God and John Point the Way

By Steve Eggleton

From the moment an angel appears to the priest Zechariah in Jerusalem’s Temple to announce that his wife Elizabeth would bear a son, this marks out John for a special purpose.

Through his childhood he is brought up studying the Hebrew scriptures and the prophets’ words about God’s chosen one, his cousin Jesus. On the banks of the river Jordan, his work begins preparing people’s hearts and baptizing them with water. How will the people respond to him? When will he meet his cousin and know if he was right about who Jesus is? 

This is an epic story of great faith and a life dedicated to fulfil God’s purpose.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lion Children's Bks
• Release date: Jan 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9780745979502

Steve Eggleton

Steve Eggleton was born in Kent, and the grew up in Suffolk and then Hampshire. Steve's first books for children were presented in the form of illuminated manuscripts. More recently, he has been writing for older children, re-telling the inspirational stories of God's heroes of faith. He studied art and design at Portsmouth, after which, he moved to Norfolk with his wife Gill and their young family. There he has worked as an artist, sculptor and teacher, and has renovated the Tudor farm-house, which is their home. He keeps a small herd of Dexter cattle, and a few chickens. Steve has a passion to share his Christian faith with children and young people. For many years, he and his wife have run a weekly club to share the wonderful stories of the Bible with local children. Over the past ten years or so, Steve and his wife Gill have been heading up the Via Beata project to establish a trail of Christian art-works across the U.K. from East to West. (See www.viabeata.co.uk)

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Deep Sadness

The time had come for Zechariah the priest to set off once more for his spell of duty at the Temple in Jerusalem. It was early summer, so the walk from his house in the Judaean hills would be a pleasant one.

Summer was a busy time for the farmers. There would be lots of activity in the fields and lanes, and plenty of people to talk to on the way. All this would help him to forget the ever-present sadness that lurked at the back of his mind. Sometimes it felt more like an ache in his stomach. He and his wife Elizabeth were childless.

Elizabeth had packed him a meal for the journey. He slung the bag over his shoulder and embraced her tenderly.

God bless you, my dear, he said. I will keep praying.

And I will keep hoping, replied Elizabeth, as she brushed a tear away.

Hoping and praying, what more can we do? Sometimes it feels as though God doesn’t listen to our cries.

It’s all my fault, Zechariah, Elizabeth said, shaking her head. I know that I am a disappointment to you.

Zechariah held her tightly.

I love you more than seven sons, he said.

But look, Zechariah. Look at my hair. It’s turning grey. I’m getting too old to have children.

At least you’ve got some hair, my dear, said Zechariah with a chuckle. Look at the state of mine!

Please don’t joke about it. I feel so ashamed. I’m afraid to walk out into the village. Everyone else has a family. Other people our age have grandchildren to hold. What will become of us, Zechariah? Who will provide for us in our old age? I am nothing more than a dried-up old tree that bears no fruit. That’s the truth of the matter.

At this, Elizabeth began to sob. She lifted her apron to her face and wiped her tears. Zechariah shuffled uncomfortably.

I must set off for my duties at the Temple in Jerusalem, but I don’t like to leave you like this. Remember the barren women among our ancestors. Think of Sarah and Rachel and Hannah.

You are right, my dear, said Elizabeth. Today I will sing the words of the psalm ‘He settles the barren woman in her home as a happy mother of children.’

That’s my girl! said Zechariah. Come on. Let’s set off together. You can walk with me as far as the crossroads. It will do you good to get some fresh air and exercise.

So, the two of them walked together arm in arm along the rough stony road that led from their little village in the Judaean hills towards the distant city of Jerusalem.

At the crossroads, they parted. Elizabeth walked slowly and thoughtfully back to the house, while Zechariah lengthened his stride towards the big, noisy city of Jerusalem.

Now that he was alone, it was his turn to feel gloomy. He didn’t want to admit it to Elizabeth, but he was beginning to give up hope of ever having children. Elizabeth’s hair was indeed turning grey. What was left of his was thin, white, and wispy, like a summer cloud on a breezy day. Zechariah was quite a bit older than his wife.

He decided that he too would cheer himself up by singing a psalm. He knew many of them by heart, but since he was on his way to Jerusalem, he chose one of the pilgrim psalms that people sang as they headed for the great city at festival times.

"I wait for the Lord, my soul waits,

and in His word, I put my hope.

My soul waits for the Lord,

More than the watchmen

Wait for the morning."

Singing these wonderful old words helped to comfort him, but deep down, Zechariah was disappointed. Since his marriage to Elizabeth, they had talked of having a family, but now they were undeniably old. They had prayed and prayed. They had taken sacrifices to the Temple, but nothing had come of it all. The years were slipping away, and it was becoming less and less likely that they would ever be able to have children.

Jerusalem was almost a day’s walk from Zechariah’s home in the hills, so he stopped in his usual place in the shade of a big, spreading fig tree. Here there were some flat stones set beneath the tree, smooth and polished from many years of use as seats. Zechariah liked to rest here, because there was a good view of Jerusalem in the distance. You could see its walls and towers, and on a day like this, it seemed to shine in the midday sunlight.

Zechariah took the lunch from his bag and had a long drink from the stone bottle. The water was cool and sweet. It reminded him of home. He unwrapped the square of cloth that held a small loaf of barley bread, a piece of sheep’s cheese, and a lump of pressed dates. Reverently, he took the loaf and broke it in two and offered a prayer of thanks. Then, deep in thought, he slowly ate his lunch.

His eyes took in the scene around him – the fresh green leaves of early summer, and the wheat fields changing hue as they began to ripen. Then, away in the distance, the beautiful city of Jerusalem. Zechariah remembered the words of Isaiah the prophet: I will create Jerusalem to be a delight, and its people a joy. I will rejoice over Jerusalem, and take delight in my people.

"I am