The Story
I did not start as a villain.
I started as a man who wanted security. Rome offered silver. My people offered suspicion. And I chose what I could hold in my hand.
Every morning I sat at the booth. Cedar table. Ledger open. Coins stacked high in the sun. Fishermen passed with their catch. Farmers with grain. They paid because they had to.
And they hated me because I made them.
You grow used to the sound of coins. Sharp. Precise. Final. After a while the clink of silver begins to sound like certainty. But certainty is not peace.
There is a particular loneliness in being seen… and despised… at the same time.
I told myself I was practical. Someone has to do this work. Someone has to survive. But survival is not freedom.
Then one day the crowd shifted. Not loud. Not chaotic. Just… different. Whispers moved through the street like wind through dry grass. Dust rose slowly behind His steps. No guards. No soldiers. No silver.
He stopped at my table. No accusation. No sermon. Just a look that seemed to see straight through silver and cedar wood.
And then He spoke. Two words.
Two words that weighed more than every coin I had ever touched.
Scripture
As Jesus went on from there, he saw a man named Matthew sitting at the tax collector’s booth. “Follow me,” he told him, and Matthew got up and followed him. — Matthew 9:9
Lyrics
Coins rang sharp on cedar wood, silver stacked high
Yeah, coins rang sharp on cedar wood, silver stacked high
Dust on the roadside drifted, folks wouldn’t meet my eye
I sat behind that money table where the shadows fall
Yes, I sat behind that money table where the shadows fall
Every passing stranger kept his distance from my call
Silver stacked high…
Silver stacked high…
But it never bought me peace
Coins rang loud like judgment day beneath that noonday sun
Yeah, coins rang loud like judgment day beneath that noonday sun
Every clink upon that table said I was the chosen one
But the crowd kept whispering low as the sandals passed the booth
Yeah, the crowd kept whispering low as the sandals passed the booth
Dust rose up behind Him slow, steady as the truth
And the air grew still…
And the noise fell thin…
And the dust hung heavy in the light
He didn’t speak like the others, didn’t curse my name
No, He didn’t speak like the others, didn’t curse my name
Two words cut through the silence, simple and the same
Follow Me…
Follow Me…
The coins lay still beneath my hand
The road stretched wide across the land
Follow Me…
Silver stacked high on that old wood grain
Yeah, silver stacked high on that old wood grain
But something in His voice broke every chain
The crowd leaned close but no one spoke
The silence felt like thunder broke
Follow Me…
Follow Me…
Dust rose up beneath my feet, slow on that lonely way
Yeah, dust rose up beneath my feet, slow on that lonely way
Silver stayed behind me where it used to hold its sway
I rose from that old money table, left it where it stand
Yes, I rose from that old money table, left it where it stand
Two words still ringing steady like a promise in the sand
Follow Me…
Follow Me…
That road felt long and narrow
But my heart beat clear and free
Follow Me…
Follow Me…