Biblical Tales, Short Story Collection

 

A Gift Multiplied

By Glenda Reynolds 

It was around the time that I turned twelve years old when my father was killed during an uprising in Jerusalem. We were visiting family during Passover when zealots started rioting against the Romans, who had occupied my land and claimed it as part of their empire.

“THE WORLD IS ROME!” shouted a proud Roman centurion, “You will pay your taxes as declared by the divine Caesar.”

 This proclamation only angered the mob. Tempers flared as the Jews retorted with hateful shouting. They hurled stones at the soldiers. The massive throng pressed my father against the small infantry. There was no escape as my father was trampled beneath the hooves of a soldier’s horse. He lived only a few hours until he went to his eternal home. I was robbed of my only parent, not even given the chance to speak to him before his passing. Forsaken. Broken. Where was my God when I needed him?

Fortunately, my father had a brother who was kind enough to take me in. Uncle Abijah lived in the city of Tabgha. He taught me that I should forgive the soldiers responsible for my father’s death since God forgave me of my trespasses. I escaped my grief by helping my uncle tend to his flock of goats every day. My eyes traveled to the mountains of Gilead that loomed high above the Sea of Galilee off to the distance. It was a balm to my soul.

One day, Uncle Abijah sent me to buy food for dinner. He reached into his clay money jar and gave me some coins to make the purchase. I stared at the coins in my hand while I strode through the dusty alley into the noisy marketplace. The stamped image of Caesar reminded me again of those overbearing occupiers in my land. When would God deliver us from these oppressors?

After purchasing five loaves and two fish, I noticed that people were chattering and getting excited that the Galilean had arrived in the city. I found myself swept along with the crowd, curious to see for myself what this holy Man was all about. I had heard that He gave a blind man back his sight, that he raised a girl from the dead. Too bad he wasn’t around when my father died. Why did it have to be so, that others got their miracles but not me? I felt a pang of sorrow. My feet felt heavy as I trudged up the mountain along with the thousands of people who wanted to be ministered to.

Soon, the masses of people sat, waiting for the Galilean to speak. I was busy looking around me until I heard the words, “Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted”. Suddenly, it was as if I were the only audience on that mountain. His words became alive within me. “Love you enemies and pray for those who persecute you that you may be the children of your Father in heaven.” My heart began to break again. This time, it was breaking in order to heal. Love and hope swelled within me in waves. Tears coursed down my cheeks. It was at this time that Jesus looked at me. There were thousands of people there, but He saw just me.

Later, after the sermon, the people wouldn’t leave. Jesus asked, “Where shall we buy bread for these people to eat?”

His disciples looked dumbfounded – one answering that it would take a whole year’s wages to feed them. I remembered that I had purchased some food before walking up the mountain. I pulled my dinner out of the cloth wrap and looked at it. Could God use my gift?

Andrew, a disciple of Jesus, saw me. He helped me to my feet and proclaimed that he had found some food. “But how can this help feed a crowd of so many?” he asked.

Jesus asked them to bring the loaves and fish to Him. He lifted His eyes to the Father and gave thanks. Then he told His disciples to distribute them to all of the people. Miraculously, the loaves and the fish multiplied to feed the thousands. I watched as my little dinner was passed out to the throng and was enjoyed by many. When everyone had his fill, baskets were passed around to collect what was left over. There were twelve baskets full.

As the crowd dispersed, I was left there wondering how I was going to carry all of this food back home. James and John came over to me to ask if I needed help. Soon, each disciple carried a basket to my Uncle Abijah’s house. I am so glad that it wasn’t left for me to explain this one.

 *****

Entertaining Angels Unaware

I never thought much about eternity. My life was too busy to dwell on such things. Why should I trouble myself about the afterlife if no one had all the answers? Better still, why should I lend myself to the subject when no one had solid proof that there is a heaven and a hell? Sure, there were the occasional videos on social media of people telling about their near-death experience: clinically dead but revived. Maybe the “spiritual beings” he or she saw were hallucinations or dreams. I was good at explaining things away.

These same musings were going through my head as I walked down the crowded sidewalk to get to work. The same homeless man I had seen for days sat cross-legged on the pavement as he played his guitar for his income. Strangers showed their appreciation by placing coins or paper currency in his bowl. As I neared, I dropped a dollar in. I noticed his clothes were always clean even though his faded blue jeans had holes in each knee.

The man looked up at me with his sky-blue eyes and said, “Thank you, Olivia.”

Strange, I don’t remember introducing myself to him. “You’re welcome. Keep up the great music.” As I turned to leave, he began to play Jesus Loves Me. I remembered this tune from my childhood when I attended Sunday school. I wasn’t the complete heathen that my mother playfully tagged me and my siblings with. A kind woman had given me a children’s Bible for inviting other children to attend church. She only did this because I cried since I hadn’t brought the most children to church. I didn’t win. She treated me like a winner anyway. The man interrupted my thoughts before I was out of earshot.

“Don’t take Main and Sixth Street,” he warned. I shot him a doubtful look. “Trust me.”

I took a longer way around. Sure enough, when I got to my place of employment, my coworkers said that a gunman had shot and killed several people near Main and Sixth Street. It took place at the exact time I would’ve been there, had I gone that way to work.

I thought about my near-miss all day long. Could there be an all-wise, all-powerful, and omnipresent being who loved us? If so, why was there so much bad in the world? Well, I decided to do something good!

I walked briskly down the sidewalk from work, through the same intersection that the homeless man told me to avoid this morning. Yellow police tape sectioned off several places along the way. There was no mistaking the blood stains on the sidewalk and street. I pulled my collar up over my neck and clutched my coat closed. A cold wind had kicked up. When I arrived at the place where the homeless man hung out, he had perched himself on top of a large plastic bucket where he huddled against the tall building for warmth. His arms encircled his body to brace against the chilly wind. I came near to him to show my gratitude.

“Thank you for the tip this morning. I’m sure you saved my life.” His blue eyes peered at me for a moment. His rugged but handsome face hadn’t seen a razor in days.

“You’re welcome.”

“I would like to show my appreciation by paying for your dinner. Will you let me do that for you?”

“Certainly! Lead on.” With that, he unfolded himself from his huddled position to walk beside me. It surprised me to see that he was very tall. How could such a handsome, capable man be living on the street?

“Is this place okay?” I inquired as we stood outside of Chuck’s Chicken.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

The restaurant was unusually full of patrons. We were seated in the center at a small table. We both ordered a tall cup of hot coffee and chicken nugget dinner with fries and coleslaw. My guest bowed his head and gave thanks to God for his food. Then we ate in silence for most of the time. The place was buzzing with conversation from all of the other groups at other tables. My purse fell to the floor. After I retrieved it and sat up, the homeless man was gone. How odd that he should eat and leave without saying goodbye. Had I done something to offend him? Was the food not to his liking? That wasn’t the case since his plate was clean. When I finished, I placed a tip on the table before I paid the bill.

The next morning, I decided to take a taxi to work. I knew that the fare would be expensive, but I wanted to avoid the homeless man. I was seated in the back left side of the taxi when we crawled to a stop at a light. A bus was speeding a ways behind my taxi; its brakes had failed. Without warning, the bus collided into my taxi and literally peeled the side of the car away. I was hurled out and onto the street. The taxi driver, as well as people from nearby businesses came out to help. Someone called 9-1-1, but it would be too late for me by the time they got there. I was looking down at myself from a little distance above. My face was covered with blood; I had no pulse. I couldn’t feel anything. A man was bent over me. His cross dangled from around his neck. He pleaded to the Father for my life.

I looked up as the heavens split open. I was drawn there, but I knew that I had no right to enter. What had I done to deserve that? When was the last time that I prayed?

Father, forgive me for my sins, selfishness, and self-righteousness. My righteousness is as dirty rags. Save me now…

With my spiritual ears, I could hear a host of angels rejoicing in song. Were they rejoicing over my prayer just now?

At that moment, I had the strength to wipe the blood out of my eyes. There before me was an angel dressed in white robes with large, glorious wings. I knew him! He was the homeless man who played his guitar on the street.

“You’re going to be alright!” he assured me. Then I passed out.

I woke up in the hospital. A nurse was administering my medication through my intravenous drip.

“You’re one lucky lady to be alive!” the nurse said in a chipper voice. The office had sent a beautiful flower bouquet with balloons. A brief smile lit my face. “You’ve had a number of visitors while you were unconscious. The news media even wanted to come in, but we shooed them away.”

“Good!” I mumbled. I tried reaching for the water pitcher. The nurse beat me to it.

“There was one particular visitor who struck me as strange. He looked like a vagabond.” My eyes widened at the mention of him. A familiar bowl was resting on the side table. It was the money bowl from the homeless man. I picked it up. The only thing was a small business-like card inside with these words on it: He died for you, live for him.

*****

God Is Good

God is good. I believed that until today. Now an innocent man, stripped, beaten, bloodied, and bruised, hung on a cross while Roman soldiers gambled for his robe. If only he would call down angels from heaven to rescue him and to avenge him, but he would not. What greater purpose did his life serve other than healing and preaching? Why did he even bother rescuing me from being stoned to death when I still face a cruel world? What hope was there for me if even this innocent prophet and great teacher faced a tragic end?

When I was born, my parents named me Netanya, meaning “gift from God”. I would grow up to even question that myself. I even overheard my mother whisper to my father that they should’ve named me Machla, which means “affliction”. I never tried to honor my parents after that. I did as I pleased.

As I grew into a young adult, my life was filled with drink and wild abandon. I was frequently invited to Herod Antipas’ palace. The guests had their fill of food and wine while music played the whole night long. There were some young men who took an interest in me. I was too drunk and gullible not to fall for their trap. They dragged me away to a private corner to rape me. The guests were too intoxicated and too busy laughing and partying to even notice what was happening. There was little I could do to fend off my attackers. A tall young man grabbed the shoulders of my attackers and struck them in their faces with his fist. They would be out for the rest of the evening. I came face-to-face with my rescuer, whose name was Lantz. He was more of a quiet person who didn’t draw attention to himself. But it turns out, he came to my aid for selfish reasons. You see, he observed me the entire evening. He wanted me all to himself.

And now he had me.

There was a new prophet, Jesus, who preached to the crowds. I took the time to be amongst the masses under the sweltering sun to listen to his words. It was as if someone were knocking on the door to my heart. Many people traveled a long way to be healed. He even fed them from a few loaves and fishes, which was a miracle in itself! All this happened under the watchful eyes of the Jewish temple leaders. It made them furious. They wanted him dead just because he showed compassion to a man and healed his withered hand on the Sabbath.

While I sat amongst the listeners who came to hear Jesus, I remembered that I had agreed to meet with Lantz. He had promised me a romantic time of wining and dining. I wanted to be there to show not only my gratitude for his protection but also to show him my affection for him. As I stood to go, I could feel the eyes of people on me, but no more than Jesus. There was an odd feeling inside of me that it wouldn’t be the last time I’d see him today.

Once I entered Lantz’s house, I quickly realized there were no special preparations at all for a quiet romantic time around the table. I found Lantz in a strange mood, somewhere far from me in his mind. That quickly changed. He showered me with kisses; his hands were on me everywhere. We made love, then afterward spent time quietly lying side by side. All was perfect until some men burst through the door. I threw my clothes on the best I could. The men took hold of me to force me out of the house. I screamed for Lantz to help me. I turned to look at him as he sat there untouched and alone. There was a blank stare on his face, so unfeeling.

He never cared for me at all.

It was a setup: he was the bait, I was the victim. I continued to scream his name until a fist hit my face to shut me up. I was driven down the street like a lamb surrounded by snarling wolves. I knew that time was running out for me. The crowd of angry men stopped near the temple. I noticed that every single one of them had large rocks to stone me with for the sin of adultery. Jesus happened to be there. The men said that I had been taken in adultery; according to the Law of Moses, I should be stoned. They kept demanding an answer while Jesus wrote things on the ground.

“All right, hurl your stones at her,” replied Jesus. “But he who has never sinned may cast the first stone.” One by one, my attackers dropped their stones and walked away.

“Where are your accusers?” he asked me. “Didn’t any of them condemn you?”

“No, sir,” I said after looking all around.

“I don’t condemn you either. Go. Sin no more.”

He helped me to my feet. I looked into his eyes. He looked into my soul. I was at peace.

Until now.

My world was collapsing at the site of the crucifixion. Jesus quoted scriptures and forgave the people who had him crucified, all while he was suffering a criminal’s punishment. When he dismissed his spirit, the sky quickly turned from sunny to stormy, as if the very sins of the world were being laid on him; he was absorbing it all. The ground quaked beneath our feet. Lightning struck multiple times on the hill of Golgotha, where blood mingled with the rain.

My world was dark with despair at seeing the great prophet die. But I later learned he was more than a prophet. It was God’s plan all along that he would come to live among us and to die for the sins of the world. He rose from the dead, although the guards who guarded his tomb were bribed to spread a rumor that his body had been stolen by his disciples.  

He lives. And his Spirit lives within me. 

*****

             HE IS RISEN - Haiku Poem

Women carrying spices

Bowed low before the angels

The Lord was not there.

 

Why look in a tomb

For the living among dead?

He’s come back to life!

 

Messiah would be

Betrayed, crucified, and then

The third day risen.

 

Peter ran there too

Seeing folded linen wraps

Only wonderings.

 

Journey to Emmaus

Two talk about Jesus’ death

Suddenly He’s there.

 

Then unrecognized

He quoted prophets’ writings

Telling of Himself.

 

Joining for dinner

Jesus blessed and broke the bread

Then He disappeared.

 

Their hearts strangely warm

Hearing scriptures on the road

Ran to tell others.

 

Disciples waiting

The Lord suddenly appeared

See His hands and feet.

 

The writings of Psalms

And Prophets must all come true

Then they understood.

 

Written that Messiah

Suffer, die, then rise third day

Salvation to nations.

 

Hands high, He blessed them

Rising into the sky and

Onward to heaven.

 

All filled with mighty joy

Worshipped and served the great God

Continued praising.

*****

Heavenly Destination

What a contrast to experience beautiful spring weather in the month of May while a 9-year-old cat lay up against the house among the filth, his hours of life counting down. In his weakened condition, he couldn’t even muster enough strength or interest to chase the pigeons that flocked by the dozens to the backyard to devour the birdseed scattered on the ground. Not so with Mr. Squirrel. Once Mr. Squirrel was settled at the bird feeder, the orange and white cat named Opie would chase him up the palm tree. The squirrel artfully made his lightning-fast exit down the palm and to the privacy fence with plans to visit another day. Opie knew that something was wrong with his body, especially when he was forced to go to the veterinarian the day before. The bad news was given to his owners that he had an enlarged heart and fluid in his lungs. If only cats could talk, it wouldn’t have been such a shock. How could such a beautiful cat that was counted like a family member, that provided emotional support to his owners, slip through their fingers with his quickly declining health?

Opie felt a need to visit the old bayou where he spent many a day chasing lizards and green frogs and whatever else gained his interest. The bayou served as a disconnect from the world, which meant no loud vehicles or rap music from obnoxious neighbors; no electronic devices, just nature. His eyes squinted against the bright sun as he crawled through the hole in the fencing and slowly made his way to Pilgrim Bayou just a few acres away.

When Opie arrived at the Bayou, he saw his neighbor, Sharna, sitting on the ground with her knees drawn up and crying uncontrollably. Even though she was in her early sixties, Sharna needed a walker to get around. It lay on its side to the right of her. She had been fighting cancer for a long time; the cancer was winning. Her once creamy skin was now tinged with yellow. The pain was too great to bear. Her treatments and medication left her bank accounts drained. She considered selling her property. Some friends chipped in some funds to ease her burden.  It was a miracle that she even made it to Pilgrim Bayou. Opie came to rub his face against her leg as he offered her comfort. Her heart was warmed as she ran her fingers through his thick fur.

Ripples in the water got their attention as Big Bertha, a 13-foot alligator, swam to the edge of the water to greet them. In the past, Sharna often fed Bertha chicken scraps while Opie looked on. After all, Opie was a curious cat, always checking out new things. But unbeknownst to Sharna and Opie, a Burmese python had quietly made its way behind them. Sharna screamed with fright as she stumbled backward toward the water, the python following close behind. She grabbed Opie in her arms. She found herself on uneven, stubby ground. She looked down in horror, seeing she was now on the back of Big Bertha. As if on cue, Bertha wheeled around and headed into deeper waters.

“This could be worse,” she said to herself. And then it was.

It would seem that the python put out a “hit” on the human and the cat. Boa constrictors and yellow and green anacondas began to slither to and over the banks of the bayou. She had never encountered a single snake in all her years in visiting Pilgrim Bayou. What was so special about today? It was as if these snakes were indeed demonic beings, sent there to drag her body and soul down into the murky waters. Bertha did a sweeping motion of her tail when the snakes got too close. The iguanas flicked their tongues out as they looked down from the branches of maple trees. Until now a flock of pristine white egrets was feeding in an adjoining waterway. More anacondas and boa constrictors sent them to flight. Big Bertha kept them at bay with her huge tail.

Up ahead, there was a strange sight: a tiny island with a layer of clouds and a colorful bridge. Bertha swam over to the edge. The small island “called” to Opie. He willingly jumped from the alligator to the island. He looked back only once. With slow steps, Opie crossed the Rainbow Bridge and was gone forever. Sharna looked on in awe. A tear slid down her cheek. She was jerked back to the present when Bertha continued through the bayou.

The number of snakes increased as they continued their assault on the frail human. There was unearthly hissing. Despair filled her heart. This is not the end that she imagined.

A stream of flaming fire startled her. There was a dragon in Pilgrim Bayou. It was burning up the demonic snakes. Other snakes and reptiles retreated to the shadows beyond. The dragon lowered its head and blinked at Sharna. She placed her hand on its face as a way to thank it for saving her.

Up ahead, there was an angel standing near a golden chariot and a white-winged horse. Bertha came to rest at the bank. Sharna made her leap onto dry land.

“Your chariot awaits you, my lady,” said the regal angel.

Without words or hesitation, Sharna boarded the chariot. She held on tight while the winged horse made them airborne to the heavenly realms, forever in the presence of God.

 *****

The Jacob in Me

Eternity. Whoever thought it would come so soon. I’ve always been a “rascal”, a modern-day Jacob, a trickster, an entertainer, and an occasional thief. When I was elementary school age, my family had already made up their minds that when I grew up, I’d be destined for jail. I admit it. I was a little devil.  That’s what happens when you grow up without a father, and your mother is holding down two jobs to provide for her family. That gave me an opportunity to befriend a mischievous boy who talked me into hauling large bags of toilet paper for TP-ing people’s properties. A policeman stopped and asked us what we were doing with all that toilet paper. My friend answered disrespectfully, and the cop hauled us in his police car. You can imagine what I put my mother through.

After graduating from high school, I joined the Navy. Discipline didn’t sit too well with me. I corresponded with my sister. She sent me one small cookie with a letter, probably payback from when I let the air out of her bicycle tires when we were kids. But I recognize a good joke when I see one. My Navy career didn’t go so well. I went AWAL twice and struck a commanding officer. The Jacob in me always came out. I was finally discharged.

I soon found my niche as a salesman. You know the reputation of car salesmen, right? That’s what I was. They called me “Samurai Sam” back in the day. I left the auto sales industry and gravitated to home entertainment sales. Home entertainment was and still is a lucrative industry. But the Jacob came out in me. I was caught stealing merchandise from my employer. My family’s vision of my future came to pass. However, they didn’t post flyers saying, “Have you seen this person?” They didn’t even know I was in jail until one of my friends made phone calls to raise money for my bail. My bail was posted, and I was released.

I found employment in the same industry as a salesman. But the weekends were meant for partying, which I was very good at. I was the life of the party. Give me Budweiser or Jim Beam whiskey; it doesn’t matter. After one of these parties, I was driving home on Highway 75 in Fort Myers. I’m sure I angered a motorist or two. My driving was horrendous. My truck collided with another vehicle, causing me to be thrown from it.  While I lay there in the road covered in dirt and grit, an angel appeared next to me and looked down at me. Other humans who had parked on the side to come to my aid were oblivious to his presence. That’s because I was in between worlds.

“You are lucky, son. I’m glad I found you,” the angel said.

“I never told you to look for me,” I spat out. “What makes you think I’m so lucky? Does this look lucky to you?”

“You aren’t ready for heaven yet. God is giving you a second chance.”

I tried fighting against the message by pushing myself off the ground. This was actually my spirit doing the moving; my body lay still on the asphalt. The angel came closer and pushed me forcefully on my chest.

My eyes opened with a jolt caused by the electricity from the defibrillator used by the paramedic to get my heart to beat again. Yes, I was given a second chance. I almost blew it though, Jacob style.

I lived my life the way I wanted. I bragged about my financial success. I bought a boat and took my dog with me while I fished or mingled with other boaters on weekend getaways with lots of sand and surf. I was addicted to cigarettes and booze. The party was not complete until I was there to entertain, which I did so well.

One day, I checked myself in with a doctor after discovering blood on my pillow and on my face. It turns out I had throat cancer. The weeks that followed were filled with radiation treatments followed by chemotherapy. I lost significant weight. The pain was too great to continue as a salesman or to even speak to relatives on the phone. But in God’s mercy, people reached out to me, sending me devotional books and praying for me on the phone. I decided that I would no longer be a Jacob. I put my life in God’s hands.

But I died.

Months later, to my sister’s surprise, she found an old birthday card that I had sent her years ago. Of course, she had forgotten about it. She also found a Christmas card that I had sent during my time in the Navy. I had written in it how I regretted that we couldn’t watch each other grow into young men and women, that it hurt my heart. No, we can’t go back in time. We can only make choices for the future. But we will see each other one day in the greatest reunion that will ever be, in the presence of the Lord God Almighty.

*****

Psalm 91 (My own Haiku version)

 

Living in shelter

Of Most High God Almighty

Your soul can find rest

 

I declare of God

He alone is my refuge

My place of safety

 

He will rescue you

From every trap and protect

From deadly disease

 

Shelt’ring you with wings

His promises, your armor

And your protection

 

Do not fear terrors

Of disease or disasters

Evils won’t touch you

 

When God is refuge

No evil will conquer you

No plague will come near

 

He orders angels

Protection for you always

They will hold you up

 

The Lord will rescue

And protect those who trust Him

Call and He’ll answer

 

God will honor those

Rewarding them with long life

Giving salvation

*****

Random Acts of Kindness

It was a miserable day like many days before it as the overcast, rainy weather seemed to go on and on. But this wasn’t just any day. This was New Year’s Eve. I decided to take the easy way out and get some take-out from our favorite pizza place.

“This will be pick-up. I’ll take one large Italian sub, a small chef salad, and a raspberry drizzled brownie,” I yelled into my cell phone as I drove from work.

“Give us 10 minutes,” replied the restaurant worker.

The economy had steadily gotten worse. This time last year I faced the holidays without a job. There wasn’t much cause to celebrate. I prayed and believed that God would lead me. I have made it a habit to pause and reflect back. I’m thankful for this new job and how God has provided for us throughout the years.

There have been times when I felt like giving to others when I saw a need. When a coworker couldn’t provide computers for her girls, I gave her a computer tower and laptops.  I tried to be a positive role model for her girls as they grew into young women.

I supported a local Christian radio station with a monthly contribution. The thought crept into my mind to discontinue the donations. I swiftly rejected the idea since the positive messages change people’s lives. The music and programs healed marriages and broken lives. It was broadcasted around the world through the internet. One year the date on my debit card expired. They stopped taking their monthly donations since my card expired. At the time I didn’t know this. I went most of the year without giving. When I discovered this, I called and added new debit card information to continue my giving. I cried on the phone to the representative and felt guilty. She comforted me by saying that God knew the intentions of my heart.

My musings ended as I pulled through the drive-thru of the pizza restaurant. After I paid for the meal, I headed next door to the Dollar General to pick up a gallon of milk. Other people were making a stop there before heading home from work. An elderly lady stood in front of me as the cashier rang up her sale. The old woman didn’t have enough cash to pay. Fortunately, I had some cash to cover it. I just wanted to be done and go home.

The old lady smiled and said, “Thank you so much!”

 Once I paid for my own items, I exited the store. It had started sprinkling a cold rain. A young man sat cross-legged on the sidewalk of the strip mall as he held a sign that asked for money.

I knew what I had to do.

I placed my purchase in my vehicle, grabbed my hot Italian sub, and walked to the young man sitting on the pavement. He clearly acted as though he was caught by surprise as he accepted the warm food.

“Thank you kindly,” he said, barely meeting my eyes as they were transfixed on the box.

From there I headed back to the pizza restaurant to reorder my sub.

I may never see these people again in my life, but I’m glad that I was there when they needed someone to offer them a random act of kindness.

Matthew 25:34-40 says, “Then I, the King, shall say to those at my right, ‘Come, blessed of my Father, into the Kingdom prepared for you from the founding of the world. For I was hungry and you fed me; I was thirsty and you gave me water; I was a stranger and you invited me into your homes; naked and you clothed me; sick and in prison, and you visited me.’

"Then these righteous ones will reply, 'Sir, when did we ever see you hungry and fee you? Or thirsty and give you anything to dring? Or a stranger, and help you? Or naked, and clothe you? When did we ever see you sick or in prison, and visit you?' And I, the King, will tell them, 'When you did it to these my brothers, you were doing it to me!'..."

*****

Redemption of a Thief

 

My life growing up wasn’t so bad, although having no mother did make life harder for a young boy. My father Uriah, raised cattle. It was profitable to sell cattle for temple sacrifice. Only the wealthy and the priests could afford it. It also paid well for celebrations where people feasted. Both Gentiles and Jews knew that the house of Uriah sold the best cattle.

Helping my father as a cattleman helped toughen me up physically. Inwardly, I was a stubborn, wayward boy. I was rebellious and spoiled. He tried to impart his knowledge of the scriptures. I tolerated his reading of the scriptures before I went to sleep. He read Yeshayah 40:1-5 more times than I care to remember. Maybe it was the times we were living in that gave him hope.

“Can’t you find a different scripture to read tonight, father? You’ve read that one so many times.”

“Ah, Tobias, please indulge me for a moment.” He cleared his throat and read, “Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, says your God. Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and preach unto her, that her warfare is ended, that her iniquity is pardoned; for she hath received double in payment for all her sins. Listen! I hear the voice of someone shouting, ‘Make a road for Adonai through the wilderness; make him a straight, smooth road through the desert a highway for Eloheinu. Every valley shall be raised, and every mountain and hill be made low; and let the rough ground become a plain, and the rugged places a broad valley.  The glory of Hashem will be seen by all mankind together; for the mouth of God hath spoken.’”

I closed my eyes and shook my head.

“Very well. I will read another. I won’t have it said that I am long-suffering to my son’s ears.” I smiled at him and he ruffled my hair. Father picked up another parchment and read from Malachi 3:1, “‘Listen: I will send my messenger before me to prepare the way. And then the Lord you are looking for will come suddenly to his Temple—the Messenger of God’s promises, to bring you great joy. Yes, he is surely coming,” says Hashem Almighty.’”

He stopped, and tears welled up in his eyes. Father raised his hands to heaven, giving thanks for Hashem’s many blessings; he thanked God for His promises. He placed one hand on my head to pray over his wayward boy. I would’ve knocked his hand away, but I respected my father and loved him. Why did God take my mother?

A few days passed when Roman soldiers came to our house. They dismounted and pounded on our front door. When no one answered the door, they proceeded through the gate where we were tending to our cattle. The leader of the guards read a decree from Rome.

“All Jewish cattlemen will hereby give portions of their herds to the Roman garrison in your area, for it is decreed by divine Caesar,” the soldier declared with a pompous look on his face.

“You cannot do this! It is my livelihood! You cannot steal from me.”

“We can and we will!”

Father tried to resist. Other Roman guards held him as the leader punched my father’s face. I rushed in to stop them. One of them slapped my face with the back of his hand. I fell to the ground. My father pulled a sword out of a soldier’s sheath. Another instinctively pulled his sword and drove it into my father’s stomach. He sank to the ground not far from me. The soldiers gathered the herd and vacated our land. I pulled my father’s body out of the way to prevent him from getting trampled. That’s when it all began.

After my father’s death, I chose the life of a thief. As I grew to be a man, my skills had gotten better. I prided myself in that I never killed a victim - all except for one man.

I was with some of my friends who were also thieves. We were stealing from people just outside of Nain. They had next to nothing as far as authorities there. It was easy pickings - that was if we were fortunate enough to come across people who actually carried money bags. The filthy Romans taxed our people so much that purses were very light.

There happened to be one young man with his widowed mother. The three of us surrounded them. The young man was obstinate, not giving up his money without a fight. He pulled out a dagger and thrust it at me. I hit him in the head with a large rock. He went out cold. His mother’s screams could be heard for a mile. We stripped them of their valuables and went on our way. I thought I heard the last of it.

Yeshua or Rabbi as some called him, entered into Nain with his disciples and a great crowd. As He entered through the city gate, the same widow was now going to bury the son that I had murdered. I stood in the shadows as I regrettably watched my handiwork. Yeshua came up and touched the coffin, and the bearers stood still.

Yeshua said, “Young man, I say to you, arise.”

At once the young man sat up and began speaking. My mouth dropped open.

How could this be? He was certainly dead by my hand.

I was filled with awe and relief. But I still doubted.

Others around me said, “A great Prophet has arisen among us!” while others said, “Hashem has visited our people!”

One thing is for sure, I never forgot what happened that day.

I carried on with my life of crime. I decided to travel to Jerusalem for Passover. I knew many people would be traveling there, some who could be easily robbed. My pride would be my downfall.

I chose to steal from a wealthy man who traveled with a small caravan. I singled him out and demanded his money as the tip of my blade poked his chin. He reached for his money belt just as his comrades attacked me from behind. They roughed me up a bit and tied my hands. I was tied to a cart and forced to follow the caravan until I was given over to the Roman authorities. They placed me in prison.

A few days went by when the mob outside of my prison grew loud with shouts of, “Crucify Him! Crucify Him!” Soon, I was aware of what my own fate would be. I was forced to march down the road out of the city walls and on to Golgotha (the Skull) where Roman soldiers nailed me to a cross. I could see the faces of some of my victims stare at me, raise their fists, and declare that God was serving justice. Then I saw Yeshua bearing his own cross on his bloodied back, which was stripped of skin; He also bore a crown of thorns. This made me hate the Romans even more to see them treat a holy man like this. They continued to mock Him even after He was nailed to His cross.

The criminal on the other side of Yeshua said, “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!”

I replied, “Don’t you even fear God while you are dying? We are getting the rewards of our deeds. This Man has done nothing wrong.”

I addressed Yeshua saying, “Yeshua, remember me when You come into Your kingdom.”

He answered me, “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with Me in paradise.”

It was at that very moment that I felt peace beyond understanding. A love came down from heaven and bathed my filthy heart in its warm embrace. It was then that I truly understood the scripture that my father cherished for so long. My iniquity was pardoned for Hashem was paying double for my sins. I will abide in the house of God forever.

*****

Strangers in the Desert

Eureka, Nevada is a small town in the desert. Nothing ever really happens there. But I opted to stay at a cheap hotel there instead of camping. Call me a city slicker, but there is no way I’m going to spend the night among tumbleweeds and rattlesnakes. I received a call the night before that my grandfather had suffered a heart attack. He and my grandmother live just outside of Salt Lake City, Utah. Since the drive is long, I decided to go the rest of the way in the morning.

I walked into a diner next door to my hotel and sat at a small table with a view of the street. A cute young blonde waitress came to take my order.

“What can I get for you?” she asked as I quickly scanned over the small menu.

“How are the barbeque ribs?” I inquired.

“It’s our most popular item. I’ve seen many a satisfied customer order this.”

“Good! I’ll take an order of that plus a side of slaw.”

“And your beverage?”

“I’ll take lemonade please.”

“Coming right up,” she said with a wink as she spun around to place the order.

I was distracted by a huge black pickup truck that was jacked up with a suspension lift. It came to park across the street. Although it was getting dark, I could see the driver well enough. He got out and stood there staring at me. After an uncomfortable moment for me, he entered the bar establishment where he had parked. I thought nothing more of it. I turned my attention to photos and décor on the walls that surrounded me to pass the time.

“Here you go, sweetie,” my waitress exclaimed cheerfully. She placed my dinner and beverage on my table. “Just holler if you need me.”

“Thank you!” I responded as I ate in silence.

Afterward, I returned to my hotel room to turn in for the night. After I managed to go to sleep in my strange surroundings, my sleep was interrupted by the black pickup parked outside the bar. The driver kept gunning the engine as the song Highway to Hell blasted from his stereo system and subwoofer. There were a few people toting bottles of beer and dancing in the street. Some of them even howled at the moon like animals. Just as I was about to open the window to yell at them – I know. A lot of good that would’ve done – a couple of police cruisers came to quiet and dispel the crowd. I wouldn’t need my earplugs after all!

At dawn, I decided to get an early start. After I put my suitcase in the trunk of my Toyota Prius, I started up my car and drove down Highway 50. My breakfast consisted of a protein drink and a doughnut that I ate while driving. My Prius loped along at 70 MPH which is the legal speed limit. It was turning out to be a beautiful day with rolling hills dotted with low growing shrubs and mountains on the horizon. There were no truck stops or any signs of civilization for many miles. The view of the mountains began to change. Just my luck! A dust storm was coming in my direction. Visibility was becoming very poor.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, the huge jacked up pickup truck from Eureka was tailgating me. He was revving his engine and blowing his horn.

“Are you kidding me?” I exclaimed in disgust. I hit my breaks to send him a message. Boy that was a bad idea! The pickup quickly accelerated and rear ended my Prius. My car hit some rocks, ran over some embankment, and flipped on its side. The black pickup sped away through the dust storm.

I don’t remember how long I laid there in my upturned car. My eyes were closed. The sound of the wind was oddly soothing. When I opened my eyes, I saw the feet of two strangers.

“Are you okay, Sir?” one of them called out.

“I think I’m okay. I don’t know about my car though.”

I managed to get to the passenger window to climb out.

“Here, let us help you,” the other person said as he grabbed my hand to pull me out. When I was standing next to the car, I could see the two men better. They were both wearing dark clothing and hoodies.

“I’m pretty sure we can help you with your car.”

Before I could answer, both men reached up to grab the bottom of the car and lowered that side to the ground. They did it with ease without even straining. I got in and turned the key in the ignition. The engine started right up on my first attempt. In my excitement, I bolted from the seat to thank them. They were nowhere in sight.

Had I imagined them?

I continued my trip to Utah. The haze of the dust storm was lifting. I slowed my speed when I saw police cruiser lights flashing up ahead. As I neared, I could see that the huge black pickup that had rammed me now sat smashed up near the road. Boulders had come loose and killed the driver on impact. The body of the driver lay near his truck with a sheet covering him completely.

I didn’t rejoice over the fact that my tormentor now laid dead near the road. It saddened me. I also contemplated the way the Almighty sent his angels to help me in my time of need.

*****

The Guest House

The guest house was bone cold that I found myself banished to. It had stayed empty for years since no one ever came to visit. It had seen better days and needed tender loving care, just like me. These were my thoughts as I brushed the cobwebs from the door knocker with one hand and carried my suitcase with the other. When the door creaked open, I was disappointed to see that a leak in the roof had caused ugly brown stains on the white ceiling. Dead flies littered the window sills. Faded curtains framed the glass patio doors that provided a view of an overgrown and weedy garden. Was I really here of my own free will or that of my husband’s? That day seemed like a life time ago, but it was only a year  ago.

I’ll never forget that day when my doctor called me and asked me to come into his office with my husband Steven. Dr. Hopkins gave us the news that I had breast cancer. The doctor explained my options for care which included an operation, chemo and prescription drugs. Luckily I had health coverage through my husband’s employer. After my mastectomy, I began the difficult journey of chemotherapy as we monitored my digestive system. During this time, my relationship with Steven changed for the worse. He spent less and less time with me; he also worked longer hours. He treated me like something that couldn’t be fixed. Did thirty years of marriage mean nothing to him? Did he have his eyes on a younger, healthier woman?

I came home from a doctor’s visit to find an envelope on the kitchen counter with $400.00 in it. There was a note that read, “Here’s money for gas and groceries”. There was no signature, but I knew it was from Steven. How generous of him – not really – since he makes over $50,000.00 a year. He also set up a four foot Christmas tree near the fireplace.

“Ya, thanks a lot!” I said to myself sarcastically. I ignored the tree for days since I wasn’t in the Christmas mood at all. The little pine tree eventually died.

So was I inside and out.

How could something so good – my life and my marriage – just fall apart now? I was supposed to grow old with my husband. I was like a ghost who peered out of the windows from a forgotten guest house. Hopelessness gripped me in her ugly claws. I cried myself to sleep many nights. My mother left me voicemails that I didn’t return.  

As I laid in bed under a mountain of blankets, I stared at the bottles of pills on the night stand as I contemplated taking them all and ending my existence. I wasn’t quite to that point yet for whatever reason. Was it because I was afraid of what lay in store for me when my heart stopped beating? Could I end up in a darker place than I was in now? The truth was I still clung to the notion that I still loved my husband and perhaps he still loved me.

Dr. Hopkins finally asked me why Steven stopped coming with me on my doctor’s visits. I told him that Steven and I were separated. Dr. Hopkins knew that an important key to defeating cancer was to have hope and a positive mental outlook. He introduced me to a patient of his. Carrie was a cancer survivor and had since had two children. She also had a mastectomy and had undergone the same treatment as I was having. Yes, this planted a seed of hope in me. Carrie’s smile was vibrant and her red hair framed her beautiful face. She was living in her piece of heaven. A slight emotion of envy came over me.

My cancer treatments were taking their toll on me. I seemed to be dizzy a lot and I didn’t have much of an appetite. The guest house stayed dark for days with only nightlights on throughout. I had nothing but the four walls of the bedroom as I laid in a weakened condition. One bitter cold evening, I heard the front door creak open. My eyes flew open as I cursed softly for forgetting to lock the door. I raised myself up against the headboard. Heavy footprints could be heard making their way to the bedroom. The light from a flashlight shown as it settled on me.

“So it won’t be the pills that put an end to me,” I thought in my fog of fear.

“Beth, I was worried about you. I haven’t seen you in days,” Steven said.

“I’m okay. Just leave me alone.”

“No, honey. There’s something I have to say.” He fell to his knees beside the bed. I flipped on the lamp on my night stand. Emotion gripped Steven as he struggled to find the words. “I want to say that I’m sorry for not being here when you’ve needed me the most. I’ve been a terrible husband.” There was a long pause. Tears streamed down both of our faces. “Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

I was stubborn. Was I willing to forgive and go back to the familiar home that we shared for the past thirty years? And here I was, an old lady with graying, messy hair, yesterday’s mascara smudging my eyes, and wearing a T-shirt with holes. And fighting cancer.

“I don’t feel like I’m worth anything.”

“You are the world to me. You are my life and my love.”

“You don’t have a pretty little thing on the side that you’re spending time with?” I asked as I studied his face.

“Woman, my heart has always belonged to you. I admit that I was afraid of losing you. But I think that you can beat this thing. If you’ll let me, and by the grace of God, I want to be by your side through this journey.”

Without waiting for an answer, he gathered me in his arms and carried me back to our house, to the familiar warm bed. He lay beside me with his arm around me all night long. It was like a spring thaw on the ice of my heart.

I made a full recovery of my health and my marriage. As for the guest house, we decided to make repairs to it and save the back garden. After all, it was a project of love. It was where we found each other again to continue the journey of life. God is good.

*****

The Shadow of the Almighty

We consider ourselves survivors. After all, who can say that they literally stood, bracing their weight against a glass patio door against the winds of the category 5 Hurricane Michael and lived to tell the tale? I choose to believe that God was hearing our prayers as we watched tall trees bend back and forth, never landing on our house before crashing to the ground. It wasn’t until after this devastating experience that I discovered the powerful promises in Psalm 91 that I will cherish for the rest of my life. I could picture in my mind’s eye a vision of a giant angel in white robes taking his sword out of its sheath and holding a giant shield. With these, the angel kept us safe from the monstrous winds and flying objects.

March is certainly coming in like a lion. As the March winds have increased in strength, a small fire near my city in Bay County Florida has spread and consumed thousands of acres. For several days, we could see smoke rising on the northern horizon, mostly in the afternoon. The stench of smoke gathered in our garage. One unfortunate household that lost their home during Hurricane Michael reported that their new home was claimed by the fire. There are now reported four different fires in this county. It was as if demonic angels, servants of the Prince of the air, had spewed fire and fanned their wings to stoke the flames.

Horse owners scrambled to pack all first-aid, saddles, bridles, blankets, and other necessities. Land owners with large acreage offered to take in these animals during this emergency. A couch to sleep on near her horse was all one friend wanted. A large trailer of hay was brought in. They provided a safe haven for sixteen horses. But what about other animals such as bears, foxes, coyotes, raccoons, and other wildlife? They won’t be so fortunate – so I thought. But God will provide a way for his creation too. The Bible says, “Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them. And how much more valuable you are than birds!” Luke 12:24

 Firefighters have come from all over the state to battle the fires. Some traveled all night long from Naples, Florida in the Southwest part of the state. Upon hearing this, I got emotional and thanked God that there are still good people to come to one’s aid, especially when Governor Ron Desantis came to the microphone to give an update on the wildfire. Desantis was surely placed in his position by God for such a time as this that we’re living in. We welcomed the long-awaited rains that continued for more than a day. It came as a light rain and then progressed to a real downpour. “Surely this will help contain the fires,” were the thoughts that echoed in everyone’s mind. 

A new winter storm formed after the rain event. It caused 60-mile-per-hour winds. We were unaware that a tornado had formed in our area, but no one was hurt. Thank you, guardian angel for once again looking out for us.

No one expected war to happen in March. News of the Russian-Ukrainian war saddens the soul as well as adds to depression. Confusion and sadness have taken residency in my mind about what is playing out. But the innocent shouldn’t suffer at the hands of a tyrannical country. Though it seems that the world is spinning out of control, that things are increasingly getting out of hand, making it difficult to live, and sending us into a cloud of depression, hope is not gone.

Our circumstances are temporary. God’s promises are forever. “Does it mean he no longer loves us if we have trouble or calamity, or are persecuted, or hungry, or destitute, or in danger, or threatened with death? No, despite all these things, overwhelming victory is ours through Christ, who loved us…And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Romans 8:35-39

“You [God] will keep in perfect peace all who trust in you, all whose thoughts are fixed on you! Trust in the Lord always, for the Lord God is the eternal Rock,” Isaiah 26:3-4.

May joy and peace flood your soul. Let go and let God.

 *****

The Stone Rolled Away

It was Easter Sunday with seventy-eight-degree weather, and it felt good to be alive. My daughter Ellie and my son-in-law James invited me over for munchies and a movie. I had my heart set on a barbecue and perhaps the “Smokey and the Bandit” flick. There’s nothin’ to make you feel more young at heart like the Pontiac Firebird Trans Am that Burt Reynolds drove in the movie. With that in mind, I agreed to be there in the afternoon.

I pulled up in their driveway in my white Nissan, my bucket list car that I’m so proud of, and I knocked on the door.

“Grandpa!” exclaimed my two grandchildren, Lisa and Cindy as they threw their little arms around me. They still had more growing to do since they were as high as my belly button. I was in awe that these two beauties were related to me. My wife would’ve been so happy to see them, may she rest in peace.

“Hi, Dad,” Ellie said as she embraced me and gave me a peck on the cheek. “Sorry to tell you this, but James burned all of the burgers on the barbecue. Do hot dogs sound okay?”

What could I say? “Sure, dear. What else are we having?”

“I made a batch of homemade potato chips with a new recipe I saw on the Cooking Network.”

I cringed inwardly, but put a happy face on. “Okay. I’m game to try them.”

We soon had our late lunch dished out while James put in a DVD. Rats! It wasn’t Smokey and the Bandit. It turned out to be “The Passion of The Christ”. Ellie sent the girls outside to eat at the picnic table while the adults enjoyed the movie. James popped his Orville Redenbacher Movie Theater Popcorn in the microwave. I would’ve taken some when he offered it to me, but the kernels would’ve gotten under my dentures.

I saw the first fifteen minutes of it when the day finally caught up with me. I went to sleep on their couch as they looked on and smiled at each other. I started to dream, and in my dream I was Peter, the disciple of Jesus. Why did my brain choose this character of anyone I could be? So there I was as Peter, leaning back against a tree, sleeping while Jesus was praying. Then all of a sudden the temple guards showed up to arrest Jesus. I grabbed a sword and started swinging.

“Off with their heads,” I thought, but I managed to only cut off an ear. How often have I lashed out at people who unjustly treated me?

 I followed the mob to outside the temple where people recognized me saying, “This man was with Jesus of Nazareth. You are one of his disciples.” The crowd turned their attention toward me, all pulling at my clothes. One man was so bold as to punch me in the face, another kicking my leg.

I shrank inwardly at their threats as I said, “I don’t even know this man!” They soon left me alone. My heart was so heavy with regret of my denial. The rooster that should’ve crowed after my denial was being roasted over an open fire. That would’ve tasted so much better than the hot dog and homemade chips.

“Stop it!” I chided myself. “What kind of spineless twit are you to make such a denial? Forgive me, God.”

The mob crucified an innocent man who bore the sins of the world. The earth shook, the dead came out of their graves, and the veil was torn in the temple.

In my dream, time sped up to the first day of the week, Sunday. Mary Magdelene ran through the streets to find me and tell me that the tombstone had been rolled away. Jesus was not there. I ran straightaway to the tomb with John. Although I’m an old man and I don’t see as well as I used to, I could clearly see that the grave clothes were lying there without someone in them. The face cloth was rolled and sitting on the side. John immediately believed he had risen. It was like a flame that ignited in my soul, that I knew it was true.

I felt a rocking motion. Four of the disciples and I were on my boat anchored in the Lake of Galilee. I wanted to eat some fish so badly, to get rid of the taste of hot dogs and homemade potato chips. But no fish were caught all night long.

A man called to us from shore, asking if we’d caught anything. When we told him we’d caught nothing, he suggested throwing the net on the right side of the boat. I did so even though I thought it was crazy. There were so many fish caught that we couldn’t draw in the net. I exclaimed that it was the Lord as I dove into the water to meet Jesus on the shore. As I warmed myself at his fire, he spoke to me.

“Do you really love me? Are you even my friend?” Jesus asked.

“Lord, you know I am,” I replied with tears in my eyes.

“Follow me,” he lovingly replied.

Another stone just rolled away: the one inside of me.

*****

War of the Angels

“Why does God make people suffer?” Jimmy asked his father as he stood beside him at his grandfather’s grave, his little hand holding the much larger hand.

“That’s a big question, son. We’ve lived in a fallen world ever since Adam and Eve made their choices in the Garden of Eden. It isn’t a perfect world anymore.”

“But Grandpa only did good things for other people. He didn’t deserve to die like that.” Jimmy started to sob uncontrollably. Thomas rubbed his son’s back to comfort him. Thomas’s wife came from his other side to lift her son and carry him a short distance away, where she consoled him. The intense sorrow hung like a thick cloud over the little country church graveyard. The breath of spring with the beautiful songs of the birds could not bring cheer to the grieving family and friends.

 “I love you, Dad. We’ll see you again someday.” Thomas said before joining his wife and son. Many more elderly people would die in much the same way around the world.

Meanwhile, in another city, halfway across the county, a woman with a compromised immune system lay dying on a hospital bed. She had experienced complications after surgery as she tried to fight off an infection that wouldn’t leave her body. Now the COVID-19 virus was taking its toll on her already weakened condition. After having pneumonia, her organs were shutting down. Her two little girls sat nearby in chairs as they watched SpongeBob on the hospital’s TV, unaware of the serious condition their mother was in. Her husband moved to stand in a corner behind a curtain to shake his fist at God. He removed the liquor bottle from his coat pocket and took a swig.

A nurse opened the door to check on the patient. She glimpsed the man putting the bottle back in his pocket.

“We’ll have none of that in here!” she chided him.

He cursed and left the room. He didn’t make it very far until grief overcame him. He finally slid to the floor against a wall and allowed some prayers to escape his lips mixed with tears.

The world was slowing down at a quick pace. Many people came together to come up with regulations to stop the contagion. Finally, more people cried out to God to help the world in its great time of need. The people of the world prayed day and night, on their knees, with legs folded and incense burning, driving to their place of employment, or just randomly throughout their waking hours. As prayers ascended to the throne of heaven, the Almighty God commanded his angels to provide healing and protection to the people of Earth.

“It must be time for the King of kings to return to Earth!” some angels said.

“No one knows the day or hour. Not even the angels in heaven or the Son himself. Only God the Father knows,” came the answer. (Matt. 24:36)

The heavenly angels made their way to the people of Earth to heal the nations. Instead, they clashed with the principalities, the fallen angels or Princes of the air who follow Lucifer. The war in the heavens raged for days. Days stretched to weeks. To the humans, it was like watching lightning in the clouds without the rain. The power of the principalities slipped through and found its way to the earth in the form of hail storms during perfectly good spring weather. The heavenly beings sent winds to dispel the damaging hail. Finally, the angel Michael came to the fight on the Lord’s side which gained them the victory. God’s messengers finally arrived at different locations of Earth. Some stayed in their supernatural state as they gave healing to the very sick while some took human form to help provide the cure in laboratories.

Soon, the world recovered from the COVID-19 virus. Economies started to bounce back from the forced shutdown of businesses and public places. The world had a common reason to come together and to reach out to God in their time of need.

 ³ For he [God] rescues you from every trap and protects you from the fatal plague… ⁹For Jehovah is my refuge! I choose the God above all gods to shelter me. ¹⁰ How then can evil overtake me or any plague come near? ¹¹ For he orders his angels to protect you wherever you go. (Psalm 91:3, 9-11)

*****

When Will I See Your Salvation?

I was bone weary as I lay in my bed with thoughts of what transpired that day. Another false Messiah was stoned to death. I looked on as his followers carried off his body for burial. The Roman soldiers just wagged their heads, not comprehending fully why the man was killed. They kept their distance astride their mighty horses, knowing that Jewish matters like this one would resolve itself without them getting their hands dirty. What is one Jew in the scheme of things? Life would go on under Roman rule.

Most of my friends have departed from this world. They lived as devout Jews, abiding by the Torah, and rearing godly families. Yet, it seemed they did not expect Messiah to come in their lifetime. My spirit felt differently. It bubbled with anticipation, with joy unspeakable. Yet my physical body reminded me that I was nearing the end of my life. 

“Adonai, how much longer will I live before I see your salvation? Have I not served you faithfully? How long must Israel wait for their coming King?” Tears formed in my eyes and trickled down this old man’s face. Yet I continued to complain to God, “My body grows weak, and my mind is not as sharp as it used to be.” Silence followed only broken by the sound of my sobs.

But wait. A voice can be heard with my spiritual ears, “Be strong, my faithful one. I am El Shaddai (our God is All-Sufficient). When you are weak, then you will be strong through my Spirit. I will provide for your needs. Behold, you will not see death until you see the Christ.”

I felt peace that I had never experienced before in my life. As I lay there in my bed, the words by the prophet Isaiah in chapter 9, verse 6 came to mind, “For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given; and the government shall be upon His shoulder. And His name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, The Mighty God, The Everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.”

The Mighty God? The Everlasting Father? That sounded like a Son of God.

I stopped my musing to notice that the room seemed much too bright even with the windows closed. I rolled out of bed and threw the door of the window open. How strange to see a very bright star in the sky, and over Bethlehem no less! What could be the meaning of this wonder? What an odd contrast: the brightness of the star compared to the silence of the night. I returned to my bed and slept deeply and peacefully.

After eight days, the Spirit of Adonai led me to the temple. Rabbi Azrial greeted me. 

“Simeon, how are you? You look well. Adonai’s blessings be upon you.”

“Greetings, Azrial. The spirit of Adonai has led me here today, for what I do not know.”

Their conversation was cut short at the sound of a baby’s cry. I excused myself as I searched the temple until I found the babe in Mary’s arms. She and her husband Yoseph were making a sacrifice of two turtledoves according to the Law of Moses. I asked to hold the babe as Mary obliged me. I was overcome with emotion and wonder when words burst forth from me as I blessed God.

“Lord, now let your servant depart in peace, according to Your word; for my eyes have seen Your salvation, which You have prepared before the face of all people, a light to lighten the Gentiles, and the glory of Your people Israel.”

All of a sudden, Anna the prophetess appeared. She was widowed forty-four years ago. She consecrated her life to God and never left the temple as she served Yeshua with fastings and prayers both day and night. She also gave thanks to Yeshua for the babe, Jesus. From that day forth, Anna spoke about the Messiah that she saw with her own eyes to people in Israel who looked for redemption.

As for me, I had much to tell my friends and family about. I continued living for my great God.

Moses on the mountain saw only the back of Yeshua, but I looked into the face of the Prince of Peace. I eagerly anticipated the journey home to be with the God of my fathers.