A Voice in the Wind Read Free Page A

and crippled. Then she recognized him, for he touched me and I arose.”
    Hadassah wanted to leap up and cry out in joy. Some of those around her wept, their faces transfixed with wonder and awe.
    Others wanted to touch her father, to lay hands on a man who had been brought back from death by Christ Jesus. And they had so many questions. How did you feel when you arose? Did you speak with him? What did he say to you? What did he look like?
    In the upper room, with the gathering of believers, Hadassah had felt safe. She had felt strength. In that place, she could feel the presence of God and his love. “ He touched me and I arose .” God’s power could overcome anything.
    Then they would leave the upper room and, as her father walked the family back to the small house where they stayed, Hadassah’s ever-present fear would rise again. She always prayed her father wouldn’t stop and speak. When he told his story to believers, they wept and rejoiced. To unbelievers, he was an object of ridicule. The euphoria and security she felt with those who shared her faith dissolved when she watched her father stand before a crowd and suffer their abuse.
    “Listen to me, O men of Judah!” he would call out, drawing people to him. “Listen to the good news I have to tell you.”
    They listened at first. He was an old man and they were curious. Prophets were always a diversion. He was not eloquent like the religious leaders; he spoke simply from his heart. And always people laughed and mocked him. Some threw rotten vegetables and fruit, some called him mad. Others became enraged at his story of resurrection, shouting that he was a liar and blasphemer.
    Two years ago he had been so badly beaten that two friends had to help carry him back to the small rented house where they always stayed. Elkanah and Benaiah had tried to reason with him.
    “Hananiah, you must not come back here,” Elkanah had said. “The priests know who you are and want you silenced. They are not so foolish as to have a trial, but there are many evil men who will do another’s will for a shekel. Shake the dust of Jerusalem from your shoes and go somewhere that the message will be heard.”
    “And where else can that be but here where our Lord died and arose?”
    “Many of those who witnessed his resurrection have fled imprisonment and death at the hands of the Pharisees,” Benaiah had said. “Even Lazarus has left Judea.”
    “Where did he go?”
    “I was told he took his sisters and Mary of Magdala to Gaul.”
    “I cannot leave Judea. Whatever happens, this is where the Lord wants me.”
    Benaiah had grown silent for a long moment and then he nodded slowly. “Then it shall be as the Lord wills it.”
    Elkanah had agreed and laid his hand on her father’s. “Shelemoth and Cyrus are remaining here. They will give you aid when you are in Jerusalem. I am taking my family away from this city. Benaiah is coming with me. May God’s face shine upon you, Hananiah. You and Rebekkah will be in our prayers. And your children, too.”
    Hadassah had wept, her hopes of leaving this wretched city dashed. Her faith was weak. Her father always forgave his tormenters and attackers, while she prayed they would know all the fires of hell for what they had done to him. She often prayed that God would change his will and send her father to a place other than Jerusalem. Someplace small and peaceful where people would listen.
    “Hadassah, we know that God uses all things for good to those who love him, to those who are called according to his purpose,” her mother said often, trying to comfort her.
    “What good is there in a beating? What good in being spit upon? Why must he suffer so?”
    In the peaceful hills of Galilee, with the blue sea stretched out before her and lilies of the field at her back, Hadassah could believe in God’s love. At home, in those hills, her faith was strong. It warmed her and made her heart sing.
    In Jerusalem, though, she struggled. She clung to