Sacred Scrolls; Chapter 19

 

Sacred Scrolls; Chapter 19

© 2021 by Amber Wright

FROM WEAKNESS, STRENGTH

Junia felt her breath return as she dared to look up at the captain. He had called her by name. He knew her and yet who was he? Her stare fixed upon him, her mind whirling, heartbeat racing. “Who are you?”

“It’s me, the Captain. Don‘t be afraid.”

She gulped down her fear, her voice cracking. “And yes, I came. I was dragged here! Your men did that, in case you didn’t know.”

“I’m sorry.” His words were spoken contritely.

“Who are you—and what is your name?”

“Demetrius.” He pushed back his hood, firelight falling onto his face of bold, handsome features.

Junia gasped as she recognized him. There he stood before her with the same large, expressive dark eyes and chopped, dark hair curling out from under his brown hood. No, it can’t be. Not him, please God, not a Robber Captain! But he had spoken his name. She felt so faint.

“Demetrius, it’s not you.” Junia whispered, not trusting her voice just then. “I’m dreaming. I am,” she closed her eyes and rubbed her temples that were growing number by the seconds.

“Junia, there’s no time for this.” Demetrius grabbed her sleeve and dragged her towards the direction of the moaning girl who lay on a pallet in a small tunnel off the main cavern. “You’ve got to help this girl. She’s doing bad. I believe she needs a midwife.”

Surprised, Junia followed Demetrius. So this was her mission the captain wanted her to do. She was to deliver this girl’s baby. As they came closer to the girl on the pallet, Junia noticed a young man tending to her and wiping the girl’s sweaty-looking face with a rag.

“Marcus there,” Demetrius pointed to the young man kneeling on the floor, “fished that girl out of the river. The girl was either trying to commit suicide or had lost her mind. Or both.”

A crazy girl? God, help me! Junia swallowed, her mind trying to take it all in but still not figuring most of it out. “Who is she?”

Demetrius paused before looking down at her. “A harlot but she’s in bad shape.”

Junia stared at Demetrius, unable to control her emotions that piled up inside her from all directions. “Is that why you scared me—practically to death by capturing me—just to deliver a baby of a harlot’s! How could you? Demetrius!”

“Understand, Junia, I—”

“No!”

Tears began to slip down Junia’s cheeks—angry tears, fearful tears, disappointed tears—as she stood there like an iron spear welded into the ground, unflinching. She would not deliver his baby.

“Junia!” Demetrius stared down at her defiant repose with shocked eyes. “She’s a human being. She needs your help. Please?”

“Why did you get me though?” Junia asked between a hiccup of controlling her tears. “Why? You could’ve gotten anybody to do this task.”

“I wanted you to do this,” Demetrius toned his voice down, “because I know you. I trust you for this task, more than anybody else.”

Junia felt her a torrent of emotions erupting inside her. She had to know. So she inhaled a breath, “Is this your baby, Demetrius?”

Demetrius stepped back as if she had slapped him. “No, of course not! Why would I be asking you if…”

“Then whose baby is it?” Relief washed over Junia and she scolded herself for her stupidity. Demetrius is still the Robber Captain, Junia! Don’t get carried away with silly sentiments when…

“A friend of mine,” Demetrius’ voice broke her thoughts, “who helped me before. It’s my turn to help him now.”

Junia hoped she was capable to do this task. Silently, she said a quick prayer for strength and guidance. A human life was in her hands. Could she succeed? She would succeed, with God’s divine help.

“Please?” Demetrius’ eyes begged as Time filled the air.

Junia could list the reasons why she could refuse to help the harlot, but then she remembered her mother’s words: In God’s eyes sin is all the same. God could certainly list the reasons why He could refuse to help her. “Please then, Demetrius, could you put a blanket up here for a partition? One torch inside. Heat up some water. I’ll need a clean knife. Bring me some towels and rags. Thank you.”

Demetrius walked off and Junia entered the tunnel to where the moaning girl lay. God, please help me. I have no experience, no training for this task—nothing but the guiding of Your hands in mine. Please…help me help this poor girl. She reached the pallet, turning to the young man. “I can handle this alone, if you please. Thank you, Marcus.”

Marcus stood, rag still in hand. “Yes. She’s doing very badly.”

“Yes—yes, I know. Now go and help with the wall, water, knife, rags, towels. That torch right here, please.” She indicated the spot to the young man coming up with a large, flaming torch.

The blanket partition was soon put up, covering the opening of the small tunnel. Junia sighed in relief as a large pot of hot water sat nearby along with the piles of towels and rags. The clean knife lay on top. She bent over to inspect her patient and gave a sharp cry when she looked into the pain-twisted face of the girl.

“Andronika!” Junia brushed back the girl’s dark, ratted, damp hair from her pasty pale face and dark-circled eyes.

Andronika’s eyes came open slowly, weakly. “Junia, you have come to me. I will not die alone. My lungs, my stomach, my—oh, it hurts. Ah-h!” The girl broke forth into another loud howl.

“You will not die, Andronika!” Junia nearly shouted into her friend's ear to be heard. “You’re only having your baby. Your baby will soon be here, don’t worry. You will live. Live, Andronika, and not die.”

“No. Oh God, no, please! I want to die together, me and my child.”

“God wants you to live. He did not let you die.”

Andronika clenched her teeth, tears sprouting down her cheeks, eyes puffy and red. She suddenly leaned over her pallet and let out a stream of vomit. Junia stepped aside with a horrified gulp, hoping that the smell would soon disappear. She inwardly held her breath as the smell of vomit reeked the small, closed space. This was her first encounter with the doctoring process…and she did not enjoy it one bit. She only endured it, waft by smelly waft of air.

“Live—to the glory of God.” Junia wiped her friend’s vomit-drenched chin. “God has a purpose for you. A purpose for you.”

“He does?” Andronika sniffed out with a croak. “But I'm a harlot. A sinner. Unclean!”

“Jesus cleansed the unclean when He walked the earth.” Junia looked straight into the girl's face. “And He will cleanse you if you will let Him. He wants to, Andronika.”

“How do you know?” Andronika stared up at her blankly. “Junia?”

“I can’t explain. I just know.” Junia picked up another rag, solemn. Her mission had only begun. Ahead lay the results, for the good or for the bad.

Junia gently washed Andronika’s sweaty face again and tried to put the girl’s insistent groans out of her mind while she centered on her work. Meanwhile, Andronika bore the pain bravely but God had wanted her to feel the pain for her disobedience. And God also wanted her to feel His power to take control, as now. This was His way of saying that out of weakness comes strength. Out of pain comes life.

~

Andronika watched Junia scrub her newborn girl squalling so pitifully. On the pallet, she lay quietly in awe as she realized she was not dead and that God must really have a plan for her. He had brought her through the pain and delivery smoothly. He had led her through the Valley of Death, holding her hand…as He had promised.

“My baby.” Andronika wiped away her last droplets of tears, dazedly. Pain was not too much to bear when reward was its results. She had survived. She had brought forth her firstborn child.

“Yes, you can have your baby now.” Junia smiled down at her as she handed her the linen-towel-clad baby. “You’ve had a baby girl.”

“Andronika.” The name slipped from her lips as Andronika gazed down at the small, crying bundle in her arms. “Little Andronika.”

“So, you’ve named her Andronika?” Junia asked her.

Andronika smiled with a nod. “It will be Andronika,” she added as if to herself, “and this Andronika will make no mistakes. No, you will not, Andronika—with the help of God.”

~

“Complete success.” Junia pulled back the blanket-wall and called to Demetrius who was pacing the floor several yards away. “All is well, both mother and child.”

She let out her breath, relieved; then, she stepped past the blanket, relaxing the stiff muscles in her shoulders. Her first delivery had been a success. God had answered her prayer and had guided her hands.

“Thank you, Junia,” Demetrius briskly patted her shoulder twice, “for helping me help my friend.”

“I would’ve done it anyway, given the chance.” Junia smiled tiredly, exhaustion pouring into her now that her job was done.

“You did a good job.” Demetrius sounded melancholy. “My trust in you was not in vain.” He blinked, words haltingly. “I’m afraid your trust in me…was in vain. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—be a failure.”

Junia shot him a worried glance. “Demetrius?”

A sniff. “Yes, Junia?”

“I still trust you.” The words sounded small in her own ears but she meant them, every word. “It’s just that…you don’t trust yourself in what God can do with you. Trust God, Demetrius. Remember that Peter—who had the keys to the Kingdom—denied Jesus three times.”

She saw Demetrius frown so she added, “There’s still hope for you.”

“No!” Demetrius put out a hand as if to stop her words, shaking his head. “I thank you for your kind words, Junia—but I am everything and more of what they accused me of. I don’t deserve your trust. Not me. I have shed innocent blood!”

A Few Greek Words:

Fil'os: friend

Meh'tehr: mother

Pah'tehr: father

Adher'fi: sister

Adher'fos: brother