Their sister was already there, hiding in the shadows. Acts 16:20-24
Rufus bent closer to Zonya's ear: "How did you get past the guards?"
His little sister shrugged her shoulders as if to say that wasn't a problem. "I gave them some fresh dates."
"You always were a favorite of theirs."
"What about you?"
Rufus rubbed his thumb and finger together. "Coin."
They all knew it wouldn't have helped if they had wanted to see anyone but Paul and Silas.
"Shh!" Lucas leaned forward, listening intently. They heard voices, gentle voices, not loud, cursing, angry voices, not groanings cause by intense pain but...
"Singing!" Zonya peered around the stone-walled corner to get a closer look at their favorite prisoners and her brothers crowded behind her.
The singing, although feeble at first grew stronger and stronger until it seemed to fill the whole cell with vibrant, joyous sound. The three children stared at each other with starry eyes.
"Surely God is here," Fourteen year old Lucas whispered.
They went back to their beds feeling greatly comforted, until...
(Today's post)
Zonya pulled her fur covering back over her shoulder and wondered why she had awakened. Then she felt it. Again. A tremor: it was much worse this time. She clutched the sides of her straw pallet not sure what to do, but the next time it happened she was sure that the city was in the throes of a full-fledged earthquake so tore through the darkness towards her parents separate room, her brothers at her heels.
Mama clung to her and rocked her, stroking her hair, but Zonya could tell her mother was just as frightened as she was.
"Where's Papa?" Zonya wailed.
"At the prison: the shaking is much worse there, and he is afraid some criminals might escape."
Lucas sounded sober. "We need to pray to the true God for protection."
"I bet God is punishing everyone because Paul and Silas were "---
"Hush, Child, we were about to pray." Ten year old Zonya snuggled against her mama's boney shoulder and closed her eyes tightly.
No one started to pray out loud until the pottery leaped off the shelf and broken fragments lay scattered all around them.
"Help me God," Mama shrieked, or maybe they all had.
They continued cowering and frightened with blankets or fur mats over their heads for what seemed like hours until the door flung open.
"Papa!"
"Paul! Silas!"
"You're safe!"
"What happened that they let you come here?"
Papa looked weary, haggard even, but radiant.
Mama anxiously scurried around finding a basin of water and rags to cleanse the nasty-looking wounds on the men's bare backs. They had tears in their eyes as she gently dabbed at the sores before applying some ointment. The men barely flinched during these ministrations but were talking earnestly and excitedly about the miracle God had performed.
"I heard you sing!" Zonya burst out.
Her parents looked astonished, concerned, but Rufus glared at her. Her mother gave her a 'we'll talk about this later' look.
What seemed like hours passed, and especially the children sensed that they were all knitted together in the bond of love. It made Zonya very happy that her parents believed in 'the preacher's God,' the one that was kind and merciful and someone asked what would hinder them from being baptised.
After confessing their sins to God and one another, they knelt in a circle, and Paul, capable as always, poured a little water on their heads in baptism and prayed for each of them in turn.
After that Mama prepared some victuals for the men. The boys suddenly felt hungry also, so she laid out enough for the whole lot of them.
"It's funny eating in this watch," Zonya exclaimed, but dug in with gusto.
As long as she lived Zonya never forgot how God let His servants get away when it seemed impossible.
There are people today who are chained in various ways. Maybe you are one of them. Don't get panicky or discouraged: God has a way of escape for you also. Look up to Him in simple trusting faith and let Him lead you one step at a time. Take His hand.
Rufus bent closer to Zonya's ear: "How did you get past the guards?"
His little sister shrugged her shoulders as if to say that wasn't a problem. "I gave them some fresh dates."
"You always were a favorite of theirs."
"What about you?"
Rufus rubbed his thumb and finger together. "Coin."
They all knew it wouldn't have helped if they had wanted to see anyone but Paul and Silas.
"Shh!" Lucas leaned forward, listening intently. They heard voices, gentle voices, not loud, cursing, angry voices, not groanings cause by intense pain but...
"Singing!" Zonya peered around the stone-walled corner to get a closer look at their favorite prisoners and her brothers crowded behind her.
The singing, although feeble at first grew stronger and stronger until it seemed to fill the whole cell with vibrant, joyous sound. The three children stared at each other with starry eyes.
"Surely God is here," Fourteen year old Lucas whispered.
They went back to their beds feeling greatly comforted, until...
(Today's post)
Zonya pulled her fur covering back over her shoulder and wondered why she had awakened. Then she felt it. Again. A tremor: it was much worse this time. She clutched the sides of her straw pallet not sure what to do, but the next time it happened she was sure that the city was in the throes of a full-fledged earthquake so tore through the darkness towards her parents separate room, her brothers at her heels.
Mama clung to her and rocked her, stroking her hair, but Zonya could tell her mother was just as frightened as she was.
"Where's Papa?" Zonya wailed.
"At the prison: the shaking is much worse there, and he is afraid some criminals might escape."
Lucas sounded sober. "We need to pray to the true God for protection."
"I bet God is punishing everyone because Paul and Silas were "---
"Hush, Child, we were about to pray." Ten year old Zonya snuggled against her mama's boney shoulder and closed her eyes tightly.
No one started to pray out loud until the pottery leaped off the shelf and broken fragments lay scattered all around them.
"Help me God," Mama shrieked, or maybe they all had.
They continued cowering and frightened with blankets or fur mats over their heads for what seemed like hours until the door flung open.
"Papa!"
"Paul! Silas!"
"You're safe!"
"What happened that they let you come here?"
Papa looked weary, haggard even, but radiant.
Mama anxiously scurried around finding a basin of water and rags to cleanse the nasty-looking wounds on the men's bare backs. They had tears in their eyes as she gently dabbed at the sores before applying some ointment. The men barely flinched during these ministrations but were talking earnestly and excitedly about the miracle God had performed.
"I heard you sing!" Zonya burst out.
Her parents looked astonished, concerned, but Rufus glared at her. Her mother gave her a 'we'll talk about this later' look.
What seemed like hours passed, and especially the children sensed that they were all knitted together in the bond of love. It made Zonya very happy that her parents believed in 'the preacher's God,' the one that was kind and merciful and someone asked what would hinder them from being baptised.
After confessing their sins to God and one another, they knelt in a circle, and Paul, capable as always, poured a little water on their heads in baptism and prayed for each of them in turn.
After that Mama prepared some victuals for the men. The boys suddenly felt hungry also, so she laid out enough for the whole lot of them.
"It's funny eating in this watch," Zonya exclaimed, but dug in with gusto.
As long as she lived Zonya never forgot how God let His servants get away when it seemed impossible.
There are people today who are chained in various ways. Maybe you are one of them. Don't get panicky or discouraged: God has a way of escape for you also. Look up to Him in simple trusting faith and let Him lead you one step at a time. Take His hand.
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