Sacred Scrolls; Chapter 46

 

Sacred Scrolls; Chapter 46

© 2021 by Amber Wright

THE BURNING

Junia sat in the hut on her bedroll, reading her precious scroll written by Demetrius’ hand. The Gospel According To Saint John read the heading in large, bold letters. She smiled. The letters reminded her exactly how she remembered Demetrius. Bold and fearless with a large heart. Too large for this world, she bit onto the side of her mouth and her heart raced along, thinking about the living tomb of Patmos in which he lived. Junia, read. Let your mind be at rest. Know that Demetrius is in God's hands. You are. Everyone is. Be still. Watch. Wait. The Plan will happen...

The words of Elder John wafted through her ears, from long ago. “The Master has said, A man can not add a cubit to his stature. Nor can a man add or take away a day from his life.” She blinked in surprise, the thought sinking fully into her. True. Every life is planned by God, whether noble or base, whether great or small. She sighed softly, Whether free or bound. We have a choice but the God Who knows our thoughts from the beginning has also known what we would choose. She carefully unrolled the papyrus to read the words of the Master.

But he that doeth truth cometh to the light, that his deeds may be made manifest, that they are wrought in God. Wrought in God. That was it. Every true work was made clear in the light of God. She saw the thick curtain of the hut pull open and heard somebody speak her name. “Judith, come in! How are you feeling?”

“Well now, thank you.” Judith sat down beside her on the bedroll. “It seems like I passed my spring in bed.”

“You couldn't help that. You were sick.” Junia glanced down at Judith's bulging stomach, “How is she doing?”

“Good,” Judith's dimples lined her cheeks. “Rufus still insists that the baby is a he though.”

“Ha! Stubborn men.”

“Yes, almost as stubborn as you.”

Junia gave her a frown. “Well, thank you. I thought you were my best friend.”

“I am. Guess what?”

“What?” Junia swallowed. That look on Judith's face was indeed sober. Had they found out that Polycarp was d— “Polycarp?”

“Yes, it's about Polycarp.” Judith took a little breath before explaining. “Nicolas and a few others have left to rescue him. Jason is helping them.”

“Jason?”

“The archer from Sardis.”

Junia stared, speechless for a moment. So it was the young man who had saved her life, Andronika's and Chloe's lives now helping to save another of them. “God bless him!”

“God bless him.” Judith echoed her and let out her breath, glancing around the hut and its contents. “While I've been in bed all this time, guess what I've been doing?”

Junia looked over at Judith and her twinkling brown eyes. “You made things for your baby!” She quickly rolled up the scroll, ready to talk to her best friend who she hadn't talked to for weeks because Judith had been sick in bed.

“Yes!” Judith sounded excited.

“Please show me this very instant. I'm dying to see!” Junia stopped her words mentally, blankly blinking. Dying was not the word she felt like using now. She stood, replacing her scroll into its place securely in a blanket in a basket. “Shall we go?”

“Help this old lady up first,” Judith teased as a smile filled her face again. “Then you can see the things.”

“I guess I couldn't go see your things if I left you here, could I now?” Junia erupted with a giggle. “Unless I feel like slicing my fingers against one of Rufus' spades.”

Judith frowned. “It happens to be the only place to store things, given our circumstance...”

“Yes, our circumstance!” Junia felt chirpy despite it. “The one thing fantastic about all this is that the rich is made humble and the poor has plenty to eat.”

“Don't forget to add that everyone has the exact same house.”

“You mean, exact type of house. You happen to be standing in the single girls' house, not yours.”

“Of course, and Andronika lives in the widows' house.”

“Sixteen and a widow, tragic.” Junia felt her chirpy smile fade.

“Was this your idea of 'moving the mountain'?”

Junia felt her frown deepen. “I intended for the mountain to be cast into the Aegean Sea. Instead, it's crumbled on top of all of us.” She closed her eyes briefly, then popped them back open brightly. “But perhaps it's what the Lord intended for us, after all. Nothing happens by chance, you know.”

“But my beautiful cottage with rose trellises,” Judith moaned, sighing as she eyed the drab mud walls of the hut.

“Don't be a Lot's wife, Judith.” Junia warned her cheerfully. “I don't wish to lay my eyes on you, crystallized. Besides, salt is not so...sweet.”

“True,” Judith raised the door flap. “But Paradise is beautiful so don't content yourself with mud walls. God's Kingdom will be marble, silver, gold and filled with fragrance. Just imagine!” she closed her eyes dramatically.

Junia did imagine then. Green grass, fully bloomed trees and silky petaled flowers everywhere. No thorns. Cloudless blue sky. Golden streets, ivory palaces, marble pillars and fine horses. The wild animals would all be tame. The soft, sweet perfume of Heaven's Royal halls. Such wonders! But until then, she must be content with whatever state she was in, as Saint Paul had said. She felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth and cleared her throat. Judith's eyes popped open.

“But until that time, Ad'herfi,” Junia reminded her, “Saint Paul says godliness with contentment is great gain.” She broke into a giggle when she saw Judith's stricken face. “Of course, we can always imagine the marble and perfume when it's really mud and stink.”

“I am content,” Judith finally spoke, looking as if to reassure herself.

~

Cool wind whipped Polycarp's coat and his bound hands were crossed behind him on the stake. He was ready to die, but he could do so much more if only he lived. There were more people to help free from the bondage of sin. He cast his eyes upwards. The gray sky was thickening with dark, dense clouds. His pulse quickened. Would this be his last sight of earth? Gray, dark, threatening, ghastly clouds? Or could it be his salvation—a heavy rain shower to put out the fire? Already smoke curled up into his nostrils from below. Yes, the executioner has gone and the hay beneath me is afire. I am ready to die, alone, but with God. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back onto the wooden stake. Your will be done, Pah'tehr. The fire was rising.

Thunder snapped his eyes back open. But would the rain fall too late? The heat of the fire spread to his feet, hotter by the seconds. He glanced down. The flames were leaping higher—and still yet higher, singeing his bare feet scarred from his days in torture. He gasped for air as smoke engulfed his robe and coat, and began to breathe slowly to keep his oxygen. The noise of the crowd grew muffled from the oncoming storm. From watery, strained eyes, he could see lightning flash—close by. The rain was coming!

Polycarp saw the two guards by the platform fall to the ground, and did not rise again. The lightning must have struck them dead. At that, the Roman who had tortured him spurred his steed and galloped away, the red of his swirling cloak blurring his vision. His pulse quickened even more. Freedom and life hung on the next few moments. If only he could cut his ropes that bound him to the stake. He breathed a prayer and felt moisture fill the air, thickening with each second. The rain had come!

The crowd of spectators scattered in the haze of sheeting rain. It was then he realized that the fire beneath his feet was no more. Rain washed over him. His hands dropped to his sides from behind him, tingling with pain but still wholly palms and ten fingers. He breathed in as much air as he could within that shower. It was good to breathe again. God had answered his prayer. His will be done. He would live, and not die. God, I thank You for the rain, this storm, these life-saving raindrops! He squinted his eyes in the rain and watched the lightning streak the skies. But how had his hands become unbound?

~

Lucius watched Jason's horse weave through the crowd towards burning Polycarp. A full minute passed and, without warning, the storm started. Rain pounded onto his hooded head, blinding his vision. He could not see the stake. Is Polycarp dead? Are we too late? Is the rain weeping for the loss of our brother? His heart sank, as did his feet into mud. Tiria would be so hysterical. His last remembrance of her last evening was a look of mourning and a withered smile. Her face haunted him through the night as they camped outside Sardis. He hoped she would start smiling again.

Morning had come and so had the burning. He winced, feeling the seconds slip away like hours. Yes, they had been too late. Jason had been gone long enough already.

Lucius turned to rejoin the others who were waiting outside the city gate, but stopped at the noise of a horse approaching. Squinting through the rain, he watched Jason walk his horse with a limp form riding astraddle. The droning rain melted into a soft patter as shades of dark gray turned into mingled white and peach colors. The sky was brightening. That was a good sign.

When the bedraggled group came closer, Lucius gasped. Is this the same young man from last week? Polycarp looked so haggard, pale and old. Words answered him, Pain is very strong. It leaves no exceptions, not for the old, not even for the young and brave. He said nothing as they walked past him but followed them from a safe distance behind—so nobody would know that they were together. Besides, he did not wish for a rumor to reach the Roman guard that a group of Christians now stormed the city. Silently, he pulled down his hood even further.

Outside the city gate, the rest were waiting. Nicolas, Linus and Epaphras sat drenched on their horses, holding the reins of two extra horses. Lucius swung onto his horse, glad to be out of the mud, and they began their jolty ride back to the cave in the mountains.

I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence comes my help, he squinted through the rain, finding a smile in the middle of the chaos life had turned out to be. Although he could not see the high mountains ahead, he knew that they were there. Although he could not see the road ahead of him, he knew it was below his feet. And although he could not see his future—the tomorrows that would come, the trials he would go through, the footprints he would leave behind him—he knew it was awaiting him, calling to him by name. His horse started to stumble and he tightened his hold on the reins. The lengthily ride continued, warm rain drizzling into his eyes.

~

“He's sleeping now,” Martha told the girls who were waiting by the entrance of Polycarp's hut, looking anxious.

Tiria felt as anxious as the girls looked. She stared from hut to hut, gnawing on her thumbs until they hurt her. Would her hiccups ever stop? Ever since they'd brought in lifeless Polycarp, she'd been hiccupping. Comprehending Martha's words, she cleared her throat but her voice still shook. “He won't die, will he?”

“No,” Martha smiled at her, relieving her fears. “God be praised, he will not die.”

“Can I take a look at him? Just to...” Tiria gulped a sob back and stood straighter so they wouldn't comprehend her choking voice, “see him?”

Martha nodded.

Tiria raised the flap of the hut, peeking in with a nervous blink. Polycarp lay lifelessly on the cot but his eyes were open. He was not dead or even unconscious, thank God. “Shalom,” her voice squeaked and she finished in a rush, “Polycarp.”

Then Tiria fled into the single girls' hut, her emotions piling up in her into a happy sob that needed emptying. She sobbed her heart into her pillow. After a few moments, she felt a tap on her shoulder and heard Junia say her name. She turned around with tears sparkling her vision in her smile. “He's...he's alive,” she never felt so happier in all her life. “He's not dead!”

Junia smiled back. “Yes, he's alive. Good news.”

Tiria gave her an absent nod and kept clearing her throat until her voice sounded like a human again instead of a frog. She rubbed her stinging, watery eyes. “Crying like this, I should save every teardrop I perspire to wash my face with. Then it would indeed be as healing,” her croaking blended into her natural voice, “as the Salt Sea of Judea.”

“At least your voice is back to normal,” Junia smiled with a twinkle to her blue eyes, “even if your mind isn't.”

“What!”

“Your supper has been waiting for you two hours now. Eat it.”

“Where is it?”

“I'll show you,” Junia started to the door. “I'm a bit hungry myself so we...”

“Celebrate!” Tiria bounced on her toes and felt her heart soar high into the lofty skies above the rock ceiling. “God is good.”

“Yes, His mercies are new,” Junia spoke with feeling, “every morning. Great is His faithfulness.”

“Or shall we say,” Tiria chirped with a little smile, “every evening? I don't see the sun rising.”

“According to the Jewish calendar,” Junia countered, “the day begins when the sun sets.”

“Then I'm eating breakfast now,” Tiria giggled as she picked up her plate loaded with cold food. Still, food was food and she was hungry.

~

Demetrius watched Dyonysius go. The guard had been a good friend to them in the months he had been there, one of the few nice guards. But now, the farewells had been said and his brother in Christ walked towards the gate of the mine, leaving Patmos, entering the free world once again. Patmos, the word nagged him. Would he ever leave it? This place of death? Determinedly, he picked up his dead feet, heaved a sigh and returned to his place chipping away rock.

Lost in his thoughts and sweat, Demetrius did not notice Marcus until his friend had stepped up beside him with a basket full of chipped rock.

Marcus tilted his head beside his dirty basket and whispered, “Elder John wants to see you as soon as possible.”

Demetrius nodded. Matthias must be here, ready to take the Exodus Scroll. Chip, chip. He felt his forehead pinch in the bright sunlight and droplets of sweat trickle down his neck. July—hot, miserable July. Or is it August yet? He wrinkled his forehead to look up at the pale blue sky. It was filled with haze and humidity. Ouch, he flattened his burnt forehead, I'm burnt to a crisp. His muscular arms, gripping the tools with sweaty fingers, were even burnt from the sun. Yes, burnt red turning black. Next, I'll look like a Nubian! He cast his eyes upward again, this time controlling the painful wrinkle in his forehead. Oh Lord, can't I look like a Lydian instead? He sighed moodily. What a silly prayer.

Demetrius heaved the large basket of rock over one shoulder and dumped it into the waiting cart. Now filled, the cart began to roll away. This was his chance to leave and take a break. He slipped into the direction of the little cave to gather the Exodus Scroll to give to Matthias. When he entered the dark, cool cave, his sunburned skin felt better already and he struggled to adjust his eyesight to the darkness. In the dimness, he saw that Matthias was already there and beside him stood a girl watching him with large eyes. He stopped with a pounding heart. “Junia?”

A Few Greek Words:

Fil'os: friend

Meh'tehr: mother

Pah'tehr: father

Adher'fi: sister

Adher'fos: brother