Stephen settled the older woman and Abigail on the bench opposite Linux, and then Stephen took his place next to his wife. And yet, and yet ... even there Linux felt a calm acceptance. That I might someday find such a love ... flashed through his mind.
Stephen clearly was willing to grant Linux as much time as he needed.
Linux said slowly, staring at his folded hands on the table, "Yes ... yes, thank you, Stephen, for forewarning me about it. That moment-'signs and wonders,' you called it-did happen for me, I believe."
He lifted his gaze, and Stephen reached across to Linux's clasped hands, covering them with his own. "We do thank you, our Lord, for this gift to our new brother. Ready him-body, soul, and spirit-for whatever is to come." The women's soft amens echoed his own.
It was quiet for a moment, and then Linux looked at the three of them across the table. "I am hearing rumors around the fortress of . . . well, of possible troubles."
Abigail grasped the hand of Stephen on one side and the woman on the other.
"Nothing definite," Linux said, "but a number of the subalterns have developed associates within the Judean community. These might be stall owners where the Romans shop, or people the soldiers have helped out of danger, merchants who rely on soldiers, even a few priests and Temple guards. There is talk about the Sanhedrin being split among those who prefer to watch and wait and those who want to strike immediately."
"Our Lord will protect us."
Linux thought Stephen's statement was probably more for the women's sake than his.
Abigail asked Stephen, a tremor in her voice, "What if God is using Linux to warn us?"
The man gave that serious thought, then lowered his head and closed his eyes. Linux was flooded with the sense of the unseen not merely at work but filling the moment.
Linux glanced around the courtyard at the sound of voices. Individuals and groups looked to be praying. Some stood, while others knelt or sat. A few prayed with their heads covered by the traditional prayer shawls, while others clustered tightly together and laid hands upon those at their center.
Linux did not know what to think of Abigail's suggestion that he might be a divine messenger. All he could say of this moment was that it all felt natural, as if he belonged. The way they all prayed around the courtyard, the fact that Stephen still silently prayed, how the two women waited patiently for him to open his eyes. Both natural, yet a new world to Linux.
Finally Stephen looked at Linux. His voice was calm. "As you know, I have been called to serve the Hellenized community. I feel called by God to speak to my brethren at the Freedmen's Synagogue. The possibilities of danger do not change either of these callings."
"But what about..." Abigail stopped. It was a telling moment, for she closed her eyes and bowed her head as Stephen had done. And once again the table was circled by far more than silence.
Eventually she lifted her head, though her eyes remained downcast. She sighed, a quiet rush of sound.
Stephen asked softly, "You have felt it too?"
For a very long moment, Abigail did not respond. Finally she nodded. Once.
Stephen rose to his feet. He said to Linux, "Let me walk you out."
They wound their way through the dwindling people around the plaza. The night remained alive with far more than the flickering torchlight. By the outer gate, Stephen addressed a group preparing to depart. "You are going into the city?" At their nods, he asked, "Will you permit this brother to accompany you? I fear for his safety."
Two of the men wore the severely dark garb of the Pharisees. They started to frown, but the night was too potent even for them. One said, "Come, then."
"One moment." Stephen drew Linux aside. "I would ask a favor of you."
"Anything," Linux said, and meant it. With all his heart.
"If something should happen to me, will you see Abigail safely away from Jerusalem? To Alban and Leah?"
Linux felt a fist grip his heart. "You are thinking something ... might?"
"These are perilous times," Stephen said quietly. "You have said it yourself. Alban and Leah are her official guardians. Take her to their home in Galilee. I would rest more easily knowing you have agreed to this request."
Linux heard a sound in his voice, almost of grief. "I will do as you have requested. But-"
Once again, Stephen would not let him finish. "May God shine upon you for this assurance. I am most grateful, my brother."
It had been too long since Abigail had last felt such an astonishing sense of God's peace. The morning was wrapped in calm, despite the many people who filled the compound on this first day of the week. It was as though they had come for a festival, though no holy days were upon them. Abigail could not shake the sense of the divine presence in their midst.
Through the proclamation of the gospel message and the power of the Spirit, she had seen great miracles that now were becoming common-miracles of rebirth, of physical healing-but she knew Stephen and the other leaders were looking for miracles of even deeper faith. Faith that would carry them through whatever the days might bring. That would give them boldness to continue sharing the Word. Not an hour ago, she and Stephen had talked about this on their way to the courtyard.
For the morning prayers at this dawn of a new week, an expectant crowd had gathered, seeking a new message from God. Perhaps one of the apostles had been given a word of prophecy from the Lord. A new understanding that would be unfolded to the group. If so, she was more than ready to listen-and to accept.
It was not one of the apostles, though, who stepped forward, head covered, and unrolled the scroll. It was Stephen. He read a portion from Deuteronomy then rerolled the scroll and handed it to the assistant, who would ensure its safekeeping. Stephen then reminded the assembly of the laws God had given to them through Moses. The importance of their gathering. Why God in his wisdom ordained that they should meet together.
"We need one another," he exhorted them. "We were not made to be individual worshipers. We are a body. Brothers and sisters. `A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.' We draw upon its strength each time we meet.
"For those of us who believe in our Messiah, that cord now has new meaning. Our Father, our Savior, and the Holy Spirit who dwells within us and gives wisdom and guidance. Again, we need and accept the presence of all three in our lives. And at this time we come apart at the beginning of a new day, a new week, which was God's purpose in the festival gathering, and we present ourselves once more to God, not just as individuals, but as a community of believers. We draw strength and encouragement from one another. We share prayer for God's leading and direction. We ask for strength and courage, that we might continue to be strong in proclaiming the message of Jesus to all people."
Abigail felt the nagging fear again. What if? The enemy was out to destroy what they had become. The singleness of purpose, this sense of togetherness, this blessing of oneness. She couldn't imagine how she would ever endure....
But even as those thoughts chased through her mind, a peace began to replace them. I am here, said a small but clear voice. In this moment she was not only safe, but focused upon the eternal, upon God. It was as though, for the first time, she fully understood through her own experience the words their Master had given, "The Kingdom is here. Now. Within you."
Immanuel. God with us. With Stephen ... She tried to clutch that promise close in her heart.
As members of the community left the compound to take up their tasks for the day, Abigail moved to where Stephen was praying with a small group. A new impression had arrived during her own prayers that morning. She waited while they finished the prayers and made their farewells. She fervently hoped Stephen might be able to offer some insight. Was it just her unsettled imagination, or was God's Spirit speaking to her?
When he turned to her, she began, "I need to talk with you, Stephen, but I do not even know what words to use."
Already a few of their workers were lined up, needing their instructions for the day. Stephen of
fered a few brief directions, asked for their patience, and drew her to a quiet alcove. "What is it, my love?" he asked as they sat on the bench there.
"A feeling. No, more than that. Well, perhaps ..."
The setting was very much in keeping with the man Abigail was coming to know. Morning shadows within the recessed alcove offered them a sense of privacy though they were visible to everyone in the courtyard. She treasured his calm, an invisible strength she could feel every time they were close. Abigail found herself drawing greater clarity from his presence and said, "I wonder if perhaps God has given me a ... a message. One that is directed at me."
Stephen had a certain posture he adopted when listening. Back straight, ankles crossed, hands folded, eyes unblinking in their intensity. "Why should God not speak with you, Abigail?"
"It's not that he shouldn't. It's only that he never has." Stephen made her feel that nothing else in the world mattered, including the passage of time. She allowed herself to rest against the back wall. "You know I have been troubled. Sometimes I feel as though I live almost constantly in fear. I know God is with us. And you will take care of me, Stephen, but ..."
"You of all people have reason to feel uncertainties. Your experiences have taught you all too well how peace can be stripped away in a moment by events beyond your control."
"I want to have faith. Why doesn't God take away my fears?" She did not realize she had spoken up until people nearby glanced her way. She lowered her voice. "Why do I continue to feel as though my worries are in control?"
"Do you mean you would like for God to take away your memories also?"
"No, that is..." She looked at him for a long moment. "Perhaps sometimes. Especially at night, when I wake from dreams that terrify me. Though I haven't had so many of those lately."
They smiled at each other, and Stephen reached for her hand.
"I wish I could say that everything will be fine for you, Abigail. And for us. I would give anything...." He turned to stare out at the plaza, his face a profile of light and shadow. He had never looked more tender. Or more vulnerable. "Perhaps God has a purpose for your keeping hold of your memories. And even your fears."
The tension she had felt building inside her suddenly found a release. "For days I've felt a growing desire to flee. Before our wedding, Alban had invited me to go to Galilee. At the time, I was certain I should remain here, where I can serve the community and stay close to you." She hesitated. "But now, since Alban and Jacob left, I have felt so afraid here. I have wanted you to take me away from here. I feel such a great tension in Jerusalem. And it is growing all the time.... Or perhaps I am imagining things."
"No," Stephen replied softly. "You imagine nothing."
"I know that God has given me a way to serve him here. But I admit ... I admit I was ready to desert it if I could convince you to leave."
Stephen said nothing in response. He merely sat and watched her, his gaze luminous. She felt like he was giving her time to find the answer for herself.
"The warning Linux passed on to you," Abigail said, "captured all my fears and anxieties in one moment. But as I prayed over this later, I had the very clear impression that I needed to hear what he said, and then to face my fears. The instructions were so powerful, so vivid, I felt like I heard the words actually spoken to my heart. That I must lean on the promises that God has given. To let go of even life, if need be, and accept his calling."
She raised her face so she was looking directly into Stephen's eyes. "And perhaps ... perhaps the hardest part, I need do that not only for myself but for those I have come to love."
Stephen responded with a nod that required his entire upper body. As he rocked, he watched her with a gaze as powerful as the morning sun.
Abigail took a deep breath and said what had now come clear in her heart. "I will not try to influence you to seek safety," she said, though her voice was shaking. "You must follow our Master-not a nervous wife's whims. I will continue to pray, but I let you go to fulfill God's calling, whatever that may mean for you. For us. You are serving here. And as long as God allows, I will be here also. Serving with you. You are in God's hands. And God knows best. And if ... if ..." She could scarcely say the words. "If you are endangered, then I pray that God will make you strong. That, in faith in him, you will stand firm to the ..." But she could not say the last word.
Stephen held her hand tightly and repeated quietly, "... firm to the end."
Later that evening, after they had returned to their little home, Stephen set the oil lamp on the small table and observed, "You look weary, my Abigail."
Stephen's tone more than his words brought Abigail's shoulders a bit higher, and she was determined not to add to his burden. The truth was, she was desperately weary. It had been a long and troubling day. Despite her prayers and best intentions, she continued to feel the tensions over the building opposition. Then there had been the strain of dealing with those in desperate need, including a newly widowed mother who had sobbed her desperate worry to Abigail over how she would care for her three small children. Abigail had tried to comfort, had spoken all the truths of God's care and provision, but it had drained her. How would she react in the woman's place? Was her own faith strong enough to carry her through ... such a loss?
She pushed it all aside and turned to her husband with a smile. "It has been a long day. For you as well, I can see."
"How good it is of our Lord to provide the gift of sleep." He settled onto the stool, looking at her as she unbraided her dark tresses. "By morning we will be refreshed enough to face another day."
Abigail nodded and unwrapped the belt around her robe. At the moment she did not want to think about what the new day might demand of her.
They prepared for the night in silence. Abigail spread out their sleeping pallet and coverings. Stephen blew out the oil lamp and stretched his lean form out beside her. Through the window Abigail could see stars, held firmly in place by the hand of God. A bright moon watched over roofs of nearby buildings. The slight breeze whispered against the curtain, cooling away the day's heat.
Abigail felt the soft sigh escape her lips. Trusting God at such a peaceful moment was almost easy. Stephen seemed to share her thoughts, for he murmured, "We are secure, my love. Our busyness sometimes keeps us from opening our hearts to God-and to each other."
Abigail turned to face her husband. She felt very comfortable with Stephen's reserved, calm nature. She understood and accepted that. She also had many personal thoughts and feelings she would have found difficult to share with another.
"I know you are weary, Abigail-but there are some things I need to say. Things I do not wish to leave unspoken for another day. Another hour. I find myself stumbling over my words. I do not express myself easily. Will I burden you further if I attempt to say them now?"
A slice of moonlight fell across Stephen's face, allowing Abigail a softened image of the man she loved. The day's hard labor and serious thoughts seemed washed away. Where his body touched her own, she felt his peace. She murmured her soft assent.
"I have always admired you, Abigail. From the first time I set eyes on you. You were so beautiful. So perfect that ... that you almost frightened me. I would never have attempted to win your heart. Never. I had no right, no position from which to seek your hand. It would have been like ... like a street urchin asking for a pearl."
Abigail held back a gasp.
"Then I was approached by our leaders. Would I marry you? You can imagine my shock. I struggled. I prayed. How could I? Would God really entrust such a lovely woman to my care?
"What I didn't know then, Abigail, was that I should not have been in such awe of your beauty. I should have been in awe of your spirit. Your faith. Your absolute commitment to God-and to others. Your striking eyes daily sought ways to serve. Your smile readily offered comfort, compassion, and encouragement." He lifted one of her hands in both of his own. "These strong, gracious hands continually minister to the needs of others, and your slender shou
lders carry burdens far too heavy for them to bear. Even the healing of your leg has become a witness to so many.
"But it is your faith that I have come to treasure the most, dear one. Your confidence in God. Your trust in him-and in me-that gets us through each day. Yes, you speak of fear, but even amidst the fear you continue to serve. To trust. To believe God's promises."
She felt the tremble through her body. Stephen, more than anyone, knew of her fear. And he spoke of her unwavering faith. Did he know how fear gripped her at times, making her far from confident? Would he speak so if he knew ... ?
"It is true we all have fears attack us," he was saying. "We do not speak of it-but it is there. In those times we realize more than ever that we need God. That is when we pray with the most sincerity. That is when he answers with the most fatherly compassion. His presence is most intimate, most precious, and most reassuring, in those times of fear."
Abigail felt his words flowing over her, into her heart. She was sorting through what she might say in response when he reached out to touch her face.
"Do you know what I fear, Abigail? Daily? Losing you. I have struggled with it ever since our betrothal vows. During morning prayers, as well as with my last breath at night, I pray for your protection. Were it not for God's grace I would have snatched you away from all this and fled long before now. You are my rock, Abigail. You remind me of why the Lord's calling is so important in my life. We must share his truth-to change our world. To make it a place filled with love rather than hate. With peace, rather than war. With mercy, rather than revenge. With holiness, rather than evil.
"As a man, that is my prayer-my desire-that through his word the world will be a changed and safer place for you-and for our little ones. I have always longed to have children. And could I have envisaged the woman to be their mother, she would be exactly like you. Strong, devoted to God. And beautiful. Only now, since you have become my wife, do I begin to understand what love is. What our Lord desires for his bride. His followers. Now I know why he was willing to die."
The Hidden Flame Page 27