To Live is Christ, To Die is Gain

TWELVE

Saul had had the most glorious time watching Stephen die. There was something that thrilled him knowing there was one less Jesus-worshiper, yet he knew that Stephen was only one drop in a very large bucket. While devout men buried Stephen, Saul had better things to do than witness a funeral. Blood lust had risen. He knew his calling. He would be the worst nightmare of Christians. Beginning in Jerusalem.

"Blessed art Thou, Lord our God, King of the universe," Mavy's voice barely broke above a whisper. Despite being "the familiar", having keeping Shabbat for as long as she could remember, even when Daniel was hers, it still hit her every time. Even more so, if that were possible.

Estelle hung close by her elbow. Pretty soon it would be her honor of lighting the Shabbat candles in her own home.

The freshly baked bread wafting into the air had her speaking a touch faster. Driven by her stomach?

Besides the odd scuffle, the occasional arrest, most of the disciples were more open and obvious about their faith in Christ, everything had fallen back into the same rhythmic hum as it was lived before even the crucifixion. Life went on. Dishes still needed to be done, school lessons taught... The only difference now was there was hope. A glorious hope that couldn't be shaken or taken away.

That was the most beautiful of all.

Joel nodded his approval of the meal, cocking his head at Robert who pushed around his fork more than he chewed.

"Son, aren't you hungry?"

"Well," Robert shrugged, "I was before, but it was taking so long so I figured I'd get myself a little snack, you know, just to tide me over."

Estelle clucked her tongue, "You're something else. Here's mom, slaving away-". Estelle, always the mini-mother.

The crash had Mavy leap to her feet, nearly choking on her piece of challah. "What is that?"

Joel's eyes were wide, too, pushing as it were, his family behind him as he walked softly to the window, leaning against the wall to see farther down the street where the sound had emanated from. His face paled significantly at the sight.

"What is it?"

"Hush!" Robert fell silent. Mavy's eyes met her husband's. Normally meek and mellow, he had never raised his voice at any of them. "Roman soldiers." His words came out softly.

"Mommy, I'm scared," Estelle breathed, clutching on her mother's arm.

Joel was transfixed, his eyes squinting to see from a distance as a young man pointed to a crude wagon. This was not good. Yelping and wailing ensued as one by one the Thaddeus household were dragged out of their abode, the door lying in splinters. Their faces showing clear signs of horror. They'd had no warning. What better way to come after Christ-followers than when preoccupied with Shabbat? Where had they gone wrong? Why them? Despite following the traditions of the elders, they must have shown too much sympathy for Jesus' followers.. it had to be.

"Darling, what shall we do?"

Joel set his jaw. What could they do but flee? Jerusalem was no longer safe.

And at that time there was a great persecution against the church which was at Jerusalem, and they were all scattered abroad throughout the regions of Judaea and Samaria. Saul was ecstatic, driven by a satanic zeal, wreaking havoc of the church, banging down doors, ripping families apart filling prisons. Men and women were fair game to his tyranny. Tears and children's screams fell on deaf ears.

Yet, somehow, the more he persecuted, the farther the gospel spread from those fleeing for their very lives.

Philip went to Samaria, preaching Christ, God is with His people even during the heat of persecution. As was if all the time that was spent waiting on the Spirit, and even after the infilling at Pentecost was to allow them to gird themselves up in the most holy faith, to learn to trust in God, and to build each other up. The Lord had promised that signs would follow those that believe, and He was faithful who promised. For as Philip spoke to the townspeople of Samaria, many were delivered of possession, many were healed. As could be imagined, it brought attention.

Estelle couldn't be blamed for breaking down in tears more often than not. She was sixteen now and had been virtually pledged to Samuel. Mavy, reluctantly agreeing to their betrothal. It wasn't that Mavy disliked or didn't approve the young man, but to let her daughter, her only daughter start a life of her own was ripping her apart. She felt guilty even as she stroked her daughter's hair. If she'd known things would have turned out like this, she would have likely consented to them becoming one beforehand. Then again, it was a little comfort that they were together even in persecution. Having fled their home in the wee hours of the morning, running softly in the shadows from Jerusalem to Judaea, Samuel could not be notified in time. In truth, it was likely best that way. Upon torture, God only knew what would be confessed.

"I need to find him," Estelle sobbed softly, lifting her head from her mother's shoulder for a brief moment as an idea, however foolish, passed over her. "We... I... could just stay quiet. Keep everything on the down-low-"

"Estelle," Mavy's voice was harsh despite the tears that rose in her eyes that the thought should ever sweep over... any of them. "We can never deny our Lord."

The family had gone through heartache after heartache, mixed with little joy and relief spattered here and there. It was understandable, although a horrible thought that came up every so often of how much easier it would be to deny Christ. Go back to being peace. Hardships were normal... but this?

Was it even worth it?