Nicaea - The Rise of the Imperial Church. William Speir

because he is the image and likeness of spirit, then no earthly condition can have any effect on man as God’s creation, can he?”

      “I guess not,” Andrew replied slowly.

      “Man – man’s true being – is the image and likeness of God. That’s what the scriptures tell us. No matter what the situation appears to be, it doesn’t change the true nature of man. Jesus didn’t heal by accepting the situation and then trying to change it; he healed by never acknowledging or accepting the situation in the first place. He saw man as God sees man – perfect, indestructible, and spiritual – the image and likeness of God. And once Jesus had that perfect view of man clearly in his thoughts, all that remained was to have the patient see himself in the same way. The healing takes place in thought, and its manifestation in the body follows.”

      “So all healing takes place in our thinking?” Andrew asked.

      “Yes!” Arias replied. “Once you’ve cast out all thoughts about the patient other than his absolute perfection as a spiritual child of God, you can heal the patient by having the patient see themselves as you see them – as God sees them. You’re not trying to change the body as a result of a disease or accident; you’re seeing that no disease or accident can have any effect on a child of God. If God can’t experience it, then neither can man. That’s the standpoint for all healings.”

      “Can you heal an enemy?” Andrew asked.

      “Of course, as soon as you stop seeing him as an enemy. If he’s a child of God and everything God made is good, can he also be an enemy?”

      “No,” Andrew replied. Then he asked, “Is that how you’re able to remain so calm when Alexander attacks you and your beliefs?”

      “Yes. I never stop seeing him as a beloved child of God. If I ever saw him as anything else, then I’d be the one needing healing because I’d be in error.”

      “What about raising the dead?” Andrew asked.

      “It’s the same thing,” Arias replied. “Think of Lazarus. His family and friends thought that he had been dead for days, and yet Jesus raised him from the dead. Jesus told his followers that Lazarus was sleeping and that he was going to wake him up. Jesus never saw Lazarus as a dead man that needed to be restored to life; he saw Lazarus as a child of God over whom death had no power. Jesus came to earth to show us how to overcome death, to prove that it is powerless, and to prove that life is eternal. He raised the dead, and he raised himself from the dead. What greater proof is there that man is indestructible in God’s kingdom? As long as we see that, as long as we understand that, then no earthly condition can have power over us or over anyone else. This is the truth that heals every ill, accident, or situation.”

      “It sounds too easy,” Andrew noted.

      “I know,” Arias said. “It may sound easy, but it requires great discipline. Some aren’t able, or are simply unwilling, to be that disciplined. That’s why so many of the churches have abandoned their healing missions and why they now attack those of us who still practice healing as our Master taught us.”

      The two men continued walking back to the church in silence. As they passed by the marketplace in the center of town, Arias thought back to what he had just taught Andrew. Why is it that the Patriarchs don’t appreciate the simplicity of healing through the power of God as our Master taught us? Why is it that they no longer believe healing is possible, that the healing works of The Way were only practiced by Jesus and the Apostles? Jesus said: “He that believeth on me, the works that I do shall he do also; and greater works than these shall he do; because I go unto my Father.” Why can’t the Patriarchs and their bishops acknowledge this? I hope Hosius can give me guidance. If the churches turn their back on our healing mission, then what remains of true faith and our duty to our Master? What will we become without the words and works of our Master as the cornerstone of our religion?

      Athanasius woke early the next morning, feeling excited about the journey ahead. Unable to sleep any longer, he rose quietly and dressed, trying not to wake Sebastian and Titurius, who were asleep in the same room. Athanasius made sure that all his belongings were in his bag, and then he left the room.

      As he closed the door behind him, he saw lights coming from underneath Hosius’ door. He walked across the hall and knocked softly in case Hosius was still asleep.

      “Come in,” he heard Hosius shout.

      Athanasius opened the door and stepped inside. “I hope I’m not disturbing you. I saw light under your door and wanted to see if you needed anything.”

      Hosius smiled. “Just your company, Athanasius,” he said, gesturing for the young man to sit beside him at the table in the center of the room. Hosius filled an empty cup with water from a small flagon in the center of the table and placed it in front of Athanasius. Then he pushed a dish of fruit and dried venison closer to the young priest.

      “You’d better eat something. We’ll be heading for the harbor within the hour.”

      Just as Hosius said that, Athanasius heard banging on the doors in the hallway. “Everyone wake up,” the voice of the Imperial Guard Lucius Artorius Gemellus shouted. “We leave in half an hour. Anyone not ready will be left behind.”

      There was a knock on Hosius’ door, and Lucius walked in before Hosius could respond. “Oh, good. You’re up,” the Imperial Guard said. “You can’t be left behind.”

      “I’ll be ready to leave when you need me to be,” Hosius stated pleasantly.

      “I’ll come fetch you when it’s time,” Lucius said, closing the door. Athanasius heard the Guard’s footsteps heading back toward the common room.

      “Isn’t that nice of him?” Hosius asked blandly after Lucius had left.

      Athanasius laughed. “He’s just doing his job.”

      “I know,” Hosius admitted. “This isn’t my first imperial summons, although I admit that Constantine has never before sent so many guards to make sure that I obeyed.”

      A moment later, Sebastian and Titurius entered the room to finish packing Hosius’ traveling chests. Once the chests were packed, they carried them to the common room for the guards to load onto the ox-carts waiting outside.

      When Lucius returned, the Imperial Guard escorted Hosius through the inn to the ox-carts, followed by Athanasius, Sebastian, and Titurius. They climbed into the carts, and soon the caravan of ox-carts headed down the narrow street to the harbor.

      Even though it was more than an hour until sunrise, the air was already warm and humid. Athanasius gripped the cart railings tightly as the carts bumped and swayed. The wheels of the ox-carts rattled down the brick-paved street, and the buildings on either side of the street echoed and amplified the sound. It’s a wonder everyone in the city isn’t awake already from the racket.

      The two warships that Athanasius had passed the day before were illuminated with torchlight. The sailors, wearing the uniforms of the Imperial Navy, quickly unloaded the ox-carts and escorted the passengers to their compartments. Hosius was given one of the cabins reserved for high-ranking officials, but Athanasius’s compartment, one deck below Hosius’, was barely larger than the ones provided to him on his journey from Alexandria.

      Athanasius placed his bag on the cot and returned to the deck. He had seen sailors operate merchant galleys before, but he’d never seen sailors of the Imperial Navy in action.

      Light on the eastern horizon was just beginning to appear as the warships rowed out of the harbor and turned southeast. The sky looked like fire burning in the distance, which grew as the sun climbed higher. Athanasius chewed on a piece of dried boar meat as the galley cut through the water like a knife. No merchant ship I’ve ever been on sails this smoothly.

      According to the captain of the warship, it would take 20 days to reach Byzantium. The galleys would be making several stops along the way for supplies: Barcino in eastern Hispania, Arelate in Gaul, Rome, and Thessalonika in Greece.