In a small house on the edge of the village, old Ben Chusa was excited as he greeted his wife at breakfast that morning. He couldn't wait to tell her about the mysterious dream he had had the night before.

He had been carefully gentling a beautiful white colt from his favorite jenny, leading it about, stroking it and talking to it, feeding it by hand, until the animal had become like a pet, though never yet ridden. Tomorrow he intended saddling up and taking the young colt over the winding trail up into Jerusalem and showing her off to some friends.

But that night he had a vision. It seemed a voice had spoken to him that he should delay his journey, that the foal was not to be ridden but that "the Lord has need of him." In his mind's eye, he seemed to see a long, long caravan of people, thousands and thousands of people in a huge crowd thronging the streets and running beside a plain-looking man who smiled and waved here and there, who seemed to be the center of attention.

The dream had been filled with sound and excitement. And, wonder of all wonders, just as the crowd seemed to shout the loudest, with people clapping their hands and crying aloud with joy, old Ben's watery eyes noticed that the man who was moving along the way, surrounded by so many people, was riding his newly gentled foal!

It seemed a voice had spoken to him; he couldn't remember. But somehow he felt that he should have the animal ready, that perhaps the person he had seen in the dream would come for him. Ben Chusa was happy.

He was a praying man, and he had heard this Jesus of Nazareth teach at least twice in the temple.

His wife laughed at his dream and said, "Go on, now, Ben Chusa, and don't deprive yourself of riding to the market today to show the new foal. You know how hard you have worked to prepare him and how long you have waited for this day."

But he was adamant. " What's a few more hours?" he asked. "If the Prophet comes and asks for him, as I saw in the dream, then I will know. If not, then there's time to go into the city tomorrow."

She clucked at him longer, chuckling about his dreams, thinking how he was growing older and more prone to believe in almost everything that happened or was said as having some special significance.

As for herself, she couldn't believe in such things as dreams and visions, not since the time when her own mother had seen a vivid dream that the Messiah would soon come, even in her lifetime, and He had not. She had died after a long and painful illness, still thinking a prophet could show up any day and heal her.

She finished their breakfast cleanup chores and began gathering old Chusa's clothes into a bag for washing. Today she would join the other women down along the flat rocks on Kidron, even though it meant a steep climb back up, for she didn't want to go all the way to the washing rocks by the wells in the city. Ben Chusa was muttering to the foal out by the shed and currying the animal again as she started to leave the door.

Just then two men rounded the final bend of the trail below them.

"Chusa!" she called out nervously, for strangers were a rarity up this trail that led to their own house and three others of their closest neighbors.

Their shed, like several others, formed a wall along the street. There was a door opening onto the street. The neighbors' sheds adjoined, and the wall was like a solid, white structure broken only by the doors which opened into each neighbor's shed and the animal yards beyond.

Her husband looked up then and, seeing the men approaching, led the foal to the trail outside and tied him at the door.

Whatever was he doing? she pondered. Sometimes pilgrims coming to Jerusalem for the Passover would come this way, though it was further around than the main trail below, for they wished provender for their animals, or there was food to be purchased from the small village or a spare room to rent. But lately there had been reports of thieves. Some of them were brazen enough to move about the countryside in small gangs, keeping the Romans busy. It was said an entire force under a centurion was scouring the nearby hills for Barabbas and his gang right this minute, and that they might have him any time. She was nervous about Ben Chusa leaving the foal outside like that.

A couple of the neighbors were looking quizzically at the men too.

The first was a stocky, brown-bearded fellow who carried a Roman short sword around his waist. He was powerfully built, with brawny shoulders, huge hands and well-developed calves exposed to the sun beneath the outer skirt he wore that stopped just above the knees.

The two men, spying the foal, strode directly to him and began untying the knot.

"Hey! You men there!" said one of the neighbors, running over. "What do you think you're doing with that foal?"

Two others trotted over, and old Ben Chusa walked out the gate and up the trail to the door of his shed where they were gathered.

He got there just in time to hear the big brown-bearded man say, "The Lord has need of him."

Ben Chusa interrupted, saying, "You're, you're with . . . "

Peter smiled at him and, finishing untying the knot, repeated his statement. Ben Chusa lifted a hand to stay his neighbor, saying, "Of course, of course, take him, and welcome."

"Chusa!" his wife called out, you're—you're not going to just stand there and let those strangers steal your prize foal . . . "

"Hush, woman, remember the dream?" he said.

"Go ahead, go ahead," he told Peter and Luke, looking intently at them, eyes dropping to Peter's sword and Luke's writer's inkhorn and papers at his side. "I knew you'd come—I had a dream."

The old eyes were watery, and his hand trembled a little as he reached out to stroke the young foal and reassure the animal as it shied from Peter's hand.

"Here, you'll want this. He's partial to it," said Ben Chusa, handing Peter some fresh roots he had brought to feed the foal. "I have gentled him with hand feeding and special care. Intended to ride him into the markets today and show him off to my friends, but now . . ."

The voice trailed away as Peter smiled, accepted the roots with a rumbling thank-you, and, signaling to his companion, began leading the young animal away back down the steeply winding path.

Ben Chusa watched them out of sight and, seeing his wife still shielding her eyes against the morning glare, looking from the departing men and the foal to her husband, he hurried to her and said, "Well, woman, go on, go on, lay out my best robe and let's get cleaned up and ready to go to the gate. Didn't I tell you this would happen? Didn't I tell you?"

You're only an old fool who has just watched two thieves walk away with your prize foal, that's all," she said sarcastically. "And furthermore . . ."

"Shut up, woman," he said, voice rising and a bright, happy look coming into his eyes, "and get in there and draw me a bath from the water cistern like I told you. I'm going to the gate because there's going to be a parade, just as sure as my dream, and you'll see the Lord Himself riding into Jerusalem today, riding into glory, and on the back of my very own foal! Go on, go on . . ."

Stunned by the force of his own voice and not a little moved by the intensity and almost youthful exuberance of his passion, his wife, flustered at his newfound energy, ducked into their little house and rushed to the fire now nearly dead on the hearth, quickly seizing the bellows to bring it back to life for the warming of the water.

Maybe—just maybe—there was something to old Ben Chusa's dream after all.

Peter and Luke talked animatedly about the exciting developments.

"This is it, Luke—I know it!" Peter said.

" Seems to be, all right. If He intends entering the city so publicly, I know it will draw huge crowds."

"And you know as well as I do that many of the disciples will be running to tell special friends already, for we have had the full group with us for some time now."

"That's true," Luke admitted.

" What do you think? Will He go first to the temple or directly to Herod's house? Or would He go first to Pontius Pilate's residence, or would He think to assemble the Sanhedrin and throw them down from office?"

"Somehow He would almost have to do all of that at once!'' Luke said, chewing on his lip. "But my guess is the temple."

Peter fell silent, striding along, leading the beautiful white foal, thinking back along the thousands of hours, the days, months and years. At last.

How many times had he been bitterly disappointed? How many times had doubts about Jesus ever setting up His fabulous kingdom assailed his mind, made him wonder if Jesus was truly who He said He was, the very Son of God?

So many times he had angrily fought down his protests when it seemed the Lord had passed up golden opportunities, like that time up in the heights above the Sea of Galilee when five thousand people would have hoisted Him to their shoulders and begun a triumphal march on the capital.

Now that the two teams of thirty-five each had spread the word through dozens of towns and cities, and some of them had even gone into Jerusalem and its suburbs ahead of them, Peter expected the day had really arrived.

Jesus was talking to some of the traveling teams when they brought the foal up to Him along the olive groves on the Mount of Olives.

There was no saddle that would fit the animal, and so they took their outer cloaks and garments and made a several-layered, comfortable, makeshift saddle for Him.

They began.

Peter positively danced with joy—skipping along and thinking the strangest thoughts, like the way David leapt and danced before the Ark of the Covenant when he had it brought back from Kirjathjearim from the Philistines. When people would ask, " What's happening? What's going on?" he would joyously say, "Jesus of Nazareth, our King, is going to Jerusalem today!"

People were sticking their heads out of the windows of the houses clustered along Kidron, and neighbors were calling to one another. Crowds began to gather.

Peter saw many running along the higher road by the corner of the wall of the city and calling out to those along the way.

A swelling sound began as the crowds thickened, and then Peter saw that one man had climbed a palm tree and thrown down some green fronds, hacking away at them with a sharp field hand's knife. The men below grabbed them up and, waving them in the air, ran to Jesus' foal and carefully placed them down before Him.

Others, inspired by this display, began taking off their outer garments and spreading them before the foal.

It became like an exciting, breathless game to see if they could prevent a single hoof of the animal from stepping on the stones of the road, grabbing up the fronds and clothing as it passed and passing them along to those in front and laying them down again.

Someone shouted, "Hosanna!". and Peter was startled to find it was his own voice! "Blessed be our King!" shouted another of the disciples. Soon all the disciples were roaring out a marching chant, saying, "Peace in heaven! Glory in the highest!" and "Blessed be the King that comes in the name of the Lord!"

The crowds took up the chant until it thundered and roared, echoed and re-echoed against the walls of the city and up and down Kidron. The crowd had grown to more than three or four thousand by now, and they weren't even to the gate yet!

And here came the first obstacle. Peter and Luke ran forward to help clear the path and found some of the leading Pharisees standing squarely in the middle of the road. Rather than bodily remove them, they stood by, wondering what Jesus' reaction would be.

As the foal plodded along, the people busily laying down their garments and the palm fronds, the leader stepped aside, and, as Jesus drew near, he challenged, "Rabbi, rebuke Your disciples!"

"Yes, rebuke them," said his cohort. "They are blaspheming and causing a tumult here that is not allowed! "

"I tell you," answered Jesus in a loud voice, "If these should hold their peace, the very stones here would cry out!"

"Hosanna!" the shouting continued, pealing across the valley of the Kidron and splitting the clear morning air with a growing thunder as Jesus continued along the curving roadway, climbing ever higher toward the main city gate.

The Pharisee, muttering dark threats and saying, "We'll see about this!" scurried along the roadway, struggling to break through the crowds and gain the city gate ahead of Jesus. He failed, however, for the people were too densely packed and too excited to pay any attention to him.

Ben Chusa and his wife had perched atop a stone wall along the way, bordering a small orchard of a neighbor who lived on the main road. As the noise and shouting began, he kept standing up, almost losing his footing, to see the better. Soon his faded vision saw men and women, children among them, running along, leaping, dancing, pirouetting in the pathways and waving palm fronds—hundreds of fronds, olive branches and other greenery—the people shouting and crowding the streets to see.

And here came the procession, orderly ranks of at least fifty men all joyously shouting "Hosanna!" and "Praise God! Blessed be our KING! " The men just behind were busily laying down garments, and even palm fronds, making a soft pathway for—for his own foal!

"Look!" he exulted, pointing a crooked finger. "Look!" His wife stared in incredulity.

"My dream! My dream!" said Ben Chusa. "It was real, it was true!"

"Hosanna!" the crowd shouted. "Blessed be the King that comes in the name of the Lord!" "Shalom! Peace!" cried those crowded near the wall beneath Ben Chusa and his wife. And then even his wife took up the cries, wringing her hands in her apron, and tears running down her cheeks. "Praise God!" and "Blessed be our King!" she said.

As the procession drew loudly abreast of Ben Chusa's perch, he thought he looked straight into the face of the plain-looking Man who sat on his favorite foal, thought he saw the lips form a silent "thank you" and saw a meaningful nod before his view was again blotted out by hundreds of waving palm fronds and olive branches.

Ben Chusa was so happy he thought his heart would quit. To think of it, the promised Messiah was here, this Jesus of Nazareth really was that Prophet who would come. He had seen Him and this crowd in his dream, and there was his own foal that he had so carefully and lovingly gentled and trained, never yet daring to ride until the big day—today! But it was not for him to ride, but his very King! He was overawed.

"Hosanna!" the crowd was shouting as the sounds gradually diminished with the passing of thousands of shuffling feet. And beside the foal Ben Chusa saw the two men who had come for the animal, the stocky, brown-bearded one walking along with his Roman short sword slapping his large thighs, shouting aloud along with the others and skipping and leaping now and then, shaking hands, patting people on the shoulders and with a big grin splitting his weathered face.

Rounding the corner high up near the wall, Peter noticed Jesus pull up and stop. The shouting nearest Him died down, with the disciples wondering why He had stopped. Gradually the front ranks kept saying "Quiet!" and "Shush! " to those behind until the crowds fell silent.

Jesus was looking at the city, and tears were now coursing down His cheeks. Peter's heart leapt—what?

"If you had only known, even you, at least in this, your day, the things that pertain to the peace that could be yours! But now they are hidden from your eyes!" Jesus said, voice breaking now and then.

"For the days shall come upon you," He said, voice pealing out so that thousands could hear, "that your enemies shall cast a trench about you and surround you on every side, and shall lay you even with the ground, and your children with you, and they shall not leave in you one stone atop another, because you did not know the time of your visitation!"

Peter's mind recalled another time when Jesus had wept over the city, and his racing mind thought that perhaps the Lord was speaking of yet future wars. Surely He wasn't talking of this next generation? Was He not even now about to enter the city and take over the government to prevent the very calamities He now predicted? Peter's head was swimming.

The march began again and immediately the shouting was taken up, and the tumult became even louder as the thousands swelled to more thousands, and the whole city stirred.

At length they reached the temple gates, and, entering the massive courtyard, Jesus stopped, handed the reins of the nose halter He used to James and got down from the foal, giving instructions to another disciple, who turned and began leading the animal back into the street, no doubt heading for old Ben Chusa's house.

Jesus then strode purposefully toward the massive building with His disciples, all of them now, flanking Him on every side. Peter cried, "Make way there! " and helped to part a pathway through the chanting, shouting people.

Entering the temple, Jesus immediately fixed a stern, angry look on the nearest of the money changers' tables.

Striding to the nearest table, He grasped the front of it and turned it over, complete with coins, metal bars, turtle dove cages and even some piles of clothing that had been traded. The wizened little money changer who had been hunched over his trays like a miserly little clerk let out a squawk of fright and fell over his stool trying to get out of the way, ending up sprawled headlong among rolling coins and fluttering doves that were shedding feathers in their frantic attempt to break free from their cages.

"My house is the house of prayer," He said loudly, "and you have made it into a den of thieves!"

With a shout of accord, the other disciples joined in. Peter grabbed the next table and began making mayhem of the money changers' tables and driving the animals out. The crowd soon joyously followed suit until there was not an animal, nor a dove's cage, nor a single money changer's table remaining in the temple.

Peter wondered if all of them had successfully retrieved all their money, but he frankly didn't care. They were cheats and crooks anyway. The thought about what Judas had been doing while he was helping throw down the money changers' tables went fleetingly through his mind, but Jesus was now mounting a dais in the main room and was being seated for a teaching session, and so Peter sent for John, James and some of the others and strode swiftly to His side.

That teaching session was tumultuously successful. Jesus spoke with real power and authority, and the people nodded and said, "That's true!" The Pharisees, chief priests and elders continually sought to find some argument against Him, with Jesus silencing them every time.

Jesus was a growing puzzle to Peter for the next few days as the Passover grew nearer. Instead of following up on the massive demonstration when He entered the city and marching on Herod's palace or even deposing the Sanhedrin, He seemed content to engage in almost endless confrontations in the temple.

Peter struggled with himself to be patient, knowing Jesus' plan was right.