Author’s Note: I want to give a thank you to everyone who has been reading, and especially the new readers that have come over to my blog due to “Unstoppable God / Invincible”. Quite happy with the response. Here’s today’s Friday Fictioneers offering for you all.
Legion upon legion, they stood. Oily, evil, sick looking and mean.
We stood upon a small ridge of crushed rock, jagged spears of basalt and hard stones. The place was the confluence of two rivers, and this area was relatively flat. The sky was a burning red, a late-afternoon sun that cast a red glow across this battlefield. The beauty of the trees and the rolling hills stood stark in the background behind the legion.
We faced these before. Each of us individually. We were caught off guard by them through the week, and we were in need of some real help. That’s when we took to the knees. As we knelt, focused, and raised up all of this to the Lord we serve, we landed at this battlefield. I saw many of my friends, fellow believers, and we were defiant. The legion below wanted to push us back again, and the captain of our army got us ready.
I saw some of my friends, the ones who have helped shepherd me along in my quick journey to this point in time. Many of the folks that I would call ‘compadres’, they stood with their eyes focused, they jaws squared, and their eyes burning with a passion and fight that one could never have seen before.
We heard a short squeal as the legion came towards us, taking the initiative to attack. As they got to the bottom of the rock pile on which we stood, we heard the words we were waiting for.
“Take it back!”
Our ragtag group of nearly 100 clashed with a legion. I waited just a moment before charging down the pile, hoping to help get in and take care of cleaning up the legionnaires that were inevitably going to fall.
Leaping from my right, graceful yet strong, was Chelsey. A short, but firy young lady, she became one of my closest friends in this congregation. I saw her leap from behind me, her normally dark hair looking a bit lighter, shouting a war cry as she lept into the foree. She had a braid down one side, which made her look very warrior-like. She wielded in her hand a mace, a heavy club with what looked like a crown at the top of it. Something in my soul told me that she was speaking with authority and with conviction. She was going to do some damage, believe me.
I looked to my left and I saw Tia. She stood with her left foot in front of her right, her face looking farther back than up in the front. Her neck-length blonde hair slightly moved in the light breeze, her face full of focus and intent. In her hands was a bow and arrow, stretched back and ready to let go. She was aiming for the reinforcements, the ones in back that would cause more damage as our forces started to wear down. Her arrows were prayerful, full of truth, and highly damaging to the legionnaires who liked to use trickery and lies. I was in awe, to say the least.
A little farther down the line to the left, I saw Brian and Kristi, my close friends and leaders. They were on the charge, looking to get in and do some beating down. Brian’s dark hair was blowing behind him, and behind his trimmed beard lay a mouth that was gritting teeth. Kristi, his wife and a veteran of many harsh battles, ran right next to him. The scars up and down her arms indicative of the previous battles with entities very much like the ones we were battling. Both of them were bearing down upon the legionnaires with gauntlets on her hand and forearms. They are our protectors, getting into the melee and taking the fight to the enemy rather than just sitting back and waiting.
On the other side, the right side and a little farther down, I saw Siobhan. A great lady of the Lord with a voice of passion, she looked intense as she ran right into the throng of legionnaires. She was swinging only what I could have thought was a two-handed axe. She was someone who wasn’t afraid to get into the thick of the battle, and I was quite proud that she was on that side.
Our commanding officer, Morgan, was standing up top. He was giving out the orders. A strong man of faith, a big man of action, he was someone who you definitely wanted to have in your corner. His words were coming out strong, and as they came out, there was strengthening of resolve among the ranks.
In my hands, I saw a short sword. It was sharp, made for cutting through and crying out for justice. This was the first major battle that I was getting into and actually remembering. I rushed past Tia and right straight towards one of the ugliest legionnaires I could have faced. It was quite a fearful one, and very much one that I knew could have hurt me had there not been protection. As I brought the sword down across the legionnaire, crying out the Lord’s name, I knew that it was from the tribe of Fear. It’s only words as it was being cut in half were, “You can’t be a leader”.
The battle raged on for a good long while, and many of our ranks were wearing down and getting worn. Some of my friends stayed back up on the rock pile, spreading their hands and with the Lord’s grace, healing those on the frontlines. Refreshment and restocking came throughout the long battle. Legionnaire after legionnaire fell to the various weapons that we all held, given to us by our Lord and general.
The great legion that had been provoking and attacking throughout the week, who were trying to do a full onslaught this time, were losing their numbers quickly. The ground became black as the legion lost their ranks. But as quickly as it became black, the blackness was washed away. While the rocky bar we fought on was wet, none of us seemed to slip. We stood firm, and we were fighting very very hard.
The battle raged on for what seemed like hours. By the time it finally was done, the leftover legionnaires ran for the hills. Their numbers were decimated. We walked back up to the rock pile, victory in our hands and fire in our veins. We looked into the sun, which had cleared the side of the mountain and shone upon us. The aftermath of the raging battle was quite different.
Chelsey’s hair was slightly messed up, but her expression was one of satisfaction in the job that the Lord had given her.
Tia stood strong and with fortitude. The string of her bow was a slight bit frayed from the vast number of arrows fired, but she exuded a strong calm that only the Lord could give her.
Brian and Kristi reached the top of the rock pile, arm in arm, smiling broadly as they lifted their steel gloved fists in victory
Morgan, our chief, looked solemn but pleased. He knew this battle needed to be fought, even if his plans had said otherwise. But as he looked at all of us, he made certain to drop a word of prayer to each one who returned to the top in victory.
Siobhan’s hand was wrapped in a brace, but as she held her axe up, she smiled. The blackness on the axe gave way to the shiny steely sheen of her weapon. She leaned over, and rested her arm on her knee, as she looked into the evening sun.
I slowly reached the top of the ridged rock pile, putting my right foot on a rock, bending it and resting my sword on the knee.
As we stood, looking at the territory that we had reclaimed, we heard one of the other soldier start singing. It was soft, but as time went along, the song gained more people’s voices. Like a wave, the song rang through and soon everyone was singing:
Unstoppable God, let your glory go on and on Impossible things, in your name they shall be done
Nothing shall be impossible Your kingdom reigns unstoppable We’ll shout your grace forevermore Jesus our God unstoppable
A few moments after we were done singing, we started walking down the hill again. All close to 100 of us, walking together in victory, walked to the edge of one of the rivers. We stood on the shoreline of the river, in a line. The legion were not going to be getting this piece of earth back anytime soon.
This was Christ’s land. His blood won it, and his grace allowed us to defend it. That is something we are proud of.
Author’s Note: Very busy this week due to Australia stuff. Hence why no posts since last weekend. Got some downtime coming up, meaning more posts. 6 more weeks, and I’ll be able to post a lot more. Here’s your offering for today!
Copyright – Roger Bultot
I Am The One And Only
by Miles Rost
“Hey! Whitey! You look like you’re burning up!”
“C.H., just leave me alone.”
“But why? You are in trouble. you need help.”
“You’re the reason why this has happened!”
“I didn’t tell my tenants to come to you and start you on fire.”
“No, but I’m sure you did something to get them to do it.”
“Well, I did tell you that you should get yourself checked out in case something did happen. Gotta keep your health in good shape.”
“Yeah, and now your advice is going to kill me.”
“I did tell you that I’m the one and only on this block. Should have listened to me!”
Author’s Note: Welcome aboard yet again! Most of you have noticed that today’s offering is a bit late. That’s because a lot of things have happened this week regarding my potential move to Australia. Things should be stable, and because of that…here’s your story for today!
copyright Jennifer Pendergast
Train of Thought
by Miles H. Rost
Lucas Milford hated hearing that word, in the modern context. His commute and his job, though, were the biggest forms of forced obedience for him.
He looked around the subway car, seeing all the gray and black suits and dresses. He wondered for just a moment whether he would be able to survive it all.
“Pulling into 92nd Street. Next stop: 112th Street – Broadway Station” the speaker droned out.
Lucas sighed as the train pulled one stop closer to his home. He started to close his eyes.
A flash of yellow streaked by him.
His eyes shot open, and he looked around. He spied the lemon yellow dress of a beautiful woman, whose green eyes bore into his, and red hair screamed out “different!” to him.
“Such…color…” he said, as the woman started moving closer to him.
A few weeks before it happened, I packed up my belongings. I was to leave my wife, my family, and everyone. The journey from the desert to the sea, to travel to the west, was beginning. It was a 2 week walk and ride to Tyre, where I would pick up a ship that would take me as far as I could go. Thus was the life of a traveling educator.
Educated by the best, a head of a prosperous temple at the time, I felt I was being moved to leave and do more with what I had learned. It wasn’t necessarily because I wanted to leave, but it was because there was nothing left for me to do there. It was going to be very hard to leave behind my wife and my children, but I made sure that my brother, Elam, took care of her in my absence. Elam’s a good man, older than me but still devoted to family.
I was making my way towards Damascus, when I met up with a block in the road. There were men who had said that the way to Damascus was blocked for travelers, and that I needed to go around the city. The caravan I joined up with were reluctant to do so, but after making an inquiry, we realized that there were big things afoot. And, so, we headed south and west. We passed from the lands of Assyria and ended up in deep Roman lands. While I had no quarrel with the Romans themselves, I heard about some of the different things that had happened in the interim.
I heard about this Jewish man, this Jesus whose name as a teacher had even spread to my community. I didn’t pay him much mind, though. The ravings of a lunatic, I once said to my temple brethren. They all laughed with me about it.
We were nearing the end of two weeks, and we stopped short of Tyre. We ended up in a small village about a day’s journey from Tyre. We were close. I had decided, for some reason, to walk outside after dinner in order to clear my head and prepare myself for the next day. The sun was low in the sky, but it had not set when I encountered this man. He was a very powerful person, someone who did command authority. Rugged and everything. He was standing next to the well, looking like he was taking a rest.
“Good eve, sir. Is this well being used?” I asked him.
“I’m just taking a rest right now. You should be able to use it,” he said, with a smile.
While I worked to operate the well, the man continued to look at me. I was starting to get unnerved when he finally spoke.
“Tell me. What have you heard about this Jesus fellow?”
I looked over at him. I didn’t pay him much mind with his scraggly beard which appeared to be unkempt in the darkening light of the evening.
“Jesus? Are you talking about that Jewish guy? The things he’s saying seem to make me think he’s a bit out of his mind.”
I saw a little glint in his eyes, and that is when I knew that I was in deep trouble. He started into a debate with me about this Jesus, whom he called “The Christ”. About how he died so that others may live, and how we were to live by faith and not by sight. I just sighed, because I felt like I was being sold a pitch.
That’s when he threw the curve ball at me.
“He’s still alive. His body was dead. I saw it die. But He’s alive! I saw that, too! By the Sea of Galilee we saw him, and many upon many saw him, too.”
I responded to him that it could not have happened, but in my educated head, I felt like the logic that was in there was failing. I couldn’t explain why, but the idea of bodily resurrection actually seemed to make sense in the way this man was speaking.
“But let me ask you this, my good man. Why would such a man decide to do this for someone like me? Why would he knowingly give up his own life, to save a person like me who doesn’t even believe in his words?” I asked the man.
“Because it’s simple: If he sacrificed himself for all, that means we’re all on His level. We’re all equal.”
I sat for a little bit, to chew on this. One thing went through my mind: “The lunatic isn’t a lunatic at all. He’s the Lord. It makes sense.”
That night, my entire life was changed. I acknowledged all of it, and with the help of the scraggly-bearded man, I later went out to other lands to tell people, to share the Gospel, and to show people how Christ died for them. The scraggly bearded man, the one who called himself Petros, was a good friend to me during that time.
As I gave him a hug before boarding the boat, I looked at the boat and him, and said something I never would have thought of saying in my time back in the small educated area from which I came.
“Kyrie Eleison down this road that I must travel.”
Petros gave me the blessing, and I went on my way. Christ’s death gave me life, and it was certain, I would share it with whoever I met on my new life to a new land.
(A joyous Easter Sunday, and Resurrection weekend to all who read. – M.)