Sacred Scrolls; Chapter 3

 

Sacred Scrolls; Chapter 3

© 2021 by Amber Wright

ROBBED OF SPIRIT

“Never mind who.” Eunice drew a deep breath and took her firmly by the shoulders. “Daughter, imagine the pain you feel multiplied a hundred.”

“Yes?” Junia sniffed, confused.

“That is God’s pain He feels for every sin we commit.”

Every sin? Junia felt her breath let out sharply. God must be hurting all the time. How many times had she hurt God in her entire lifetime? Too many to count, she made a silent groan as her mother continued.

“In God’s eyes, sin is all the same. Adultery, stealing, lying, killing, hate, pride, placing man before God. And when we love not our brother we are accounted as murderers, as Elder John tells us.”

Junia nodded. “But I hate how she wrecked her life and our friendship, Meh’tehr. And I hate the fellow who ruined everything!”

“Junia, what were we just talking about?”

“Sins, hate…”

“And so?”

Junia swallowed, feeling somehow lost inside. How had her secure wall of childhood caved in?

“We must never let hate abide in us, Junia.” Eunice told her gently. “Hate the sin but love the sinner.”

“But do I have to love the sin-maker too?”

“Well, the answer to that question is no because the only sin-maker is the devil. The sinners are those who fall into his traps.”

One less mystery to solve in this world. Junia always wondered how she was to love the doer of sin without loving the sinning. Now it made sense.

“If you should pass Andronika on the street, don’t turn your back on her. Maybe your love or my love—or one of the sisters’ love—will bring her back.”

“I know. I won’t shun her, and I don’t hate the fellow who ruined her either. Jesus did always say to love and to do good to all, whether they’re good or bad.” Junia found a thread of hope steal through her thought-weary mind. “As for Andronika herself—if Jesus forgave a harlot, I must too.”

“One day, I trust Andronika will forgive herself.”

“I thought God has to forgive her.” Junia stared at her mother blankly.

“He does. But first,” Eunice gave Junia a patient smile, “Andronika needs our prayers to find that forgiveness. Then when God forgives her, she must forgive herself to erase the scars from her heart. She cannot heal without doing so.”

“But why?”

“Someday you will know what I speak of.”

“I will? But I thought that bad things only happened to bad

people.”

“No, Junia, evil can happen to anyone if we are not careful to

walk in God’s strength—and in His strength alone. Always

remember, pray for His strength every day. Flesh will fail us but

God never does.”

Junia nodded, briefly cast her eyes heavenward, Please

Pah’tehr, give me Your strength. Help Andronika find Your

forgiveness. And may our uncertain tomorrows be filled with

sunshine. Thoughts of yesterday as a giggly young girl with her

friends now seemed so long ago.

Growing up, she had never thought of tomorrow—or

yesterday; she had only lived in the today. But now, everything

was changed. Her best friend was getting married and her other

friend had become a harlot. She alone was left—single. But her

heart was still in one whole piece by the grace of God, she

realized gratefully.

A few moments later, while mixing the batter for corn cakes,

a jarring thought came to her. Who was that young man whom I

gave directions to Deacon Demas’ house? How does he know him? And what were those strange words he said? Something about his mother being a harlot—and if that gave me any peace of mind to how he knew Deacon Demas. How odd. She stared into nowhere, mixing the cake batter with slow strokes. If only that handsome young man was a Christian. Perhaps she could travel one day as she had always wanted. That was, if he was a traveler.

Silly thoughts aside, Junia! She scolded herself; then, she set the table while her mother fried the corn cakes. Life is full of complexities. Lord, how are we ever going to live through them all? She heard a plate rattle on the edge of the table. She quickly grabbed it before it fell to the floor, a smile turning up the frowning corners of her mouth. I suppose that’s just it—we’re like plates balancing on the edge of decisions. Every good decision brings us back up on the table of safety, and every bad decision makes us tumble to the floor of despair. The very thought made her feel very grown up.

Junia finished setting the table with deep thoughts whirling inside her brain. For her, today had changed her life. It had made history—hers, written on the table of her heart, never to be forgotten. And today, she had found childhood had carried her silently into adulthood. Would change never end?

~

A week later, Junia still felt robbed of spirit. Judith had come that day to tell her all the details of her upcoming wedding while she had listened as cheerfully as possible.

But inside, she felt like a pool of gloom.

Even though she knew that God was in control and would make every trial a blessing, Junia still felt the pain of that moment. But she would face each day with resolve, she promised herself. She would move one foot at a time, pray, watch, believe and trust God. Still, both events had altered her strangely. Her heart was torn in two; one side of her was happy for Judith, and the other was sad for Andronika. How could life be so bittersweet?

Junia sat in the latticed courtyard adjoining their kitchen, her thoughts rotating between the present and the past. Wherever Andronika is, my Pah’tehr, please find her. She is so young—my age. She felt the hand-mill pause in her flour-sticky hands. When had the age of fifteen grown so young? Plenty of girls that age were married. But I suppose I feel younger than most because I’m the youngest of my family. It had been several years now since her brother and two sisters had married.

She thought back to the weddings. Each had been a joyful affair complete with a feast, the breaking of bread and beautiful music. Titus had been twenty, Mary had been seventeen and Rhoda had been sixteen. But of course, I will not compete with my siblings and marry at fifteen! The thought sent a horrified shiver through her. She was the youngest, not some oldest daughter in need of a husband to rid a poor family of.

A sudden squeal of a child outside snapped her out of her thoughts. She smiled. The noise reminded her of her pet nephew, curly-haired and black-eyed Paul. Rhoda’s father-in-law, Linus, had been Saint Paul’s friend and had therefore insisted his first grandson should be named in his honor.

Junia glanced down into her lap. Her basket now was full. The fresh and finely ground meal—together in one feathery heap—was ready to be mixed with oil, eggs and honey. Later, the tasty sweet bread would be eaten after their supper of lentils. The smell of the soup made her stomach growl.

“Ha—good thing Tiria is not here to hear it.” She caught her words midair. It was certainly a good thing her brother’s sister-in-law, Tiria, was not there just then. The girl would no doubt have given Junia a long lecture about not speaking to one’s self for it gave one a crazed appearance.

“Oh well,” Junia muttered, standing. “Who cares what perfect Tiria has to say? Now, to mix that cake.”

She set the basket of meal on the cooking table, filled her lungs with fresh air, wiped her floury hands onto her white dress and stretched high. Grinding meal always ground her nerves for it made her sit in such a tense position. Afterwards, she mixed the cake batter and poured it into the skillet; then, she wiped her sweaty face with the back of her hand. There would just be time for a short stroll in the cooling afternoon before the cake would be through with baking.

Junia opened the front door and smiled happily as the cool breeze blew onto her sweaty face, then stepped into the garden where a low clay wall separated their villa from the quiet street where children were playing.

“Hello, my dears.” Junia called to them softly, giving the littlest one a sweet smile.

The little boy waved his leather ball back as hello.

She let herself through the garden gate.

Junia pulled up her peachy red veil from her shoulders where it draped indoors and hoped she looked presentable for whomever she may happen to pass. All the children gave her a cheerful wave as she passed through them. The simple act of friendliness sent her spirits soaring. Children are like a good charm upon me, she thought. They’re little angels in disguise to cheer you up when you need them. Children are truly God’s gift to us for their love brightens the whole day— She felt the leather ball hit into the back of her robe. She turned.

There the children were, smiling and waving at her quite innocently. Junia kicked the ball back to them. God’s gift indeed! She sent the sky an exasperated glance. If we’re all like that, Pah’tehr, how do You ever manage to still love us all? Then she thought of Paul. He was a perfect terror at times and she still loved him terribly.

Her silly smile, which felt etched into her face, made everyone she passed eye her oddly. Some smiled back, even though they still wore a questioning look. In Lydia, a smiling person walking alone was indeed a rare sight. Most women wore sober frowns as to not catch any unwanted notice. Junia, however, did not hold to such gloomy traditions. After all, the Psalmist did say, This is the day that the Lord hath made; we will be glad and rejoice.

But once turning on a street where a few women were walking with baskets over their arms, her smile faded.

A Few Greek Words:

Fil'os: friend

Meh'tehr: mother

Pah'tehr: father

Adher'fi: sister

Adher'fos: brother