A.D. 33 (26 page)

“You know already,” he said very quietly, looking directly into my eyes. “Deny yourself.”

My old self, I thought.

“How can you see who you truly are when planks of offense blind you? How can you see that you are clothed in me when you clothe yourself in a world that masters you? You cannot serve two masters.”

Like a thunderbolt, the truth hit me. A soft hum filled my mind as that truth took voice.

The only way to identify with myself as a new creation was to surrender
all
other identities.

My breathing stalled. But of course! How many different ways and times had he said as much? This was Stephen's obsession as well.

My judgment of myself and others, my offense, my grievances, even against an enemy who persecuted me—all of these were the knowledge of good and evil consumed by the woman in my dream. All of these were like planks in my eye that blinded me from seeing who I was in Yeshua.

In truth, I was safe already in the Father's arms, complete and without need of anything this world might offer to protect or please me. All these things had nothing to do with who I was—they were only gifts for me. But if I put my faith in them, I would suffer when they failed me, as they must.

I'd known much of this two years ago as one who followed him, but grievance had blinded me to it, so I had forgotten what to surrender.

I had taken on my old way of thinking.

So now I would surrender again. Not to appease a god made in man's image in order to be accepted by him, but so I could
see
who I was. I would surrender all that blocked my awareness of who I truly was. I would surrender my old identity to become aware of my new self.

Even as I thought these things, Saba marveled over them.

“And so we must surrender our identity with the whole world—even as body and self—in order to see who we truly are while yet in this world,” he said.

In the Way of Yeshua, I was not a mother. I only played the role of mother in this life.

In his Way, I wasn't even a body. I was only living in a body that would soon return to dust. Yet I had turned my life on earth, even my relationship with my son, into a god that mastered me.

So then, my path in this life was to surrender all that I
thought
I was to find and experience who I truly, already was.

And in Yeshua's Way, surrender and forgiveness and letting go of all worry for tomorrow and giving to others were all forms of the same surrender.

Only by holding my old identity of no account could I love my true life. Only as the daughter of the Father could I find joy in the world he had created for me. As Saba had said, hate in order to love.

“Now you understand? Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness and all these things will be added to you.”

“Yes,” I stammered.

“The least among you will be the greatest. The last will be first.”

“I understand.”

Yeshua stepped around the fire and drew close. Saba slowly stood, face fixed with awe.

“You have heard me say, love your neighbor as yourself. Do you know what this means, Saba?”

“To love all as much as you love yourself,” he said.

“Did I say as much as yourself?” Yeshua said. “What does this mean?”

Saba hesitated. “As if they were yourself.”

“Did I say as if they were yourself?”

Slowly meaning dawned on Saba's face.

“
As
yourself,” he said. “
As
myself…As my true self, who is in you, and you, who are in me.”

“What you do not do for the least of these, you do not do for me,” Yeshua said. “In the same way I love you, love them. Truly, even if you can fathom all mystery and knowledge and have faith to move mountains, but do not have love, it profits you nothing. By this all will know that you are my disciples, that you also love one another.”

He spoke with great gentleness now, as if coming to the end. But he could not leave! Not yet. I could not bear the thought of his being gone now. I still wanted to ask him about Talya…What I must do…

Yeshua lifted his hand and rested it on my shoulder, gazing into my eyes. “You will know what to do. Did I not say I would not leave you alone as orphans, Daughter?”

The eagle high above us screamed once again, but to me it sounded gentle, like a dove. Like Talya…I swallowed a lump that had gathered in my throat.

“Do you know what today is in Jerusalem? It is Shavuot. Fifty days since the Passover when I was crucified to rise again, and you with me. They celebrate the coming of the Law to Moses.”

He seemed to find amusement in this.

“But you will remember this day differently.”

With those words, I knew that something was going to happen. Knew because a great warmth seeped into my bones.

He dipped his head and looked at me, then Saba, like one who has brought an invaluable gift.

“In the beginning, the Father breathed his identity into man and so glorified himself and they were made in his likeness.” He lifted his chin a little, eyes bright with wonder, and spoke just above a whisper. “So then, he glorifies his name once more. Receive the Holy Spirit.”

Then he pursed his lips and breathed on us. Just a simple breath drawn from his lungs. But the moment it caressed my face, that breath became a roar, like a thundering wind that swallowed me whole and pushed me back at once.

I gasped and instinctively closed my eyes. And with that gasp, I sucked in what felt like raw power that flushed out my entire body of all that was old, replacing all of my blood with a consuming molten fire.

Behind my eyelids, the world burst forth with streaming white light, all of it rushing toward me, then through me, shaking me from head to foot.

A full-throated cry joined the roar—Saba, so stoic, was undone by the light. And now me with him, gasping and weeping at once, trembling as the light continued to flow unrestricted into me, through me, now from me.

Yeshua's Spirit. Nothing less could have possibly filled me with the intense joy and love coursing through my veins, lifting me to the heights of an ecstasy I had never known. It was the Spirit of Yeshua and it was the breath of God himself, smothering me with his love.

Yet I knew that it was only a whisper of his full breath, like the simple caress of only one finger, for I could not possibly contain more and live in this body.

I did not stagger, though the force of the light hit me like a hammer; I did not fall, though I had no strength. I only stood trembling and weeping with joy, held in the embrace of that light.

And then the roar went silent. The shafts of light vanished.

In their place a single, beautiful, pure note filled a world of dazzling light and ribbons of luminescent color arching over the sky. I knew that sound! It was the song that Talya had sung on the cliff. It was the same one I'd heard in my dream.

The song of Eden.

That song swelled, filling my awareness with meaning, as though from a hundred thousand angels bound in those ribbons of light.

High and in perfect harmony, like a chorus of women singing with astonishing mystery and awe in a language I had never spoken but knew to the bone.

The lamb has overcome.
Over and over,
The lamb has overcome, the lamb has overcome
. The chorus grew, joined by more, many more, hundreds of thousands, joined by my heart and mind in that same language.

It was all the mothers of the world, I thought. And all the maidens, overwhelmed by love and gratitude. And all the children, with souls as ancient as the mothers'.

They were singing of Yeshua, the second Adam, who had given up his will for the Father's. They were singing of the lamb slain before the foundation of the world. They were singing and I was weeping with joy, trembling in awe.

Because Yeshua had surrendered, the garden was restored. I was in it, and it was in me.

In that state of transcendent bliss, I knew that this song had been and would be sung forever, because the lamb had been slain before the world had ever been formed.

The song suddenly shifted, as if all those who sang had heard my thoughts.

Forever he is glorified.

And then more, joined now by a hundred thousand sons and fathers.

Forever he is lifted high.

The whole world joined with that song, which grew to a thunder as all of creation cried in perfect harmony.

Forever he is risen; He is alive. He is alive!

Over and over now, the words washed through me. I knew what this meant now. They were singing of Yeshua. And they were singing of me as well because I was alive in him.

Forever he is lifted high…

And I as well, because I had ascended into heavenly places with him!

Forever he is risen…
And I as well, because I had risen with him.

Forever he is glorified…
And I as well, because Yeshua had given me his glory!

Awareness thundered through my soul.

The song quickly gathered into one note once again, but that note contained all truth. It became high and crystalline, as if sung by Talya himself from that cliff in the desert.

The peace and tranquility that overwhelmed me cannot be described. I can only say that I
knew
it. I experienced Yeshua in me and me in him. I was the daughter of the Father, because he was the Son of God.

Yeshua's words from Bethany whispered through my mind:
Once made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him.

To obey him…To enter into alignment with him, surrendering my bond with this world to be one with another, the eternal realm.

I was in the kingdom of heaven, the realm of the Father's sovereign presence, the garden restored on earth within me.

Oh what manner of love the Father had lavished on me that I should be called the daughter of God! And now I could hear that call.

I don't know how long I was in that place, because time had vanished—perhaps only a few seconds, perhaps an hour.

But when the world changed again, Saba and I were still standing side by side, though farther apart and he on one knee. Both of us were breathing heavily. Both of us gazed about, stunned.

It was as if I, who had been raised and ascended with Yeshua, caught up in such a glorious vision, had been returned to my old body once again, to remain in the world as a new creature. Now I was part of his body. Now I could love as he loved, I in him and he in me.

But the world was just the same old world. The sky seemed bluer. The sun appeared brighter. A breeze swept the sand like the gentle breath of God himself.

I blinked and looked at Saba.

There was no sign of Yeshua.

But no, Yeshua wasn't gone, I thought. He was in Saba and Saba was in him. And in me. We were now like his body on earth, to be Yeshua to the orphans and outcasts and all who were in suffering.

To Talya, who was to face his death today.

His words returned to me.
When the Spirit of Truth comes you will know that I am in you and you are in me. Only through the Spirit can this be known. Only then can you love as I love. Only then will you know that it is no longer you who live, but I who live in you.

The evidence would be the same love now coursing through my veins.

A great calm settled over Saba. There was nothing to say about what had happened—not then. Words could not convey what we had just known.

It was the third day. Petra lay two hours to the west.

He dipped his head. “Shaquilath awaits us.”

TALYA lay curled up on the straw in the dark cell's corner, desperate to sleep. He knew he had to sleep because he was suffering and only the dream could save him from it.

The journey through the desert had been like heaven to Talya after weeks in Kahil's dungeon. Arim and the cranky old man, Fahak, had made him laugh for joy with all their bold talk.

“There can be no doubt that all trouble is behind you,” Arim assured him many times. “Maviah will only have to lift one finger to send all the vipers slithering back into their holes. The desert will soon be singing her praises once again. Even now they sing it!”

Talya laughed, filled with delight, then turned to Fahak, seated on his camel like an old buzzard. “My mother is great, sheikh?”

Fahak glanced at him and looked off at the horizon. “As great a woman as any who has lived.” Then, eyeing him past scraggly gray eyebrows, “Nearly as great as this sheikh, who has faced untold enemies and emerged unscathed.”

Talya gave him a nod and said what he imagined Saba would say. “You are indeed great, my sheikh. Loved like no other.”

The old man could not hide his toothless grin. “And you are too wise for such a little man.”

Then everything had changed. They came into the majestic city called Petra, but instead of taking him to his mother, the Nabataeans separated him from Arim and Fahak and put him in this cell.

The fear that returned when the warriors extinguished the light and walked away had left him trembling. Then weeping. Where was his mother?

The woman had come with two guards a few hours later and peered through into the cell. He hurried to the bars.

“You will take me to my mother, the queen?” he'd asked.

“There's only one true queen in Petra, little boy. It is me, Shaquilath. Do you think she can save you?”

“My mother is Maviah,” he'd said.

“Maviah, yes.”

“Maviah will save me.”

The queen looked at him for a long moment then turned and walked away, leaving him in darkness once again.

For more than four days Talya had waited, full of worry except when he slept and dreamed of Eden before the serpent came and killed the lamb.

He was the lamb, he thought, because his name was Talya, but he dared not believe that his mother would leave him to die.

He was trying to sleep and dream when he heard feet scraping on the stone and opened his eyes. Yellow light from torches held by two guards filled the cell. At first he thought they'd come with food, because he hadn't eaten in over a day, but they didn't have any bowls.

Talya scrambled to his feet, shaking because he was weak, but eager now. He quickly crossed to the gate and held the bars for support.

“Have you come to take me to my mother?”

The closest guard smiled. “Your mother…Yes, of course. You will see your mother today.” He unlocked the gate with a big iron key and pulled it open. “But you can't go to your mother looking like a rat. Put this on.”

The warrior handed him a clean, folded tunic, white like Saba's. He quickly pulled off his muddy rags and slipped into the fresh clothing.

“Now this around your neck.” The man handed him a necklace with a large wooden pendant on it. Two sticks of wood crossing each other, bound by twine in the middle. The chain was far too big for him, but maybe this is what boys in Petra wore for special times.

“Good. Come with us.”

They led him from the dungeon and out into the morning light.

“We're going to the palace?” he asked.

“To the arena. That's where your mother will come for you.”

He'd never seen an arena, though he knew the story of how his mother had first become queen.

Talya walked on bare feet, holding the hand of one of the warriors, down a long path into the city. Merchants and Bedu dressed in many different colors turned to watch them. The moment they saw him, they hurried on ahead, as if they all knew what was going to happen. Children ran alongside him, pointing and laughing.

He wasn't sure what this meant, so he smiled with them. “I'm going to see my mother,” he said to a small boy.

The boy grinned, toothless, then took his hand, but a woman yelled at him and he ducked away.

Soon many hundreds were running ahead from all directions, and Talya could only assume they were going to the arena, the place where queens were made. Other warriors had joined in, riding horses behind them. It was a big day in Petra. Maviah, the queen from the desert, had come for him.

“Are we close?” he asked one of the guards.

The man pointed to the red cliffs far off. “There.”

“There?” Talya stopped. “I don't know if I can go so far.” He looked down at his legs. “My feet are bleeding.”

The warrior looked him over, then motioned for one of the warriors on a horse. They put him on its back in front of the guard.

When they turned onto a wide path that lead up to the arena, Talya saw that all of Petra must have heard the news, because many hundreds were flowing through the tall gates. All looked at him, many cheering and laughing as they approached the towering walls.

Many also glared at him, and that made him nervous, but he dared not believe any thoughts that darkened his mind. Not now, not after so long.

Not even when, instead of taking him into the arena, they led him underground, beneath the massive walls to a small cell cut into the rock. Not even when they left him alone behind bars once more, without saying a word or answering any of his questions.

Not until he'd been in the cell for a long time, seated on the ground with his new tunic hitched up so he didn't get any dirt on it.

Then he could hold back the dark thoughts no longer. And when they came, they came like a flood in a wadi after a heavy storm.

If his mother was here, she would never allow him to be held in a cell so long. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.

He was the lamb in his dream, and the queen was going to kill him because his mother had failed.

Panicked, Talya hurried to the bars and cried out into the dim light. “Mother!” His voice echoed through the stone passageway. “Mother!”

A beast in his mind growled. Or it could have been a serpent, because his mind was too scrambled to hear anything but fear.

“Mother!” he screamed.

A door opened. “Silence in there!”

The door clunked shut.

Talya backed away from the bars, blinking. He thought he should sleep. If he could dream and remember the place of peace, then he would be safe until his—

The door opened again and two guards marched to the cell, unlocked the gate, and motioned him forward. He walked out, feet numb. They each took one of his hands and led him down the passageway.

“Is my mother here?” he asked.

Without answering, they pushed open heavy wooden doors and led him into the daylight.

Talya stopped, blinking in the bright sun, stunned. Many thousands of people sat or stood in the huge bowl-shaped arena carved from the red mountain. More than all of the people his mother had gathered in the desert.

Some were pointing at him. Then they all turned to watch him and fell quiet.

A high platform sat at the far end where the queen, Shaquilath, and what must be the king sat in tall chairs, both facing him.

The ground was dusty and flat except for a tall post in the middle. A great hush had filled the arena.

“Come,” one of the guards grunted, tugging him forward.

They led him out to the wooden post. An iron ring on a thick chain hung from the post, and they clamped this around his wrist, then turned and walked back out through the heavy doors.

The moment it slammed shut, the crowd began to cheer.

Talya stood chained to the post in the center of the huge dirt field, trembling in fear.

I HEARD the roar beyond the high cliff just ahead of us, and I pulled up. The sound was unmistakable—all of Petra had gathered in the arena below us. They had begun. Hearing so many throats joined in unison, my heart went still.

“Hurry!” Saba said, dropping from his camel into a run.

We had ridden the camels hard without uttering a word, cutting time by making a direct route to the arena from the cliffs above. By doing so we could avoid the city streets and any guards who might be posted to intercept us, but we would have to descend into the stadium through the seated crowd.

I slid to the rock surface and ran after Saba, unnerved by what I might see when we broke over the edge to view the arena below. My mind was caught between the staggering reality of peace and love that Yeshua had shown us, and this realm where flesh bled and bone broke.

Two halves. The one half felt a deep and gut-wrenching compassion for my son, for whom I would lay down my life without hesitation. How my mind longed to see him safe; how my arms ached to hold him!

The other half, so brightened with the light of Yeshua's risen reality in me and in Talya, felt no more dread for Talya than Yeshua did.

Had he not wept for Mary rather than Lazarus, his dear friend?

The juxtaposition within me felt like two selves, each battling for supremacy. But in the wake of seeing as I had seen, the dread I'd felt since Yeshua's crucifixion was gone. Only deep compassion remained.

Love, Yeshua had said. This was the manifestation of heaven on earth—for me, as Yeshua, to show compassion to those hurting.

Again the crowd's roar, louder now.

Saba pulled up sharply at the cliff's edge and I knew he'd seen. Then I arrived, grabbing his arm so as not to plunge over the precipice.

There, only a stone's throw below us, Petra's arena was filled to overflowing with countless souls gathered to avenge Phasa's death. There, on the platform, Shaquilath and Aretas soaked in the adulation of their people.

And there, at the center, a post, and chained to that post: Talya, all alone.

Immediately, half my mind screamed its offense. My peace was shattered. To see my son so frail, thinner than he'd been before, trembling under the crushing roar of the crowd—how could this be?

All was well with my soul, I knew this. I knew it but my mind was forgetting, even now, a mere three hours after Yeshua had shown me all was well.

Tears sprang to my eyes unbidden. For a moment I felt like I was back in that grave of my dream, clawing for the surface.

I wanted to throw myself from that cliff and fly to my son's rescue. I wanted to tear apart any enemy that would lay a single hand on him. I wanted to kill them all—every single soul who had gathered for this savage feast.

Love, my daughter. Love them as yourself. Love even your enemy.

I blinked.

I glanced at Saba. Saba, whose eyes were fired with rage. And then he was springing onto a small path that led down the cliff, and I knew that his mind was gone on that rage.

“Saba!” Part of me wanted him to go, because I knew he was going to save my son. But these weren't the words that came to my mouth. “No, you can't take up the sword—”

“To live by the sword is to die by the sword,” he snapped, spinning back. “This is only a law and I will accept its consequence!”

“Yes! You will! You'll be killed!”

“But my son,” he said, shoving his finger at the arena, “will not!”

And then he was gone, catapulting himself over a boulder and dropping out of sight, leaving me smothered by confusion and fear.

The crowd quieted and I turned to see that Shaquilath had lifted her hand. I could hear her every word rising up from the arena.

“There is only one way for all of man to live on the face of this earth. This is the way of the gods. For every threat against us, we must offer another threat. For every failure, another failure. For every eye taken, we will take an eye. For every hand, we sever a hand. For every life, we take a life.”

I could not breathe.

“Today,” she cried, “the way of the Bedu and of all living gods in the heavens will be honored.”

No…No, I could not allow this. There was another way.

And then I was tearing down the mountain to save my son.

THE QUEEN'S words echoed through Talya's ears as he searched the rows of people for his mother. She had to be here. Maviah, who'd saved him from death in the desert as an orphan, would save him now.

He jerked his head around, frightened, searching. Guards were stationed around the entire top rim; people crowded the long stone benches that circled the arena.

But he couldn't find her.

Still he looked. The queen was still talking, standing on that platform, but he could hardly hear her over the pounding of his heart.

“Mother!” he cried, turning all the way around. His voice was lost to the sound of a cheer—the queen had said something. “Mother!”

But she wasn't there.

She wasn't anywhere. He looked back at the queen far across the arena.

“It was Maviah, hailed as queen among outcasts, who once showed us her power in this very arena,” she cried, pacing. “Maviah, who offered up her own son in exchange for power in Dumah when the power of her god, Yeshua, failed her. Maviah, who tricked me, promising to raise my daughter from her illness, only to curse her with death. Maviah, who runs for her life in the desert, forsaking her only son in his darkest hour.”

This couldn't be true.

The queen pointed at Talya from across the arena.

“It is therefore Maviah's son who will die today, according to her own will, at the hand of her vowed enemy.”

She pointed to the doors on Talya's right.

“I give you, Kahil bin Saman, prince of the Thamud and ruler of Dumah!”

The heavy wooden doors opened and Kahil rode in, seated tall on a white stallion. He was dressed in black like the last time Talya had seen him. He dipped his head to the queen, then turned his horse toward the post.