I am Nathanael bar Talmai, the simple son of a simple farmer. My hands are stained with the soil of our country. My friend, Philip, had just returned from Bethany beyond Jordan, where he had gone to witness the Baptist. The day was warm, and I sat in the shade of a fig tree I had planted by Philip's home. I was thinking about what the Rabbi had said on the previous Sabbath, and how the elders reckoned that Nazareth was so poor, nothing good could possibly come from it. It was there, as I mused, that I fell asleep and had a most astounding dream.

In my dream, I saw Messiah, dressed in white as bright as the sun. He raised his hands to the heavens, and behold, his hands were red with blood. The ground whereon he stood was pooled with blood. Then the heavens opened with a fearful sound, and when I looked up, I saw angels of God descending on Messiah to minister. They took the blood from his hands, and the blood from his feet, and they ascended to the throne of God. Then, a mighty angel turned to me with cups, one with blood, and one with water. Another angel said in a loud voice, Take of the cup of blood, and of the cup of water, and pour them on the earth. Then the mighty angel flew through the air below the heavens and poured out his cups on all the earth. When he had finished pouring out the cups, a voice cried out from the heavens, Behold the Son of man!

I sat up and realized I had been dreaming. I feared the dream as it was unlike any dream I had ever had. As I considered the dream, I looked up and saw Philip walking toward me. I was confused; I wondered why my friend smiled at my dream, but he had only just come to me. Philip knelt in front of me and took my hands; he shook me and called my name.

“Nathanael,” said Philip. “We have found him, of whom Moses in the law, and the prophets, did write, Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph.”

I shook my head of sleep and answered my friend. “Let's be honest. You were beside me in Synagogue; you heard what the elders said. Can anything good come from Nazareth?”

Philip laughed. He sat back on his heels and looked into my eyes. Then, he laughed again. He said, “We have found Messiah. He is nearby. My friend, come and see.” Philip reached out and took my hands, pulling me to my feet. “You only have to hear him speak,” said my happy friend.

I am a simple man. I was a simple man as Philip pulled me down the street to meet a man from Nazareth. I was willing. I wanted as much as any other man to see Messiah, but we had been fooled before. There had been false messiahs, men with words that raised our hopes, only to dash them against the rocks of cruel reality. I followed Philip cautiously. I did not trust easily, but I saw that my friend was beside himself. For my friend, I would hear the man from Nazareth.

I looked ahead and saw a young Rabbi surrounded by men I knew well. I knew James very well, I was a friend of his family. John, his younger brother, was there. I knew Andrew; he had offered to teach me the fishing trade. They spoke excitedly with the Rabbi, and I was surprised to see that even Simon was there. Simon was like a rock that you always stubbed your toe on. How did they bring the unmovable stone? I drew close and stopped. The Rabbi looked at me with a familiar smile as if he knew me. He seemed a man of Galilee, but he was strange to me. He was strange in his dress, strange in his look with reddish hair, and his strange eyes were hazel, not brown.

The man from Nazareth stepped away from the others as Philip pulled me forward. I was face-to-face with the Rabbi. I felt compelled to say something for my friend's sake, but I knew not what that would be. It relieved me somewhat that the Rabbi spoke first.

He said to me, “Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile!”

He spoke as if he knew me, but I was immediately suspicious. Undue familiarity, for me, gave warning. Yet, Philip, beside me, stood with wide happy eyes, wholly taken. James, John, and Andrew were the same; only old Simon carried himself with any bearing. Philip wanted me to hear the Rabbi; he had only hailed me. I decided I would be polite for my friend. I reined in my first impulse in favor of a question.

I said, “Sir, we have only just met. From where do you know me?”

The Rabbi answered, with a tilt of his head, “Before Philip called you, when you were under the fig tree, I saw you.”

That gave me a start. The Rabbi was new in Bethsaida; he would have had to enter from the lower end of town. The house that Philip lived in was on the high side under the hills where there was no road. Even had they walked across the rocky hills behind the house, there was no way to see the front of the house from the hills. At first, I thought, is this man a prophet? How could he have known that I was under the fig tree? He specifically named the fig tree.

I asked the Rabbi, “Sir, are you a prophet?” He answered me with a smile that said I had not asked the right question.

I looked at the other men. Not one of them spoke. They held their tongues in such a way, I felt I was being tested. Philip smiled at me with expectation in his eyes. Simon did not smile, but his face was expectant nonetheless. Andrew grinned, looking between the Rabbi and me. Even James and John smiled their toothy smiles. I turned to the Rabbi.

I asked, “Are you the Son of God, the King of Israel?”

The Rabbi answered, “Would you believe I was the Son of God simply because I said to you that I saw you under the fig tree?”

It was a hard question to answer immediately. I looked at my feet, then looked up into his eyes. I said, “It is possible that Philip told you I would be there. Men know I prefer the shade of the fig tree.”

The Rabbi said, “I will tell you the truth. Hereafter, you will see heaven open, and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of man.”

I confess, the words of the Rabbi stunned me. I could only fall to my knees and gasp. If not told, a man might still guess a thing such as the fig tree. Mine was not the only one. The Rabbi had disclosed my unspoken dream. It took no coaxing from my friends; when the Rabbi said, “Follow me,” I could only speak the truth of my heart.

“My Lord,” I answered.

Then they gathered around me and lifted me to my feet with laughing. That was the beginning of a marvelous journey, but by no means the end. I followed Jesus for three years. I saw many wonderful things happen; all men should be so blessed. I witnessed the slaughter of the Lamb of God. I saw both his crucifixion and resurrection. I was present when the Son of man was lifted into the heavens. I took his message to the world.