THE FIRST DISCIPLE
'This,' said the lame man, 'is where I live. My rooms are on the
first floor. My name is Henry Fenning. I am a shoemaker. My wife
helps me at my trade. Our son lives with us, he's a little chap, just
nine, and, like me, he's lame.'
The man had conducted the Stranger to a street opening on to the
Brompton Road. Even in that uncertain light it could be seen that the
houses stood in need of repairs; they were of irregular construction,
small, untidy, old. On the ground floor of the one in which he had
paused was a shop, a little one; the shop front was four shutters
wide. One surmised, from the pictures on the wall, that it sold
sweetstuff and odds and ends. The man's manner was anxious, timid, as
if, while desirous that his Visitor should take advantage of such
hospitality as he could offer, he yet wished to inform Him as to the
kind of place He might expect. The Stranger smiled; there was that in
His smile which seemed to fill His companion with a singular sense of
elation.
'It is good of you to give Me what you can.'
The shoemaker laughed gently, as if his laughter was inspired by a
sudden consciousness of gladness.
'It is good of You to take what I can give.' He opened the door.
'Wait a moment while I show You a light.' Striking a match, he held
it above his head. 'Take care how You come in; the boards are rough.'
The Stranger, entering, followed His host up the narrow stairs, into
a room on the first floor. 'Mary, I have brought you a Visitor.'
At the utterance of the name the Stranger started.
'Mary!' He exclaimed. 'Blessed are you among women!'
It was a small apartment--work-room, living-room, kitchen, all in
one. Implements of the shoemaker's trade were here and there; some
partly finished boots were on a bench at one side. The man's wife was
seated at a sewing-machine, working; she rose, as her husband
entered, to give him greeting. She was a rosy-faced woman, of medium
height, but broadly built, with big brown eyes, about forty years of
age. She observed the Stranger with wondering looks.
'Sir, I seem to know You.'
And the Stranger said:
'I know you.'
The woman turned to her husband.
'Who is this?'
Her husband replied:
'It is the Welcome Guest. Give Him to eat and to drink, and after, He
would sleep.'
The woman put some cold meat and cheese and bread upon a small table,
which she drew into the centre of the floor.
'Sir, this is all I have.'
'I know it.' He took the chair which her husband offered. 'Come and
sit and eat and drink with Me.'
The man and his wife sat with Him at the table, and they ate and
drank together. When the meal was finished, He said:
'You are the first that have given Me food. What you have given Me
shall be given you, and more.'
Presently the shoemaker came to the Stranger.
'Sir, in our bedroom we have only one bed. If You will sleep in it,
my wife will make up another for us here upon the floor. We shall do
very well.'
In the bedroom the Stranger saw that a child slept in a little bed
which was against a wall. The shoemaker explained.
'It is my son. He will not trouble You. He sleeps very sound.'
The Stranger bent over the bed.
'In his sleep he smiles.'
'Yes, he often does. He has happy dreams. And he comes of a smiling
stock.'
The Stranger turned to the lame man.
'Do you often smile?'
'Yes; why not? God has been very good to me.'
'God is good to all alike.'
'That's what my wife and I say to each other; but it's only the lucky
ones who know it.'
When the shoemaker and his wife were alone in the living-room
together, they kissed and gave thanks unto God. For they said:
'This night the Lord is with us. Blessed is the name of the Lord!'
In the morning, when it was full day, the boy woke up and went to the
bed on which the Stranger lay asleep, crying:
'Father!'
And the Stranger was roused, and saw the boy standing at his side. He
stretched out His arms to him.
'My son!'
But the boy shrank back.
'You are not my father. Where is my father and my mother?'
'They are in the next room, asleep. They have given Me their bed.
And, because they have done so, I am your Father too. So in your
sleep you smiled?'
'Did I? I expect it was because I dreamed that I was happy.'
'Was your happiness but a dream?'
'While I was asleep. Now I am awake I know I'm happy.'
'But you are lame?'
'So's father. I don't mind being lame if father is.'
The Stranger was still. He smiled, and touched the child upon the
shoulder. And the boy gave a sudden cry. He drew up his night-shirt,
and looked down at his right leg.
'Why, it's straight!--like the other.' He began to move about the
room. 'I'm not lame! I'm not lame!' All aglow with excitement, he
went running through the door. 'Father! mother! my leg's gone
straight! I can run about like other boys. Look!--I'm no longer
lame!'
When his mother saw that it was so, she took him into her arms and
cried:
'My boy! my boy! God be thanked for what He has done to you this
day!'
When they saw that the Stranger was standing in the doorway the
father and mother were silent. Their hearts were too full to find
speech easy. But the boy ran to Him.
'Oh, sir! make father's leg straight like mine!'
The Stranger asked of his father:
'Would you have it so?'
But the lame man answered:
'If it may be, let me stay as I am; for if I had not been lame I
might never have known Your face.'
To which the Stranger said:
'That is a true saying. For by suffering eyes are opened; so that he
who endures most sees best. For to all men God gives gifts.'
The woman busied herself in making breakfast ready. When they were at
table, the lame man said:
'Lord, if You will not stay with us, may we come with You?'
'Nay; you are with Me although you stay. For where My own are, I am.'
'Lord, suffer me to come! Suffer it, Lord!'
'If you will, come, until you find the way too long and the path too
hard for your feet to travel; for the road by which I go is not an
easy one.' He turned to the woman. 'Do you come also?'
'If You will, I will stay at home, to make ready against You come
again.'
He answered:
'You have not chosen the worse part.'
While they had been sitting at breakfast the boy had run out into the
street, and told first to one and then to another how, with a touch,
a wonderful Stranger had straightened his leg, so that he was no
longer lame. And, since they could see for themselves that he was
healed of his lameness, the tale was quickly noised about; so that
when the Stranger came out of the shoemaker's house, He found that a
number of people awaited Him without. A woman came pushing through
the crowd, bearing a crooked child in her arms.
'Heal my son also! Make him straight like the other!'
And being moved by pity for the child, He touched him, so that he
sprang from his mother's arms, and stood before them whole. And all
the people were amazed, saying:
'What manner of man is this, that makes the lame to walk with a
touch?'
So when He came out into the Brompton Road He was already attended by
a crowd, some crying:
'This is the man who works miracles!'
Others:
'Bring out your sick!'
With each step He took the crowd increased, so that when He came to
the narrow part of Knightsbridge the street became choked and the
traffic blocked. The people, because there were so many, pressed
against Him so that He could not move, and there began to be danger
of a riot.
The lame man, who found it difficult to keep close to His side, said
to Him:
'Lord, if You do not send them from us we shall be hurt.'
But He replied:
'It is to these I have come, although they know it not. If I send
them from us, why did I come?'
When they reached that portion of the road where it grows wider in
front of the park, the pressure became less. But still the crowd
increased.
'He goes to the hospital,' they cry, 'to heal the sick with a touch.'
And some ran on to St. George's Hospital, and pushed past the porters
up the stairs and into the wards, and began to lift the sick out of
their beds. And those who could walk, being persuaded by them that
had run on, went out into the streets. So that when He came, He found
awaiting Him a strange collection of the sick, who were ill of all
manner of diseases. And the people cried:
'Heal them!--heal them with a touch!'
But He replied:
'What is it you ask of Me? I came not to heal the sick, but to call
sinners to repentance.'
They cried the more:
'Heal them!--heal them with a touch!'
'If I heal them, what then? Of what shall they be healed? Of what
avail to heal the body if the spirit continues sick?'
But they persisted in their exclamations. While still they pressed on
Him, an inspector of police edged his way through the crowd.
'I don't know who you are, sir, but you are doing a very dangerous
thing in causing these people to behave like this.'
'Suffer Me first to do as they ask.'
He stretched out His hand and touched those that were sick, so that
they were whole. But when they came to look for Him who had done them
this service, behold He was gone. And the lame man had gone with Him.