A Marvelous Light by Alicia G. Ruggieri

Author:Alicia G. Ruggieri
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Brighter Destiny Productions
Published: 2021-04-13T00:00:00+00:00

Five

“But he who remains, even he shall be for our God,

And shall be like a leader in Judah,

And Ekron like a Jebusite.”

Zechariah 9:7b

“Take this to the prisoner, boy.”

Akhish took the bread and the pitcher of water without hesitation. The stairs to the prison did not seem quite so dark today, nor did his knees tremble as he made his way through the clammy passageways.

“I’m here with your bread and water, Shimshon,” Akhish called out when he’d reached the platform overlooking the milling stones. He tried to keep any eagerness from his voice. It could bring trouble to him and to Shimshon if the guard realized that Akhish enjoyed bringing bread to the prisoner.

The grinding stopped, and the chained man turned his sightless gaze toward him. “Is that you, Akhish?”

“Yes.” He moved toward Shimshon, stubbing his toe on the rough rock floor as he went.

Before Shimshon could ask, Akhish had placed the loaf of bread in the man’s blistered hands. After thanking Yahweh, Shimshon began to eat.

“Shimshon.” Akhish’s heart pounded as he began to reveal the plan he’d thought of.

“Yes?”

Akhish leaned close to the man’s ear. “You must escape from here,” he whispered.

Shimshon shook his head. “No, Akhish. I cannot escape.”

Frustration tingled in Akhish’s heart at the Israelite’s quick refusal. “Why not? I will help you!” he hissed. “I do not want you to die. You... You have been kind to me.”

Shimshon stopped eating. A smile softened his pain-hardened lips. “Kind to you, Akhish? I think it is you who have been kind to me these past two days. At last, I can eat before the rats consume my bread.” Shimshon bit another mouthful from the small loaf. “I cannot escape, lad. Look at me. I am not only blind, but my very eyes have been taken from me. Yahweh has put me here for a purpose, it appears, and I am tired of running from His good purposes. Let me live for Him now, Akhish, and die for Him, if I must.”

Tears pricked Akhish’s eyes. He shook his head to clear his vision. “But...”

Shimshon swallowed the last of the bread. “But you, lad. You can escape if you wish. You can run to Yahweh’s people, away from this temple.”

Akhish stared. “Run to the Israelites? They will kill me, as surely as my people will kill you.”

Shimshon’s face softened. He reached out his hand, feeling blindly, until it rested on Akhish’s bony shoulder. Akhish stiffened; he had never felt a gentle touch. Yet he did not move away. “Run to Yahweh, Akhish. Anyone may run to Him, whether Israelite or Canaanite or Egyptian, and be called by His name.”

Akhish shook his head, tears fighting to make their way from his eyes. “I do not understand. I am a P’lishti. How could the God of Isra’el accept me? Am I not His enemy by birth? How could I ever be called by His name – a son of Isra’el – when I am a son of P’leshet?”

“Do you know what Isra’el means, lad?”

Akhish stayed silent.

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