Fire and Sword

by D. Brian Shafer

  “My words mean nothing,” said Crispin. “But Serus has been assigned to this man Saul. The Lord has plans for him…”

  “Plans for a persecutor?” Kara scoffed.

  The angels moved toward one another. Several warriors on each side pressed in closer to their respective leaders. Kara pointed to Saul’s party as it made its way down the last hill toward Damascus.

  “The Most High always has plans,” Kara continued. “He had plans for Adam who lost his place in Eden. He had plans for Moses who never made it to the Promised Land. He had plans for Israel, which have long been destroyed. And now He has plans for Saul?” He turned to Berenius. “I believe fortune is smiling upon us for a change!”

  Kara’s angels snickered.

  “God’s plans will not be thwarted,” Serus said. “My task might be to see this man judged by the Most High or saved by Him—either way, His will be done!”

  Kara glared at Serus.

  “You are a traitor,” Kara said. “You who once served Lucifer and now have apparently bought your way into this company? You would see the work done?” He laughed shortly. “Whatever happens to this man, it shall not happen until much more blood has been shed in the name of the Christ they worship…”

  Suddenly a brilliant light shone around them all. It was so dazzling that even the angels backed away. Kara, realizing what was happening, yelped and vanished as did the angels accompanying him. Crispin, Serus, and the warriors with them bowed low to the ground. And Saul? He was so overcome by the light that he fell off his mount and onto the ground. The men with him fell low to the ground as well, terrified at what was occurring around them.

  Saul tried to look up and determine what was happening—but the light was overpowering, and he buried his face in his arms. What was happening?

  “Saul.”

  Saul lifted his head up. Was he going insane?

  “Saul.”

  The men with Saul could hear a voice, but saw nobody. They dared not get up.

  “Saul,” came the voice once more. “Why are you persecuting Me?”

  Saul kept his eyes shut tightly but mustered the courage to speak. This must be some sort of angel. But who?

  “Who…who are you?” he asked.

  “I am Jesus.”

  The words cut through Saul like a knife. Jesus!

  “I am the one whom you are persecuting.”

  Jesus, Saul thought to himself. I am a dead man!

  “Get up, Saul, and continue into Damascus. There you shall be told what you are to do.”

  As quickly as the light and voice had come, they vanished. The men with Saul stood and looked around. Nothing. They went to Saul to help him up. Perhaps he could tell them what had just happened. When they helped him up, it was apparent that something else had occurred—Saul was blind.

  “Master, we must get you help,” Strachus said. “We must get back to your physician in Jerusalem.”

  The men gathered the things that had been scattered during the confusion. Saul was helped onto his mount, and the men started turning the animals back south. Saul, barely able to speak, stopped them.

  “Wait,” he whispered. “What are you doing?”

  “We must get back,” said Strachus. “This road is demonized! We must get back to Jerusalem.”

  “No, Strachus,” said Saul. “We must get to Damascus. Take us to the house of Judas.”

  “But Saul,” Strachus pleaded, looking around as if another light might descend upon them at any moment. “Jerusalem is our sanctuary!”

  “Perhaps,” said Saul, his eyes now covered with a piece of cloth. “But Damascus is my destiny.”

  Serus and Crispin continued following the party for a while. So that was it! The Most High was going to do something with Saul that was completely unexpected. Serus had assumed that his assignment was ultimately to see Saul destroyed and to protect the Christ followers from his wrath. Now, it seemed, the Lord had something quite different in mind.

  Crispin looked over at Serus, who was deep in thought.

  “Well, Serus,” he said. “It looks as if Saul might prove an interesting assignment after all!”

  Serus nodded.

  “A blind man with a great destiny,” he said. “How like the Most High!”

  “Until a human is blind, he never really sees,” Crispin said. “That is what the Lord taught. And that is what Saul is now learning!”

  Serus and Crispin watched Saul as he simply sat, neither moving nor eating for the next several days. Strachus had brought the party to the house of Judas, their contact in Damascus. Judas, a friend to Saul’s family, was astonished to hear the story of Saul’s blindness and to see him so stricken. Saul had remained melancholy, brooding and wanting only to be left alone with the darkness of his sight and his even darker conscience, which had been pricking him more and more.

  Judas, a local merchant, tried his best to make Saul comfortable. He thanked Strachus for delivering him and promised he would take care of him. Strachus, for his part, was anxious to return to Jerusalem with news of Saul’s affliction, which he attributed to a demon. Judas left Saul alone in a back room and contemplated what to do next. Within hours, Strachus had deserted Saul and headed south.

  As for Saul, it was not the loss of his eyes that bothered him. It was the loss of his heart. He was broken. Broken for the many people he had persecuted. Broken for the death of such godly men as Stephen. But most of all, broken from the words that Jesus had Himself spoken: “Saul, why are you persecuting Me?”

  He shuddered as he thought of it all. And in the silence of the darkness, he asked the Lord’s forgiveness.

  “That’s it, Saul,” Serus said, as he sat next to Saul and comforted him. He placed his hand on Saul’s shoulder as he prayed. Saul began to weep. “Your journey is just beginning. But it starts with the Most High’s mercy.”

  He looked at the traveling gear that Strachus had deposited in the room. One pack held the names of people to be arrested in Damascus. Their lives too had been affected by Saul’s experience—though they were unaware of it.

  Crispin smiled, “The Most High’s mercy has a very long reach.” He smiled and added, “As Philip is about to discover…”

  “In the name of the Lord come out of him!”

  “Get away from me!” the man growled.

  The crowd scattered as Philip commanded the evil spirit to release his hold on the young man.

  All of Samaria had heard about this man from the south with a new teaching and with power to heal and cast demons out of people. Philip stared at the black eyes defiantly.

  “I said, come out of him!”

  The young man pitched back dramatically and fell to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust. His lip was bleeding where he had bitten himself. With a final screech, he suddenly became very still. Philip walked over to him and knelt down, praying. A few people moved in closer.

  “Will he be alright?” asked a young man who was a friend to him.

  “He’ll be alright,” said Philip. “The power of the risen Lord has rescued him. See, he is already coming around.”

  The young man, named Pontus, lifted his head, dazed and bleeding, but otherwise fine. He looked about and saw the many faces staring back at him. When he saw Philip’s face, he began to cry. Philip hugged the man and prayed for him. He then helped him up and turned him over to his friend.

  “See to him,” Philip said. “And see that he no longer conjures spirits or else something worse might happen to him.”

  Pontus and his friend disappeared among the whispering crowd. Others began to come forward asking for this and that: a healing, a prayer, a word from God. Philip complied as he could, and his favor in Samaria was assured. He had come north as a result of the persecution that had broken out in Jerusalem upon Stephen’s death. While James and some of the others remained in the city to encourage the believers there, Philip and the rest had scattered throughout Judea and Samaria with the good news of the Lord. The people of Samaria w
ere happy with him, and his presence was well-received—though not by everyone…

  Nergal, formerly Listros, an angel of worship who had become Lucifer’s prince over the region of Samaria, was in deep contemplation. His authority to rule had come from Lucifer, who had given him the task of seducing the people and keeping their eyes off the Most High. Nergal also knew that he had better deal with Philip before things became uncontrollable and he attracted Lucifer’s attention.

  Ever since the collapse of the Northern Kingdom, Nergal and other angels, in the guise of lesser regional gods, had become dominant fixtures of worship in the land. The people called upon them and sacrificed to them. Nergal had become the main god of the area, and he supplied the people with visitations, pseudo-miracles, and the sort of mystical experiences humans crave.

  Many years earlier, a large part of Israel’s population was carried away into captivity. The people had turned to worshiping the gods of Canaan—Baal, chiefly—and, as a result, they were destroyed. The Assyrians deported huge portions of the populace and brought in other races—all in an effort to break down the established order of Israel. These new immigrants to the region brought with them their own culture and the worship of their own gods. After centuries of intermarriage, the national identity of Israel proper was lost, and a hybrid race known as the Samaritans emerged.

  Thus, Nergal found himself the chief deity of the region, along with his aides—the lesser gods and goddesses. Nergal was able, among other things, to inhabit people and to be responsible for diseases of various kinds. Similar ideas were widespread among the nations from which the captives came. He could also “heal” diseases as the occasion called for—and to continue his role as the great healing god. Thus it was that when confronted with power from on high, as displayed by Philip, a concerned Nergal met with his aides.

  “Who is this Philip I continue to hear about?”

  “He is one of the Christ followers, great Nergal.”

  “Obviously,” said Nergal, looking vacantly at Sustrin, his second-in-command. “But who is he? Why is he here? I thought they were killing these people in Jerusalem.”

  “They were, great one,” said Sustrin, mustering nerve. “But they are like rats. They scatter as you kill them. They are everywhere now. I had word from other cities of such opposition. They…”

  “If they are rats, they should be treated as such and killed off immediately!”

  “Agreed,” said Sustrin, nodding his head.

  The two looked at the wreckage of the old temple in Samaria that had been erected by Jezebel, the wife of Ahab, king of Israel. She had dedicated it to the Baal gods whose hold on the people had caused their destruction. Nergal indicated the ruin.

  “This…this high place was once a place of great power and influence in the land,” he said. “Now it is a broken relic of gods no longer in human memory. Mark me, Sustrin. If this Christ gets into the hearts of these people, we, too, will become no more than a vacant memory in the minds of people. Our only power among men is the ability to be alive in their minds and hearts. If something greater supplants us, we are finished.”

  Sustrin smiled. “I have considered these things, my prince,” he said. “And something greater is emerging even now …something that will counter the work of Philip in Samaria.”

  Nergal looked at Sustrin. “Another weapon?” he asked doubtfully.

  “Another Philip,” smiled Sustrin. “By the name of Simon.”

  “Simon?” asked Nergal, puzzled.

  “Simon,” responded Sustrin. “The sorcerer.”

  Philip’s work in Samaria had been very rewarding. Ever since coming to the city he had met with great success in displaying the Lord’s power and in preaching the good news of freedom found in Christ. He could hardly wait to return to Jerusalem and report on the progress being made to the north. The people seemed genuinely interested in hearing about the Lord, many of them following him around the city. But one man in particular seemed extremely interested in his activities.

  “Rise, get up!”

  The crowd gasped as once more a man, who had been crippled by an ox cart, was able to stand up straight for the first time in years. The man began weeping and bowed down low, trying to kiss Philip’s feet. Philip backed away.

  “Don’t give glory to me,” he warned the man. “The glory is the Lord’s and His Christ. Believe on Him, one and all!”

  The crowd welcomed the healed man into their midst, patting him on the back and talking to him. Philip smiled at the man. How marvelous and gracious was the Lord! As he turned away from the crowd, he found himself staring at a man who had been following him for many days. The man looked at him and nodded his head.

  “May I help you, my friend?” asked Philip.

  “Please, sir,” the man said. “I am Simon. I am a healer in this city. I have been watching you … your ability …”

  “Not my ability,” Philip corrected as they walked together. “The Lord’s.”

  “Ah, but the power must be from you,” Simon continued. “Just as my powers are from me. I am known as one having the Great Power. I …”

  “There is only one Great Power,” said Philip, who discerned Simon’s motive. “That of the Living God.”

  “Please, sir,” Simon pleaded. “You must tell me how you do it.”

  Philip turned to Simon: “I told you, the power is not mine—nor is it mine to give away!”

  Before entering the house where he was staying, Philip admonished Simon a final time: “I return to Jerusalem to share the good news of what the Lord is doing in Samaria. I advise you to find the true source of power.”

  Simon, knowing that a crowd had watched him and Philip walking together and conversing, quickly began to speak to them.

  “This man also has a source of power,” he began. “And together we shall continue to work the miracles you have seen! But the Great Power requires from you evidence of your faith.”

  Simon looked back at the inn that Philip had entered. Perhaps he should follow the man? So many holy men and miracle workers had come and gone. But this one was different—he didn’t claim the power; he only confessed it. Yes! He would talk to Philip about this Christ and would follow him! Yes—he would even be baptized by him! He turned to follow Philip.

  “Great One!” came a shout from behind. Simon looked as the crowd advanced upon him, people pushing through with all manner of petitions. Some held out coins. Others held out empty hands. Simon signaled to an aide in the crowd, who collected the money, smiling all the while.

  “It pleases the Great Power to know that your money is worth nothing in light of your devotion.” He glanced briefly back at the inn, and then turned back to the crowd. As if inspired, Simon closed his eyes and added, “But remember—the power is not mine nor is it mine to give away … true power has its price!”

  He turned and entered the inn.

  “True power has its price,” repeated Nergal, one afternoon some weeks later. “And humans will do anything to achieve a measure of it. Simon is quite correct there.”

  Rugio and Pellecus nodded in agreement with Nergal. They had joined him in Samaria in the effort to stem the growing influence of the now scattered believers. Rugio had sized up the strength in the region and believed that a few more warriors should be mustered. Samaria, like Damascus, was becoming increasingly important in the conflict.

  “The lines must be held here in Samaria,” said Rugio, as he scanned groups of arriving warriors who were taking up positions in and around the city. “Judea is all but lost to us for now. Samaria is the next line of defense.”

  “By your own strategy?” asked Sustrin, who did not like outside interference in his domain. “We have our own way of dealing with these matters.” He glanced at Nergal. “Or rather the prince of this region does.”

  “It is by Lucifer’s orders that we are here,” said Rugio.

  Sustrin nodded uneasily. “We are, of course, honored,” he said.

  “Yes, we can tell,
” smirked Rugio.

  “Don’t be alarmed, Nergal,” said Pellecus. “We are merely here in support. Your authority remains intact … for now.”

  “You are always welcome in Samaria,” said Nergal, glancing at Sustrin. “And I believe you will be able to report to Lucifer that all is well here. Philip left weeks ago. I had him watched all the way to Jerusalem. And Simon has taken his place as the local mystic. He now tries to invoke Philip’s authority in his work. Stupid humans.”

  Nergal glanced approvingly at Sustrin.

  “Possibly,” said Pellecus cryptically. “Unfortunately Philip’s report stirred up more interest. The fools in Jerusalem are in fact sending another delegation here. This time headed by Peter himself.”

  “Peter?” Sustrin said.

  “And John,” added Rugio.

  “Interesting,” said Nergal, looking at Sustrin. “See to the legions. Have them start a campaign of religious fervor in this city. I want the people particularly eager for Simon’s services when our friends arrive. Let’s give Peter and John a measure of Samaritan hospitality, shall we?”

  Sustrin grinned. “I shall see to it personally,” he said as he vanished.

  Peter and John were amazed at the level of spiritual poverty that was apparent in the once proud city of Samaria. The former capital of the Northern Kingdom of Israel had become a patchwork of religious expression, dominated by the local Jews. Yet amid all of the spiritual activity there was a void—a lack of credible and meaningful faith. The people were hungry for something spiritual, but they were feeding on myth.

  “So much has happened in this city,” John said, as they made their way through the busy streets. “Is it only a couple of years since we were in this region with our Lord?”

  “Yes,” said Peter, waving away a merchant who held out some exotic weaving. “And now He comes back in you and me. Philip has done well here.”