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I took off on my own. Though I couldn’t admit to myself that I was looking for the group, I did end up taking the most direct route I could find to the one place they were most likely to be—the temple.
    By the time I arrived on the temple steps, the crowd was incredible. I inched my way along through the outer court where people were lined up to exchange their unsanctified Roman currency for the approved, holy temple currency they could then use to purchase the sacrifices they would offer in accordance with the law of Moses. Everyone knew that the exchange rates being offered by the money changers and the prices being charged for the “approved” sacrifice animals and birds were outright theft. But it was the way things were.
    I tried to use my height to survey the sea of faces surrounding me, but any hope of finding Jesus in that mass of humanity was absurd. He had invited me to join him. I had refused. There was nothing I could do about it. As I stood there in the middle of the temple courtyard, with people pushing and bumping up against me from every direction, I felt lonely. I just wanted to get out of there as quickly as I could.
    I couldn’t have traveled more than a few feet when it happened. Suddenly the table of the money changer nearest me went flying up on end and then came crashing down on its side, sending a shower of coins in every direction. At first I thought a sacrifice bull must have broken loose. Then a second table went over, and a third, and a fourth, each time sending more coins flying and hundreds of men and women scurrying around on their hands and knees, clutching at the tiny rolling treasures.
    Then I saw him standing there, a small whip in his right hand, his left hand clenched and raised above his head, an expression of controlled rage on his face. When the others around me also saw him and realized he was the cause of all the commotion, a silence filled the courtyard as people turned and stared in stunned disbelief at this stranger.
    When he knew his voice could be heard, he looked first at the enraged band of money changers and then at the sacrifice sellers and commanded, “Take these things away; stop making my Father’s house a house of merchandise.”
    The authority and intensity with which he spoke made it clear his request was not open to discussion. For a few seconds no one moved. Then Jesus brought his whip down hard on the table nearest him, splintering the wood and sending the money merchants scrambling for cover. Jesus then turned to the animal stalls, smashing cages and corrals, setting hundreds of birds free and sending bulls, sheep, and oxen charging in every direction. Some people cheered. Others ran. Still others just stood in amazed disbelief. The entire temple courtyard was in total chaos for nearly half an hour. No one dared challenge the Master—not with that whip in his hand.
    When things finally settled down a bit and Jesus made it clear he had no intention of allowing business as usual to resume for the rest of the day, a group of six or seven distinguished-looking temple officials approached Jesus and demanded that he provide them with some sign, some evidence of his authority to do what he was doing.
    His response came without hesitation. He drove his clenched fist into his chest and said, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.”
    At the time I remember thinking how unfortunate his response to those men had been. It seemed to simply confirm what they already believed, that an overstressed pilgrim had gone over the edge and run amuck. The whole group laughed in his face, and one of them responded by saying, “It took forty-six years to build this temple, and will you raise it up in three days?” It was not until after the resurrection that I recalled his statement that day and understood he had been talking about the only true temple in existence at the time he spoke, the one temple that literally