An Echo in the Darkness(166)

“Her accent is Galilean,” Ezra said.

“She’s told me very little about herself or her homeland,” Marcus said, watching Azar limp toward the steps. “In fact, at times I think she’s evasive.”

Ezra grew thoughtful. “Perhaps she has cause.”

Marcus frowned, wondering what cause she might have.

Taphatha turned from having watched Azar go up the steps. “Why does she veil herself like that?”

“She told me she’s badly disfigured. She wasn’t known by that name until she came to attend my sister. The people called her Rapha.”

“‘The healer,’” Ezra translated.

“She objected to the title.”

Ezra’s brows raised in interest, but the conversation soon returned to his mission.

“I was hungry to read accounts of Jesus when I first arrived in Antioch,” Ezra said. “However, I learned only one apostle wrote a full account of Jesus’ life—Levi—and I haven’t had the opportunity to read the account for myself because of the scarcity of copies. Luke, the physician who traveled with Paul, has chronicled a history. John Mark, who accompanied Paul on his first missionary journey, set down what he was told.”

Ezra sat forward. “It came to me in Antioch that copies must be made of these documents for all the churches. The copies must be accurate, down to every jot and tittle, so that the gospel remains pure. We need the written accounts of eyewitnesses to instruct us.”

“Many believers think the Lord will return any day, and there isn’t the need to spend such time and money on this mission,” Taphatha said.

Ezra appealed to Marcus. “Which is why I believe your gift to me was manna from heaven, Marcus. The gold you left in Jericho has funded this journey and is funding others. If the apostle John will permit me, I will copy Paul’s letter in its entirety and take it back to Antioch, where it will be copied again by two other scribes whose work is meticulous. The documents will be carefully scrutinized and compared to assure that not one letter or word is changed. We must preserve these eyewitness accounts for future generations.”

Taphatha didn’t seem to share her father’s conviction or zeal. “Jesus was said to promise that this generation would not pass away before he returned.”

“Yes,” Ezra said, “but the Lord God gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life. By that promise alone, Daughter, we know this generation of believers will never pass away.”

He turned to Marcus. “God has put in my heart a zeal for his Word, the Word he has given through his apostles to followers of the Way. We must not live for today as the Gentiles do. We must think of tomorrow and of our children and their children. The eyewitness accounts must be copied and preserved.”

Marcus saw how Ezra’s eyes burned with determination and excitement, and his own blood stirred within him. “Whatever more you need to further your purpose, my friend, I will gladly give.”

Ezra nodded. “God prepared you for this day,” he said, smiling broadly and relaxing. “If this journey accomplishes what I hope, I want to find other scribes with the same burden upon their hearts and send them to Corinth and Rome. The Corinthian church is said to have received four lengthy letters from Paul. Another scribe could be sent to Rome, where I’ve heard there’s a letter to all the saints that’s in the keeping of a husband and wife in whose home the church meets.”

Marcus shook his head. “Rome is not a healthy place for a Christian.”

“Nor is Ephesus,” Ezra said.

“No, it isn’t,” he said, remembering Hadassah’s death. “Ephesus is the center of worship for Artemis and second only to Rome in worshiping the emperor as a god.”

“God did not give us a spirit of fear, Marcus. If this work is of the Lord, he will protect us.”

Troubled, Marcus looked at Taphatha. If she traveled with her father, she would be in great danger. She seemed far less convinced about this mission than he, but remained obedient.

As Hadassah had been obedient.

Marcus looked back at Ezra and saw the older man considering him carefully. Something was on Ezra’s mind, but he was apparently not ready to speak of it now in his daughter’s hearing.

Marcus had a feeling he knew what it was.





48

Long hours later, after Ezra and Taphatha had departed for the evening, Marcus went upstairs. As he was walking down the corridor, he heard Azar speaking. He stood outside Julia’s door, listening.

“Yes, my lady, but consider the mouse who lives in the wheat field. He has no thought for the future, either. The high stalks of wheat provide food and shelter, and he has no fear of tomorrow. But then the harvest comes and his world is stripped away, and his life with it. Not once did that poor mouse give thought to the owner of that field, nor even acknowledge his existence. Yet the day of harvest came anyway.”