September 15, 2006
*Part four of a tale that illustrates spiritual bondage as well as the freedom and healing that can be found in Jesus Christ.
Suddenly Abigail’s pain returned and she found that Anne’s words pricked her conscience like a razor-sharp barb. Bitter years of fear and hurt welled up within her heart overpowering the last few scraggly remnants of her previous willpower. She literally sank to the dirt floor of their hut as though being crushed under a back-breaking load. To her ears came the sound of the harsh voice of a crow or raven, remote but clear, cawing and cackling. Its tone of mockery resonated with her sense of guilt and filled her with a feeling of horror that bowed her head to her knees.
“Abigail!” her friend cried, kneeling beside her. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you happy? Isn’t this good news?” She shook Abigail weakly. “Don’t lose heart! Don’t give up! Don’t let them defeat you!”
“Oh, Anne,” she wept. “You shouldn’t talk to me. You don’t know what I’ve done.”
“It will be all right! You and I’ve been through worse! Without a friend like you, I would have given up long ago. Without a friend like you, I would have died,” she said reassuringly as she hugged Abigail.
Abigail looked up, tears streaming from her eyes. Her gaze glanced upon Anne’s, and then turned away. “Because of a friend like me, you were betrayed and beaten,” she choked out the words. Anne stared at her, confusion clouding her expression. “Anne,” Abigail continued, “On the day of the beating, I had spilled many of my berries. I was so afraid of the beating that they would give me that I took some of yours. I put them in my basket and made you believe that yours had spilled out. I’m the reason that they beat you like they did.”
As the words came tumbling out of her mouth, she could see the look of incredulity flooding Anne’s face. Her friend stared at her speechlessly, her hand falling limply to her side. After a moment of silence, she struggled to her feet and limped out through the door and into darkness. Abigail remained curled up on the ground as she sobbed into her clenched fists. After a long moment of writhing in her misery, she also stood up and staggered outside, her head throbbing and her heart aching. As her eyes adjusted to the comparative brightness of the outside (although it was night), her eyes spotted a small bottle in front of her on the ground. She reached down and picked the bottle up, the chain dangling from her wrist clinking against its glass. She smelled its open end and recognized the strong and sickly scent of Mohjac’s wine. Without even thinking, her pain being her only logic, she set the bottle to her mouth and began to drink.
As before, she noticed that the excruciating pain of guilt and grief that had beset her only moments before, gave way to numbness. She smiled and did not allow herself to consider the long range implications of what she was now doing. She took another drink and then another. Soon the bottle was empty and she became deliriously pleased with herself. She laughed and sneered at her friendship with Anne. “So, she thinks she’s too good for me,” she sniffed. She sat down in the middle of the path, right in the mud, and laughed again. But as she sat and enjoyed the apparent absence of hurt and sorrow in her soul, her smile faded. There was still something wrong. The pain was still there… down deep, under the cloak of contentment that she had tried to wrap about herself. She got to her hands and knees, and crawled back inside the shack, listening in vain for Anne’s returning footsteps to her sleeping mat across the room. Eventually, she fell asleep, her tears drying silently on her cheeks.
The next morning, she awoke to find Anne standing across the small room, gazing out the window. But such a change! Anne was no longer dressed in the gray and tattered rags of Mohjac’s slaves. Nor was she covered in dirt and bare-footed. She was wrapped in a simple but fine looking gown. Her feet were shod with well-crafted sandals of handsome leather. Abigail sat up and gasped, wondering if she was in a dream. Hearing her stir, Anne turned to face her with a glow of joy and peace in her countenance. As Abigail’s eyes looked her up and down, she also noticed with surprise that Anne’s chains were now missing and a purple sash circled her waist.
Anne clapped her hands joyfully and ran to Abigail, without any sign of any previous injury. “Oh, you’re awake!” she exclaimed. “I’ve met him! I’ve met the stranger!” Abigail’s throbbing forehead crinkled up as she tried to absorb what Anne was rapidly saying to her. Anne laughed and hugged Abigail fiercely. “Oh, let me tell you what he’s done for me! After you had told me about what you had done, I had run… into darkness. I was lost and so sorry for myself. I kept falling into holes and pits, my hurts grew and I thought I would never make it. I had slid into a ditch and could not find my way out but then saw a light growing in the sky that I thought at first was the dawn. But it wasn’t. The stranger found me in the darkness, in that ditch. I could see him looking at me and although I wasn’t afraid, I was ashamed. But he reached into the pit and took hold of me and pulled me out. He was so strong: my chains were like feathers to him! He asked me if I wanted to be free. He asked me if I wanted to be healed and whole. I could barely look at him, ashamed of how I looked with all my uncleanness. But that wasn’t all for which I was ashamed… his kindness and beauty made me so aware of spite and anger and selfishness in me that I cringed. I told myself that I had every right to be angry… with you and even hate those who hold us in chains. But I could tell that he understood my thoughts. I was then even more ashamed. And then I remembered Farrin and how that I had not helped him in his need and I knew that I was as guilty as anyone.” Anne sighed, but her smile returned quickly. “I told him that I did want to be free and healed. From his belt, he pulled out the bottle that I had seen him use with Farrin. He poured a clear water from it onto my hurts and they were healed instantly! He then stood up and pulled out his sword. Swoosh! It came down and cut through the chains on my wrists and ankles. He set me free, Abigail.” Anne looked intently into her friend’s eyes. “And I want you to be set free, too,” she said. “He can do it. He can bring you freedom also!
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“When the kindness of God our Savior and His love for mankind appeared, He saved us, not on the basis of deeds which we have done in righteousness, but according to His mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewing by the Holy Spirit, Whom He poured out upon us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior” (Titus 3:4-6 NAS).
To be continued…
(Thom Mollohan and his family have ministered in southern Ohio the past eleven years. He is the pastor of Pathway Community Church, which meets on Sunday mornings at the Ariel Theatre. He may be reached for comments or questions by email at pastorthom@pathwaygallipolis.com).
