Desperate Parents Stories

John 4:46-53 (NKJV)

46 So Jesus came again to Cana of Galilee where He had made the water wine. And there was a certain nobleman whose son was sick at Capernaum. 47 When he heard that Jesus had come out of Judea into Galilee, he went to Him and implored Him to come down and heal his son, for he was at the point of death. 48 Then Jesus said to him, ​“Unless you people see signs and wonders, you will by no means believe.”

49 The nobleman said to Him, “Sir, come down before my child dies!”

50 Jesus said to him, ​“Go your way; your son lives.”​ So the man believed the word that Jesus spoke to him, and he went his way. 51 And as he was now going down, his servants met him and told him, saying, “Your son lives!”

52 Then he inquired of them the hour when he got better. And they said to him, “Yesterday at the seventh hour the fever left him.” 53 So the father knew that it was at the same hour in which Jesus said to him, ​“Your son lives.”​ And he himself believed, and his whole household.

The Royal Official’s Story Imagined

His aimless pacing wouldn’t make the night any shorter. And yet he paced. Stopping at the front door he jerked it open and strained to see past the pool of light cast by the lamp in his outstretched hand. Nothing. No one. The darkness offered no sign of dawn. He started to slam the door shut but caught it before it crashed shut. There was no point alarming the rest of the house.

He walked down the hall to his son’s room. Instead of entering he confirmed the familiar view through the half-opened door. Even outside the room the bitter smell of healing herbs made his nose twitch. Water splashed as a servant dipped a cloth, wrung it out and applied it to his son’s brow. The wet sound complimented the tears streaming down his wife’s face as she sat in vigil beside the bed.

A timid knock at the front door pulled him away from the scene. If someone was worried he was sleeping, they needn’t. He couldn’t. Racing back to the door he opened it to see a hand raised to knock again. He asked, “Did you find him?” The messenger bowed respectfully, nodded and said, “Cana.”

Only twenty miles away was a man named Jesus who might be able to heal his son. Now he had a mission. Without another thought he grabbed his coat, rushed out the door, and strode into the darkness.

An hour later he yelped as his toe made contact with yet another rock camouflaged by thepre-dawn gloom. Twenty miles no longer seemed a minor distance. He paused to rub his calves and glare back down the hill at the few miles he had conquered. But, as the sun’s first rays broke over the horizon, his outlook brightened. He would get to Cana, find Jesus, and bring him back to his home. By this evening his boy could be well. He picked up his pace.

Ten miles later he cursed the sun as sweat trickled down his back. He fashioned his belt into a makeshift turban and abandoned his coat. Why did he walk? If he had waited for daylight he could have arranged for a horse. The growling from his gut reminded him that he brought no food or money. What was he thinking? And why would Jesus agree to walk twenty miles back to his home tonight? Pushing the negativity aside he focused on success. He was a nobleman, an official in King Herod’s service. He always found a way to get things done. Failure was not an option. Jesus would simply have to come.

The royal official arrived in Cana as the sun reached its height. The long walk had hardened his resolve. His first stop was to the leader of the town to get some intelligence. Yes, Jesus was in town–somewhere. Try the synagogue. Pausing only for a drink of water the official rushed to the synagogue. From there he was directed to several other locations without success. A growing crowd trailed behind him as the word spread; Someone important was going to ask Jesus for a miracle.

After an hour of racing around Cana the official finally found his target. He walked up to Jesus with confidence, feeling he had earned something for his effort. Even so, he bowed his head and respectfully implored Jesus. ​“Sir, please come with me to my house. My son is near death. Please, will you heal him?”​ Jesus looked around at the crowd gathered, then looked at the official and said to him, ​“Unless you people see signs and wonders, you will by no means believe.”

He looked at Jesus blankly, not sure what he meant. Undeterred from his mission, he repeated his request with urgency. ​“Sir, come down before my child dies!”​ Jesus looked at him for a long, meaningful moment and said, ​“Go your way; your son lives.”​ A sequence of surprise, shame and hope struck the official. Jesus had not agreed to come to his house as he expected, demanded. Instead, he stripped away his entitlement, but also offered him a lifeline. Silence hung in the air as he processed Jesus’ words; ​Unless you see you won’t believe.​ Could he believe without seeing? Maybe. This man seemed to see into his soul. Surely his power could reach twenty miles to heal his son.

He decided. With nothing more than a nod to Jesus the royal official believed, turned, and began his long walk home. The crowd dispersed, grumbling.

Hours down the road the setting sun lengthened the man-shaped shadow in front of him. The shape blurred and he stumbled. An involuntary grimace cracked his lip, filling his mouth with the metallic taste of blood. He forced himself to take another step. And another. He longed to get home, but his body rebelled. He leaned against a tree, then slumped to the ground. He mumbled, “I believe,” and closed his eyes.

Morning light woke him. He staggered to his feet and resumed his journey. He was heading east into the rising sun, so he didn’t see the approaching figures until they were right in front of him. His servants surrounded him and gave him the news. ​“Your son lives!”​ Those words were familiar. “What time?” He asked his servants. “When exactly did my son recover?” They said, “Yesterday, at one in the afternoon, the fever left him.”​ He stared at them, speechless. At exactly that time Jesus had said, ​“Go your way; your son lives.”

He said he believed, but he only believed that Jesus could heal his son. Now he believed that Jesus was more than just a man. He was holy. He was quite possibly the Messiah, the Son of God. Jesus was a King worth serving.

Revived by joy he completed the journey home with surprising speed. The front door flew open before he reached it and his son–flush with health instead of fever–ran into his arms. Without letting go of his child he found his wife, then gathered their servants. He told them everything that happened. And they all believed.