Timothy sucked the stylus. ‘So, when do you think it will come, this Day of Jesus Christ?’
I sighed. ‘I used to think – before I was arrested, before I got shipped to Rome. Now? Seriously? I have no idea.
Nor have I any idea how we all got it so wrong.’
I had tried to find out from those who actually heard Jesus just what he had said. The trouble was all I was getting back was a sense of urgency and a great deal of contradictory sayings. It was so real to them all, this Day of the Christ. Well, it was so real to all of us, who had been expecting it years before we ever heard of Jesus. And he had been the Christ. No doubts. So he had to have his day, of which he spoke with such urgency. And we had not yet had it. As far as I could make out, that was all we could really say.
But it would come, it would come. And somehow we had to keep up the urgency. We had to live, really live, in these inbetween times. I had to live this imprisonment. They had to live live too. I sighed again. I had lost the thread. I dragged my thoughts back into Greek, and set off into another sentence.