The Prisoner in the Third Cell by Gene Edwards Page B

of your cousins. We have a large family. You and my oldest son have always enjoyed one another’s company. But if you would come with us, you would work in a carpenter’s shop. I suppose in the light of what these men have offered you, it would be wise for you to go with one of them. I am almost embarrassed to invite you to our home. As I said, we are poor, but you will be loved.”
    â€œI know,” responded John finally. “If I must choose between Hannel, Parnach, and your family, then I would choose the latter.”
    â€œThen you will come and live with us?”
    â€œNo,” replied John, looking calmly into the face of Mary.
    Mary inadvertently slipped her hand to her mouth. “It’s the Essenes, is it not?” Mary paused, and her face signaled that she desired a clear response.
    â€œYes, it is. I belong there.”
    A moment of silence ensued.
    â€œJohn,” continued Mary, “perhaps you do not know this, but several Essene families have moved to Nazareth. Do you remember the two little boys you used to play with there . . . and oh, yes . . . and that little green-eyed . . .”
    â€œMary,” interrupted John, speaking strongly, almost sternly, and very much out of character for a Hebrew lad. “I know what I am to do. The Lord has made this very clear to me. I am to return to the desert, and I am to live there.” John now turned toward Hannel and Parnach.
    â€œI wish to thank both of you for your kind offers. You have all been gracious and caring. Thank you for your concern for my future. Nonetheless, I know where I belong. I am returning to the desert.”
    Once more John turned to face Mary.
    â€œYou are my mother’s closest friend. She loved you dearly. She spoke often of you. Nonetheless, I must leave here immediately, alone . The Lord has taken my father and my mother. I have absolutely no obligations. I have no brothers or sisters, no grandparents.” John paused. “You must not worry about me; and though it may seem to all of you that I have simply disappeared, I will be well. God will take care of me.
    â€œI am not sure of much, except that I must live in the wilderness until God tells me otherwise. This I also know: Out among the Essenes I will discover what it is that my God wishes me to do. The desert will provide me with the answers. My preparation for His will is not in a city nor a village, but a desert.”
    The next morning a boy not yet thirteen bade good-bye to Parnach and Hannel, to Joseph and Mary, and to his second cousin who was a year younger than he, who bore the name Jesus.

Chapter 4
    John took his place once again among the Essenes, but allowed no one to adopt him. He lived alone. To provide his meager needs for food, water, and clothing, he worked with his hands.
    Never once in the coming years did John touch wine. His hair grew, uncut, from the day of his birth. But because it was the one possible source of pride in his life, he gave even his long raven hair the minimum of attention, obscuring its length and beauty.
    Much of this time John spent in prayer and fasting—so often so that his fingers sometimes turned purple, and he was sometimes so weak that his legs could no longer support his frame. Frequently he spent whole days and nights in unbroken prayer, doing little to protect his body from the harsh elements of the wilderness. Austere was the way he lived; stern became his demeanor.
    As the years passed on, John began spending his time wandering the desert. There the fierce sun leathered his face and turned it to craggy wrinkles. By the time he reached manhood, the son of Zachariah and Elizabeth looked far, far older than his age. To John, such things were a small price to pay, for his long treks into the desert were his most coveted times. There he could spend uninterrupted hours alone with God. The howling wind, the furnace heat, the baking sun, and the cutting sand became his closest