Bread of Angels

by Tessa Afshar

  “Valerius invited us to his own home, which was not far from the prison. We had hardly entered into his domicile when Valerius cried as if the words were bursting from him, ‘I have seen the fearsome power of your God in the earthquake that broke your chains. I saw, also, his mercy through you. Sirs, what must I do to be saved?’”

  Paul took a deep breath. For a moment his eyes drifted shut. “Every stripe, every agonizing stroke of that wooden rod had paved the way for this moment. What a bargain! What an economical exchange to pay with our own blood for the life of a man. Had we not landed in prison, we would never have come to know him. Nor would Valerius have seen a glimpse of God in that earthquake.

  “For those who love God, all things work together for good. Even a beating becomes an instrument of salvation in the hands of the living God. Valerius and his whole family were baptized only a few hours ago. The Kingdom of God is growing.”

  Luke, Marcus, and Timothy cheered aloud, thrilled with the news of Valerius’s newfound faith.

  Lydia swallowed hard. She had accused God of abandoning his children. All the while, he had been unfurling his plan, purchasing the life of a whole family.

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  Surely there is a future,

  and your hope will not be cut off.

  PROVERBS 23:18

  “I AM AFRAID WE HAD a little fun at the praetor’s expense,” Silas said later, when most of the household had gone to bed, leaving Lydia and Rebekah to keep their visitors company. “He sent his sergeants to set us free early this morning. But we refused to leave the prison without an apology.” He gave a toothy smile.

  “We had to clear our reputation, after all,” Paul said.

  “How did you do that?” Lydia asked, confused.

  “We explained that we were Roman citizens. We had been beaten hastily and without a lawful trial.”

  “What?” Lydia cried. “You are citizens? But why did you not say so at the forum?”

  “I believe I was too busy entertaining an elbow in my mouth. We were never given an opportunity to speak. Never asked to give our side of the story. You can be sure I told the praetor what I thought of what passes for justice in his city.”

  Lydia thought of the pompous Roman facing the sharp end of Paul’s tongue and sputtered. “What did he say?”

  “He swallowed convulsively a few times and apologized for himself and on behalf of all Philippi.”

  Paul pulled on his beard. “We would not be a burden to you, Lydia. Though we have done our best to clear our name, it seems the people of Philippi have taken a dislike to our ways. We will leave you in peace so that your business will suffer no damage by our presence.”

  Lydia stared at Paul for a moment before coming to a weighty decision. One that might change her life.

  The decision to allow her new friends to remain in her home required no thought, though it presented a hazard.

  The determination to trust them with her past, though, was another matter. No one in Philippi, save for Rebekah, knew her father’s story. It was maintaining the secret that kept her safe, that protected her from ruination.

  But here, in this company, where prison seemed a blessed place, a place of salvation and praise, she felt protected, even with her secrets.

  “Master Paul,” she said, her voice trembling. “My father was Eumenes of Thyatira. Once, he too was beaten for an unjust charge. He was imprisoned because of it. Unlike you, he crumbled under the weight of his sufferings. Death took him from me.

  “You may stay in my home as long as you wish. I am honored to have you for a guest. No prison, no whip mark, will lower you in my sight.”

  A heavy silence fell in the room as each person digested the significance of Lydia’s revelation.

  Marcus reached over and held her hand for a moment. “I am a man who once served as a slave and bore the brunt of many careless whips. How sorry I am to hear of your father’s suffering. He will find no judgment in our midst.” To a man, they all smiled and nodded their agreement. Lydia felt tears trickling into her mouth. They carried with them the balled-up, pushed-down bitterness and fear of years. By accepting her so simply, these men had set her free of a shame that was never hers to carry.

  Marcus lifted a cup of wine and took a small sip. “I did not know you were Roman citizens,” he said to Paul and Silas, giving Lydia a chance to recover.

  Paul shrugged. “It didn’t seem to matter. Should I speak of God or my status in this world? My citizenship is in heaven.”

  Later, when Lydia had had a chance to catch up on sleep and felt more rested, Marcus found her sitting on a marble bench in the courtyard.

  He sat beside her and played with the fringe on the cushion. “It seems you have had your own horrors to contend with.”

  Lydia gave him a quick look. “I suppose I have.”

  “Before I knew Jesus, I met a Persian priest who told me the legend of the patient stone. According to the Persians, there is a magical stone that has the ability to wash away the unbearable pain of your sorrows.

  “If your heart is shattered and you have run out of fortitude, if the pain of your world has grown past forbearance, the patient stone can save you. All you have to do is hold it in the palm of your hand and tell your story to the stone. If your sorrow is genuine and profound, the stone will break in two. Upon breaking, it will shed one drop of blood. And with that breaking and bleeding, it will wash away the burden of your sorrow. The memory will remain, but its weight will be gone, taken into the stone by its death.

  “I remember after hearing that story how I longed to possess such a stone. To hold it and be set free from my sorrows. The miracle is that I did find it. In Jesus.

  “The suffering of the human soul is grave and brutal enough to break even the hardest stone. Enough to make a rock bleed. And every heart needs a patient stone. So God gave us one. Not a legend. But a real flesh-and-blood Savior who breaks and bleeds for the things that have shattered us.

  “This hope is the anchor of our soul, firm and secure. Against all the adversity that blows like a storm from our past and our future, he holds us fast.”

  Lydia exhaled. An anchor for her soul.

  Marcus held out his hand. In his palm lay a cross, carved exquisitely out of shimmering black stone. “I made this for you. As a reminder for those hard days that assail all of us. A reminder that you have your very own patient stone.”

  Slowly, Lydia took it from him. It was the most beautiful gift she had ever received.

  Marcus joined Lydia the next morning, as if working alongside her were his normal habit. She found herself enjoying his company too much to object. Midmorning, Rebekah came looking for him. “Master Marcus, will you please come and look at the lintel over the shop? There seems to be a crack in it.”

  “The lintel? The marble one with the flowers?” Lydia asked. “That mason we hired told me it would still be here in a hundred years, and I am certain we are a few years shy of that.”

  “Let me have a look,” Marcus said.

  Together they walked into the street and stood gazing up at the marble. “That’s a crack, I can confirm with professional certainty,” Marcus said. “Don’t worry. I won’t charge you for that diagnosis.”

  “How is that possible?” Lydia took a few steps closer, squinting to see if she could determine the source of the damage.

  Marcus joined her. “I will have to go up and have a closer look before I can determine the cause.”

  Lydia fetched a block and set it directly under the lintel. Marcus watched with a frown as she climbed on top. “Have a care, Lydia. It’s probably not safe to stand directly underneath the marble until we determine what is wrong with it.”

  “I shall not take long.” Lydia could see no more clearly from the top of the block than she had standing on the sidewalk. She was about to climb down when a creaking noise, the sound of stone groaning, emanated from above her head.

  “Watch out!” Marcus cried. The lintel toppled down, straight towa
rd her. Lydia cried out. Her legs seemed frozen. She saw the heavy stone crashing down and yet felt helpless to move.

  One strong arm wrapped about her middle. She felt herself lifted off the block, flying through the air, and landing safely several steps away. The marble crashed where moments ago she had been standing. It shattered into five large pieces. Each one was heavy enough to have crushed her.

  For a moment no one spoke.

  Marcus’s arm remained wrapped about her.

  Lydia, trembling now with horror, leaned back into Marcus’s chest. He had picked her up with one arm and sailed her through the air like a child’s toy.

  “You saved my life,” she said.

  “It’s the oars. I have never completely lost the strength or agility they gave me. Are you well?”

  “Better than my lintel.”

  He pulled her back against him, his hold tightening for a moment. She realized that she was not the only one trembling. The terror of the experience must have addled her mind, for she felt no desire to leave that encircling embrace.

  Rebekah ran to her side, her face the color of bleached wool. “Lydia! I thought you would be killed.”

  “I thought the same.”

  Marcus cleared his throat before stepping away. “It seems we were all in agreement. Thank God we were wrong.”

  The patrons within the shop, drawn by the noise of the falling masonry, came outside to investigate. “I am sorry for the disturbance,” Rebekah spoke, her face a study of calm. “If you accompany me, I will see that you receive some delicious pastry, which our cook just pulled out of the oven.” Warm pastry proved more beguiling than a few pieces of broken marble, and everyone made their way back inside.

  Marcus squatted to examine the broken pieces of carved stone from every angle. His face was grim when he stood. “Someone loosened that lintel on purpose. I can see the chisel marks. That is most likely how the crack appeared in the first place.”

  Lydia shook her head. “This must be the work of Antiochus. Is he reduced to damaging my store now? I will merely have the marble replaced. He could have killed someone by accident, that fool.”

  Marcus rubbed his neck. “He grows careless in his desire to harm you. We must stop this madness.”

  He scrambled up the stairs that led to the roof, taking them two at a time. A while later he returned, a white powder marking his fingertips. “I found this at the edge of the roof. It is dust from the marble. Whoever the man was, he loosened the lintel so that it could fall at any moment, from a strong wind or by the mere passing of time.”

  Lydia looked around. “Could he still be close?”

  “If he is, then he is well hidden by now. I saw no sign of him.”

  Lydia covered her mouth. “Epaphroditus.”

  Marcus cast a sharp gaze her way. “Loosening the marble would have required hours of labor, and Epaphroditus would have been missed if he were absent for such a long period.”

  “He could have done it while everyone slept.”

  “Too loud. The noise would have disturbed more than one sleeper. It could not have been Epaphroditus.”

  Lydia nodded. Whoever had damaged the lintel was not a member of her household. Which left a thousand other nameless men as potential culprits.

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  A man of many companions may come to ruin,

  but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.

  PROVERBS 18:24

  THEY HAD FINISHED EATING supper in the dining room when Paul approached Lydia. “We have made a decision. Silas and I will remain with you another day. But then we will depart from Philippi.”

  Lydia gasped. “So soon?”

  “After what happened in the agora, it is best we leave the city until tempers cool. And besides, we must share the message of Christ with other cities. Don’t worry. We will not leave you abandoned. Though we take Timothy with us, Luke will remain here along with Marcus.”

  Lydia sank onto the couch. “I shall be sad to see you go.”

  “We leave a piece of our hearts here in Philippi with you. Silas and I were reminiscing over our journey. Did you know that we had first planned to travel to Asia Minor? We would probably have stopped at Thyatira if we had gone that way. But the Holy Spirit prevented us from entering that area. Instead, he led us all the way here, to northern Greece, where you, Lydia of Thyatira, resided.” He smiled.

  “Are you aware what a treasure you are? I suspect you do not know your own worth, your importance to the Kingdom of God. In truth, most of us don’t fully comprehend the significant place we occupy in God’s plans. But let me tell you what I see in you. As I told you before, you are the first follower of Jesus in this part of the world. But more than that, your home has become Philippi’s first church. Here many shall seek and find the Light of the World.

  “The Lord has given you a mighty talent for your trade in purple. He has opened doors of great success for you. Though he has given you his blessings because he loves you, I believe he has also elevated you because he knew your success would one day pave the way for his Kingdom.”

  Paul drew a small scroll from his belt. “This is a gift for you. It is a copy of the words of the prophet Isaiah in Greek. I hope it will help to strengthen your faith.”

  Lydia took the scroll and cradled it. “I cannot imagine a more precious gift.”

  “We hope to return one day, if God wills. When possible, I will write you and let you know where I am staying. In the meantime, we have one more evening together.”

  “Shall I invite our friends for the evening meal tomorrow?”

  “I hoped you would offer your hospitality once more, as you have done since we arrived. Include Valerius and his family, I pray. He told me he has several comrades who wish to hear our message. We shall celebrate the Lord’s Supper with you and exhort you one final time before we depart.”

  With care, Lydia set her scroll upon the table, fighting tears. Then she remembered Paul was not taking all his companions with him. “Thank you for remaining with us, Luke. And you, Marcus.” Try as she might, Lydia could not keep the heat from rising to her face as she addressed the Roman. What had happened to her brain? Other women her age had grandchildren. And here she blushed like a schoolgirl, drooling over her guest.

  “It is our pleasure, I assure you,” Luke said. Marcus’s smile was noncommittal.

  “Will you be returning to the school of medicine tomorrow, Luke?” she asked. The Greek had fallen into the habit of visiting the school regularly, studying with other physicians and collecting new remedies. He had met Agnodice several times and held her in high regard for her professional achievements.

  “I plan to go early.”

  “If you see my friend Agnodice, will you invite her for supper tomorrow? I doubt she’ll come once she hears we aim to speak of God. But I never give up on her.”

  “I would not give up on her either. Brilliant mind, accompanied by a tongue that terrorizes me.”

  Lydia laughed. “You do know her. Meanwhile, I will send a servant to invite Valerius and his family, as well as Leonidas. I wonder if General Varus will consent to join us. I would like you to meet him, though he rarely leaves his villa anymore. The city will be honoring him with a plaque in a few days, thanking him for his generosity to Philippi. He is sure to come for that. A great crowd is bound to gather, and he will not want to miss such an occasion.”

  Chloris ran into the room, which seemed her habitual mode of transport. The child appeared constitutionally incapable of a decorous walk. “I have good news for you, mistress,” she said in her high voice.

  Lydia frowned. “What news, Chloris?”

  “Your friends are here,” she said, clapping her hands as she swayed on the balls of her feet.

  “Which friends are those?”

  “These ones,” a voice said from the door. “We are a week early! Just call us your personal nightmare from Jerusalem.”

  Lydia froze as she looked at the owner of that voice. Thirt
y years had passed since they had been under the same roof together. Lydia was no longer a child, and her friend was long past girlhood. But she would have recognized Elianna anywhere. The spiral curls, barely touched by white, the stunning face, the smile that could illuminate a palace.

  “Elianna!” she cried, and ran as fast as Chloris ever had into her friend’s arms. They shrieked like children and clung together for long moments.

  “And Ethan,” she said, noticing the new lines around his unusual eyes with their mosaic of colors and the abundant white shot through his hair that only made him seem more distinguished. “Welcome, my friend.”

  Beyond them, she looked for Viriato. In some ways, she remembered him best, for he was a man you did not easily forget. As wide as a doorframe and as muscular as a gladiator, he bore a thick scar that ran from under one eye and disappeared into his beard.

  “Viriato! You have not even aged a day.”

  He scratched his cheek. “With a face like this, I could not afford to. I see you have simplified your vocabulary. I have understood everything you said so far.”

  Lydia laughed. “If you want someone with a large vocabulary, you must meet my friend Rebekah.” Rebekah glided forward with her usual quiet grace. Viriato blinked twice and just stared. Everyone laughed, including Viriato.

  “And here are my other honored guests, Paul and Silas. And next to them Luke, Marcus Cornelius Marcius, and Timothy.”

  Ethan took a hesitant step forward. “Paul? Paul of Tarsus? I recognize you!”

  Paul grew still. “I do not remember meeting you.”

  Ethan waved a hand. “I heard you speak at Antioch once. About the Christ. It was inspired. There was too much shouting afterward, or I would have introduced myself.”

  Paul tilted his head. “Are you followers of the Way?”

  “We are!” Ethan rose on tiptoes in his excitement. “I am astounded by the goodness of God. That we should find you here, in Lydia’s house of all places, is beyond belief! Shall we have the honor of hearing you teach?”