Oil and the Living Son
The sun was a hammer on the rooftops of the lower city, and the dust hung in the still air like a taunt. It found its way into everything—the grain sacks, the folds of her widow’s robe, the bitter corners…
The Shallow Peace
The years after Abimelech’s fire had burned out were heavy years, the kind where the memory of violence seeps into the soil and makes the wheat grow thin. For a time, a man named Tola rose from the bruised hills…
Rahab’s Scarlet Promise
The walls of Jericho were not just stone; they were a presence. They loomed over the clay-brick houses huddled at their feet, a declaration of permanence carved from the very bones of the earth. Up close, their surface was a…
The Final Charge at Jordan’s Edge
The sun hung low and hot over the eastern bank of the Jordan, a great bronze coin melting into a haze of dust and distant hills. The air itself felt granular, thick with the smell of dry earth, animal hide,…
Levites Consecrated for Service
The dawn came slow and grey over the desert camp, the air still holding the night’s chill. I stood with the others, my kinsmen, just outside the Tent of Meeting. We were the Levites, a people set apart, yet on…
The Altar’s Bridge of Peace
The air in the court of the Tabernacle was thick, a compound of dust, animal musk, and the faint, iron scent that always lingered near the altar. Eliah adjusted the young goat on his shoulders, feeling its warmth through his…
The Last Word Before Midnight
The air in the room was thick, still, and carried the sour scent of old papyrus and dust. It wasn’t the heat—Moses was long accustomed to the Egyptian heat—but a heavier, suffocating warmth that seemed to press down from the…
Jacob’s Deception at the Well
The sun was a white, searing coin in a sky bleached of color. Jacob walked, and the dust of Aram Naharaim rose in soft puffs around his sandals, coating his throat. He’d left the familiar contours of Canaan, the memory…
The Scribe’s Mirror
The ink was the cheap kind, gritty between my fingers as I ground it, the water from the cistern tasting faintly of clay. My lamp guttered, casting more shadow than light across the parchment. It was late, the kind of…
The High Priest’s Tears
The air in Ephesus held the damp, close weight of a coming storm. Silas felt it in his bones, an old ache that had little to do with the weather. He sat in the shadowed corner of the small upper…