Fire and Sword (17 page)

“What is the matter with these people?” Nergal said in disbelief. “They have always been susceptible to our religious suggestion!”

He watched as spirit after spirit moved in and out of the crowds, whispering, tugging, and suggesting thoughts and actions that would compromise Peter and John. But the people seemed intent on what these strange men from Jerusalem were saying and doing. An angel came to Nergal.

“My lord, they resist,” he said.

“I can see that,” snapped Nergal. “Find a way through this resistance.”

“But, my lord, it is as if they are shielded—their eyes and ears are blind to us.”

“That is because they are seeing for the first time!”

Nergal and his aide turned to see Crispin and some of his angels with him.

“Well, the learned Crispin has arrived in Samaria,” sneered Nergal. “Come to see the death throes of a movement?”

“Come now,” said Crispin. “Your side isn’t doing that poorly…yet.”

“We’ll see, teacher,” snapped Nergal. “Here comes Simon, and if I am a judge of human hearts, there is more in his mind than curiosity.”

“Simon is a believer now, Nergal,” said Crispin, as they watched the invisible-to-humans onslaught of Nergal’s angels among the people. “Your angels are ineffective because there is an overwhelming desire among these people to be set free from such corrupting and confining thought. The Spirit brings liberty. And where there is liberty, there is choice.”

Crispin looked squarely at Nergal. “Choice is dangerous among humans who are being liberated!”

“Watch and learn, Crispin,” said Nergal, as Simon approached John and Peter. “You’ll soon see that liberty can bring along a prison of its own. And Simon still carries his…”

“Sirs?”

John and Peter turned to see Simon, looking quite humble, though dressed very richly. They immediately knew this was the man Philip had told them about.

“You are Simon?” Peter asked, as he finished praying with a woman.

“Yes, and you are men of great power, I see.”

Peter smiled. “Nothing in what you see is of our own power,” he explained. “All of this is from the Lord.”

“That is why I am here,” Simon continued, looking about the crowd. “But might we speak elsewhere?”

He led John and Peter to an alley where they could talk without the crowd pressing in. He smiled sheepishly at them.

“You are men of God, as I can see,” he began. “I am as well. Or at least I served a god once who served me well. I made quite a good living.”

He indicated his clothing. Peter and John remained impassive.

“But when I met Philip he spoke of the God you serve and whose disciple I now am. In fact, I was baptized by Philip.”

“What is it you need?” asked John.

“I wish to continue the good work that Philip started in my city. But he never spoke of the power that I see today. I see you touching people, and the power of God comes over them like a flood.”

Peter smiled. “Yes, that’s the Holy Spirit of God.”

“I want that,” said Simon.

“And you may have it,” said Peter. “The Lord wants all His people to be filled with His Spirit.”

“No, no,” said Simon, looking around. “I want to be able to do that—what you are doing. I want to have the power to touch people and see them healed…transformed.”

He pulled a small bag of coins from his cloak.

“Give me the secret…the words…or whatever it is. Give me the ability to lay hands on people and watch the Holy Spirit come upon them.”

Peter was astonished.

“Your filthy money perish with you!” he said. “How dare you try to buy the gift of God? You are a greedy man, Simon. You only want this ability to fill your coffers with the money of people too ignorant to realize that God’s grace is a gift and not something to be trafficked in like cheap goods.”

“But …”

“Your heart is not in this ministry! Your heart is darkened by its own lust and bitterness. You better repent in truth before you perish. Perhaps God will have mercy on you yet.”

He placed a hand on Simon’s shoulder.

“My friend, you are captive to your bitterness. Pray for God’s mercy.”

Simon fell to his knees. “Please pray for me! I don’t want these terrible things to happen to me!”

Peter and John knelt down.

“Like you said, Nergal,” Crispin said, as they watched the men pray. “Liberty is a dangerous thing.”

“This is not over, teacher,” said Nergal. “Samaria will never fall to your Lord!”

“Really?” said Crispin. “If Simon is all you have to hold Samaria, then you had better prepare for disappointment!”

Nergal vanished in a rage. The remaining angels watched the men finish praying and walk off together. They followed them.

“There’s a lesson here,” said Crispin to his student angels. “Never let your enemy in on his own weakness. He’ll eventually reveal it, and you needn’t lift a finger to help!”

“You are the one called Saul?”

No answer.

“That’s him,” came a voice Saul recognized. It was Judas, the owner of the house. “They brought him here a few days ago. He’s been in here mumbling, praying. Won’t eat. I’m glad you’re here to take him.”

The men entered the small room where Saul had sat in the prison of darkness for many days. Saul didn’t acknowledge the stranger until he felt the man’s hand on his shoulder. Saul lurched back, knocking over a clay pot.

“Saul?”

“What do you want?” Saul asked weakly.

“My name is Ananias,” the man said. “I have been sent to help you.”

“There is only one who can help me in Damascus now.”

“It is He who sent me.”

Saul sat up. Could it be? Perhaps the Lord had not abandoned him after all! Saul started to get up, but Ananias told him to be still. Judas looked on with great interest.

“Saul, the Lord who met you on the road sent me so you might see again.”

“I will see again?”

“And,” Ananias continued, “that you might be filled with the Holy Spirit.”

Saul felt Ananias’ hands on his head. He swallowed hard as the man began to pray. Saul wasn’t sure what to do, so he remained still. Suddenly, as Ananias continued praying, his eyes began to feel something warm covering them. He brought his hands up and rubbed them.

They burned, but with a burning that was more irritating than painful. Ananias watched as Saul lowered his hands. There were small flecks that looked like fish scales on his hands. As Saul rubbed his eyes, more of the stuff came off. Finally, Saul looked up, the flecks all over his hands and cheeks and around his eyes. He could see!

The man staring down at him was smiling. Saul figured him to be about 30 or so. He was dressed in the clothes of a Damascus merchant. The other man, Judas, stood with his mouth wide open. He was ready for these strange men to get out of his house. Ananias helped Saul to his feet.

“Where are we going?” Saul asked.

“Come,” said Ananias, looking at Judas. “There are others in Damascus.”

Chronicles of the Host

The city of Damascus was ancient even in Saul’s day. Ananias was slowly warming to Saul and had begun schooling him in Damascus’ rich history. Known for its many narrow streets, arched gateways, and baths, Damascus was an exotic crossroad of east and west, and, in Saul’s mind, another strategic place from which the Lord would launch the fledgling Church He was creating. The one street that Saul had grown accustomed to—Straight Street—was as good as its name: one of the few straight pathways in the city.

Ananias indicated a house unfamiliar to Saul, and the two of them entered. A man greeted them and quickly shut the door on the twilight city outside. Saul nodded at several people, who stared at him cautiously. Saul smiled. By now he had grown accustomed to such suspicious glances. After all—only a few weeks earlier he had been arresting these people. Now he was one of them.