Once upon a time there was a man.
Some called him an outlaw because he went from town to town stirring people up with the words he said. They spoke badly of the band of ruffians and fishermen he chose to run with. Folks didn't really know where he came from or what, if anything, he had done wrong. They just reckoned it was something bad, some mystery in his life that kept him moving from town to town and from village to village.
There were also the others; those who called him a poet and a preacher and maybe even a prophet. He did have power.
His voice could make waves stand still and calm angry crowds. And though he spoke in short stories related to everyday life -- agriculture, fishing, home life -- many people failed to understand what he was talking about. Still, folks came from miles around, traveling for hours on end and sitting in great outdoor crowds to hear him speak.
When he touched a man and allowed him to see for the first time in his life, or when he walked on the waves during a violent storm, or when he made wine from water, or when he fed a multitude with just a few loaves of bread and a few fish, some said he might be a sorcerer, a wizard, a man filled with magic and mystery.
He even spoke of being born twice and raised a friend of his from the grave.
Many who thought they may have something to gain from this man's popularity hoped he might be a politician as he stirred the souls of the masses gathering to hear him. But he spoke against their brand of corruption and he bowed to no human king or system. Those in power feared his popularity, strength and power.
So they killed him.
There were those who thought he was the son of God and that he was sent by his father to set mankind free from sin; that he was sent to usher in a new kingdom built on the principles he espoused.
That's what I believe.
He may have been a little bit outlaw and rebel, a little bit poet and prophet, and a little bit priest and politician.
He was a rebel with a cause.
He was the Savior.