Editor’s note: The setting of the following monologue is on the day of Pentecost, after the coming of the Spirit to the disciples in the upper room, and shortly after Peter's sermon in the marketplace. The actor may want to wear a costume from first-century Palestine, or perhaps modern work clothing. No props are needed, but simple, rustic furniture (such as would be used in the upper room) would be effective. Scripture references are included in parentheses for your convenience, but are not meant to be read aloud.

I don’t have long to talk. I must go out and speak again to the people gathered outside. But, since you are here, I want to tell you how I got to this moment and this place.

I remember the first time I saw him. My brother, Andrew, and I were in the boat fishing and he walked along the shore, looking at us. His unfamiliar eyes bore into me and I began to feel a little uncomfortable. I wanted to say something to him, but before I could, he spoke:

“Follow me and I will make you fishers of men,” he called (Matthew 4:19). I didn’t know what he meant, but something compelled me to go after him. So I left what I was doing and I followed.

They called him Jesus, and everywhere we went people flocked to us, asking him for help. He was always incredibly patient. He possessed an intense love for every person whom he came into contact with.

I’ll never forget the first time I saw him heal someone. One day we came upon a man suffering from leprosy. When this young man saw Jesus, he fell to the ground and bowed before him, begging, “Lord, if you choose, you can make me clean” (Matt. 8:2).

I looked up at Jesus, curious as to how he would react. Jesus didn’t look surprised. He simply smiled, his eyes full of tears. Stretching out his hand, he answered, “I do choose. Be made clean” (Matt. 8:3). Immediately, right before my very eyes, the leprosy left the man! It was a miracle!

That wasn’t the only time I saw Jesus heal someone. I watched him perform miracle after miracle. I was always awestruck at the power that came from him.

Often, after long days of working, we went back to the sea and slept in the boat. One night, as we slept, a fierce storm came crashing down on us. The boat began rocking violently back and forth as waves flooded onto the deck. Somehow Jesus slept through everything—he never even stirred -- so Matthew and I decided to wake him up. We knew that he would save us.

“Master,” we cried, “save us! We’ll all drown!” (Matt. 8:25).

Jesus got up slowly and looked at us. I had a feeling then that it probably wasn’t a good idea to have woken him up.

“Why are you afraid, you of little faith?” Jesus said. Then he turned to the storm and scolded the winds and the sea. He scolded the winds and the sea, and the storm stopped! Until that moment, I just thought I knew how incredible and amazing this man was. As Jesus laid down and went back to sleep, the other guys and I all sat around, dumbstruck.

“What sort of person is this,” we kept asking one another, “that he can tell the winds and sea what to do?” (Matthew 8:23-27).

Another exhilarating moment in my life was the night that I walked across the water. Yes; you heard me correctly. I actually walked on the top of the water. It was after we had spent the day with him as he preached to a crowd of 5,000. That’s quite a story all in itself! I don’t how he did it, but somehow out of five loaves of bread and two fish, Jesus fed every person there and still had leftovers!

Anyway, after that, he sent us disciples ahead on a boat while he dismissed the crowd. Some time passed and, when he came out to shore, our boat had drifted some distance. It was a rough, windy night, and we were all struggling to keep the boat upright. We were so caught up in keeping the boat floating that we didn’t notice Jesus walking toward us on the water! Initially, when we saw him, we thought it was a ghost. We were all petrified until he cried out, “It’s me; it’s me -- don’t be afraid.” (Matt. 14:27).

What I did next would have caused my poor wife to have a heart attack, had she been there! It’s the craziest thing I’ve ever done! I climbed out of the boat and began to walk toward Jesus! My heart pounded as I stepped out into the waves. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure that I would be able to actually stand on the water, but I had a peaceful sense that Jesus wouldn’t let me drown.

It is very odd to walk on top of water. But it’s a great feeling! I did all right at first, but as I looked around and saw the waves, all of a sudden I became frightened. I became disoriented and couldn’t seem to find Jesus’ face. My head was spinning and I felt sick with fear. As the water reached my waist, I cried out, “Master, save me!” His hand seemed to materialize out of nowhere. He reached out and grabbed me by the elbow, saving me once again (Matt. 14:30-31).

I am one of little faith. He saved me that night, but I could not save him from what was to be his fate. The night that we dined together for the last time was strange for me. He told me, to my face, that I would deny him three times. I, of course, stubbornly assured him that I would not, but inside I felt uneasy. He had never been wrong about me. I so wanted him to be wrong now. I had been his number one supporter! Out of fear and stubbornness, I put the conversation out of my mind -- and that was my mistake.

Later, when we all went to the garden to pray, I really tried to stay awake. I wanted to pray with Jesus. He seemed so nervous, so burdened by something. But my eyes would not stay open. He tried to wake me up, but I ignored him and went back to sleep. I didn’t know; I didn’t understand what was happening.

They arrested him that very night—the Temple guards. Judas Iscariot, our companion for these three years, had betrayed our Master. I felt as though my heart had been dragged out of my chest as they pulled Jesus away. I couldn’t breathe! I had to go with him. I wanted him to know that I supported him. I followed them to the high priest’s house.

As I sat outside Caiaphas’s courtyard that night, all I wanted to do was to somehow defend him. People were saying that he wasn’t defending himself. Why wouldn’t he speak? I decided that I would speak for him, but as I ran toward the entrance of the court a young girl recognized me. She yelled to the nearby crowd that she had seen me with Jesus. Without thinking, I replied, “I don’t know what you are talking about!” (Matt. 26:70).

I knew it was wrong to say such a thing, but I was so scared. Before I had time to pull myself together, another servant-girl walked up to me, saying that she had also seen me with Jesus. “I’ve never seen the man before in my life,” I hastily replied (Matt. 26:72). I shook my head and stamped my foot. Why? Why did I do this?

A few moments later, a man walked up to me and made the same accusation. And I once more denied my Master and my best friend. The words were barely out of my mouth when a rooster crowed. At that moment I remembered the words that he had spoken to me at dinner. I turned and ran, bitter tears streaming down my face. I had denied him. I loved him, and yet I denied that I ever knew him.

Oh, Master, forgive me. Please forgive me.

For three days I lived in torment, replaying that courtyard scene in my mind. No matter how hard I tried, I could see nothing but tenderness and grief in his eyes. I wanted to see anger, or frustration -- even pain! But there was only love. And that’s what tortured me the most.

On the third day after his death, three women came to James and me, shaking and crying. They were trying to say something, but they were so agitated that we couldn’t understand them. When they finally calmed down enough to talk, they told us that when they went to Jesus’ tomb that morning the stone had been rolled away!

“He has risen,” they kept saying over and over.

He’s what?

I couldn’t believe it! James and I took off down the path that led to the tomb. James, being younger and in better shape than I, got there first. When I arrived, I found James standing at the mouth of the tomb. His hands shook and his chest heaved. I didn’t even stop at the entrance—I couldn’t! I needed to see whatever there was to see. I went immediately into the tomb and dropped to my knees in front of the linens that had wrapped the Master’s bruised and beaten body.

He’s really gone! But is he risen?

My immediate reaction was to blame the Romans. Maybe they had stolen his body as a joke. That thought made me furious. But then I realized that the linens had not been touched. They had not been unraveled. It was as if the body just disappeared! And then I remembered Jesus saying that he would rise again.

Could it be? Could he really have risen from the dead?!

I walked away from the tomb that morning wondering what would come to pass. James and I didn’t speak as we walked home. Both of us were on the lookout for the Master. We were extremely excited, but also a little scared. Especially me. What would I say? I had denied knowing him three times! How would I look him in the eye?

We went back to the other men and told them what we had seen. We sat together all day and all night talking, thinking, and praying. And then, there he was. It was different from the way I had thought it might be when he first appeared. We were very frightened. Again, we thought he was a ghost. The house had been locked and we didn’t hear him come in; he just appeared.

“Why are you troubled? Why are there questions in your hearts?” he said. “Look at my hands and my feet. Touch me. I’m not a ghost. Look; I have flesh and bones.” (Luke 24:38-39).

Then he asked for something to eat. He wanted food! At that moment, I knew He wasn’t a ghost. I was not dreaming. The Master had risen! We prepared his meal with shaking hands and watched him carefully as he ate. I continued to watch him, carefully looking for any signs that I might be dreaming. When Jesus had finished eating, he looked at me with an amused smile. I smiled back, delighted to look into the eyes of my Savior, my friend. The amusement left quickly and was replaced with a thoughtful gaze.

“Simon, son of John (he used my given name, instead of the nickname he had given me) do you love me?” Jesus asked. I know that my eyes must have widened in surprise. I quickly stammered the reply, “Yes, Lord; You know that I love you.” I felt nervous by his probing eyes. “Feed my lambs,” he replied softly. I shifted my eyes to the ground. Jesus leaned forward and gently lifted my chin in his hands.

“Simon, son of John, do you love me?” he asked a second time. And again, I replied, “Yes, Lord; You know I love you.” Jesus looked a little sad as he said, “Tend my sheep.”

A third time, Jesus asked me, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” I began to feel hurt that he didn’t seem to believe me. Was it because I had denied him? I didn’t understand why he continued to ask me that same question. I tried to keep the impatience out of my voice as I answered. “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.”

This time, when Jesus answered, he seemed to speak to the very depth of my soul. “Feed my sheep. I tell you this, when you were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go. Peter,” Jesus said tenderly, again lifting my chin so that my eyes had to meet his, “Peter, my rock, follow me.”

I didn’t fully understand at that moment what he meant, but I knew from the serenity in his eyes that I would someday comprehend it. I nodded slowly, swallowing over the lump in my throat.

For several weeks he continued to appear to different ones of us. It was the most incredible, learning time that I have ever experienced. Every time he came around was precious. I didn’t want it to end. But somehow I knew that it would.

Then came the day that he ascended into heaven. We went with him to the top of the mountain and gathered around as he spoke his last words to us.

“All authority on heaven and on earth has been given unto me,” he said to us during those last few moments. “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you; and surely I am with you always to the very end of the age” (Matt. 28:18-20).

He also told us that we would receive power, that the Spirit of God would come upon us, and we would be witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea, and then to the ends of the earth. He said that the Spirit would give us the courage to do all these things.

With those words, he raised his hands to heaven and, as we looked on, a brilliant cloud surrounded him and he disappeared from our sight.

We took Jesus’ words to heart that day and we set out to do as he had commanded. We made plans to split up and travel from city to city, spreading the gospel. I have never felt so driven to do anything in my life. I had to tell people the good news. I knew that I would be rejected by many. We were also quite frightened -- of the Romans and the Jewish leaders who had crucified Jesus. We were marked people. Sometimes we didn’t get much accomplished because of this fear.

I also began to realize the pressure Jesus must have been under during his years on this earth. But I couldn’t forget the commission he had given us. His voice rang in my head like a persistent bell; although it wasn’t always what I wanted to hear, the sound was so beautiful that I could not ignore it. I was in no way prepared, though, for what God was about to do through me.

It seems that there are always certain moments in life when everything stops and God comes screaming in before you -- when you have no choice but to step back in awe of God’s astounding power. That’s what happened this morning in the room where we were praying.

We, the disciples, were all together, praying in an upstairs room, when suddenly there came into the room a sound much like the rush of a mighty wind. We all fell to our knees. When we looked around, we saw what looked like flames above each other’s heads. We realized that it was the Spirit that Jesus had told us would come. This power consumed us and filled us.

A group of Jews from all nations, gathered here in Jerusalem for the feast, heard the sound this morning and gathered outside our door. As they listened, each one of them could understand what we said in their own language!

Amazed and astonished, they asked, “Are these not Galileans? They don’t know our languages! Then how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native tongues?” (Acts 2:7-8). They were all perplexed, saying to one another, “What does this mean?” Others merely sneered, claiming that we had been drinking -- and other such lies, told only by those who are afraid of what they don’t understand.

I could not allow those lies to be spread, so I stood up to speak. My tongue felt loose and I felt comfortable and confident as this Spirit began to use my mouth to convey a powerful truth.

“Men of Judea,” I cried, “and all who live in Jerusalem, let this be known to you, and listen to what I say. Indeed, we are not drunk, as you suppose, for it is only nine o’clock in the morning. No, listen to what was spoken through the prophet Joel:

"This is what the Lord says: In the last days I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams. Even upon my slaves, both men and women, in those days I will pour out my Spirit; and they shall prophesy. And I will show amazing signs in the heavens above and on the earth below.’

“You who are Israelites,” I continued, “listen to what I have to say: Jesus of Nazareth, a man attested to you by God with deeds of power, wonders, and signs that God did through him among you, as you yourselves know -- this man, handed over to you according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God, you crucified and killed by the hands of those outside the law.

But God raised him up, having freed him from death, because it was impossible for him to be held in its power. Therefore let the entire house of Israel know with certainty that God has made him both Lord and Messiah, this Jesus whom you crucified.” (Acts 2:14-25, 36).

After I had finished speaking, I sat down slowly. The silence crushed me as I tried to remember what I had said. After a few moments, a small murmur arose in the crowd. It began to grow until it became a vast roar. People ran up to me with tears in their eyes. They stopped before us and asked, “Brothers, what should we do?”

“Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ so that your sins may be forgiven; and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. For the promise is for you, for your children, and for all who are far away, everyone whom the Lord our God calls to him” (Acts 2:37-39).

And now I look around at all of these people, clamoring to hear more, begging to be told what they must do, wanting to be a part of what we have known. And I realize that they are like sheep. These people -- broken, bewildered, lost.

Now I see, Master. I see what you meant. I shall feed your sheep. And I shall do it with joy.

I must go to them now. There is much to do.

-- Kelli Martin, a native of St. Louis, Missouri, is a professional writing student at Baylor University.

~ Art by Robert Darden