The Last Supper: John Read online

This is the story of The Last Supper told through the mind of the apostle John.

  Breakwater Harbor Books presents by Scott J. Toney

  Christian Historical Fiction

  Lazarus, Man

  The Last Supper: John

  Christian Romantic Suspense

  Hearts of Avon

  Christian Fantasy

  The Ark of Humanity

  Eden Legacy

  The Last Supper: John

  Scott J. Toney

  Scott J. Toney

  Copyright © 2014 by Scott J. Toney

  All Rights Reserved

  Breakwater Harbor Books, Inc.

  Scott J. Toney and Cara Goldthorpe, Co-Founders

  www.breakwaterharborbooks.com

  Dedications

  This work is dedicated to God, for all he has given and forgiven me in my life. I am thankful beyond words for the sacrifice made so that we may all be equal in the Lord’s presence and forgiven. It is beyond humbling. In my deepest darkness the Lord finds and lifts me.

  This work is also dedicated to my mother-in-law, Sally Davis Little Howard, whom we lost tragically last year. I could never have asked for a more amazing second mother. My heart was torn when we lost you, but I find warmth and solace in knowing you are in heaven with the Lord and one distant day we will be beside you in his presence. Sally gave so fully of herself to others and especially to our family. I miss her and think of her every day. May your garden in heaven be just as beautiful as it was on earth, Sally, and may we see your sunflowers throughout our days.

  The Last Supper: John

  John sat on the floor around a low stone table while the other apostles spoke. Candles danced light around them.

  “Did you hear what Jesus spoke in the streets?” Bartholomew asked in low tones to Thomas across the table. “He said ‘The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain, but if it dies, it bears much fruit.’ What do these words mean? He speaks in riddles. If he is to be glorified will he now take his place as ruler over the land of Jerusalem? What role would we play then?”

  Thomas took a hand and placed it on the table, turning to his fellow apostle. “I do not think he means to rule, but I am afraid I also do not understand. He spoke of death, and yet he then told the masses ‘Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.’ I do not think he would speak of serving and following if he or we were to die now. But then he has said before ‘The Son of Man is going to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and on the third day he will be raised.”

  “I would die for him if he asked,” Simon Peter spoke from nearby John.

  It had been like this for days, ever since their arrival to Jerusalem during the festival while Jesus rode the donkey over branches of palm. Jesus spoke words they did not fully understand, words that brought fear to the apostles.

  John looked around the table at his eleven brothers. Their faces were apprehensive, some masking it with jovial talk and others asking questions about what was to come. All seemed to feel this coming meal with Jesus was important and pivotal in some unknown way. Tension held between them at all times.

  No food or drink had been brought to the table, only empty plates and cups, and John’s throat was parched. A cup of wine and loaf of bread had been on the table before the apostles’ arrival, but none of them had touched them, as the apostles were awaiting Jesus. The servants of the house will bring more food when Jesus comes, he thought, catching Judas’ eyes from across the table as he spoke to Philip. Judas looked away from him quickly. You speak more than usual, brother, he thought of Judas. It is good to see you in good spirit; either that or you mask your emotions well.

  All conversation went silent as the room’s door opened and Jesus stepped in, holding a clay plate with pomegranates, lamb, honey, olives, grapes and bread in one hand and a pitcher of wine in another.

  “Why do you carry the food and not the servants?” Thomas asked as Jesus came to the table, near John and Simon Peter, and set the food and drink in its center.

  Jesus sat on the cold stone floor, reaching across the table and touching Thomas’ hand. “Tonight I serve you. Come, let us eat. There is much in my thoughts but first let us share this time of togetherness.”

  They passed the tray around the table, taking enough only for their needs and then returning the empty tray and pitcher to its center. And as John ate he savored the richness of the lamb and juices of the fruit. John took seeds from his pomegranate and placed them in his mouth before looking up, watching the others as they consumed with enjoyment. The fruit was sweet and good. You provide for us in all ways and all you ask is our faith, fellowship and words to others, he thought of Jesus. I take sometimes, and am not grateful, but instead partake without thought of what you have gifted my life. All are blessed by the way you touch them.

  “I love you, John.” Jesus looked up from his meal, wrapping his strong, warm arm over the apostle’s shoulder. “Hold that in your heart always, for I am always with you.”

  “And I you, Lord.” John smiled, feeling the warmth of Jesus in his heart. Jesus had a way, a look within him that spoke of humble confidence, deep love and yet steadfast strength. To be in his presence was not like being in the presence of any other man.

  Moments later, as John continued to eat; Jesus stood from his stool and walked to the corner of the room where a towel lay on the floor. He took off his robe and tied the towel around his waist before picking up a pitcher and basin that were also there.

  The room went quite as the apostles turned to watch the Lord. Jesus poured water from the pitcher to the basin, the sound of the liquid collecting echoing in the room, and then brought the basin near Simon Peter’s feet.

  Simon Peter turned to him. “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” There was confusion in his voice.

  Jesus touched Peter’s cheek. “You do not know what I am doing, but later you will understand.”

  “You will never wash my feet.” Simon Peter’s hands shook as he spoke.

  Without removing his hand from the apostle’s face Jesus responded, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.”

  Simon Peter’s hands calmed then. “Lord, not only my feet but also my hands and my head.”

  Jesus looked up at the rest of the twelve. “One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you.” There was silence for a moment as Jesus looked at them. “Not all of you are clean.”

  Jesus took Simon Peter’s sandals and set them on the floor before running the water over his feet with his hands and cleaning them thoroughly.

  He did the same for each apostle, taking their feet and giving this gift of love to them. He took his time and John could see the depth of care Jesus gave as he washed each man’s feet.

  Then he came to John, removing his sandals as he had done for the others. As Jesus took John’s feet John looked into his Lord’s eyes. His Lord’s touch on his calloused feet somehow lifted a weight from him, lifted the weight of the past few days and tension within him from his confusion of what was to come. In that moment he felt one with the Lord. He was completely calm and at peace. How is it that he can look into my eyes and make my soul feel so complete? He looks upon the world, all of man, like this and with each person sees just as fully and gives as much care. It is the Lord, God, within him. Knowing him and seeing those eyes can leave no place to sustain doubt.

  John closed his eyes as Jesus cleaned his feet lovingly. I do not deserve this, he thought. And yet that is part of the beauty of him, that he gives to us l
ove and forgiveness that we do not deserve, always calling us to his side so that we may learn.

  Jesus’ hands left his feet and John opened his eyes to see Jesus putting back on his robe.

  John left his sandals off, letting the touch of Jesus’ hands linger there and not wanting something else to touch his flesh until he must.

  Jesus came to the table’s center once more. He looked lovingly upon his apostles. “Do you know what I have done to you? You call me teacher and Lord–and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.”

  The look in Jesus’ face changed as he finished his words, a moment of silence before he continued. There was now sadness in the Lord’s eyes, not anger, but something of loss. John began to stand and go to him but Jesus motioned him down.

  Jesus touched the stone table with an open hand. “I am not speaking of all of you; I know whom I have chosen. But it is to fulfill the scripture, ‘The one who ate bread with me has lifted his heel against me.’ I tell you this now, before it occurs, so that when it does occur, you may believe that I am he. Very truly, I tell you, whoever receives one