Fire and Sword

by D. Brian Shafer

  Lucifer reasoned that now that the Son had come and gone, the attack must be directed not against His Person but against His Body—the Church. He vainly discounted the infant group of Christ followers as a fledgling band of “misguided brothers and a few simple women supporters” that would dissolve or decay with a bit of prompting. And so hell watched and waited as some 120 followers of Jesus met in prayer as they had been instructed. Lucifer also watched … awaiting his opportunity to destroy the mission once and for all…

  Jerusalem, A.D. 33

  Peter’s eyes moved around the room, looking over the people who were in prayer or conversation with one another. He was one of the oldest among them. Oh, there were James and a few others. But Peter was definitely one of the senior members of the little group who remained loyal to their risen God. He had aged in the last three years. His work with Jesus, while glorious, also had taken its toll on him. Though he was strong in heart and mind, and even physically strong, his hair had become much greyer and his face more careworn. Ah, but what a wonderful three years!

  How fitting, he thought to himself as he looked about the room, that they should await the Lord’s promised Holy Spirit in the same place where only weeks before they had received the final Passover supper with Jesus. He could almost see them all again—seated around the Passover and wondering which of them would betray their Lord.

  Is it I, Lord? How those words rang with a sharpness that would never be repeated nor forgotten. All of them had stood with Jesus. They had witnessed His miracles and seen His teaching open the hearts of men and women. They had ridden with Him in triumph only weeks before as the people shouted “Hosannah! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!” And they were with Him a few days later when this same crowd turned on Him like wolves, demanding His death. Peter was ashamed that it was one of Jesus’ own who was the traitor.

  How could you, Judas? Peter looked to the place where Judas sat that night and thought back to that last Passover. How Judas had led the priest’s men to where Jesus was praying; how Peter rose to fight, cutting off the servant’s ear; how Jesus healed the man and submitted to His captors. But it wasn’t really Judas’ betrayal that stung—that had been prophesied. It was his own. He had denied Jesus not once—but three times—in His greatest hour of need. Thank the Lord for His grace and reconciliation that brought Peter back into fellowship with Jesus. But it still hurt to think about.

  And now they awaited … what? Jesus’ instruction was to await the coming of the Holy Spirit. But what did that mean? How should they know when the Spirit of God arrived? As a leader among this group, he wanted to be more certain of what should happen. And so they did exactly what Jesus had told them: they watched and prayed.

  In the meantime they had selected another man named Matthias to take the place of Judas. Matthias was a good man who had been with them from the beginning. So they drew lots between him and another good man named Justus. The lot fell to Matthias, and he was numbered among the twelve.

  “How many weeks now, Peter?” asked Andrew, his brother.

  “A few,” said Peter. “But we must learn patience, Andrew. We must set the example, or they might lose heart.”

  “But we need provisions once more. Shall I send out?”

  “In this crowded city?” he responded. “There are so many people coming in from all over the Jewish world for Pentecost that the prices are outrageous.”

  “I’ll see to the supplies that we have,” said Andrew. “Shall I have the ladies cut back on portions? Peter?”

  Peter was looking past Andrew and through the window behind him. He seemed lost in thought. He looked up and around as if he were hearing something…a noise that was barely perceptible. For a second he cocked his head, straining to understand. Andrew remained silent, trying to hear, but hearing nothing. Finally Peter looked at him.

  “What are you doing?” Andrew asked. “Was it the Lord?”

  “I don’t know,” said Peter. “I thought I heard…” He put a hand on Andrew’s shoulder.

  “Best not send for provisions today, brother,” he said. He looked around again. The people remained in groups praying and worshiping and talking. “I’m not sure, but I feel like something is about to happen.”

  “Where are they now?” asked Drachus. “Still in that house?”

  “Yes,” said Berenius, “they are still praying. Just as Jesus instructed. They come and go. Mostly come.”

  “The sheep have no shepherd anymore,” sneered Drachus. “He left them! I would be praying too!”

  Berenius shook his head.

  “He left them, yes. But with instruction to pray until they received power. This war is far from over.”

  The two dark angels watched as more and more holy angels descended in and around the area of the building in Jerusalem where the group of loyal Christ followers gathered. It had been weeks since the dramatic events at Calvary had taken place, and now something new was brewing…something unsettling.

  “The last time so many of the enemy began gathering at Jerusalem was when the Most High met in that same room to break bread with them the final time,” mused Berenius. “Now they meet without Him in prayer—but in His name.”

  “Jesus,” Drachus muttered derisively. “Jesus.”

  “That name!” boomed a voice from above. “That name.”

  Berenius looked up to see Kara, one of Lucifer’s commanding angels. Kara’s short, mixed blond-and-brown hair and dark green-blue eyes suited his double-minded and often erratic nature. It was his tendency to make decisions based on the current situation rather than on a core philosophy that brought him to his current situation. His ambition had gotten the better of him when he threw in with Lucifer, but it was too late to turn back once defeat was evident—and thus he was cast out of Heaven with the others. He sometimes longed for those days when he was an elder in the Kingdom; now he was merely one of Lucifer’s commanders in the greatest gamble in history.

  Kara was responsible for gathering intelligence on the enemy and ascertaining the Most High’s next area of attack. His network of spies was legendary among the angels, and he was regarded with weary respect. Most also thought him a fool.

  “They continue in the upper room of a house, my lord,” said Berenius, who was Kara’s chief aide and skilled in fomenting murder and intrigue among humans. “They pray continually. Otherwise nothing new to report. They pray.”

  “And wait,” added another voice. It was Pellecus, another of Lucifer’s closest counselors. “They pray and wait.”

  Kara looked disdainfully at Pellecus; he regarded him as an academic who knew nothing of practical intrigue. Having been one of the greatest teachers in the Kingdom, Pellecus was a bitter and very willing participant in Lucifer’s bid for power. He had taught at the Academy of the Host, but when he had been disgraced because of his unorthodox teaching, he swore allegiance to Lucifer. He now acted as Lucifer’s voice to the other angels who had fallen—a prophetic puppet who gave explanation for his leader’s strategy of war against the Most High.

  “Then let them pray,” sniffed Kara. “So long as they keep waiting. My contention is that with Jesus out of the way the rest shall follow in short order.”

  Pellecus shook his head at his comrade’s ignorance.

  “If we have learned anything in this war, it is the fact that the Most High does not make idle threats,” said Pellecus, as the angels gathered together for the meeting that would shortly take place. Pellecus loved an audience, even a captive one. “No, my brothers, He intends to continue the war through these people—not despite them.”

  “Nevertheless, He has departed,” said Kara with little real comfort. “For now.”

  “Take no pleasure in His absence, Kara,” came the familiar voice of Lucifer.

  Everyone’s attention turned to the figure who now emerged from a corner of the room in which they met—the house of a Jewish noble. Lucifer greeted his council with gregarious nods and bid them to come to order. They
had not seen him since the Lord’s dramatic victory at the tomb. But they didn’t anticipate his return in such vigorous, even humorous disposition. He had discarded the purple robe of his previous office in Heaven for a simpler white robe with a grey mantle. As always, his steel-grey eyes housed a keen and cunning mind. Pellecus was the first to speak.

  “You are looking well, my lord,” he said with a bit of timidity. “In light of our current circumstances…”

  Lucifer laughed aloud. “How diplomatic of you, Pellecus,” he said. “Come! Sit! All of you. It is time we spoke of the future—however grim it appears.”

  The angels who made up Lucifer’s leading council assembled around a very ornate table, a gift to the wealthy Jew in whose home they met, from a merchant in Pompeii. Lucifer had long since given up the possibility of returning to the chamber in which they once met—in the Kingdom in Heaven. But he enjoyed the idea of meeting in the home of a Jew and an avowed Christ hater.

  “My brothers,” he began, “it is not so long ago that we met in the former Kingdom in order to discuss the outrageous behavior of the Most High. We looked forward at that time to a great struggle—one that would result in true liberation for angels. We lost our place in Heaven and carried the war to earth where, as you know, we had a measure of success in Eden.”

  Some of the angels snickered as they recalled Lucifer tempting Eve.

  “With that success we created the very real possibility of separating humans from their Creator—and hoped for some sort of compromise with Him. Instead, He was determined to stubbornly cling to the notion that humans might freely respond to Him in love. Thus He prophesied a Coming One—the Seed of the Woman—who would one day avenge the disgrace of Adam and reconcile humans back to Himself.

  “We fought with vigor and great passion—and for the most part succeeded in plunging humanity into a world of blood and murder and crime. But the Seed remained an obstacle, and we were not able to prevent its arrival. Thus we contended not with a mere man, but with God Himself wrapped in human flesh.”

  “How disgraceful,” muttered Kara.

  “And brilliant,” said Lucifer. “I never foresaw such a possibility. But in doing so, this man Jesus became for humans a sacrifice—an atonement for all crimes committed by these unrighteous, ungrateful creatures. Nevertheless we destroyed Him! I thought perhaps the matter had ended in a draw.”

  Grunts of approval.

  “Instead, as you know,” continued Lucifer, “He rose from the dead! Himself! And suddenly our contest was with a risen Savior rather than a dead one. He championed His people and stayed with them for a while—and suddenly left them with a promise that He would return again one day for a final settling of accounts.”

  The words had a chilling effect on the group. Lucifer smiled.

  “No, He hasn’t returned… yet,” he said.

  Nervous laughter.

  “But that brings us to our current situation.”

  Lucifer stood and looked out the window toward the house where the disciples were gathered. Many holy angels could be seen, almost filling the atmosphere around the building. He indicated the scene outside.

  “So many angels gathering—such a large assembly of the enemy isn’t a coincidence,” he began. “This is not about prayer—this is about war. What you’re looking at is the opening attack in a new phase of the struggle.”

  “But to what end?” asked Tinius, one of six who sat on Lucifer’s council of war. Tinius viewed Lucifer’s summations cautiously and often spoke out with a pessimism that affronted his leader. “Jesus has returned to the Most High. Is it not too soon to be praying for His return?”

  “This isn’t about His return, Tinius,” responded Pellecus. Everyone looked to the angel whose wisdom they respected. “He plainly indicated in prophetic language that His return would occur following certain catastrophic and global events.” He shook his head doubtfully. “No, this isn’t about Jesus’ departure or return; it is about another One’s arrival.”

  “Glorious! Glorious!”

  Crispin’s observation of the hundreds of holy angels descending upon Jerusalem was heartening and exciting. Since Calvary and the Resurrection, the Host had been wondering what the next phase of action might be and when it might occur. Though none could guess the Lord’s move, all knew that something spectacular was about to happen.

  “Ah, Michael!” said Crispin. “Glorious day! Just look at the Host! Great things are happening in Jerusalem today.”

  Michael nodded at his old friend in agreement. “And look at all the people here for Pentecost,” he said, indicating the throng of pilgrims coming to the holy city to celebrate the great feast.

  Jews from all over the world were arriving and filling the city with a joyful and busy celebration. The Romans weren’t particularly fond of such events; a noticeable presence of soldiers reminded the people that they were guests of their emperor. Crispin looked at the people and shook his head.

  “Yes, Michael,” he said. “They come as always.” He looked again at the great numbers of angels around them. “But this year they might expect something a bit different!” He winked at the archangel who had been a one-time student.

  Crispin was the most renowned teacher at the Academy of the Host, where the angels received instruction on the ways of the Kingdom. His dedication to upholding the traditions and truth of the Most High earned him the admiration of the Host. It also placed him squarely against Pellecus, who had become his rival in Heaven because of the poisonous doctrine he had introduced at the Academy. The two former colleagues had remained rivals ever since—particularly after Pellecus threw in with Lucifer completely and followed him in his disgraceful opposition to the Most High.

  Michael’s face became serious. He was the most ardent and intensely loyal of all the angels in Heaven. He had been appointed archangel and captain of the Lord’s Host, and his authority was respected both in Heaven and on earth. His dark hair flowed down his back like a wild horse, and the fire of the Lord burned in his eyes. It was well that the enemy steered clear of his presence.

  “I see none of Lucifer’s agents around here,” he said, looking at Crispin. “But I sense their presence nearby.”

  “Oh, to be sure, they are near as they dare,” agreed Crispin. “They also know that something spectacular looms—spectacular and deadly.”

  “I would like to know their plans,” Michael continued. “They must know that they are finished.”

  “Pride never knows when it is finished,” said Crispin. “That is the essence of pride. No, Michael. They will continue to plot and fight and wage whatever war they can muster against the Most High—or rather against His people.”

  “Always against the people, hmm?” observed Michael.

  “Of course,” said Crispin. “They cannot strike a blow at the Most High. So they seek to wound Him in His heart—by striking out against that which He most loves.”

  The two angels nodded and greeted other angels as they moved in closer to the building occupied by the disciples and their followers. The festive mood of the angels reminded Crispin of the announcement of the Creation when joyous celebration filled the Grand Square in the Great City of Heaven.

  “There you are!” came a voice.

  It was Gabriel.

  “We thought we’d find you here,” said Crispin. “Do you know what this is all about, Gabriel? You always know before the rest of us!” He laughed.

  Gabriel looked at his friend Michael and his teacher Crispin. He loved these two angels because of their love for the Most High. Gabriel understood Michael like no other—for he, too, was an archangel, also responsible for the great messages and announcements to be relayed throughout the Kingdom. The three of them had, with the help of a couple others, begun the uncovering of Lucifer’s malicious plot to overthrow Heaven so long ago. Now they met again to await this great event.

  “Seems we never meet unless it is around something very important,” he said. “Crispin, you seem to attract s
uch events!”

  “I’d say rather that I am attracted to such events!”

  Gabriel smiled. “And you, Michael,” he continued. “So serious on such an occasion?”

  “Michael is sensing the enemy nearby,” said Crispin playfully.

  Michael was looking up toward the heavens through the sea of angels. “Actually, I’m sensing something quite different,” he said.

  Suddenly all of the angels fell silent—as if they all now sensed something happening in the heavenlies. Michael looked at Gabriel and Crispin. “It begins,” he said quietly.

  Chapter Three

  FIRSTFRUITS

  “Why doesn’t the Most High simply be done with it?” snorted Kara, standing up dramatically. “Whatever He is about to do, why not simply get it over with. The Son has left. The Father remains in Heaven. What next?”

  Pellecus shook his head in pity of Kara’s ignorance.

  “We are not speaking of the Son of God,” said Lucifer, staring at the gathering of angels nearby. “We speak of the Counselor … the Spirit of God. Ah, Rugio.”

  Lucifer’s commanding angel appeared, and the other angels backed away slightly. Rugio was a brutal one-time commander in Heaven who was now Lucifer’s chief commanding angel. He had been sent by Lucifer to scout the enemy position, but finding the enemy so numerous, he had returned.

  “They continue to arrive, my lord,” said Rugio. He stood near Lucifer, who put his hand on his shoulder. “Quite a number of them now.”

  “Loyal Rugio,” Lucifer said. “And is Michael among them?”

  Rugio bristled at the name of the angel he hated so intensely. “Yes, lord, the archangel is there. As always.”

  “You swore to have his sword one day,” Lucifer continued. “You will have it yet! I promise you.”

  Rugio smiled in agreement.