by Debra Diaz
The love rushed in and over him; it went straight into his heart and filled a hole there that nothing else had been able to fill…a hole left by a mother who had not wanted him, and laid him on a rock to die. He hadn’t even known it was there! How often he’d told himself it didn’t matter, but it had mattered, and somehow God was fixing it, healing it…with a love greater than any mother could have, for her child.
CHAPTER XXII
He fell asleep on the dusty tile floor next to the stairway. When he woke, he was amazed at the sense of peace he felt, the sense of lightness…as if some intolerable burden that he’d not been aware he was carrying, had been lifted. He sat up, his arms across his knees, and thought regretfully of the scene with Elektra the night before. His first impulse was to share what he knew, and how was he to do that...with her…after the way he’d behaved?
He ran his hands through his hair and stood up. The sun was still low in the east as he walked toward the house, the ground wet and soggy beneath his feet. When he went inside, he was struck by a curious sense of emptiness. He found Linos and Korinna in the kitchen, preparing breakfast.
“They left as soon as the sun came up,” Linos told him, looking anxious. “They had the driver load up their carriage and off they went, fast as you can blink!”
“The young woman looked—I don’t know—like something troubled her,” Korinna added, seeming as anxious as her husband. “She said something about the commander, and you would be sorry.”
Metellus hesitated, and decided to tell them. “Something happened between us that made her angry. But I didn’t harm her. I suppose she is going to lie to her stepfather about it. He’s the commander she spoke of.”
“Are you in trouble, sir?” Linos asked.
“I don’t think so. Let’s forget it. There is something I want to say to both of you.” He looked at Korinna. “Last night I—became a believer in Jesus. A Christian.”
Linos looked dumbfounded. Korinna stared at him for a moment, then raised her hands to her cheeks. “Thanks be to God! Oh, sir, I am so happy for you!”
Since she obviously wanted to embrace him and couldn’t bring herself to do it, he put his arms around her. She dabbed at her eyes and said, “You see, Linos, if a man like him can do it, why can’t you?”
“You know he cannot make himself believe,” Metellus said, releasing her and looking down into her face. “And he cannot do it just because someone else wants him to. He must allow God to reveal himself. Have you explained everything to him?”
“The man named Barnabas explained it very well,” Korinna answered sorrowfully.
“We will pray for you, Linos.”
“Yes, sir,” said Linos, with trepidation.
“Will you eat breakfast now?” Korinna asked, moving toward the oven.
“Yes, and then I’m going into the city. There are some people I want to talk to. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. Perhaps days, weeks. You two can handle things while I’m gone
His plan was to find Barnabas and John Mark, if they were still on the island. He knew that there was much more he needed to learn. Of course, Rachel could teach him, but—
He paused halfway through his breakfast, and his appetite fled. He could not very well go to Rachel now and expect her to welcome him with open arms. Not after the things he had said, and done. Perhaps she had married that Jewish physician by now. Should he go to her? He didn’t know—he would have to pray about it. He needed to learn how to pray!
He understood Rachel now, as he had never understood her before. And he loved her, as he had never loved her before.
* * * *
“I have wanted you to see my house for a long time,” Benjamin said, leading Rachel into the stone dwelling not far from the Temple Mount. “Since this is where we will live when we’re married.”
“We are not betrothed yet, Benjamin,” she said, adding with a smile, “Besides, what if I don’t like your house?”
She went further into the entrance room, followed by the servant who had accompanied her to Jerusalem. It was a spacious house, with expensive-looking furniture. Several of Benjamin’s servants stood in a distant corridor, their heads lowered respectfully.
“But soon,” he answered, returning her smile. He took her hands, looking deeply into her eyes. “Have you decided when?”
It wasn’t fair to keep putting him off, she thought, but she couldn’t bring herself to make it right away. “How about the beginning of summer? By then there will be little rain.”
His smile deepened. “I suppose I can wait a few more weeks. The year of our betrothal will be an eternity—but at least you will belong to me. After all, Jacob waited fourteen years for his Rachel, did he not?”
“Yes, I suppose he did, after the trick his father-in-law played on him.”
“There will be no tricks,” he said. “No deceptions.” He looked closely at her again and asked, “No change of heart?”
“No,” she answered, feeling as if her heart were made of lead. “I will try to be a good wife to you, Benjamin.”
“Come and see the rest of the house.” He clasped her hand, and it took all of her will not to pull away. Her hand did not feel right in his…in fact, it had felt bare and strange ever since she had removed her wedding ring. She had sold the ring to a goldsmith in Jerusalem. The ring itself meant little to her, because of the circumstances of her forced wedding. But getting rid of it had been like saying goodbye…forever…to Metellus, and the memory of their time together. She knew that, if she were going to give him up, she must also give up the memories.
Benjamin showed her the kitchen, and from the oven wafted an appetizing aroma of baking bread. There were two reception rooms, a large dining room and, up a short flight of stairs, four small bedrooms.
“This one will be ours. I can change anything you do not like,” he said, watching her face intently. “And if you don’t like the city, we can move to the country.”
“But this is where you see your patients,” she answered, averting her eyes from the bedroom. She tried to imagine herself in Benjamin’s arms, and saw only Metellus. Oh, this was insanity! How was she going to give herself to Benjamin?
Perhaps she would die, perhaps the world would end, perhaps the Lord would return!
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “They will come to me, or I will go to them.”
“You have been very kind, Benjamin, and understanding.”
“Because I love you. And like Jacob, I would wait for years if I knew there was hope. You have given me hope.”
“I’m trying—very hard.”
“I know that, Rachel. How I have prayed that you would make the right decision! And I believe you have.”
“I have made it, right or wrong.”
“Oh, my dear.” They were alone; he pulled her toward him and held her for a moment. It was the first time he had done so.
“How could it be right to wait for a lifetime, for a man who might never come? How could it be right to marry a man who does not believe as you do?”
“That’s what I have said to myself, Benjamin.”
He walked with her down the few steps. “If you will stay here for a moment, I’ll let the servants know I’m taking you back to Bethany.”
“Oh, that isn’t necessary. Josiah—”
“Is a very good servant, but I would feel that you were safer if I go with you.”
She stood in the entrance hall, waiting, and felt as if she were in an alien land. All of this would be hers, and she didn’t want it. Why could she not go and live with Simon and Daphne for the rest of her life? She would be content there, with the sheep to watch, and places to ride Huldah, and…
No, she would not be content. She wanted a husband, and children of her own. She felt sure that was also God’s will for her. Somehow she must find contentment with Benjamin. God would help her; she knew he would.
Standing there, in that alien house, she resolved that her decision was final…and she would not
look back.
* * * *
Sergius Paullus happened to be gazing thoughtfully out a window of the palace praetorium when he saw Metellus ascending the long flight of marble steps. He wondered why he had come, but he turned and waited expectantly as one of the guards announced the visitor. Metellus strode into the room, his dark head high but a rueful look in his eyes.
“Metellus! This is a surprise—come in, my friend.”
“You are generous to call me friend, after the things I said the last time I was here,” Metellus said. “I have come to beg your pardon, Sergius. I am truly sorry.”
“Think nothing of it!” said the governor. “But it is not really my pardon you should seek.”
“I have asked—his pardon, as well.”
“Do you mean—” Sergius’ eyes widened, and a broad smile lit his face.
“Yes.”
“Praise God! I knew there was a lightness to your step—I was watching out the window, thinking about something. I don’t even remember what it was. But, what has brought this about, Metellus?”
“Something happened—and although it took a while, I realized that I had really believed for some time. I had just been denying it. Pride, as you said, and stubbornness.” He told the governor about Barnabas and John Mark, and Zenon. “Even after witnessing a miracle, I tried to talk myself out of it. But there came a time when I couldn’t deny it any longer. My great regret is that it took so long.”
“It is amazing what the human mind will do to justify itself. But you did accept it! That is the important thing. I didn’t believe either, until I witnessed a miracle. I wish I could have had more faith, and simply believed.”
“From what I’ve heard, the Nazarene often used miracles, to draw men to himself.”
“Yes, but from what I’ve heard, from men who knew him…he did those things to reveal the glory and power of God, and because he had great compassion for those who were sick, or hurting.”
“I want to learn all I can about him. That is another reason I’m here, Sergius. I want to find Barnabas and John Mark, and stay with them for a while.”
“You are welcome to stay here, Metellus—but I’m sure you realize I would not be able to give you the time you need. Nor would I be able to answer all of your questions, although I have been studying. John Mark has left the island, but Barnabas has returned to his home in Salamis. I don’t know for how long.”
“Then I will go there, at once.”
“Barnabas will be a good teacher. He learned from Peter and John. And Paul. For a while he was the only one who would stand by Paul, when everyone was afraid of him.” Sergius gave him a contemplative look. “We need you here, Metellus. Will you return?”
Metellus dropped his gaze for a moment, before meeting that of the governor. “Yes, God willing. I plan to return.”
* * * *
The city of Salamis sat on a long expanse of fertile land between two mountains, along the eastern coast of the island. Having sold his property and given the money away, Barnabas now lived in a small house near the western wall of the city…not far from the Temple of Zeus.
The disciple was pleased to see Metellus, and more than pleased to hear that he was a believer. The church in Salamis welcomed him. He was baptized, and embarked on a study of the life and teachings of Jesus. The more he learned, the stronger grew his faith, and the deeper his love for the man who had died so that he might live.
One of his main concerns was to learn how to pray. Barnabas’ answer was to tell him of a prayer Jesus had given his disciples, as an example of things to pray for: “Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day, our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For yours is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever…amen.”
Barnabas continued, “We are to pray in Jesus’ name, because it is through him that God hears us. We are not to make a great show of our prayers, as hypocrites do, but pray secretly, simply, and sincerely. We are to forgive others, and not pray in a spirit of bitterness. And we must pray in the will of God…we must seek his kingdom.”
“What is meant, exactly, by the kingdom of God?”
Barnabas looked thoughtful, as if he hadn’t been asked that question before. “It means two things, and yet they are the same. Jesus is our King. When the Romans placed that sign over Jesus’ cross that said ‘This is Jesus, the king of the Jews’, they didn’t know how right they were! But his kingdom includes every believer, Jew and Gentile. It is already within us. Paul has explained it by saying that we are, even now, in Heaven with Christ…somehow, in that realm of eternity. But at the end of the age, we will see the reality of what we now see by faith. His kingdom will be visible to all…Jesus will return, and establish his rule over the earth.”
“I’ve heard that he is to return,” Metellus said. “I have met people who watch for him every day.”
“Jesus himself said no one knew the day of his return, and no one can predict it. But he gave us signs to watch for. We have always had wars and famines, and diseases and earthquakes, but near the end there will be more of them. This will be the beginning of the end. There will be many false prophets, seeking to mislead anyone they can. The moral condition of the world will become worse, and worse. There will be a renewed persecution of the church. There will be a desecration of the Jewish Temple—and since Jesus predicted that it would be destroyed, presumably it will be rebuilt before this desecration occurs. Strange happenings in the sky will bring terror and foreboding. There will be great tribulation in the world, greater than has ever been seen before.”
Barnabas paused and gave Metellus a quizzical look. “Are you following this…because it gets rather confusing, at least to me.” At Metellus’ encouraging nod he went on. “Jesus explained it, and so has Paul. Sometime during all this, the church will be taken out of the world, and only unbelievers will be left behind. That is the first phase of his coming, but he will be seen only by those who belong to him. In the second phase, after the tribulation Jesus spoke of, he will return visibly to all men, to set up his reign as King of kings. Not as a sacrificial lamb this time, but as a conquering lion. Not in humility, but in glory and victory!”
“And as a righteous judge,” Metellus added, drawing on things he had already learned.
“Yes, indeed! I hope to be alive when he comes for his church, but as Peter says, a thousand years is like one day to the Lord. We may die before that day, Metellus, and not very pleasantly.”
“Is there any such thing as a pleasant death?” Metellus asked, smiling.
“I don’t know,” Barnabas replied, also with a smile. “But some are worse than others.”
“I am reminded of the man named Stephen. And Paulus Valerius, and his wife.”
“To die for our King,” said Barnabas, “is perhaps the greatest test of faith. I pray to be worthy of such a test.”
* * * *
Metellus had been there almost a month when Barnabas asked him a question…a question he had not expected. The two men, with several others, were helping to build a house for a family who had lost their own house in a fire.
“Tell me, Metellus,” said the other man, as they stopped working to take a drink of water. “What are you going to do about that young woman you left in Bethany?”
Startled, Metellus answered, “How do you know about that?”
“Well,” Barnabas said, smiling, “I don’t know if I know anything. But I am acquainted with Rachel, and you remember, of course, that I was present the night of the celebration of her return. I saw her, and I saw you. What more need I say?”
It was strangely comforting to speak of it with Barnabas. Seeing that no one else was close by, he answered, “By Roman law, Rachel was my wife. Caesar himself forced us to marry. But we loved each other. When I saw how devoted she was to her faith, I couldn’t bring m
yself to—” He stopped, not knowing how to go on.
“You decided you could not be with her,” Barnabas guessed.
“Yes. I divorced her. And now, as much as I would like to go back to her, I don’t think it would be fair to her if I did so.”
“Why do you think that?”
“”Perhaps she has married someone else. Perhaps she has tried to forget me, and is succeeding. What I did to her was—cruel. And yet I meant it for her good.”
“I see.” Barnabas nodded, his eyes squinting in the sunlight. “Quite a dilemma. But Metellus, you don’t strike me as a timid man.”
Metellus stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“Are you afraid of what you will discover? If her faith was the only thing that kept you apart, you owe it to her to let her know that you have changed.”
“Barnabas, if I go to her and she is married or betrothed, it will only cause her greater pain.”
“I’m sure you could find out if she is married without letting her know of it. In fact, I could write Lazarus a letter, if you like.”
“I don’t know,” Metellus said. “That is, I should be the one to write the letter. Perhaps I will. I’ve been praying for an answer.”
“Sometimes our way becomes twisted, when it seems clear to others. But it is an important decision, my son, that will greatly affect both your lives. I, too, will pray.”
That night, they had just finished the evening meal and were about to begin their time of study when there was a knock on the door. A man dressed in the uniform of a courier had a letter, addressed to Metellus.
“It went first to Paphos,” the sweating courier told him, handing over a sealed sheet of papyrus. “When you couldn’t be found it went to the praetorium—since you are a tribune. The governor said you had come here and instructed me to bring it to you.”
“Thank you,” Metellus said, giving the letter a puzzled look, for indeed it was addressed to Tribune Metellus Petraeus. He handed the man several coins and closed the door.