The Hidden Flame (41 page)

C H A P T E R

THIRTY-FIVE

THE GATHERING DID NOT END so much as gradually disperse. His tablemates remained guarded, but several of them offered him cautious farewells as they took their leave. Linux remained where he was, more comfortable with his solitary position at the table than he'd ever been before. He felt a childlike ease, so protected, so accepted he could expose his most hidden weaknesses and fears and uncertainties and know all was well, all forgiven, all blessed. The stone he had carried inside was finally dissolving. Inner wounds were now open to healing light, and the gift of hope was like an illumination around him.

As he had promised earlier in the evening, Stephen came over, along with an older woman. But even as Linux rose to meet her and Stephen made introductions, the woman's name slipped from his mind. Abigail soon joined them. Yet even her presence did not erase the reality of his encounter with signs and wonders. If Linux had needed some evidence that the moment did indeed contain a miracle, it was this.

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 offered 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."