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Imaginative Scripture Reading

I’ve got a new plan that just came out on the YouVersion Bible app!! I am so excited! This plan takes you through an immersive experience of well-known passages about Jesus. The objective is to place you in the scene like you were there that day and let the glory of Jesus Christ shine afresh on your heart. Sometimes, we read a passage so often that the wonder and greatness of what Jesus did and who He is doesn’t touch our hearts like it used to. This plan aims to set your heart on fire for Jesus again!

Here’s the link to the plan: http://bible.us/r/Dlp

And here’s a preview!

Jesus and the woman caught in adultery

“It’s a stoning Hadassah. I’m expected to go.”

“You don’t have to go, Mustapha,” I shot back.

“I do if you want us to keep our standing in the synagogue. You know how it is, Hadassah.”

I let go of his arm as he turned and walked out of the door. I hated these stonings. I know that he hated them, too, but his standing in the temple meant so much to him. I wish we could just leave here and leave all of this behind.

As I watched him walk to meet the crowd gathering at the temple, he looked tired and defeated, like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. I felt sorry for him. As the head of our family, he carried so much. Too much. I decided that I would go with him just to show him that I was there for him. I ran and caught up to him and put my arm around his. He gave me a half-smile and kissed my forehead. We walked arm-in-arm until we reached the temple court.

“You know you can’t come, Hadassah.”

“I know. I will hang back and wait for you out here.”

I hugged him, and he went in. I went just close enough to see what was going on. The usual temple gossipers were narrating the scene, “That’s Judith. They caught her committing adultery with Levi. It will be death for sure.”

I knew her. Levi had been chasing her for months. Her mother had died when she was young. She had no one to help her navigate the challenges of coming into adulthood as a young Jewish woman. I felt sorry for her. A wave of hopelessness and despair washed over me as I watched the bloodlust in the eyes of the crowd.

They had brought her to the Messiah. I had heard much about Him but never heard Him speak before. His face seemed pained as he watched the crowd assemble, dragging Judith and placing her in front of Him. Disheveled, she fell to her knees, sobbing before Him.

“Rabbi,” they said to Jesus, “This woman was caught in the act of adultery. The law of Moses says to stone her. What do You say?” You could hear the venom in their question.

Jesus’ eyes scanned the crowd. Intense. Fiery. Like a gathering storm. Then He looked down at Judith, and a deep sadness washed over His countenance. He stooped down in front of her. Judith just kept looking at the ground, sobbing. Jesus began to write in the dust with her tears.

“What is He writing?” The question echoed through the crowd of onlookers. The Pharisees broke the silence like a discordant note, “We demand an answer!” After what seemed an eternity of tense silence, Jesus stood up and said wearily, “All right, but let the one who has never sinned throw the first stone!” Then He stooped back down again as though they had interrupted Him from a very important task and continued writing in the dust.

Mustapha looked at me sheepishly, and I signaled for him to come with a slight nod of my head. He seemed both relieved and ashamed as he shuffled back to me, dropping his stone like a weight off his shoulders. The older men all followed suit. Then the younger ones, until there was no one left. Then Jesus took Judith’s chin in His hand and turned her face upwards to Him. He held her arm with His other hand, and they stood up together, face to face. “Where are your accusers? Didn’t even one of them condemn you?”

“No, Lord,” she said.

Then Jesus said, “Neither do I. Go and sin no more.”

As Judith’s tears of shame turned to tears of joy, something broke in my heart like the breaking of a dam. Tears held back for years ran freely down my cheeks. I cried for Judith and all who had gone before her. I cried for me. His words echoed in my heart, “Neither do I. Go and sin no more. Neither do I. Go and sin no more.”

Copyright 2024, Matik Nicholls. All rights reserved.

The Story Of Abiabba

I am a simple farmhand. I live on the island of Malta with my wife and three children – two boys and one girl. We all work on the estate of the chief Roman official – Publius. I was once called Abibaal – son of Baal. This is the name that my parents gave me at birth. I want to tell you the story of how I came to be called a different name – the name I now carry – Abiabba.

It was early morning. A storm had ravaged the coastline during the night. I stood in the doorway of my hut on top of the hill and breathed in the damp air. I loved the smell of the sea, especially after a storm. It smelled new, clean, and today, very wet. It was like breathing in a cloud. I pulled my cloak tighter as the moisture condensed on my hands and face. I surveyed the beach, eager to see what interesting things had washed up overnight or what had been taken out to sea. Not the boys’ favourite coconut tree with the swing I hoped.

“Come see this, Elissa! Boys!” I called excitedly to my family. I had spotted a trail of cargo on the Western end of the beach. We loved it when treasures drifted up on our beach. It was like exploring lands from far away. But then, as I looked further out, I saw a ship, wrecked on the outer shoal and I could see her inhabitants beginning to make their way to shore. My excitement waned as a wave of apprehension rose up in my stomach. Some swam while others held on to pieces of wood and drifted in with the tide. By now Elissa and the boys were all watching the scene with me.

“Go help them, Abibaal,” my wife said with concern written on her face.

“Can we come Baba?” the two older ones chimed in unison.

“Yes, but go call the rest of the workers first.”

I kissed Elissa and then went in to kiss my little princess Adama.  She was very ill and couldn’t even get out of bed anymore. The doctors said that she would not last much longer. That is the way of this life, I guess. It was like a cloud of darkness over the family. We prayed every day that she would be well. But nothing.

I negotiated my way down the steep path to the beach not knowing what to expect from these mariners. I said a quick prayer to Baal and waded out to begin helping the men to shore. They seemed friendly enough. I soon realized that there were soldiers, sailors and a prisoner named Paul who they treated with more respect than seemed customary for a prisoner.

By now many of the villagers were on the beach. Some were tending wounds. Others began bringing water and what food they had on hand. My boys and I set ourselves the job of getting a fire going to keep them warm.

We set everyone that was able the task of gathering wood for the fire. As Paul laid a bundle of sticks on the fire a deadly serpent struck out and bit him on the hand. We all saw it and knew that he would soon be dead. First, he would swell up though. It was a painful, ugly death but it was fate. Clearly, he was a murderer or worse. It was only a matter of time. We went about our business with one eye always on the prisoner. But nothing happened. Impossible! We had seen many die like this. They always died! He must be a god. Maybe even Baal himself!

The boys ran off to tell their friends and soon the whole village was talking about this god-man named Paul.

Even Publius himself heard about it and came to the beach to welcome Paul and the rest to the island. He allowed them to stay on the estate until they could find another ship departing in their direction.

As for me, I began to wonder if Paul could heal my Adama. Something about this man made a sliver of hope begin to rise in my heart. The more I thought about it the more I was convinced. He could heal her! Baal had answered our prayers by shipwrecking this vessel off our very beach! Hadn’t we been the ones to first see them!? It was a sign from the gods!

The next morning I got up early and wrapped Adama in a blanket and told Elissa, “Our baby will live! Come with me!” We left the boys in charge and went to find Paul in one of the huts that Publius had arranged for them.

“Good morning, is Paul awake?” I asked one of the soldiers guarding him.

“Yes, what do you want with him?”

“I want him to bless my daughter.” The guard looked slightly amused but also curious.

“Paul, there’s a villager here to you.” Paul walked out rubbing his back and smiling.

“Good morning. How can I help you?”

I launched into my prepared speech, “I believe Baal has sent you to heal my daughter. Will you please bless her?”

“Have a seat.” He gestured to a log and sat alongside us. His eyes became intense, almost ablaze, as he looked me in the eyes and said, “I have been sent to heal your daughter but not by Baal. I come in the name of Jesus Christ my Lord and saviour!” As he said it, it was like a wind blew against my face but there was no wind this morning. I think the soldiers felt it too because they looked startled.

“Who is this Jesus?” I asked.

“He is the son of God.”

“Who is this God?”

“Abba – Father”

“Will this God and His son heal my little girl?

“Yes.” And with that he stretched out his hand over my little girl’s head and closed his eyes in prayer. “Be healed in the name of Jesus.” he said with tenderness and authority. Then my Adama, my little girl, opened her eyes and looked up at me.

“Baba, I’m hungry.”

Elissa gasped and covered her mouth. We hugged our little girl and wept for joy. It was the most joyous moment of my life. We sat for hours on that log as our friends brought food for Adama and we all gathered around Paul as he told us about his Jesus and Abba and the Holy Spirit. Right then and there I knew what I had to do. I wanted to serve this God. This God who would send Paul across the sea to heal my daughter. This God who heard prayers that I did not even pray to Him! This God who had the power to heal! No longer would I be called son of Baal. I would be known as Abiabba – son of Abba!

Copyright 2023, Matik Nicholls. All rights reserved.