All was quickly coming to a boiling point. The greater enthusiasm and the larger crowds only sparked greater jealousy. The clash was inevitable. The question was where and when. Then came the news. John the Baptizer was killed. Death suddenly became very real. These forces were not imaginary. Even this peaceful man was swept away.

I withdrew with my disciples. The news shook my being. The timetable moved up. The Evil One, through those whom he controlled, was already at the door. Having disposed of John, I was his next target. If he could get us both off the scene, then all preaching about a coming kingdom of heaven would be silenced.

I felt it was too early. The message had not gone out to all the villages, the disciples were still so unprepared. Yet, I could not deny the evidence. Death had struck down the prophet who had prepared the way and soon it would cut me down in the vigor of my life.

We must move quicker. I formed the seventy-two and gave them the same powers and commission as the twelve. I sent them out two by two. For the first time, I began to sense that I would not get to visit all the towns of Israel before my death. I can only do the Father’s will, one day at a time.