Sacred Scrolls; Chapter 53

 

Sacred Scrolls; Chapter 53

© 2021 by Amber Wright

DESTINY

Dyonysius found the girl walking beside the older woman attractive in more ways than one. Not only was her looks fair but the expression on her face told him that he was about to meet one of the fair lilies unstained by the present world. Beautiful, innocent, almost childlike—but troubled with a fierce determined look—and yet my heart has no want for her. She looks familiar and yet...I haven't seen her before. Wait! His breath caught. Last night, he had thought it had only been a foolish dream—but now. He had seen her in his strange dream.

Dyonysius stepped up to the man who looked like the girl's father. “Good afternoon. How may I help you?”

The man smiled slowly. “A place to sleep.”

Dyonysius nodded, a smile nearly surfacing but he held it back. He would not look smug but sober. “Perhaps a boat?” He nodded in the direction of the others far behind and broke into a smile that he hoped looked genuine. “I will help you all.”

The man's jaw dropped.

“I know who you are,” Dyonysius told him quietly. “I was sent here by God to help you. Trust me.”

The man slowly swallowed, glanced at his Roman armor and looked up. His eyes betrayed disbelief but he finally drawled out, “I trust you.”

~

What had her father just said? Junia shivered between her mother and Stephanas who held her hand tightly. Her nephew's eyes looked as huge as hers felt. Trust him—trust a Roman? How can you trust a red-cloaked devil? Then she thought guiltily, Didn't I just repeat what my mother said a moment ago? God has gone before us, preparing the way. She wildly searched the sky for an answer as she found her feet following her family and the Roman.

My God, how can a Roman pig be the answer to my prayer? Please make me understand. The words of the Acts Scroll gently reminded her, directly, as if God Himself was speaking to her. What I have cleansed, call not unclean. There were three men that had been sent to Simon Peter back then. God had told him not to doubt and that He had sent the Romans to him.

God, Junia's heart quivered with what she had to pray—what she had to directly ask, if You are the One Who has sent this Roman, let there be three of them like You sent to Simon Peter. And then, I will know for certain. She blinked. They had stopped. Where were they? In a dark alley between tumbling down buildings.

“Wait here.” The Roman told them and smiled as if to quiet their fears. “I will get the others.”

Junia felt the dimness cave in on her. She squeezed her eyes shut, breathed steadily and leaned against the dirty street wall. Soon she would have her answer—good or bad. Oh Lord, what have we gotten ourselves into? Head tilted back, she could barely make out the sliver of blue sky between the uneven roofs overhead. The smell of garlic and waste wafted in the breeze. She pulled a piece of veil to cover her nose.

~

Soup was difficult to swallow when it included the taste of dried blood melting against its warmth. But Jason ate every spoonful of it along with his tasteless water. On the last gulp, he gagged and the stranger had to help him sit up until his breath returned. Pain shot through him, shocking him. He had forgotten that his back was still burnt to a crisp.

Trembling, he closed his eyes that were stinging with salty moisture—tears from the pain. He tried moving his lips to say something but the very movement inflamed them. Burning, aching, he lay there as his lips flapped mutely together in pain as they trembled.

The stranger began speaking above him, he did not know what. After the man's words stopped, he felt the pain slowly subside.

Jason drifted into a restful sleep.

~

The Roman returned with the others. Beside her, Tiria wore a frightened look as she huddled between her and Rhoda.

“We're in for trouble,” Tiria whispered into her ear with a wild blink. “He's brought two other Romans with him!”

Junia gasped, My answer, Lord. Three Romans! She gave Tiria a tight hug. “The answer to my prayer!” Her voice was a whisper but her heart was shouting.

“Have you lost your sanity, Junia?”

“Not a bit. I just prayed a funny type of prayer.”

Tiria frowned at her. “You shouldn't be playing tricks on God or prayer. I thought your father was a deacon!”

“He was, a year ago.” Junia reminded her.

A year ago, Bishop Diotrephes had told Junius Gaius that he was no longer welcome to remain deacon. That was when they had had their services at their villa and had welcomed all the emissaries Elder John sent. Bishop Diotrephes never received a one.

“That doesn't mean you should misbehave, just because your father is no longer a deacon.”

“I'm perfectly behaving myself, Tiria! I just asked for three Romans. Like when Cornelius sent three men to find Simon Peter.”

“Oh,” Tiria smiled but still looked confused. “I just hope I don't get seasick.”

“If you do,” Junia made a wry face, “just don't vomit on me.”

“Or you'll throw me overboard.”

“At least you know how to swim. I don't.”

Tiria shrugged. “But I've never attempted the great and beautiful Aegean before.”

“Shh,” Junia cocked her right ear. “They're talking about it now.”

“Swimming?”

“No,” Junia frowned. “The boat.”

“The ship leaves for Troas tomorrow,” the Roman was saying. “Tonight my friend here has a fishing boat that will take you to a village. From there, you take the inland journey to the port where they will take you to Ikaria.”

Ikaria? Junia felt the butterflies fill her stomach and tickle her throat. Where in God's creation is Ikaria? She realized the others were talking among themselves so she listened to them talking in hushed, excited tones. They were deciding which ones would go to Troas and which ones would go to Ikaria.

“And there is also a caravan going to Thyatira,” the Roman cleared his throat, “tomorrow morning. You decide.”

Junia's stomach did a flip. They had to decide—and be separated. Yes, we are indeed the scattered seed of God, flying in the winds of destiny. She took a long gaze at everyone—in case she would see them no more. In her heart, she said a prayer for each of them.

~

Jason stirred. Was he still dreaming? Or had he died? No, I can't be dead. I certainly wouldn't be in heaven. Where would I be? He tried to rouse his brain but he felt so sluggish. He opened his eyelids a crack and let them close, blankly. All he could see was the black sheet between him and the outer world. Now, all he had to look at was the blackness of his heart—which he could see very clearly, every time he was awake.

Hopeless and heartless, he slept on the bed of languish. He was blind. So why was he even alive? Had not God punished him enough without giving him the life of a deathlike existence? Please God, just let me die. I'm useless alive. He heard a crinkle of papyrus as if somebody was opening a scroll.

A man began to read. “The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them; and the desert shall rejoice, and blossom as a rose. It shall blossom abundantly and rejoice even with joy and singing...”

How poetic, Jason kept his eyelids closed. There was no use to open them to only see darkness. A bitter growl echoed deep inside him. Blind! I would be better off burnt to ashes like the Romans. He wanted to close his ears but the words sounded strangely welcoming.

“Strengthen ye the weak hands, and confirm the feeble knees.”

Weak. Feeble. Must I be reminded? Yet he listened.

“Say to them that are of a fearful heart, 'Be strong, fear not'.”

The words rolled through his scarred mind, burnt not only with fire but with Roman desire. He was singed, useless, now forsaken by both God and sight. Not that I thought God would care, he clenched his jaws. He still hurt, inside out. But the man speaking those strange yet soothing words jarred him fiercely.

“He will yet come and save you.”

Jason gulped. The blind shall see? These words make no sense, he argued. The lame leap? Streams in the desert? The thought made him thirsty. And the ransomed of the Lord shall return. The strange words ended and thoughts whirled around in his mind. Why was his heart beating so fast?

~

The gentle lapping waters of the Aegean Sea was not so gentle as Junia had expected when she felt the seat of the fishing boat under her bob up and down. They were on their way to the village—and then, to Ikaria. Wherever that is, she felt her frown melt into the darkness. At least I have Tiria for company now—such as she is. Judith and some of the others were waiting for the next boat tomorrow. Meeting in the appointed village, they would go to Ikaria together by ship. The shepherd family and some of the others were going to Troas, and Martha and her female offspring were joining the caravan to Thyatira tomorrow morning.

The fishing boat continued to rock back and forth, to and fro, like a cork drifting upon the seas. Suddenly, Junia felt raindrops soak her cloak and hood, and she glanced up at the black night sky. It looked like a blanket of destiny, ready to wrap them into its grasp. Into the unknown tomorrow. Into unknown paths. Into unknown lands. She felt a Voice stir her, touch her softly, so she stopped her thoughts and listened. There was someone, somewhere, calling her name—and she would respond, follow her destiny.

A Few Greek Words:

Fil'os: friend

Meh'tehr: mother

Pah'tehr: father

Adher'fi: sister

Adher'fos: brother