Sacred Scrolls; Chapter 48

 

Sacred Scrolls; Chapter 48

© 2021 by Amber Wright

THEY WOULD TRIUMPH

“Because they're human—and stupid!” Andronika spit out bitterly, crossing her arms, and looked away into the horizon with haunted eyes.

Junia wished she had not spoken. Inside, she filled with more pity and pain...and regret. How she wished she could have helped save Andronika from the scars of her past. But then Nika would have never been born. There must be a reason for everything. If not, why are we here—hiding in a cave? If not, why is Elder John in Patmos? If not, why was I born? Her thoughts whirred into a tight web.

In one blinking moment, Junia realized. Why had she not thought of it before now? It was easy, simple and true. Leave the future to God. She had only today to live, not yesterday, not tomorrow. Today she must conquer, set free, believe. Trust God, not doubt Him. Give Him her worries, her fears of tomorrow, her regrets of yesterday. Why? Because God did all things well—with or without her worrying.

Junia mustered up a smile for the brooding Andronika and the thoughtfully scowling Tarsus. “Shall we cool ourselves, girls? The stream looks inviting and it will cool the blisters on our feet.” She slipped her sandals off and stepped into the sparkling clear water below her knees.

Junia sat on the grassy bank, dipping her sweaty fingers into the stream, and felt coolness seep through her entire body. Both feet and hands were wet now. That meant the trapped heat in her body had been cooled properly. She cupped some water and drizzled it over her oily face; then, she tilted her head back to the sun.

Through squinted eyes, Junia saw the sky deepening from hazy whiteness into brilliant color—transforming like unto a furry lamb's wool that was being dipped into blue dye. Below the sky, the peaks of the surrounding mountains made a framework betwixt heaven and earth. The handiwork of God. I will declare the glory of Your marvelous earth. Day unto day, night unto night... There is no tongue that can be still. Our words reach the end of the world... Her hands stopped swirling the water in the stream, thinking deep. “I wonder what our future will hold.”

“Only God knows,” Andronika sounded thoughtful.

Tarsus did a sober nod, then burst into a grin. “Whatever our futures will be—will be. I'm just happy to know I have lived and I have lived well!”

That was the spirit. Junia took a mental note of those words to remember forever.

~

Demetrius found Elder John in the little cave again, praying. His hands were raised and his shadows danced along the walls by the light of the candle on the rock ledge. His writing materials were still there, thankfully not confiscated as he had feared.

Dyonysius had made sure they had been given a large supply of writing materials just before he left. It was his gift to them. How kind and thoughtful of him. Dyonysius had indeed been a friend. He hoped Dynonysius would not forget the gift God had given to him—salvation, life. Demetrius turned his thoughts into the present.

Elder John was now speaking and he must dip his quill and flatten a papyrus. “And after these things I saw four angels...”

Demetrius scrambled to his place and within a blink he was ready, scratching away with his quill. With taut ears and taut fingers, he listened and wrote the words that Elder John spoke.

“...Standing on the four corners of the earth, holding the four winds of the earth that the wind should not blow on the earth, nor on the sea, nor on any tree.”

Demetrius dipped his quill into the ink again, concentrating on this great work. The vision of things to come. And I saw another angel from the east, having the seal of the living God...

~

The vision etched into John's mind.

The voice cried loudly to the four angels that were at the four corners of the earth. “Hurt not the earth! Neither the sea, nor the tree, till we have sealed the servants of our God in their foreheads!”

John felt his breath suck in. Before him lay the four corners of the earth, ready to be destroyed by these four angels. Just before the angels carried out the powers of destruction, a voice stopped them. The four angels waited, ready to destroy, ready to do what they had been created for.

The tribes of Israel were numbered, a hundred and forty-four thousand. Twelve thousand of each tribe. John wondered why they were numbered equally, as one tribe could have more people than another one. Then he understood. God is equal. He gives all men a chance—to the good man and to the bad man, to the rich and to the poor, to the proud and to the humble. He gives them all a chance to receive life. But many, yes many, will still turn their backs on Him.

John briefly closed his eyes, Oh Lord, let Your Seed be mighty upon the earth. Let it grow forth as the great mustard tree, giving shelter to those without refuge—to those without hope, to those without You. Let them find You in our midst. Amen. He opened his eyes, feeling the effects of the prayer. God was mighty, and His people were His heritage—His power upon the earth.

The tribes of Israel were still being numbered and sealed unto the last tribe, the tribe of Benjamin. Afterwards, a great multitude which no man could number stood before the throne and before the Lamb. Each one wore a white robe and their palm branch in their hands swayed gently as the faintest breeze. They were of all nations, all kindreds, all peoples and all tongues—together.

The people cried with a loud voice, “Salvation to our God which sits upon the throne, and unto the Lamb!”

Every angel around the throne, around the elders and around the four beasts fell onto his face before the throne and worshiped God, their voices mingling into one. “Amen. Blessing, glory, wisdom, thanksgiving, honor, power and might be unto our God for ever and ever. Amen.”

One of the elders turned to him. “What are these which are arrayed in white robes? And whence came they?”

“Sir, you know.”

“These are they which came through great tribulation and have washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.”

John saw the Lamb Who stood by the throne turn slightly; and he beheld the Lamb's profile, his eyes, his nose. “My God, it is He!” He sank to his knees, a chaos of emotions rolling inside him. It was the Master!

The Lamb turned back again but John had seen His face. His knees shook onto the ground, his shoulders trembled and his hands covered his face. My Master! He is the Lamb Who is worthy—the hope of every fear, the calm of every storm, the victory for every battle. My Master has conquered! He has conquered both hell and death. He is alive forevermore. He felt numb with emotion.

~

Demetrius watched Marcus steady the old man by his shoulders as Elder John knelt on the ground, hands clasped, eyes raised. He saw Elder John's mouth moving but words had ceased for a few minutes now, and Marcus wiped his wrinkled brow with the rag in his hand. The rag seemed to revive Elder John and bring his words into voice.

Still seated, Demetrius caught the words now being spoken and continued to write. Therefore are they before the throne of God, and serve Him day and night in His temple. And He that sitteth on the throne shall dwell among them.

Elder John's voice strengthened as he inhaled a breath. “They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more.”

Demetrius swallowed, remembering his times of hunger.

“Neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat.”

The quill beneath his fingers trembled, and his heart pounded. These were the words of God, speaking to him through Elder John. To him, Demetrius, who was unworthy of life and mercy. He would thirst no more. He would hunger no more. He felt a tear drip onto his cheek, the breeze blowing against it and making it a jagged streak of coolness.

“For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them.”

I know My Plan for you, Demetrius.

“...Unto living fountains of water.”

One water. I am the first and the last, the whisper added to him in such a distinct voice.

“And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.”

Demetrius gulped down the lump in his throat. Someday, God would wipe away every tear from his eyes. Someday. “Elder John?” his voice came out in a raspy whisper. “Someday, we will triumph.”

~

Junia closed her eyes for the hundredth time that night. Would sleep ever come? Oh...Jason's words. Did he mean them? What will he do? She pushed her blanket down from her shoulders and kicked her feet out from the bottom of it. It was simply too hot even when the sky was black with night. Her blood pressure felt too rapid as she sat on the edge of her cot, perfectly still, worrying over Jason's last words: You'll be sorry.

Please God, protect us all. Don't let him do it—whatever he's going to do. She let out a silent whine, I thought we were so safe. She slumped back onto her cot, feeling fatigued but still not sleepy. Her body was tense and her mind still rollicked along as strong as noonday, but her spirit was shredded like unto a worn garment. Just as she was giving in to despair, a whisper stole through her throbbing head, I am your safety. I am your hiding place. Just stay under the shadow of My wings. I will watch you from the skies from where I am. I will not leave you nor will I forsake you. You will see.

Peace settled over Junia like a refreshing cup of water, soaking deep inside her. She felt her worn spirit melt into a whole garment, new and ready for tomorrow. Comforted and renewed, she thought fervently. Trouble would come—as sure as the rising sun of the earth—but God would be there, watching her from the skies. Yes, keeping her under the shadow of His wings. The stars could fall, the harvest could cease, the rain could stop, the air could swallow up into nothing but through the Name of their God they would triumph.

~

“At least Polycarp is up and eating by himself again.”

Junia looked at Tiria, grinning mischievously. “Are you sorry? You can't feed him now.”

“Eh-h,” Tiria shook her head. “Who wants a spoon-feeding husband?”

“You.”

“Please, Junia.”

Immediately, Junia sobered. “Yes, I completely understand. Males are sore subjects to discuss around here right now.”

“Oh?” Tiria's eyebrows raised with a half-smile.

“It's not what you're thinking,” Junia shook her head crisply. “No, not Nicolas. I haven't changed my mind.”

“Well—then?”

“Chloe.”

Tiria blinked. “What did I not hear?”

“Don't tell. Please?”

“Sealed,” and Tiria clamped her mouth shut.

“She likes Jason—and he's not a Christian. We, uh—have to keep an eye on her, for her own good.”

Tiria's face clouded with concern, her voice low. “Is it that bad?”

Junia nodded. “It hurts, too. Andronika...”

“Yes?” Tiria wore the most thoughtful face she'd ever worn.

“Andronika sees the blackness, the scars.” Junia's sigh came out slowly along with her words. “And I see the broken heart of a young girl who is not ready to be crushed. Will you help?”

“I will try,” Tiria swallowed as her eyes stared at the cave floor. She looked up with a sharp expression. “But God is truly the only One Who can keep her.”

“I know,” Junia managed a small smile. “But it's hard to let go of someone you love. You want to fight their battles.”

“You shall not fight this battle,” Tiria smiled as she quoted the words of the Lord from the Second Chronicle Scroll, “but I will go before you. Sometimes God places us into the weakest positions—on our knees, flat on our faces. But that's when we conquer. I've been there. Trust me, Junia.”

“Like Chloe?” Junia felt her eyes show disbelief. She thought perfect Tiria had always been so...perfect.

“Yes,” Tiria's eyes fell. “But God kept me. It was a Roman. I thought nobody cared for me...”

Every muscle in Junia's mind tensed as she listened, waiting to hear more and fearing the worst.

Tiria glanced away. “But even then, God kept me.”

A nod and a rush of air came from Junia at this.

Tiria pinned a stare straight into her face with tear dampened eyelashes. “Chloe will be alright. God will keep her.”

Relief washed over Junia, her worries melting. God would keep Chloe. God would keep her—Junia. God would keep them all from evil. She just had to believe and not doubt like she so often did. “Yes, God is in control. Thank you, Tiria, for reminding me.”

A Few Greek Words:

Fil'os: friend

Meh'tehr: mother

Pah'tehr: father

Adher'fi: sister

Adher'fos: brother