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| Bring Him To Me |
The boy’s body struck the ground, and the crowd pulled back. Dust rose around him as he convulsed, but I could not look away.
I had persuaded his father to bring him.
I had promised that Jesus was different.
Now the disciples had failed, the scribes were arguing, and the hope I had carried for my friend was beginning to feel heavier than fear.
My name is Micah.
And this is the day I learned that faith can tremble without letting go.
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I knew Asa before suffering silenced him.
He was six when Reuben first brought him to my workshop. The boy touched everything within reach—scraps of wood, curls of cedar, the small tools I kept near the door. His questions came faster than I could answer them.
“What are you making?”
“Who is it for?”
“Can I help?”
Reuben apologized for him.
I laughed.
“There is nothing to forgive. A curious boy may become a useful man.”
Asa grinned and spent the afternoon gathering wood shavings into a pile he insisted was treasure.
Those were the days Reuben remembered whenever someone asked how long his son had been afflicted.
Before the sudden falls.
Before the terrible convulsions.
Before the boy stopped answering when his father called.
___
It began without warning. One moment Asa would be standing beside us. The next, his body would stiffen and fall. His teeth clenched. Foam gathered at his lips. When the violence passed, he lay pale and exhausted.
As the years passed, the attacks became more dangerous. Reuben learned to watch every flame, every cooking fire, and every open stretch of water. More than once, the spirit cast Asa toward something that could have killed him.
His father began sleeping lightly.
Every sound awakened him.
Every silence frightened him.
People offered explanations freely.
Some blamed Reuben. Others blamed the boy’s mother, though she had been dead for years and could not defend herself. A few said the family must have hidden some terrible sin.
Reuben stopped listening.
He also stopped bringing Asa into crowded places. Too many people stared or stepped away as though suffering could pass from one body to another.
But I remembered the child who had filled my workshop with questions.
When Asa could no longer speak, I continued speaking to him.
When he did not respond, I sat beside him anyway.
Reuben sometimes told me I did not have to come.
“I know,” I always answered.
And I kept returning.
___
The first reports about Jesus reached us through travelers.
They said He had cleansed lepers, opened blind eyes, and commanded unclean spirits to leave.
Reuben had heard promises before. Men had prayed loudly over Asa and left quietly when nothing changed. Others demanded payment for remedies that accomplished nothing.
Reuben had been disappointed too many times to trust another promise.
When I first mentioned Jesus, his expression hardened.
“No.”
“This is different.”
“They always are at first.”
I wanted to argue, but the weariness in his face stopped me. He was not refusing because he did not love his son. He was refusing because he could not bear to raise hope in Asa only to watch it fall again.
___
Several days later, my cousin returned from the villages beyond the sea. He had seen crowds gather around Jesus and sick people leave healed.
“He speaks,” my cousin said, “and even unclean spirits obey Him.”
That evening, I went to Reuben’s house.
Asa lay near the wall beneath a thin covering. Reuben sat beside him, watching the boy breathe.
“Jesus is nearby,” I said.
Reuben did not look at me.
“I am not asking you to trust another merchant or another remedy. I am asking you to bring your son to Jesus.”
“And if nothing happens?”
I looked toward Asa.
“Then you will not return carrying him alone.”
___
We left the following morning.
Reuben carried Asa when the road was uneven. I carried our provisions. When Reuben tired, we rested. Several times, he considered turning back.
Each time, I reminded him why we had come.
I spoke with confidence because he needed to hear it, but somewhere along the road, I began asking myself the same question he had asked me.
And if nothing happens?
Faith sounded stronger when spoken to someone else.
___
We found the disciples before we found Jesus.
A great crowd surrounded them. Scribes stood among the people, questioning and arguing. Reuben held Asa closer.
“Where is Jesus?”
“I don’t know.”
The disciples tried to help Asa.
Nothing changed.
The spirit seized him again. Reuben dropped beside his son, protecting the boy’s head from the hard ground.
The disciples tried again.
Still nothing.
I saw uncertainty spread through the crowd. Reuben looked at me but did not accuse me.
That made it worse.
“We should go,” he whispered.
For the first time since our journey began, I had no words to stop him.
___
A stir moved through the crowd.
Heads turned. People began moving forward.
Jesus had returned.
Reuben stepped forward and told Him about his son—the spirit, the convulsions, the danger, and the disciples’ failure.
I remained close behind him, near enough to see his hands trembling.
I heard Jesus say:
“Bring him unto me.”
Reuben looked back at me.
Together, we lifted Asa.
The moment the boy came near Jesus, the spirit tore at him.
Asa fell and wallowed upon the ground, foaming.
Jesus asked how long this had happened to him.
“Of a child,” Reuben answered.
Then the years poured out—the fires, the water, and the fear that one day he would not reach his son in time.
“If thou canst do any thing, have compassion on us, and help us.”
Us.
Until then, I had not understood that the spirit had afflicted more than the boy. Asa bore the wounds in his body. Reuben bore them where no one could see.
Jesus answered:
“If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth.”
I wanted to tell Reuben what to say. I wanted to lend him every confident word I had spoken along the road.
But I could not answer for him.
Tears filled his eyes.
“Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief.”
It was not the declaration of a man untouched by doubt. It was the cry of a father who had been disappointed too many times and had chosen to believe once more.
I heard Jesus rebuke the spirit:
“Thou dumb and deaf spirit, I charge thee, come out of him, and enter no more into him.”
Asa cried out and convulsed violently.
Then he became still.
Too still.
Whispers passed through the crowd.
“He is dead.”
Reuben swayed beside me.
But Jesus took Asa by the hand and lifted him.
The boy rose.
Not trembling.
Not foaming.
Not falling.
He stood.
Reuben crossed the space between them and took his son into his arms.
For years, he had caught Asa whenever the spirit threw him down.
That day, his son stood and held him back.
As I watched them, I understood that I had only told my friend what I had heard about Jesus and walked beside him until he could stand before the Lord for himself.
I learned that faith is not always free from fear. Sometimes it trembles. Sometimes it asks for help. Sometimes it belongs to a friend who refuses to let another man carry his sorrow alone.
Faith had brought us down that road.
It had not answered every fear we carried with us.
It had simply brought us to Jesus.
🕊️ An Echoes of the Faithful Story
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