Historical setting: 563 CE, on the Bay of Contabria
I need to tell Nic my whole secret of who I am, that I was actually a witness to the killing of Jesus. He needs to understand. I’m sure if I explain it all, he will loose his irrational fear of me.
“So Nic, just hear me out.” His stare is intense. His teeth are clinched.
“My scrambled mind is not the problem here. Yes, the confusion I am left with has allowed me glimpses of a family waiting for me somewhere, but I don’t know where. I have a beautiful wife with yellow hair and I think I have children. But all the things I think I can’t remember are recent things, just before I was attacked. So I’m deeply thankful for this quest we are on to find my home again. Thank you Nic. And I also thank God for you.
“But Nic, you need to know it’s only my most recent circumstances I’ve seem to forgotten. I know what I have to say now is something odd of me, but I need to tell you this so you will understand why I know some things.
“You see, Nic, the Jesus of the Gospels was actually my childhood friend. I am the same Lazarus in the story in John 11. The circumstance of healing back to life from death continues for me, after each death, so I am the same person. The memory I have is lost from this same century, but I have not forgotten the first centuries of the Christian era. I remember long ago well.”
Nic breaks his glare, “Should I pity you for this nonsense, or should I just hate you for it?”
“If I have to choose, you look better pitying than hating. In my strange way, however you would like me to say it, I was witness to the execution of Jesus. I didn’t attend his trial before the Sadducees. Do you know of the Sadducees?
“Your mind is scrambled. How would I know what you’re talking about.”
(Come again tomorrow)
Lazarus Ink 