An Anchor in Dark Times: History in HIS Story. Isaiah #13
Through the Eyes of Yair, a Fisherman of Galilee (around 30 - 32 AD)
Inspired by | Isaiah 9 | Isaiah 61 | Luke 4: 16-21 | John 1: 1-10 | John 16: 29-33 | 2 Cor 12 |
My name is Yair, son of Nathan, a fisherman of Galilee.
The Sea of Galilee is my home, its waters as familiar to me as the lines on my weathered hands. Yet these days, even the sea cannot quiet my restless spirit. We live under the shadow of Roman rule, their taxes drowning us, their soldiers watching our every move. The land of Zebulun and Naphtali—once blessed by the tribes of Israel—feels cursed now, a dark and heavy shadow pressing upon us.
But the darkness is not just political. It is spiritual. “Where is God? Has He abandoned us?” I hear the whispers in the marketplace: Many have stopped going to synagogue, where it seems the words of the Torah that were meant to bring hope, only churn out more of the bitterness in their hearts. Others have turned to the ways of the Romans, seeking favor and fortune in their gods.
And then there are those like me, who cling to the promises of the prophets, even when it feels like holding on to a fading ember.
In these dark times, one promise from Isaiah burns in my heart:
“The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness, a light has dawned.”
It is my hope, my anchor. But some days, surrounded by a society that has embraced life without God, I wonder if I am a fool to believe.
The Burden of Roman Rule
The Romans squeeze us dry. Every day, I haul my nets and catch just enough fish to pay the tax collector. My sons, Levi and Daniel, work beside me, their young faces already lined with the weight of survival. I want more for them, but what can I give? The roads are lined with crucifixes, a warning to all who would dare defy Caesar. In the towns, Roman soldiers take what they want without question.
Still, I teach my sons the stories of our people—the exodus from Egypt, the kings of old, the words of the prophets. I tell them of a promised Messiah, a Deliverer who will bring justice and light to our suffering. Levi, the older one, listens intently, his eyes wide with hope. But Daniel, my younger son, shakes his head. “When, Father? When will He come? Why does God wait while we suffer?”
I have no answer.
Whispers of a Teacher
One day, as I mend my nets by the shore, a neighbor rushes toward me, breathless.
“Yair! Have you heard? There’s a teacher in Capernaum—some say a prophet. Others say… more than a prophet.”
I look up, skeptical. “Another one? How many have come claiming to be the Messiah, only to vanish or be silenced by the Romans?”
“But this one is different,” he insists. “He heals the sick, casts out demons. They say He speaks with authority, as if the words of Isaiah flow through Him.”
The words of Isaiah. My heart quickens.
Meeting the Light
As the next Sabbath approaches, I leave my nets and walk to Capernaum. I make the most of the journey, taking time to reflect and pray as I go, putting my heart before Yahweh. The synagogue is crowded, people pressing in to see this man. I push my way through, my sons at my heels. And there He is—a man in plain robes, no taller than any other, but with a presence that fills the room.
He begins to speak, His voice calm yet commanding. He opens the scroll of Isaiah and reads:
“The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because He has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners.”
As He speaks, it feels as though the words are not just spoken but lived. My heart pounds. Could it be?
The Fulfillment of Prophecy
Later, I see Him walking by the shore, a small crowd following. I hesitate, but then Daniel tugs at my sleeve. “Father, ask Him. Ask if He is the One.”
I approach cautiously. He turns to me, His eyes meeting mine. There is light in them—a light that sees everything yet condemns nothing.
“Master,” I say, my voice trembling, “are You the one Isaiah spoke of? The light for those in darkness?”
He smiles gently. “Come and see,” He says.
A Light That Cannot Be Hidden
From that day, I follow Him. I see the lame walk, the blind see, the dead rise. I hear Him speak of a kingdom not of this world, a kingdom of peace and justice. And I understand—this is the Light Isaiah spoke of, the Light that pierces even the deepest darkness.
But not all accept Him. The Pharisees call Him a blasphemer; the Romans dismiss Him as a troublemaker. Even among the people, there are whispers of doubt. Yet for me, the question is settled. I have seen the Light, and the darkness will never overcome it.
The Hope for Today
Now, as I cast my nets in the early morning light, I think of Isaiah’s words, written 700 years ago, and how they have come to life before my eyes. I think of my sons and their children, and I am filled with hope.
The world is still dark. Rome’s oppression remains. But the Light has dawned, and it will shine until every shadow is chased away.
As I tell my grandchildren the story of the Teacher from Galilee, I remind them of Isaiah’s promise:
“For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on His shoulders. And He will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”
The Light has come. I have felt the testimony of Jesus anchor my heart, and this is the hope I hold, the hope I will pass on. He says that in this world we will have trouble, and each time trouble comes and darkness is heavy like a blanket … each time I feel like a fool for the hope that I cling to: I remember looking into His eyes, and hearing His words: Behold, I have overcome the world.
