Sacred Scrolls; Chapter 37

 

Sacred Scrolls; Chapter 37

© 2021 by Amber Wright

BROKEN CHAINS

“How?” The prison guard Maximus raised his eyebrows in scorn. “How can you love a God Who has let you be imprisoned?”

“I am not bound.” The old man called John smiled at him, a faraway look settling across his face. “I have been free for 65 years now. Since the Master called me. Since He took away my sins. When He freed me.”

Maximus stared at him. “Have you gone mad, old man?”

“Maybe if you took a look into your heart,” Prisoner John’s smile turned into a concerned frown, “then you would understand.”

“Into my heart?”

“Yes, and what do you see and feel?”

Imprisoned, Maximus made his silent reply.

“Are you truly free, my Fil’os?”

“Why do you call me your friend?” Maximus barked out, feeling unsettled, “You are a Jew, my prisoner. I am a Roman, your enemy, your guard.”

“Yes, I am a Jew and a prisoner,” Prisoner John nodded, “and you are a Roman, yes. But the only enemies of a child of God are powers of darkness, unrighteousness, unbelief and sin.”

“Gather your things,” Maximus snapped. “You leave for Patmos on the afternoon boat.”

“Don’t forget, my Fil’os.” Prisoner John laid a hand on his shoulder as he passed him. “Jesus can set you free. He died for your sins and He is waiting—for you.”

Maximus shot his eyes in a different direction as Prisoner John was led away by a column of soldiers. He did not need to be reminded that he was not free.

“Maximus!” His commander was shouting at him.

Maximus saluted.

“You’ve been transferred.”

“Where?” Maximus tried to hide his scowl. Being a soldier in Rome—even only as a prison guard—had been his childhood dream.

“Ephesus.”

Maximus felt his shoulders sag. Ephesus, land where the unruly Lydians lurked in the nearby mountains. Anticipation! he silently growled. Being free seemed further away than ever. Perhaps he should die. But then, he would never know how close he had come to achieving his dreams. Let tomorrow come. Maybe he was in for a surprise. But will it be an evil surprise? his dark thoughts stormed within.

~

I will lift up mine eyes into the hills from whence cometh my help, Lucius thought as his eyes swept over the treetops to the Lydian mountains on the horizon. My help comes from the Lord, Who made heaven and earth. This morning, they had docked in the Smyrna harbor and now they were entering the forest to find the others who were still alive. Packed with food and blankets, their loads were heavy but they pushed onward.

An hour later, deep into the dark forest, Eli's eyes seemed to fill half of his face. “Is it always this d-dark here?”

Lucius realized there was only a few strands of evening light filtering through the tree branches. “I’m afraid so, Eli.”

“But I’m n-not scared,” Eli noisily gulped, stepping closer to Julia and tugging her sleeve. “Are you s-scared, Julia?”

“A little.” Julia took the little boy’s hand in hers, smiling down at him. “I’ve rarely been anywhere but Rome. New places often frighten me.”

Lucius had not even thought of being afraid of leaving Lydia. But then, he stared straight ahead, I had Elder John on my mind. My fear was behind me, where I had come from, what had happened… His mother’s pain-twisted face. Her last words. He found himself gasping for air and felt a little hand slip into his. Eli’s. His breath returned but the ache in his chest remained. “Sometimes returning to an old place can be worse than arriving at a new place.”

“Yesterday has passed,” Julia told him gently but firmly, “and a new day awaits us, just like John said.”

“Yes, a new day awaits us.” Lucius noticed that the evening sun had slipped beyond the horizon of the trees and clouds were gathering in the skies. “We must find shelter. A storm arrives within the hour.”

Eli clung to his hand and Julia’s hand, his eyes growing larger with fear.

“Don’t be afraid, Eli.” Lucius smiled down at him. “You’re safe as long as you’re with me.”

Eli nodded, then blew out his breath, looking less frightened.

Lucius' own words echoed into his ears, You’re safe as long as you’re with Me. He was safe as long as he was with his heavenly Father. He felt the wind brush against his face, reminding him of the oncoming storm. He quickened his pace. They needed to be out of that storm.

~

The crack of thunder sent Junia's heart racing as she sat on the hard cave floor by the large campfire with the others, listening to her father read from the Sacred Scrolls.

“I will pour water upon him that is thirsty, and floods upon the dry ground. I will pour out My spirit upon thy seed…”

Isaiah. Once again, those words of prophecy. Junia leaned forward to hear above the noise of the rising storm, and the ache in her lower back eased.

“Thus saith the LORD the King of Israel and his redeemer the LORD of hosts; I am the first and I am the last, and beside Me there is no God.”

A streak of lightning entered the mouth of the cave. More thunder rumbled. The children started to whimper and Junia shuddered. The storm felt so close. Too close. If she could, she would be whimpering along with the children.

Paul trembled in her lap. “Junia, I’m scared.”

Petrified, more like. His eyes were as round as the full moon.

“I have you,” Junia whispered into his ear and hugged his little shoulders to calm him. “It’s alright.”

Paul bobbed his head, blinking away, and started to chew on one of his knuckles. Junia wished she could hug his fright away.

“In this time of danger, we have comfort.” Junius continued, “Our God is with us each moment of every day. Let us talk to Him often.”

Paul began to relax, blink slower and stop chewing on his knuckle.

“Let us thank Him always,” Junius said thoughtfully, “for He is our shelter in time of storm.”

“Amen!” James agreed, nodding briskly.

A shelter in time of storm, Junia silently murmured. Victory for every battle. Hope for every pain. Peace in time of unrest. These words were truly what they needed.

~

Demetrius stared into darkness, feeling a chill creep under his thin blanket. Rain plunked onto the hut’s roof; lightning streaked through the cracks in the roof and the little window. Beneath him, the ground rumbled and he could endure it no more. He sat up on one elbow. “Marcus?”

“Hmm?” Marcus mumbled from his cot, arm crossed over his face.

“Do you think this island is all rock?”

“Don’t know.” Marcus’ arm lowered, “Why?”

“Because if it isn’t all rock,” Demetrius sighed out, “by morning this rain will melt us into the sea.”

“Nice thought to sleep on.” Marcus cleared the croak from his voice. “Which reminds me… Remember the story of the man who built his house on the sand?”

“Yes, that’s why I asked.” Demetrius felt the ground rumble again, followed by a terrific clap of thunder.

“I’m glad I built my house on the Rock, otherwise...”

“Otherwise—what ?”

“I probably would’ve committed suicide by now,” Marcus’ voice was dull. “I didn’t realize how a person could ever think that.”

“Andronika?”

Marcus made no reply.

Demetrius pressed his fingers against his eyelids, exhausted, deflated. Images of Elder John, Junia and the others scrolled through his mind. Where were they? Please God, let them be alive—not just in my memory. Pressure in his nose began to build. If You never answer another prayer of mine, God…hear me now! Help them. Please? His eyes stung when he ended his short, choppy prayer. He brushed its saltiness with the back of his hand and gripped himself inside, trying to bury the pain deep into his heart. If they were dead…and his prayer had been too late…it was too late. Would this pain ever end?

“Demetrius?” Marcus croaked out.

Demetrius clenched his teeth to hide the groan within him, rolling over to his side, and hugged the thin blanket closer to him, trying to get warm and sleep. Nighttime was the hardest time for him to cope, when the mind was idle and the body was tired and thoughts about them rolled around in his head. It was useless to try to forget them. The hurt would haunt him forever. In his mind, he saw himself as a blank piece of papyrus, ready to be written—or turned into ashes. When would his tortured mind be at rest?

~

“I didn’t sleep a wink!” Tiria sat up in her pallet, yawning and blinking. “I just had my eyes closed.”

Quite the dramatic, Junia bit in her smile and comment.

“I put the blanket over my head.” Tarsus smiled, folding her blanket and stacking it neatly beside her rolled-up pallet.

“She always does that when it storms,” Philippi grinned at the girls. “I think she’s afraid.”

“Well,” Tarsus frowned, “I’m not exactly thrilled when it storms.” She turned to Tiria and said in an accusing voice, “Philippi loves storms. I think she’d even fall in love with the devil himself if she ever met him face to face.”

“I would not!” Philippi protested indignantly, shoving her veil-pins into place. “Ouch.”

“Did he poke you?” Tarsus smiled sarcastically.

Philippi gave her sister a frown in reply.

“I suggest we finish getting ready,” Dalmatia patted her green veil another time, “so we can start breakfast.”

“I’m starving.” Tarsus voiced grumpily. “And my back’s aching!”

“What can you expect when you make blankets all day long?” Philippi shook her head reprovingly.

“I’m not complaining!” Tarsus snapped back.

Junia quickly stepped up to Tarsus, exhaling a slow breath. “Here. I’ll massage your shoulders. That will help the aching.”

“Thank you!” Tarsus waited a full minute before speaking again. “Now I know how a Roman feels.”

Romans, Junia felt her breath freeze. Romans have Elder John—and Demetrius. Please God, be with them. She watched Tiria clumsily slap water onto her face.

“I sound like a Roman!” Tiria’s voice was thick with sleep. “They’re always drunk.”

“Or killing people,” Tarsus added flatly.

Junia blinked quickly. She had better change the subject or she would be feeling ill when breakfast came. Death topics at mealtimes always gave her an upset stomach. “The girls are waiting for us,” she smiled and stepped towards the door-like curtain leading into the open, sunshine-filled cavern.

~

“At least they’re alive,” Demetrius felt the strain in his neck leave him. They were safe. Junia was alive!

Marcus let out his breath. “Elder John, I am sorry you had to come here to Patmos.”

“We do not always know,” Elder John slowly said with a thoughtful smile, “what the Lord will bring us to. I was cast in boiling oil just to prove that God lives! Now there are many more Christians in Rome.”

“How’s the work?” Demetrius wanted to know what became of his fellow-scribes of the Sacred Scrolls, now that they all had scattered.

“By God’s grace, the Sacred Scrolls will reach many lands. Already they have reached Britannia.”

“Good.” Demetrius crumpled his stale bread into his soup. “There must be a way…” He searched the flimsy hut for a clue on how to continue the Lord’s work here, even in Patmos. With sudden inspiration, he snapped his fingers. “Quills, papyrus!”

“Here?” Marcus gasped, the color draining from around his eyes.

“Yes, here we will do the Lord’s work.” Elder John smiled at them both, warmly. “I met Bishop Timotheus’ son at the port. He was feeding the few poor people that are still left on this island.”

“People—here?” Demetrius frowned. “I thought Patmos was only for prisoners, those in exile, and all the rest had moved away long ago.”

“I thought so, too, but there are still a few here.”

They continued to eat their crusty bread and thin soup from their clay bowls. At least it’s food and just think, a sparkle came to his vision as he stared, the Lord moves in mysterious ways. Here we will print the Sacred Scrolls, under the noses of the Romans!

Elder John cleared his throat, “I will ask the guard to let me speak with these poor people.”

“Will they actually let you?”

“God will make a way.” Elder John’s voice was calm and confident, like he had walked this road before. “He always has. If they don’t let me this time, I will ask again.”

“You will have trouble, Elder John.” Marcus sounded anxious, thoughtful. “Are these strangers worth it?”

“One man’s soul is worth much trouble, yes.”

Demetrius listened. He had been there before—a stranger who Elder John had sought through the trouble that had come with it. And so had Junia. His thoughts turned to Lydia, his home. Home, he gulped, is where the heart is. Yes, he remembered the exact tone of her voice she had used when she had said those words. He blinked fiercely.

“And several souls are worth that much more,” Elder John gave Marcus a nod.

“I’m sorry, Elder John. I just thought…”

“Don’t worry. If God will make a way,” Elder John gave them each a nod this time, “God will make a way through all the trouble that may come with it. Don’t fear.”

Demetrius leaned forward. The question that had been nagging him since he had been there forced itself out of his mouth. “Is God punishing me for all my sins by bringing me here to Patmos?”

“When God forgives a man, his sins are forgotten and he is free indeed.”

The tight knot in Demetrius’ stomach loosed. His fears were over. He had been forgiven and his sins had been forgotten. He glanced at his hands. Long ago he had asked Junia if she saw chains on him. Now, bound in the giant cage of Patmos, he was free indeed. But he still had one more question. “But why am I here—bound?”

“I am here, too.” Elder John studied his face. “We are here because God has placed us here.”

Demetrius stared at him. True, he was free inside—he knew that much—but this, God put him there? In Patmos? How could He? And why?

“We are here for some reason,” Elder John told him patiently. “But always remember, you can never be bound by broken chains.”

“Broken chains?”

“Your heart is free, Demetrius, Marcus. Never let doubts steal your salvation and hope. Always remember, the chains of your sins have been broken forever by the blood of Jesus Christ. Satan has no power over you for you are God's property, protected and preserved.”

“Does this mean I can’t sin?” Marcus asked quietly.

“The Spirit of God that is in you,” Elder John nodded slightly, “has no desire to sin. You will be tempted but you have the power to conquer.”

You have the power to conquer. Demetrius glanced up at the hut’s flimsy roof. Yes, the shell of man is weak but we have the power to hold. To stand. To believe. To prevail. He stood, an impulsive thought popping into his head of what he would do. “I’m going to ask a guard for quills, papyrus and ink.”

“Be careful.” Elder John cautioned him but smiled, looking pleased. “God will be with you and may He give you the desire of your heart.”

Demetrius gulped down his anxiety as he left the hut and entered the muddy grounds of Patmos. The words echoed gently into him, giving him courage, If God will make a way, God will make a way through all the trouble that may come with it. His eyes drifted upwards into the beautiful sunset where the lowering red western sky promised the earth fair weather tomorrow. A sign from the heavens. “Thank You, God. By Your grace, I shall succeed.”

A Few Greek Words:

Fil'os: friend

Meh'tehr: mother

Pah'tehr: father

Adher'fi: sister

Adher'fos: brother