We had so many gods! So many.. Almost literally more than you could count. I mean, you had but to think of an object, an idea, a place, and there was a god for it. And what's more the success of not only yourself or your household, but of the Empire (!) was completely dependent upon one's ability to pander to them, to bribe them, to please them. They, who didn't even like each other! Ahhhh!
Needless to say the whole system was convoluted. A mess unnecessary and ridiculous.
Then I came to Caesarea, Palestine. Now, if you've heard a thing about Palestine you've heard of the people who live there. The Jews. A strange people, unwilling to enter your house, make physical contact with you, speak to you, let alone look you in the eye in public! All in the name of "cleanliness"? A thing I knew nothing about upon my arrival and not something I was anxious to learn of. "As long as they're under my thumb", I would say, "and this head stays on these shoulders". Order...
But it's funny how the place gets to you. Word of mouth, a conversation overheard, the very air you breathe? I don't know completely but somehow I began to learn what it is these Jews believed. Why these Jews were so vigilant in the keeping of their Order.. They believed in One true God, The sole Creator of every-thing. They worshipped Him alone and knew Him as the source of all goodness, blessing, and truth. And I grew fond of this system. One God, one creation, one ruler, one kingdom, one people. And sooner than I was willing to admit, I began to worship this God.
It was on one such afternoon of prayer, around the sixth hour, when it happened. That presence. It was sudden, but not violent or loud- I just began to fear. It was terrifying, but not morbid terror. No, I know that terror, I've feared for my life. This was different. More than anything it was... mysterious. Like the whisper in the wind, or the feeling that todays sunrise was a punchline to a joke that I had yet to hear. But I was terrified. No joke. And then he spoke. He was there, in robes brighter than polished brass, and he called out "Cornelius!". My name. MY NAME. He knew my name.
