Barlow’s Real Identity
It was Jesus however who had a hand in changing Barlow’s life. As they worked side by side, the two friends discussed all manner of topics, including the young women of the city.
“Lately I’ve been seeing Sarah, that pretty girl who sometimes comes into the shop with her father. It’s fairly serious Jesus. I’m starting to think that I’d like to marry her, but she’ll probably never have anything to do with the likes of me.”
“Why do you feel that way Barlow? Everyone in the city admires you. You’re the best carpenter for miles around, even better than Joseph. The whole region says you have a handsome face, though it’s a bit on the light side. In truth you could have your pick of any lady in Galilee.”
“Not with the birthing I had. I dropped on the floor from between the legs of a common prostitute who never even looked at me before giving me away, I am literally a bastard. I am……”
“You are wrong Barlow. Your birth was much different than you suspect. You were greatly loved and desired by your real parents. I’ve known for some time now who you really are.”
“What are you saying Jesus? Look, I know you get premonitions and such and they usually do pan out, but how can you know about me?”
“It took a while for me to figure things out Barlow but gradually I pieced it together. At a very young age you were left in the care of an innkeeper in Nazareth, but you weren’t dropped off there as you claim.”
“How’d I get there then?”
“It was arranged by your aged parents before they died. They trusted a friend, the owner of the tavern, to take care of you and raise you. He was given a generous payment to do so and for about a year he gave you good care. It all changed when he married a greedy woman much younger than himself. She was so costly to maintain that she nearly bankrupted him. It was she who seeded the myth that you were dropped at the doorstep of the inn.”
“I had parents? Tell me about them and tell me how you know all this?”
“Part of it I divined just by thinking. You know that frequently things just come to me. I had a general idea of how you came to be a ward of the Barlow Inn, but I filled in the gaps by speaking with some of the elders.”
“You found somebody that knew about me?”
“Yes I did. I learned that a woman of extreme age and her husband came to the Barlow Inn with a young boy, about two years old. The two old people were in poor health and near death with no one to care for the child after they were gone. For a price, the owner of the establishment agreed to keep the toddler, which was you. As I said, the tavern owner soon fell victim to a grasping, covetous woman who absorbed all the money that was meant for you.”
“Who were the old people and who were my parents?”
“That’s the part you’re not going to believe! You were born three months before I was, to a distant relative of my Mother’s, named Elizabeth. She was very, very old and had never been able to have children. However, in a dream she was told by a spirit that although she was past 90 and her husband close to 100, she would have a child. Against all odds and laws of nature she did become pregnant and just short of her 94th birthday delivered a baby boy. You were that child. Your mother was your mother but your father was not the old man. He was a spirit, a God!”
“That’s impossible Jesus. That’s the same thing that you always say about Joseph, that he isn’t really your father.”
“He really isn’t my father. My mother had a dream too. A spirit came to her and said that Elizabeth, your Mother, was to produce a child, despite being barren and almost a century old. The spirit said to my Mom, ‘You too will have a child Mary. Despite being a virgin, you will bear the son of God.’ My Mom was engaged to Joseph at the time and when they were married she was already pregnant though she had never been with any mortal man.”
Barlow rubbed his forehead repeatedly as if to massage this information into his brain. He didn’t speak for several minutes until after he developed the following conclusion…
“So you and I are cousins number one. And number two we both were fathered by a spirit, or maybe even by God Himself!”
“You got it Barlow. It’s a fact.”
“I don’t think so Jesus. I’m pretty sure I’m going to stick with my yarn of dropping out of a whore who dumped me and ran. That may make me a bastard but I think I’d rather be that than the son of a spirit.”
“Think about it Barlow. This is all in His plan. You didn’t just drop into Joseph’s carpenter shop because you saw a bench he made. You were guided into it by Him.”
“By Him you mean God.”
“Our Father!”
“Maybe your father Jesus, but I’m not convinced.“
“I can do things Barlow, convincing things. You’ve seen a few examples, but I want you to accept what I say on faith and not just because I can perform eerie feats like lifting a heavy bench from the floor without touching it…..”
As he spoke, Jesus cast a hard gaze upon a bulky wooden bench with iron legs. It occupied almost the entire length of one of the shop’s walls. As he stared at it, he lifted his pointer finger from his waist towards his nose and the bench rose in synchronicity to the motion of his wrist and hand. Stretching out his fingers as wide as possible Jesus cast his arm toward the ceiling and the bench ascended slowly and steadily until it grazed the underside of the roof.
“Don’t make me prove things. From now on accept what I say in faith,” Jesus said sternly as the bench floated back to the floor as he lowered his arm.
“Okay Jesus. After seeing that, I have to believe. But does this mean that since my father is a spirit that I can’t marry Sarah?”
“I think you probably can Barlow. As for me I can’t marry. Our Father has a plan for me but I don’t know what it is yet. The truth is I want to get started on His work but what the job is hasn’t been revealed. Sometimes I think I’ll be an old man with a beard down to my knees before He finally tells me what I’m supposed to do.”
For almost another year the two men continued to work for Joseph. Barlow married Sarah and moved away. In future, with a new name that he selected for himself, Barlow would become a noted figure in biblical history.
(Author’s note: Any reader with an interest, only has to do a little research in ‘The Book’ to find Barlow’s historical name on the Jesus tree. Hint – he was NOT John the Baptist, although John was a cousin to Jesus.)
A full dozen years passed before Jesus finally learned the nature of his earthly mission. His destiny was to preach to, and heal the people of Galilee. More than that, he was to serve himself up as a martyr and be the spark to ignite the flames of a new religion that would spread over the entire earth.
Of Barlow it is reported that in later life, he often spoke of Jesus. When people bemoaned Jesus’ death, Barlow said……..
“Don’t cry for Jesus. He did not die. He rose from the dead on the third day and he lives still. He never died, but sailed up to Heaven like a bird on wing. He lives there still as a flesh and blood being reclining on fluffy white clouds. He will return to Earth when all the men and women in all the lands obey his prime directive – ‘Do Unto Others.’ When that happens he will return and build an eternal heaven here on earth.”
-0-
The End.
So concludes this brief attempt to peek into the formative years of the strange carpenter who, as a boy, was considered a lunatic by many of the children of his neighborhood. In my mind I can hear little Abe’s mom telling him, “you can go outside and play for a while but stay away from that crazy boy Jesus. If he comes near you, get back in the house right away.”
In my own life, one of my sons at the age of three or four, reported that he had lived before and had a wife and children in a previous existence. For a few years, up until he reached school age, he often spoke of his wife from the former life.
As for me and my wife, we questioned him and were somewhat amused by his yarns. As he grew, the tales diminished. He finished his school years and began a 20 year long stint in the military. Retiring with both rank and honors, he has led an exciting life, without revisiting the imaginings of his childhood.
But what if I had, or you had, a son who imagined himself to be literally the Son of God? I don’t have the will or the talent to do it, but I think that if some writer sets about to do a full length treatment of the young Jesus, it will make a compelling book, along with the obligatory film to follow.
If you write it, I’ll read it.