Sacred Scrolls; Chapter 55

 

Sacred Scrolls; Chapter 55

© 2021 by Amber Wright

THEY SHALL NOT FAINT

Tiria felt a groan in her utmost being as she gripped a cup of water. Water. What a way to die! It was not fair, for them—for her. Deep down—yes, for deep down was where nobody but her and God could see—she ached. No one would ever understand her. She did not expect them to. But she loved her family and friends with undying love.

True, she sniffled, gazing up at the crescent of a moon that gently stared down at her, I may growl and frown and complain and everything else terrible—but I do really love them all terribly, despite myself. Despite them misunderstanding me. Despite the fact that I am Tiria. She made a noise similar to that of a bear in pain. Horrified, she bit her tongue, hoping that would keep her hideous noises to herself. Being Tiria was the worse thing in the world, she thought, almost as bad as being Lucius. She found a smile inside her. Although she had never particularly liked Lucius romantically, they seemed to understand each other's sour ways. And they had respected each other.

Tiria tried to clear the mucus from her throat but it was useless. It seemed to stretch from her stomach to the tip of her nose. After a combination of choking and clearing her throat a hundred times, she guzzled the water from the cup. It unstopped her sinuses. Getting sick was the last thing she needed to do right now.

“Are you alright?” Nicolas asked her in a very sober tone.

“Yes,” came the croak. The mucus slid down her throat by the gulpfuls. Why did it have to taste so horrible?

“You don't sound like it.”

“I am!” Tiria watched Nicolas look away, offended. Quickly, she extended her hand to him. “Sorry, Nicolas—truly.”

He took the offered hand and slowly nodded.

Dazed, Tiria pulled her hand back with an inward frown. No, Tiria, Nicolas is not falling in love with you. Don't be silly. She glanced over at Junia who seemed to be in a stupor, watching the waves crash against the rocks below. She tugged on her friend's arm. “Come on, Honey. You need some sleep.”

“Don't mention honey!” Junia made a groan, looking fully back to the present. “I'm craving it. Goodnight, Nicolas.”

“Goodnight, Junia.” Nicolas sounded so sad, “Goodnight, Tiria.”

“Goodnight,” Tiria gave him a small smile, then steered Junia in the direction of their tent. Overhead, the moon lit their way in the darkness so they could see to step.

Goodnight, she took a very slow, sad breath, dear shepherd family. God rest you.

~

The tidal wave would not stop crashing in Junia's heart as she laid her head onto her pillow as she imagined Tarsus' voice tittering in the silent air as she closed her eyes. Then, Noah's boyish grin popped into her vision as she tried staring at the tent's ceiling to fall asleep. Still, nothing worked to bring sleep to her. Her brain spun crazily, not slowing down a bit. The shepherd family kept rolling across her eyelids even when she closed them. She gave up trying not to think and thought of all the good times they had had together in those short months in the cave.

She found herself settling into a fitful sleep.

When morning came, Junia's eyes felt heavy and her spirit felt worn. I'd better hurry and eat before I bite a big chunk out of everyone. Please no, Tiria, don't stare at my horribly puffy eyes! But Tiria still stared at her with a little, odd, faraway smile.

“Yes, Tiria, my eyes are puffy!” Junia sighed.

“I was just remembering...” Tiria's smile faded, “Tarsus.”

Junia nodded, remembering the buffalo comment Tarsus had made about them. Only this time she was the singular buffalo. This morning, Tiria was the human.

After breakfast, they started on their journey in-land. Sand filled Junia's sandals and made her toes feel like blisters as the grittiness rubbed against them. Turfs of tall grass grew in clumps. She had to watch every step lest she stub her toes and bloody them. Then there were the little, prickly purple thistles that hid inside the grass, dangerous for slitting skin with their poky thorns. The walk in itself, she thought, was a trial of pain resistance. She hoped it would end before her toes became no more. She took a glance down, just to make sure they were still there.

When they had crossed the little neck of land, they would board the ship to Ikaria. Until then, they had to pack their belongings over the slippery sands and between strong-smelling pine thickets which appeared beside silent streams. Junia fell into step with Tiria and Judith, chatting about nothing in particular—but just to relieve their minds, quiet their hearts and still their fears of the unknown. Nicolas added a comment here and there, but their conversations always ended abruptly. After a while, Junia gave up and settled into silence with the others.

When they had left camp, she had bid the fair blue waters of the Aegean Sea farewell. Now, all she could see was a dusty tan landscape rimmed in flecks of green. But, she reminded herself as her throat ached with dryness, I'll be saying hello to those fair blue waters shortly, no point in getting sentimental over a piece of water. Water is water, clear, liquid, drinkable. Within two hours they would be there, on the other side of the neck of land. She raised her eyes heavenward. Please God, let our ship be there—waiting for us. Or maybe arrive after we have gotten there. She felt a little ache in her left hand but ignored it. They could not stop for her to put on a fresh bandage. They couldn't afford to lose any lose precious time.

~

Aristo was finally smiling, Demetrius noticed the next day. Good. Thank You, God! You alone do wonders—to him, to me, to all of us. In the past twenty-four hours, he had discovered more “secret believers” on Patmos, those who had grown hard and bitter like Aristo. Now there were more scribes to hand-print the Sacred Scrolls. Many more would hear the word of God. Many hearts had been freed—from the chains of despair, depression and delusion. God had not left them. They had left God and had now returned.

“For the first time, Marcus,” Demetrius paused in hacking away at the rocks, a happy smile stretching across his face, “I know this is the place where God has put me. To help them.”

“What about writing Elder John's visions from God? You don't think God planned that?”

“True, but God could have had you do that.”

Marcus lifted a shoulder, “Anyways, I'm here, ready to do what God would have me do.”

“That's the spirit!” Demetrius clapped Marcus on the back and resumed work.

Marcus is so humble. He glanced up, God, please bless him mightily! He deserves it. Rock crumbled beneath his hammer. Then, a screech of a bird flying overhead reminded him that the greatest blessing was to be free...from sin.

~

Junia ached from veiled head to sandal-clad toes as they plodded along, a slow pace for the young and elderly. Although her hand had turned normal pink and flexible instead of red and swollen, it still ached. It would ache until they boarded the ship for Ikaria, however long that would take.

As Junia walked on that dusty path, the cool wind seemed to whisper to her gently, soothing the ache and the other little pains she felt from the journey. Pine needles clung to the hem of her robe, poking at her ankles with a certain twinge. But how could she see them and step around them in the gathering darkness? She hoped they would reach the port soon. Next, she would stepping on a poisonous snake. Her heart raced at the thought. There weren't any snakes on the path now, was there?

Junia glanced down. Instead of seeing snakes, she saw that her robe was ragged and faded. But inside, she felt her smile stretch unto the skies, my heart is getting smoother and richer. Suddenly, the aches and pains in her body made no difference. She was glad she had been born and was living in these hard times. Her mother's words from long ago drifted to her, “It's the hard things in life that makes us what we are. Out of hardness with endurance, like a soldier, comes strength.” And that was exactly what had happened to her. She had been through the refiner's fire and was now reaping the reward of patience, hope in tomorrow, trust in the unknown and shared a friendship with the most unlikely—her brother's sister-in-law, Tiria. She glanced over at her. The girl looked too quiet, much too quiet for talkative Tiria.

Then Junia realized. God had taken them all through the Test of Character—to try them, to prove them, to reward them in days to come and scatter handfuls of blessings along the way. She raised her eyes to the skies, thanking God. And as her blue eyes lowered back onto the earth, her vision met the blue waters of the Aegean Sea midway.

They were already there. They were at the port to board the ship to Ikaria.

~

They were in the hut, all of them, when Elder John read from the Isaiah Scroll.

“The grass withereth, the flower fadeth,” the words filled the hut like a warm blanket on that chilly late afternoon, “but the word of our God shall stand forever. O Zion, that bringest good tidings, get thee up into the high mountain...”

Demetrius leaned up in his position on the floor, his glance sweeping the hut. The men's faces showed interest, pain, longing, scars, hope, misery, and yet...a peace that he could not explain. He turned back to the voice of Elder John speaking the words of Isaiah.

“Behold, the Lord God will come with strong hand and His arm shall rule for him; behold, his reward is with him and his work is before him.”

You hold us in Your palms, the work of Your hands. Thank You, Lord. Demetrius shifted positions on the floor.

“He shall feed His flock like a shepherd. He shall gather the lambs with His arm, and carry them in His bosom. And shall gently lead those that are with young.”

The words branded into him, A woman may forget her suckling child but You will never; engraved on the palm of Your hand is my name. You said so. Demetrius felt a single tear slide down his cheekbone. He reached up to wipe it off and realized more were coming. He sat there, listening, feeling his heart thump in time to each word. He felt renewed and more capable. He felt ready to go to all the world, if he could.

“He giveth power to the faint... Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall.”

Demetrius blinked sharply, That was me—the outcast, the sinner, the weak one, the hopeless, the man with no good name. He discreetly sniffed to clear the moisture pouring through his nose. He who had no good name, what could be his future?

“But they that wait upon the Lord,” Elder John's eyes searched the room, directly at each one, “shall renew their strength. They shall mount up with wings as eagles. They shall run and not be weary, and they shall walk and not faint.”

Demetrius thoughtfully chewed on his lip, a Something filling him greater than he had ever felt before. This was peace, joy, love, fire, strength, hope. He had no need to think about the future. His life was in the palm of God's hand. His spirit soared. His God had renewed his strength, hope and purpose. Forever, he would be grateful, serving the One Who held his future in the palm of His hands.

A Few Greek Words:

Fil'os: friend

Meh'tehr: mother

Pah'tehr: father

Adher'fi: sister

Adher'fos: brother