Sacred Scrolls; Chapter 54

 

Sacred Scrolls; Chapter 54

© 2021 by Amber Wright

PURPOSE THROUGH PAIN

The soft rain fell over them but at least it wasn't the downpour Junia expected. Everything else was so upsetting. When would she see her other-sister, Andronika, who would go to Thyatira at tomorrow's light? When would she see Tarsus and her bleating sheep? The shepherd family would be far away in Troas in the next few days. Claudia and her family, and Chloe were returning to Ephesus with a family. Now the only people in that fishing boat with her was Tiria, her family and the in-laws.

The Roman steering the fishing boat had changed into a drab brown robe and rowed with expert strokes, despite the foaming waves. Junia glanced down at the waters beside her. How could those same peaceful-looking waters of earlier be so choppy now that she was so close to it? She squinted through the droplets of rain falling down, shivering a little in the cold. My prayer still remains, her teeth rattled out the silent prayer. Let these blue waters of the Aegean Sea guide us to the place where You have chosen, despite the rain. She hugged herself, burrowing deeper into her warm robe. Despite the cold. Despite everything!

Junia knew Tiria was frowning at her even though she only could make out the outline of the girl's face in the dark. “I'm cold,” she told her as if that answered it all—her staring up into the dripping rain for minutes on end.

“Stop shaking!” Tiria hissed back at her, teeth rattling. “We don't need your tidal wave washing us overboard.”

Tiria turned away and Junia willed her knees to freeze even if they became blocks of wood in the process. But as soon as we land, I'm rattling my toes to my heart's content, even if they are half-frozen and hurt as they come back to life. I'm freezing! Why does it have to be so c-cold? The cold night wind blowing off the water whipped her face with an icy slap. You don't have to remind me that you're there, dear wind. You're quite—noticeable as it is. Please relax a little, thank you, she added as if doing the thanks would speedily make her request completed.

With wooden movements, Junia pulled her hood over her ears, determined not to move a wink...or stay cold at the same time. She relaxed her breathing to steady her innards. She would show Tiria she had the elements in her to make her tidal wave of her rattling body stay completely still. She just hoped she didn't freeze in the process.

~

“My back aches me clear to my ribs,” Tiria complained as she sat up the next morning. “First holding Nika for two days straight, and then this!” She yanked up a piece of her blanket to glare at the hard ground they had been sleeping on.

Junia nodded sympathetically, feeling a smirk emerge from her puffy-feeling morning face. She quickly masked the smirk, knowing the morning Tiria. “I'm sorry—truly. You deserve better things.”

Tiria replied with a growling noise, standing up in a sleepy sort of way. She shoved her face into the bowl of water, patting it face dry with her veil. She suddenly giggled, fingering the fabric of the water-spotted veil, breaking into an odd smile. “My blanket—so says Polycarp.”

Junia was about to tease her when she saw Tiria's smile fall as swiftly as it had appeared. What was happening inside the girl's head now?

Tiria frowned, her next words bitter. “He's going to Ephesus to help Timotheos—so he says,” she sighed. “But he's probably going there because Claudia is going there. Claudia and Dorcus looked alike.”

Junia watched Tiria's eyes grow listless. “Now, now, dear. Smile! Saint Paul says Rejoice evermore.”

Tiria sent her a withering glance. “I happen to be the one who said that over five months ago. I know. But I just don't feel like it.”

“Then do a rainbow smile,” Junia giggled, trying to draw the corners of her mouth down into the shape of an arched rainbow. It did not quite work, she could feel.

“Come now, Junia, let's quit this foolishness.” Tiria tilted her chin up. “Breakfast never makes itself.”

“Go on,” Junia began brushing her light brown hair vigorously, smiling with a nod. “I'll be out there in a little bit.”

“When it's all ready, you mean!” Tiria snapped her veil pins into place.

“Maybe,” Junia said sweetly.

Tiria rolled her eyes and charged between the tent flaps. Junia half-expected the tent to fall on top of her—but it did not. Only her brush fell. She reached to pick it up, I do hope we get our moods settled sometime soon or else... She let her sentence hang, brushing her hair again. What could she add? Would she and Tiria fight in a duel? The thought made her giggle. Tiria was petrified of knives, swords in particular.

~

“At least the sun is shining,” Tiria stared moodily at the cloudless sky.

“You sound so grateful,” Junia spooned more lentils into her mouth, making a slurping noise.

Tiria frowned. “You sound so dignified. Dainty sip.”

“No, I just got a noisy bowl.”

Where is Junia's mind? Mars. Or shall we say...Pluto! Tiria dipped her wooden spoon into the thick soup and pinched a piece of flatbread to dip into it. The color of the soup caught her eye and sharp mind. Slimy green but tasty—that's me! She made a gurgling choke and had to drink a long, slow portion of water to catch her breath. At least I'm smiling—although it nearly cost me my life. Oh well...life can't be all that bad. Actually, it's kind of nice right now. In a couple of days or so we'll be in Ikaria—some island where I shall never frown. Or would she? “I wonder if we'll be safe in Ikaria.”

Junia swallowed her swishing mouthful before speaking. “I wonder. Paul, don't pinch me like that. It hurts.”

“Eli's not here,” Paul jutted his bottom lip out.

“He will be here tonight,” Junia told him in a reassuring way.

“Paul, do you want to play?” Tiria drummed her fingers against her empty bowl lined with greenish juice.

“With what?” His little voice sounded hugely grouchy.

Tiria stood. Must I promise myself to these infants once again? Of course, to pass time. She mustered a smile. “You mean, with who?”

Paul stared up at her with a blank face.

Tiria gave his black curly hair a tussle. “Me! Isn't that going to be fun?”

Paul stood, wiping his milky mouth with his hand. “I'm done eating. Can we play now?”

Tiria nodded with a smile, gingerly taking a gulp as he reached up for her to hold his hand—demandingly, commandingly. She inwardly groaned, ignoring the sticky feeling of his hand as he started up a conversation of what they would do and how they would play it, and everything else commanding and demanding. There he goes, demanding again. So I suppose Paul will be a very successful person someday—and so will I. She felt her insides skip like a child. They both had one thing in common, determination to succeed—or fail—in whatever they did. She flung her brain into the present again and Paul's endless words bubbled with a pop into her ears.

“Come on, we don't have all day. Paul, let's go do and not talk about what we're not going to do because there's no time left to do it.”

Paul and his sticky hand started dragging her. “Coming?”

~

Jason ate, slept, listened, and slept again. Every two hours or so, besides nighttime, the strangers Zenas and Theophilus would help him walk around to circulate his blood. When he would lay back down again, he felt so tired but refreshed. His burnt flesh felt vaguely better, but he was still blind. Nothing could cure him of that. He would remain an invalid for all time. The thought sent a bitter groan inside him.

How can I possibly forget? he asked himself sarcastically. Just open your eyelids, Jason, and see nothing. Isn't that a comfort to know day in, day out? He pulled the wool blanket up to his chin. The air was getting cooler. Winter would soon arrive and there he would remain in darkness, cared for by two strangers. He had learned their names and they read aloud to him, but he knew nothing more about them.

Through the days that passed, Jason's curiosity almost drove him crazy but he would take a deep breath, listen more carefully and slumber on until the years would pass. But just how many years would pass in this room of darkness? His flesh would heal but would there ever be a physician who could make him see again?

The stranger Zenas was reading those poetic words aloud again. “I shall behold man no more with the inhabitants of the world.”

Jason winced, That's me. Behold no more. Oh why! A sigh.

“He will cut me off with pining sickness, from day even unto night.” Zenas read on, and on.

Jason listened to the words but his mind spun crazily, Till the morning. But please don't break my bones, rotten flesh if bad enough. Yes, make an end to me. He made a little moan, trying to form words of the torture he felt but his lips were still healing so he could not speak yet. He had not talked since the fire. A thought bit into his brain, My vocals didn't melt together as well, did they? He turned his mind back to the reading. No, I don't chatter but I mourn like a dove. I mourn for my eyes, my strength, my life, my—Chloe. Whatever Zenas was reading certainly made him think.

Chloe. So it had all started with Chloe. Or, rather, not having Chloe. Love makes a man mad, he felt his anger rise then simmer as quickly as it had shot up. No, it's not her fault. It's mine. Foolish archer of Sardis! Zenas still read on whether Jason was listening or not, so he perked his ears. Time to quit thinking about Chloe…and to forget about his blank eyeballs inside their charred sockets.

“I shall go softly all my years in the bitterness of my soul.”

Bitterness, the very word tastes strong like acid—like death, making me powerless, defeated. Jason felt the acidy bitterness reek his soul as he laid there, focusing on the words as if his mind was gone. Perhaps my mind is gone. Who would ever know—or tell me?

The words Zenas spoke rolled along smoothly, soothing him somehow. The grave cannot praise; death cannot celebrate; they that go down into the pit cannot hope, cannot sing.

Jason blinked. Who would want to sing in a pit anyway? Not me.

“And he shall recover.”

The words made Jason's heart jar. “Zenas?”

Jason heard the word but he never felt it come from his lips. Had he actually spoken? So he was not mute, after all?

“Yes, Jason?”

“How do you know my name?” A strange vomit rose in his throat, followed by an even stranger pain in his head.

“I saw you when you helped us rescue Polycarp.”

Jason turned his head in the direction of Zenas' voice. Still, the black sheet pervaded his vision. He worked his jaws, trying to ease the stiffness from them. Pain pounded in his head even harder. It was his lips the pain was coming from. He felt like screaming. Instead, he croaked out, “Who are you?”

“I am a student of Elder John's,” Zenas replied calmly and a scratching sound of a quill melted into his reply. “I have been reading you the words of Isaiah from the Sacred Scrolls.”

Jason nodded, unsure of what to say next.

“I am printing these scrolls for many to read,” Zenas' quill scratched away. “These words are life, peace, healing. They will never pass away.”

Jason felt the impact of Zenas' sentence and sat up slowly, carefully pushing his back against his pillows. His charred skin managed to stay intact, not too painful, as he sat up for the first time since his burning. The words formed in his mind before he spoke them, “How can I help?”

“Can you sharpen quills?”

~

Aristo had recovered from his neck wound and was chipping rock alongside Demetrius. “I came from Athens. I met Paul and was converted. Then I came here because I was a Christian.” He stopped with a very sad expression. “But then I began to grow hard until...” He lowered his eyes, “I killed that young guard.”

Demetrius turned to stare at the low horizon of rocks. Had he grown hard there? Would he kill a man if they dumped his lunch into the mud? Last year, he would have. With a sigh, he glanced up at the blue sky and his eyes caught a bird soaring above. The flying bird reminded him that to be free he must have the courage to lift his feet from the cruel world and all its bitterness. No, life was not fair but did that give him any reason to kill a man, kill the spirit of a man, or kill a man's mind?

Demetrius gave Aristo a wane smile. “God has given us the gift of this day to live, my Filos. Let's not spoil it by bringing up the past.”

“But I—” Aristo seemed at a loss for words, shaking his head remorsefully.

“God has given you the gift of life, Aristo.” Demetrius heard his voice come out low and steadily. “Take a look at that bird,” he pointed to the skies. “She is free. Why? Because she had the courage to lift her feet from the earth.”

Aristo's face crinkled and a tear slid down his sunken cheekbone. He said nothing.

“She has no memory of earth. She flies on the winds. So can we. On the winds of God's grace,” Demetrius felt his heart grow lighter as each word slipped from him.

~

The news hit her like a blow. How? Why? Junia's mind screamed. Not Tarsus. Not Noah. Not Philippi and Dalmatia. Or the rest. It can't be! She clasped her teeth against her lower lip as it trembled and jerked like the rough wave of the Aegean.

Tiria put an arm around her. “Tarsus, Noah,” her voice was thick and like a moan.

And the poor sheep, Junia felt her shoulders sag, tremble and ache with pain that came straight from her heart. They were gone, the shepherd family and the others with them.

“And to think—we caused it!” Tiria sobbed into her ear.

Junia pulled away slightly, silently declaring, You can cry on my shoulder but not in my ear. What are you doing, trying to give me a deliberate earache? Earache. Guilt stabbed into her. What a trivial matter compared to this. Paul was still sobbing over Rhoda's shoulder. Eli had not come. Lucius, Eli and the Roman family were going to a village near the Hermus River with a small group of persecuted believers from Smyrna.

But the ship bound for Troas had encountered a storm—a bad one.

Junia bit her lip to stifle a sob as images of her friends flashed before her, swirling around in murky waters of darkness, struggling to breathe. To live. To survive. Then to die, gasping for breath. She found tears splashing down her face, tasting them even. That salty water of tears would try to heal the infection of the hole in her heart but there would always be a part of her missing. The little scar would remain, to remind her of happy days with the kind shepherd family. Her tears fell harder. The kind shepherd family, they were no more. The ship had sank and every person had drowned with it.

God, why did this happen? I know there is a reason—but why! It's all our fault. How can I ever live with my conscience knowing that...? Junia could not finish but buried her face into her veil.

Minutes later, Junia's sniffles finally stopped, poured out of tears. So it had come to this. The shepherd family who had saved them nearly six months before were now lost to the sea. Shipwrecked. What a way to die.

A Few Greek Words:

Fil'os: friend

Meh'tehr: mother

Pah'tehr: father

Adher'fi: sister

Adher'fos: brother