?
I tell Him that, in spite of all, because He asks, I will do what He says,
And I let my dragnet down deep and immediately, in my net, fish I see.
Before long it’s bursting with life and we can’t pull it back on board. It is beyond belief!
So, we call across another boat to help bring the catch in, but I find myself falling before Him on my knees.

‘Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man,’ are the only words that leave my lips,
For I recognise that I am one not worthy to be in the same space as Him.
All I know is I have just observed something incomprehensible that blows my mind,
And He causes me to be uncomfortable with my ways and the burden of my sin.
He tells me I am no longer a fisherman, but I am to become a fisher of men from today.
I have no idea what that means, but there’s something about Him that makes me feel He’s lifted a weight; He’s broken a chain.
In an instant life has changed, I know it will never be the same, I can’t go back to yesterday,
For I have met Him. Something’s definitely different. It’s like I’m born again.

So many years have passed since the encounter that changed the trajectory of my life.
The provision He made that day set me up for the adventure He was about to take me on.
One, if I’m honest, I might have declined if I knew then what I know now.
The sacrifice, the toil, the loss; so much that was mine now taken and gone,
But I remember the effort it took to haul in the dragnet which felt like it was pulled to the seabed.
The disbelief I displayed as the fish, when pulled in, almost took the boats under.
The joy of seeing so many families able to buy fish at a fair price made my day,
And when I presented unexpected earnings to my crewteam, the joy born at their looks of wonder.

He called me to become a fisher of people, and what an adventure that turned out to be
As I and His other chosen ones walked alongside Him the journey to His death.
Mine the torment of denying who He was to me when it really counted,
But restored by the words, ‘Feed my sheep’, and the release of the Spirit through His breath.
Little did I know that a gift of such proportions would lead to the even greater gift of His life, His death, His resurrection.
All given willingly as He took on not only so-called religious leaders but the enemy of God.
His love displayed through every act, every word, every touch to a fallen world and its broken people.
Every sin covered in His blood while misguided religious leaders thought they’d destroyed an enemy and so gave a satisfied nod.

But He soon wiped those smirks away when on the Sunday He rose from the dead
And restored to us our commission to go out and change the world in His glorious name.
Since then, I have shared Him with all I can and worked to establish His Church
So that others can find Him and walk towards eternal life away from the path of shame.
I don’t know how long I have left in this world before the evil that surrounds brings me to the fate shared by my brothers,
But I say to everyone that to know Him, to be filled with His Spirit and to serve His Church have been my greatest pleasure.
I will always be grateful that He saw what God had put within me and called me to follow Him and fish for people.
The privilege and honour of being allowed to call Him Lord I will take with me into eternity as my most precious treasure.

[1] John 14:12-14.