After Jesus’ cruel death, things took an unexpected turn. I’ve interviewed so many of them, those who were there. Their stories add up – so many details match, so many elements in common. They have the ring of truth. Tales of profound grief at the loss of the one they dearly loved, of deepest disappointment and disillusionment – and suddenly, all of it swallowed up by His reappearance. So many of them with a similar tale to tell, details unique to each one’s story and yet this common thread – they saw Him, heard Him, touched Him again, recognised Him – some of them alone and some in the presence of witnesses. I’ve examined the evidence and am convinced. He carried on from where He had left off, talking to them about the coming of God’s kingdom.
He gathered them together. You might have thought there would be thousands of them, given how many He had healed and how many others had witnessed or been affected by His miracles. Yet it was not thousands but the faithful remnant, just as many as could be crammed into an upper room, who watched expectantly for His promise. No one knew how it would look, this baptism that would not be with water but with the Spirit of God Himself. Still they waited, confident. For He who had come back from the dead, would He not fulfil every word He had spoken to them?
