Showing posts with label persecution. Show all posts
Showing posts with label persecution. Show all posts

Wednesday, 16 September 2015

Just One More Flame

Jaden glanced towards the darkened patio door.
“Just one more, Lord, let me send out just one more post before they come. “
                He knew perfectly well his time was limited.
                “What would you have me write about this time? What compelling message could be my final farewell—“
                Final farewell? No, no I don’t want to think of it that way. When God closes one door he opens another. He looked once more towards the drapes that were blocking out the night. Soon, but not too soon, he hoped, early dawn would lighten the sky and it had been rumored that they would come for him, then.
                As he waited for the laptop to boot-up, he bowed his head in prayer, “Lord give me words.” John 3:16 came to his mind: it was one of the most powerful messages in the world.
                For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son that whosoever believeth on Him should not perish (die) but have everlasting life (live forever in Heaven with God.)
                His hands nearly skimmed over the keys. What can I add to these words?
Twin pools of lights were tunneling through the darkness.  A car was coming down the quiet, suburban street followed by another, then another. He knew without a doubt they would stop in, and by his driveway.
His mind was in frenzy. “What more can I write Lord, what more?”
“Just send it, send it.”
                The patio door was locked but it was child’s play for them to get in.
                “Seize the computer!” the leader commanded as two men forcibly handcuffed him.
                “Go,” Jaden pleaded inwardly; looking at the screen, “Just go.” Sometimes it took so long for a post to be truly sent; sometimes he had to reload it.
                “Shall I destroy the laptop?” The swarthy, turbaned man lifted up an axe that Jaden knew would soon be laid to his own neck.
                “No, no. Dats ef-evidence! We will learn much.”
                As Jaden was man-handled into one of the vehicles a deep peace rolled over his soul.

                I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course. May Christ’s light flame brightly through me one last time when I lay down my life.

Friday, 28 February 2014

Apprehended (part two)

  “Goedemorgen, Claudine!” Verena hurried over to the young mother who was strolling down a wooded path near their town home. “May I take a peek at your baby? Hallo Jans, did I wake you up? What a sweet little boy you are!” She sighed happily and looked around. “What a perfectly lovely day to be out for a walk. Aren't spring days beautiful?”
Claudine nodded. “ Pieter and Nicolaes do not play too far from the path. We need to go home after a while to make supper for your father.”
“Where is Margriete?” Verena asked while she was making silly facial expressions to get the rosy cheeked lad to giggle.
“Over yonder,” Claudine pointed. “She is gathering an armful of flowers to fill our rooms with.”
“Meenen is such a pretty little town.”
Claudine fell silent. At least it doesn't have a dungeon like Ypres does. She suddenly felt cold and it had nothing to do with the stirring of a summer-like breese. How I would hate to be confined to a dark prison cell when the air is so fresh and there are all kinds of interesting things to do. She felt her grip tighten around the baby's small form. Verena didn't notice Claudine's change of mood. She was already rushing back to chat with Margriete.
“Mama!” Pieter called. “May I hold Jans please?”
Claudine handed the baby to his brother who promptly sat down in the grass and entertained him by tickling his face with a daisy.
What happy, sweet children I have, and such a good husband. Why then am I feeling cast down in my soul, all of a sudden? Claudine started singing and the rich, pure tones filled the air with a rare beauty.
Claudine had a good soup cooking by the time Piersom entered the door. Claudine quirked her eyebrows. He didn't bound in with his usual boisterous good humor.
Piersom motioned for her to step outside.
“Margariete, you can start feeding Jans. He's so hungry after all that fresh air this afternoon. Yes, Piersom?”
Her husband closed the door behind Claudine before speaking. Then he laid his hands on her shoulders and looked deep into her warm, brown eyes. “ Hendric matched my step as I was returning home from work.”
Claudine nodded. Why such a sober look?
“Titelmannus is out and about.”
“Who is he?” Why did I whisper?
“The Dean of Ronse.”
When his wife still wore a blank expression, Piersom continued, “The Inquisitor. A pious councillor warned me to flee. I will hide in yonder woods.”
“Could you not pause to sup with us? You must be tired after such a long day.”
“Nay, I must hasten. He may have rounded up the bailiffs already to come and fetch me.” He turned to go, then paused. “You come, to, Claudine. They may be after you as well.”
Claudine knew the danger they were in. “I will fetch the baby, but you go! Go! Don't wait for me! I'll be but a moment later.”

“Where's Papa?”
“Why doesn't Papa come in for supper? I am hungry!”
“Papa and I are going for a little walk. Go ahead and eat. Pieter, you can lead in prayer. Hallo Janzie! My what a sopping wet baby! Did he eat much?”
Margariete nodded. “Everything that I mashed up for him.”
Claudine quickly and deftly changed the baby's sodden garments then hurried out the door.
She saw a ragtag, but determined looking bunch of men heading down the street so ducked into the woods and quickened her pace.

Page 737
Claudine de Vettre


Thursday, 27 February 2014

The Couple Next Door

I've started another series about people from the Middle Ages and will try to to make it easier to keep them all straight. 
The older couple next door looked at each other and smiled when Claudine began to sing a lullaby.

“ Must be nap time for the baby,” George remarked as he brushed the unbleached burlap curtain aside to let in a a little of the sweet spring air.
Anna hobbled closer and peered over his shoulder. Claudine was strolling up and down in her small yard next door as she crooned to her little one.
“What a beautiful day,” George exclaimed. Makes me want to get behind a plow like I used to.”
Anna's face clouded. Yes it was a beautiful day for most everyone, but in yonder prison too many were chained in darkness just because they wanted to serve God differently that the rulers commanded. Why can't the priests be more tolerant, she thought fretfully as she snatched up the old, worn down straw broom and whisked it across the floor. Claudine and Piersom are so much happier now that they have accepted the new way. They used to come over nearly every week with questions about the Bible. George used to try and explain things to them as best as he knew how, but they were never satisfied.
Anna shoved the broom into the corner and clumped over to the table. She stacked the small amount of pottery dishes with more venom than was necessary and swished them in a bowl of water before turning them over to air dry.
“My aren't you grouchy this morning!”
Anna started. “It's, it's just that, that uh, it's such a beautiful day and I want to be outside.”
“Go out then,” George chortled. “I ain't tying you to the table leg.”
Anna gave him a quick, furtive glance as she reached for her shawl. Surely he knows the real reason I'm feeling all cross and out of sorts. That I am, what do they call it? A sympathizer. She glanced over her shoulder once again while scurrying out the door. They don't come a-callin' like they used to no more. Always has a friendly greeting when we meet, but no more questions. Anyone kin guess they probably went an' got themselves re-
baptized, but I'm sure not asking. Ain't none of my business. She lowered herself into the small garden patch behind the cottage and pulled weeds out of the still moist earth. Ain't no one else's business nether.

George went over to the window once again and followed his wife with his eyes. One unhappy woman she is. Every since Claudine gone and got herself converted—well at least we suspect she did-- Anna's eyes so often get stormy like. Sure too bad we can't talk things over like we usta. Everyone's afreed to speak their minds nowadays.

Thursday, 20 February 2014

Which Time Was Easier? Theirs or Ours?

Mariakin hovered in the back of the crowd.  For many weeks now she had been smuggling food to her father while he was in the dungeon and now she was compelled to watch him be burned at the stake with many others. Her spirit was weary, discouraged. Every day they suffered from the threat of persecution. She didn’t know how she could bear it much longer; this fleeing, this worrying, this fellowshipping in secret in the dead of night, in the storm and the cold, lest someone would reveal their whereabouts and tell the authorities.  One by one the fires were kindled in the rushes at the bottom of each stake. When the smoke began to curl up around her father’s stake, Mariakin fainted.