by Ted Dekker
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 a
s 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.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
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 an
d 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!
