ZIklag 12.12 - The River

A Short Story for Fathers and Sons

The sun dipped low in the sky, painting the Jordan River in hues of gold and amber. The air was thick with anticipation, the kind that clings to moments before history changes its course. On the banks of the river stood a boy, his sandals caked in dust from the day’s journey. Beside him was his father, a man whose eyes carried both the weight of the world and the quiet strength of faith.

“Father,” the boy asked, breaking the silence, “why are they all going into the water? What are they doing?”

The father knelt beside him, resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. His gaze swept over the crowd gathered at the water’s edge, faces illuminated by the fading light. “They are being baptized, my son. It is a sign of repentance, a way of preparing their hearts for something greater—someone greater.”

The boy’s brow furrowed. “Greater? Do you mean the Messiah?”

The father nodded, his expression a mixture of hope and gravity. “Yes, the Messiah. The one the prophets spoke of. The one who will restore all things.”

“Is He here now?” the boy asked, his voice quickened with curiosity.

The father chuckled softly, though there was an edge of reverence in his tone. “Perhaps. Perhaps He is already among us, though not yet revealed. These people are making ready, for when He comes, He will bring the promises of the Scriptures to life.”

The boy tilted his head, his curiosity growing. “What promises?”

The father straightened, his voice steady but alive with the words of the prophets. “Do you remember Elijah, the prophet of fire and drought? He was taken up into heaven in a chariot of fire, and the Scriptures tell us he will return before the great and dreadful day of the Lord. Malachi said he would turn the hearts of fathers to their children and the hearts of children to their fathers. Many believe this man”—he gestured to the figure in the river—“might be preparing the way, just as Elijah was said to do.”

The boy’s eyes widened as he looked at the man baptizing in the river. His clothes were rough, his voice commanding yet humble, calling people to turn from their sins. “Is he Elijah?”

“Not Elijah himself,” the father replied, “but he comes in the spirit and power of Elijah, as Isaiah said: ‘A voice crying in the wilderness, prepare the way of the Lord.’ He’s calling us to repent, to turn back to God. For the Lord is coming soon.”

The boy squinted at the baptizer. “And the Messiah—what will He do when He comes?”

The father’s eyes turned toward the horizon, where the sun seemed to bow before the coming night. “The Messiah will bring justice and peace. He will be the ruler promised to David, whose kingdom will never end. The prophet Micah said He would be born in Bethlehem, a ruler whose origins are from of old. He will heal the sick, bind up the brokenhearted, and proclaim liberty to the captives.”

He paused, his voice growing quieter. “But He will also bear our burdens. Isaiah called Him the ‘Man of Sorrows,’ pierced for our transgressions. The Messiah will save His people—not just from enemies, but from sin itself. He will do what we cannot, and in Him, all of God’s promises will be fulfilled.”

The boy was silent for a moment, watching as another person stepped into the water. The baptizer placed his hands on their shoulders, spoke words of repentance, and lowered them into the river.

“Father,” the boy asked, his voice barely above a whisper, “when will it be my turn?”

The father’s eyes softened as he turned to his son, placing both hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Right now,” he said.