~A short story written from the perspective of a young Messianic woman when Christians were under persecution in ancient Rome. In keeping with Jewish culture the name of God is not spelled out in this story. This excerpt was taken from my book Visions of Celestial Love.
Roselyn whispered over her lover’s limp body. Perspiration
beaded on his forehead and trailed down his neck. His breaths came in broken,
sharp gasps. Blood trailed down the side of his lips. His eyes were wide and
empty. Shock gripped his conscious. He had received so many strikes to his
head.
“Gabriel,” Roselyn wept silently,
tears welling in her eyes, “Please…please don’t go.”
His face was ashen and scarred. The souls of his eyes bore into her and shifted over her face. Something of understanding flashed across emerald his green eyes like a shooting star.
“Roselyn…” He struggled gaining
some understanding.
“No, no…shh,” she tried to soothe,
and cupped his face underneath the night sky. She didn’t want him to use any of
his energy to speak. Exposed to the cold of the elements, she prayed and buried
her face in his chest.
Speaking in tongues, she beseeched Yahveh in words too deep for her.
Finally her Hebraic tongue took control and she uttered words to the One who sat
above the circle of the Earth, “לשמור על הנשימה של חיים שלך בו אב. Keep Your
breath of life in him, Father. אל תיתן לזה לעבור, לא מאפשר לו לעבור. Don’t let
it pass, don’t let it pass.”
Her thick Aramaic accent brought a
familiar comfort to Gabriel’s Roman ears. He remembered the first time he’d
heard her singing to her G-d, with the rest of the Jews in their sukkah, or tent of meeting. Her voice,
he thought, was a pitch higher than the angels and it resounded like the music
of bells in the still air, piercing his ears and his soul with delight…and
pain. Delight because he had never heard anything so beautiful in his life;
pain because her joy was foreign to him. Where she had known peace he had known
chaos, where she had known rest he had known inward turmoil, where she had
known joy he had known ache, and where she had known truth he was bogged down
with unanswered questions.
After hearing her sing, he had gone
every Shabbat by the local city Synagogue where they faithfully assembled to
listen to her. She sung with such passion, such clarity. Joy beamed on her
olive skin. The light that shone from her deeply warm brown eyes burned his
heart like a thousand bowls of cinnamon set on fire. She seemed so sure of her
G-d despite the enslavement of her peoples and their living conditions. It was
her steadfast conviction in the face of persecution that brought him to Adonai. He remembered the initial
pleasure he felt when he heard her make melody to the Lord, as she now prayed
over him with tears spilling from her eyes and lining her cheeks.
Her eyes lifted from his frame temporarily as
she scanned her surroundings. It was dangerous to be here. She knew it. And she
knew should try to drag Gabriel inside a hidden alcove. The riot was still hot
in the city. Ruthless men, desperate thieves, and struggling soldiers crowded
the street in a moving web of confusion and blood. The wounded laid unpitied
where they were struck and their moans and wails buzzed the air like a hive of
bees.
Despite the rush of panic she felt
within, she stayed and continued to pray, “Oh L-rd hear, Oh L-rd have chesed,” Roselyn breathed, with tears
drenching her voice. “Have mercy, mercy, mercy, oh G-d. Heal your servant. Heal
Gabriel.”
A shrilly shriek sounded from a
street or two down the road. It grew faint and then choky. A gurgling noise
came before silence. Roselyn’s pulse quickened…a woman had been murdered.
“Go, Roselyn,” Gabriel rasped, a
light in his emerald green eyes. The effect of shock had passed from the stab
wound he had received a few moments ago in an attempt to save her from being
raped by a band of legionaries, “Save yourself.”
Roselyn shook her head, her tears
spilling on the flowing white folds of her gossamer dress. Her dark chestnut
eyes sparkled from torchlight, “Never, I will never leave you.”
Gabriel’s eyes saddened from the
joy and pain he felt at her confession. A knife gripped his heart at the same
time soft comfort came from her steadfast love. Pushing aside his own
selfishness for her presence he spoke, “I want you to be safe. I want you to live.”
Roselyn’s lips trembled
uncontrollably as she spoke, “As long as I’m with you…I am safe. As long as G-d
rules…I live.”
The shimmering of building tears
gathered in Gabriel’s eyes. “You always were stubborn,” he smiled weakly.
A small laugh escaped Roselyn’s
lips. She rubbed his cheek affectionately as he grasped for life, his breathing
still shaky. Becoming serious she whispered, “Forgive me.”
Gabriel’s eyes lifted, “For what?”
“If I hadn’t…,” she began choking
on her own tears, “If I had just…”
He silenced her, “I’d rather die
Roselyn, than have anyone hurt you.”
He lifted his bronzed hand and
trailed the side of her delicate face with a calloused finger, “I’d rather die
defending you, than live knowing I didn’t protect you.”
A rush of hobbled boots sounded,
trumping against the stone pavement.
“Soldiers,” Roselyn gasped looking
up, fear causing her thin body to tremble.
“Hurry,” Gabriel warned gripping
her arm, “you don’t have much time.”
“They are your friends. Perhaps you
can reason with them.”
“I am a traitor to the crown. I
killed my own kind to defend your people. I renounced the gods of the emperor
to serve the One true God.”
Roselyn’s eyes were desperate for
hope. Gabriel saw that and shook his head, “They will have no pity. I’m as dead
to them as your people are.”
The footsteps grew louder and
behind them followed wails of terror.
“Hurry! Go! Go!”
“No!” Roselyn cried and gripped the
collar of Gabriel’s tunic even as he tried to push her away.
Mustering her strength she rose and
then began to pull on his body.
“It’s too late for me, Roselyn!”
Her only response was audible tears
as she struggled to move his muscular body with her feeble one. She wished she
weren’t so malnourished, at that moment more than ever.
Gabriel saw her fight, knew she
wouldn’t quit, and so in penetrating agony he lifted his legs, gaping with the
gnashing wounds of knives, and kicked with his heels at the pavement to aid
her. The sword that hung on his belt scraped against the stone ground and shone
sliver in the moonlight. Roselyn was able to pull him between two small Jewish
homes underneath the shadow of connecting roofs just in time to see a young
Palestinian thief running from a legionnaire.
He fled like a mouse before a lion.
His clothes were ragged and his skin was blackened from the sun and the sweat
of forced labor. The legionnaire made sport behind him and after enjoying a
quick jest, threw a long framea spear that effortlessly slit him through the
back. The young man fell silently with wide eyes and died before he hit the
ground.
With a licentious smirk the
legionnaire pressed the back of his heel into the dead man’s body and pulled
his spear free. He cleared his throat and spit on the man he had just killed.
“Palestinian dog,” he cursed and then checked to see if his spear incurred any
damage.
Roselyn covered her mouth to keep
from screaming. Fresh tears pricked at her eyes as she saw a man so coldly
murdered before her. Gabriel firmly took hold of her arms and squeezed when she
began to shake. “Shh, shh, shh,” he breathed lightly.
Shortly after his kill a group of
soldiers followed behind him.
One whistled, “Clean cut,
Sebastian.”
“Not exactly,” Sebastian said, his
ice-blue eyes piercing. His pale face was marked by hardness and his legs and
arms favored polished marble etched with sapphire blue veins. He wore a bronzed
uniform gilded with gold that glimmered from torch and moonlight. His ash-brown
hair was freshly cut and not a single hair seemed to be out of place.
“The pig’s blood is on my spear,” Sebastian stated, and without warning flung the spear at one of the men. It was caught effortlessly. A man with dark hair and eyes cleaned it off using the robe of a dead man lying beside him.
“Not anymore,” the dark haired man
said and handed it back to Sebastian.
“So it seems,” Sebastian said with
a satisfied smile.
“How’s the south quarter going, my
lord?” another man asked. He had long blonde hair that was braided in the back
and tied with black bands.
Sebastian laughed, “Fun.”
“Honestly, how long does it take to
kill one revolt?” one grumbled.
“Tsk, tsk, Annalias. Have a little
jest while we’re out making rounds, huh? By the time the night’s over we will
have struck such terror in the Jewish and lower class scum that it will be
talked about for generations. We shall not see another man so bold as to stir
up a crowd in these parts again. Not after this blood bath anyhow,” Sebastian
said confidently. He spread his arms out to comfort his friend and emphasize
his words, “Listen lad! What do you hear?”
Shrieks, screams and groans filled
the air like the whipping of a flag in a strong wind.
“Music,” his friend answered with a
wicked smile, as if he were feeding off the fear in the air.
“Terror! The best kind of music.
Let death rein in the hearts of these scums. Let it replace courage and hope.
Long live the emperor!”
With a roar the crowd of
legionaries shouted, “Long live the emperor! Long live the crown!”
Sebastian laughed, “Pax Romana!!!”
Roselyn trembled as the crowd of
ruthless legionaries disappeared. They were like wolves hunting little
lambs—out-powering and outnumbering the people of G-d.
The minute they disappeared Roselyn
ran toward the slain Palestinian man. Gabriel tried to stay her but reached for
her too late. Her gown glowed white in the moonlight and flowed like currents
as she moved. Her long ebony hair swayed behind her like black silk echoing
moonlight.
Kneeling, Roselyn turned the body
around and recoiled when she saw his face. It was Periah—the young teen who had
often come to the sukkah on Saturday
to jeer at her and her kin as they worshiped. She had long prayed for him to be
saved.
Gabriel called her back but she
refused. Shaking her head at her concerned lover she turned her attention back
to the boy. He could have not been past sixteen. A deep mourning filled her gut
for him and a wail pressed at the back of her throat to escape. He died without
hope. His was the death most to be pitied. Muffled sobs escaped her lips as she
gazed down at him—her dark curly hair surrounded his face like a flow of silken
waters from a waterfall. Where was his life now?
“Roselyn, come back!” Gabriel
called as quietly and as urgently as he could. When she didn’t move he spoke the
words he wished weren’t true, “He’s dead.”
Roselyn’s tears blurred and then
finally blinded her vision for a moment. All she could see was Yahveh’s heart for this young lost man.
She saw him scraping in trash bins for food and scaring off rats from soiled
lunches. She saw him scratching sores from his peeling skin and she saw him
falling asleep every night without hope. She remembered how she had pitied him
from the moment she saw his emaciated frame and soulless eyes. A strong and
penetrating sadness had gripped her soul for him, and she knew it was not from
herself, G-d had given her His compassions for him.
For months she had reached out in
love to him, shared what little food she had, quoted scripture to him, and
prayed relentlessly for him. And now here he was, on blood-stained sand and
dead, without the eternal hope of HaMashiach
she had prayed he would receive.
What were all her efforts for? He
had died without the light of Yeshua in his heart. At that moment her sorrow
became unbearable, overpowering her in fierce anguish. A dark and fleeting
thought spoke to her as a door of weakness was open in her soul. It seethed,
“Where are the miracles your fathers of old speak of? This God of yours is a
fable.”
The second the thought came Roselyn recognized it as the deceiver’s voice, and she knew right then that she wasn’t fighting against flesh and blood. Her eyes widened and something holy within her quickened. Suddenly fear evaporated from her. There was a spiritual war going on for the souls of men; for the soul she held in her hands now.
“Get behind me HaSatan. You are a liar and the truth is not in you.”
At her rebuke she felt the dark
force leave. It had been hovering over the young Palestinian man. A fire
erupted in Roselyn’s soul. The enemy would not have him! He would not win!
Wounded and bleeding, Gabriel
limped over to where Roselyn was. His hand clenched his lower abdomen where he
had been stabbed.
“Roselyn,” he whispered softly,
seeing the trails of tears on her neck and cheeks.
“Pray with me,” Roselyn beseeched
quietly.
“He’s dead,” Gabriel said sadly.
“Do we not serve the Giver of
life?” Roselyn questioned, glancing at Gabriel. He saw a new light in her eyes
that exceeded any he had seen before. “He is not the G-d of the dead but the
G-d of the living. He is the same yesterday, today, and forevermore. If He can
bring a dead man back to life in the past He can do it now. If He parted the
Red Sea for Mosheh and my people in
the time of Pharaoh then He can part this sea of blood that stains the ground
we walk on. If He could be a pillar of light to His promised children then, He
can bring light in fainting hearts now,” her voice became clear like a bell
carrying the sound of Heaven across the four winds, “If He can bring Messiah
into the world and save those dead in sin then He can save Periah.”
Against humanistic logic, Gabriel
laid a hand on the boy’s stiff leg to pray but kept his eyes on his
surroundings, “I will intercede with you,” he said relenting.
Roselyn closed her eyes and began
praying to G-d, “אני מתחנן רוח החיים חזרה אל אב גופו. ייתכן שהנשימה שנתת לו ביצירה
שלו תחזור אליו שוב. ייתכן שהוא לא יאבד אבל בוא שמים לשמוח בישועתו. אתה עלול להיות
מהולל. I beg for Your breath of life to be put back into him, Father. The
breath You breathed at his creation, I pray it would return. I pray that he
would not be lost, but that Heaven would rejoice at His salvation and may You
be glorified!”
Roselyn’s speech translated into a
clear and pure tongue. Suddenly she felt it wasn’t she who was praying but the
very Ruach of G-d. A language unknown
to her gushed forth from her gut in endless waves. It felt like translucent
aromatic waters were rushing from within her soul into the body of Periah. Her
fingertips trembled as she felt a warm Presence go from them into the cold body
of Periah.
She didn’t know what the words
swimming from her lips meant, but she sensed in her spirit a calling back was
happening. An ancient cry was going out and breaking through spiritually dark
airwaves. A battle was being fought that she couldn’t see. A life was at stake.
“Bring him back G-d of chesed!” she called.
Then suddenly going after the dark
force that had held Periah in spiritual blindness, Roselyn demanded under the
influence and power of the Ruach HaKodesh,
“I require the soul of Periah back! You cannot have him! I plead the blood of Yeshua. Be bound by the blood. You have
no authority or legal right to Periah.”
A great darkness broke and Gabriel
saw a light more pure and white than the stars flash across his eyes. Roselyn’s
chestnut eyes rose heavenward and she began to sing glory to G-d, her song of
worship climaxing over the high-pitched shrieks that penetrated the city.
Her hands began to burn as if she
had placed them on hot coals, and for a moment she imagined she saw through the
eyes of Yeshua. She imagined she wasn’t
on earth, but seated with Him in heavenly places. Roselyn and Gabriel were so
caught up in the electric manifestation of God’s power that they didn’t notice
the silhouette of a man approaching them. Roselyn’s song lifted to Heaven as
she poured forth thanksgiving to God.
Just then a menacing voice hissed
behind her, “What are you doing?” A dark arm rose above her and was poised to
strike. “Jewish SCUMM!!!”
Gabriel drew his sword from his
belt and lifted it above Roselyn’s head, meeting the blow of the legionnaire
midair. The clash of metal against metal sent sparks flying off. The physical
force of the legionnaire’s blow sent stinging ripples of pain through Gabriel’s
arms. His fresh wounds gaped open even more and a searing vibration throbbed
through his body. Gabriel flinched back as the legionnaire moved to kick him.
Gritting his teeth and ignoring his pain he caught the man’s foot midair,
twisted it sharply and pulled.
“Roselyn run!” Gabriel yelled,
using up what little energy he had left.
He knew he wouldn’t be able to kill
this man, but only stall him long enough for Roselyn to escape. A sharp angry
cry split the air as the legionnaire landed on his foot and jerked it free.
With the same foot he kicked Gabriel in the mouth sending him flying backward.
Blood streamed from his already cracked lips. Roselyn screamed as he landed on
the pavement with a heavy thud.
“Traitor,” the legionnaire spat
with a deadly malice as he approached him. He drew a short knife from his
sheath. Gabriel coughed violently as a flow of blood rose from his throat. His
emerald eyes met Annalias’s hard face. “I’ll maim you and send your head to the
emperor!”
Rushing to her feet, Roselyn fell
atop Gabriel, shielding him with her own body. She closed her eyes and prepared
for the worst. Instead of a knife piercing through her skin she felt a large
clammy hand snatch her from Gabriel with a dark force she didn’t know was
possible. A soft gasp of pain escaped her lips. The man looked down at her in
utter disdain. Hatred burned in his deep blue eyes.
“Where is your God now, Jewish
whore?”
His face wrinkled when she didn’t
react. It angered him that she didn’t shake with fear. Everyone he had killed
that night shook with fear before he killed them. Enraged he yanked her up by
the collar of her dress.
“Answer me when I talk to you pig!
Where is He?”
His eyes burned with a fury beyond
human inspiration. Roselyn merely stared back at him with tearful eyes. He saw
sadness in them, pity in them, pain in them…but no fear. His fingers climbed
around her neck like the legs of a spider and he lifted her off the ground
until her feet dangled. He closed the canal of her throat and she choked for
air.
“You think your people are chosen?
You think your God is stronger than the gods of Rome? We rule death. Tell me
what is stronger than that?”
He flung her back and she fell to
the ground. Gabriel lifted a hand above Roselyn. Gnashing his teeth, he raised
his torso despite the strength he felt leaving him. Energy seeped from the
pores of his skin and he had never known a deeper weakness in his life. Still
he determined to defend her with his last breath.
The legionnaire laughed callously
at Gabriel’s attempt to protect the little Jewess. He grabbed the front of his
sword and used the back to whack Gabriel in the face. Blood gushed forth from
Gabriel’s lips and a piercing sound filled his ears as his head swooned. He was
dying.
The world began to spin round and
round and nauseous dizziness threatened to leave him unconscious. He felt his
body begin to blacken out in shock but fought against it. Please God, he begged, not
like this. Give me strength to save her!
Something sinister shifted in the
legionnaire’s eyes. “Why kill you right away when I can make you suffer?” he
grimaced. His evil eyes blazed and focused on Roselyn.
Roselyn sat up and looked upon the
man who held a long sword toward her neck.
“Any last words, Jewess?” he
smirked.
Roselyn blinked back the pools of
tears that gathered behind her eyes and spoke quietly. She uttered the dearest
name to her heart. She uttered the only name she knew could save her.
“Yeshua,” she said softly.
“What?!” the soldier railed, not
hearing her.
“The One you call Jesus or Joshua.
He is stronger than your gods of death.”
“Swine!” the legionnaire yelled, as
if the very name of Messiah burned his ears. He struck Roselyn across the face
with his hand and her face twisted so fiercely that he thought her neck would
break. She grabbed at her bruised cheek sharply and quick gasps escaped her
lips before she recovered her breath.
Though her voice was strained she
spoke, “H-He gives life. Life is more powerful than death. Light will always be
more powerful than darkness. Light has shone in the darkness and the darkness
does not overcome it.”
Her hair hid her face until she
turned toward him. An angry red handprint marked the side of her face where he
had struck, yet warmth glowed in her eyes.
“He can make you alive again,” she
said reaching toward the legionnaire’s heart. There was such peace and love in
her words that he flinched back from her hand.
She didn’t curse him like so many
did before he went to kill them, she didn’t beg for mercy like others did
either, or cower with fear…his personal favorite. She was reaching out to him
in love, offering him the best life her faith made her believe she could give.
He stared at her in wonder until an outside shadow was cast over his face
again.
Annalias sneered in a mocking tone,
“The same way He brought back your little Palestinian friend over there?”
When silence met his ears he
laughed heartily, “I heard you praying for your God to bring him back.”
Annalias wiped the tears of mirth
from his eyes, “Honestly, I’ve never seen anything so pitiful or entertaining
in my life. If your God is life, as you say, then let the dead man speak.”
Roselyn simply looked up at him
with pleading eyes. A faint voice was heard from a distance away.
“Yes.”
Both Roselyn and the legionnaire
turned toward the sound. A bony black hand lifted against the torch-lit sky.
Slowly Periah stood up, amazement in his eyes.
Dread filled the legionnaire and he
looked as if he had seen a ghost.
“You were dead! Sebastian ran you
through!” he breathed, taking shaky steps backward.
“I was,” Periah admitted, knowing
he could very well be run through again, “and he did…but Someone touched my
body.”
Periah began to shake as he
unconsciously patted himself to make sure he was really living.
“I’ve seen death…and I’ve seen
Life.” Periah too, was amazed that he was alive again.
Gabriel laid on the ground unable
to move. He couldn’t see, but his ears picked up the distinctive pitch in
Periah’s voice. A sound he had grown accustomed to over the months he had spent
with Roselyn. Could it be?! In his
gut he knew Periah was alive again. Thank
you God. Joy and peace swelled within his soul even as his eyes rolled back
and he fell into a state of temporary unconsciousness.
Despite her own shock at seeing a dead man
raised to life again Roselyn closed her eyes and spoke the words that resounded
in her, words that burned in her like fire and began to overwhelm her. God was
making His plea to Annalias.
“Please Annalias,” she cried,
unable to control herself, “He loves you. Jesus loves you. He wants to make you
whole again. He wants to give you life. He wants to take away from you the
thing that has followed you and fed off your inner pain and the fears of
others.”
Annalias turned to her as if she
too were a phantom. His sword dropped from his hand.
Just then Roselyn’s tender maple
eyes opened. A holy light of love filled them and she spoke what she heard, “He
wants to give you the breath of life.”
Annalias saw a divine Presence
within her, a Presence more powerful than the deadly presence that was familiar
to him. He saw Life that was stronger than death stand before him and in fear
he took off running. His hobbled footsteps were heard against the pavement.
“He loves you,” she whispered to
his back, seeing his fate was worse than any he had killed or any Rome had
tortured, “D-don’t flee.”
She was heartbroken as his figure
disappeared. At that moment she knew what it meant to love your enemies and to
pray for those who persecute you. All she wanted for him was salvation, for the
love of God to ravish his heart and break off the spiritual darkness that used
and abused him like pawn.
~This excerpt was taken from the chapter on Temptation & Spiritual Warfare: An allegory on loving your enemies and victory in Jesus.
