~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.
