“He is dead, then,” Arminius said in a mournful tone, which inspired her to open her eyes again.
It was Titus who answered. “No. No, he is no longer dead. On the third day, his tomb was empty, and many have professed to seeing him alive. The Jews, of course, say his body was stolen, but I posted the guard myself. The Christ lives, Arminius. He has triumphed over the grave, and Abigail and I both believe it means we, too, will triumph over death. We will not be cast down to Hades with every other soul, we will be taken to the bosom of the Lord himself, there to live for eternity.”
A tear traced a crooked path over the creased cheek of the loyal servant. “And my masters?”
“They believed.” Abigail held Benjamin to her with one arm so she could reach out with the other and rest her hand on Arminius’s shoulder. “Even now, they are with our Lord in Paradise, preparing a place for us. If you accept that truth, my friend, that Jesus the Christ died for your unrighteousness and rose again to deliver you from it, then you, too, will see the glory of heaven someday.”
“This gift would be offered to a Gentile servant?” The steward shook his head. “It is too precious to be wasted on jackals. I just rejoice that those I served will be blessed in eternity.”
Abigail smiled. “Titus is a Gentile. I was a servant. If the gift can be extended to us, why not to you? Our Lord did not preach health to the healthy, but to the sick. He did not feed the filled, but the hungry. It is those who need him most for whom he came, so if you desire him with a full heart, Arminius, he will not refuse you. The true God knows each of his children by name and will welcome you into his embrace.”
“If this is true,” Arminius said in a shaky voice, looking from her to Titus, “then how steep must be the cost. What must I do, how much must I give, to take this gift for myself?”
Titus shook that suggestion away. “A gift has no price. As we were taught, his yoke is easy, his burden light. All the Lord requires is a contrite and humble heart that will seek his will in all things. For some of us,” he admitted, “that was the hardest thing he could ask. But I am learning what he wills, my friend, and I see that when I submit myself to him, he raises me up.”
“All you must do is believe.” Abigail squeezed the old shoulder under her hand. “Believe with your heart and confess with your lips that Jesus is the Lord, the only Son of the only God. If you do that, he will guide you in all the paths you will take.”
“I do. I do believe. Since the first word my master wrote of this man, there has been a stirring in this weak heart.” He covered his chest with a wizened hand, the tears coming faster now. “I asked him to tell me all he knew, and he faithfully did, but I feared with his death would come the end of my learning. I know not what to do, or how to pray to your God, Mistress, I know only that my heart shouts at me to embrace these words you speak. Teach me, I beg you, how to beseech this God.”
Abigail glanced at Titus, then said, “Our friend, who taught us, said that Christ instructed his disciples to pray a certain prayer. Shall we pray it?”
The steward’s nod was decisive. “Yes. Please, Mistress, teach me.”
She let her hand fall down to grasp his, her eyes closing even as Titus’s hand settled on her shoulder. “My Lord and Father in heaven,” she whispered, not knowing if the very words were right, but knowing she remembered the meaning, “let your name be set aside as holy. Let us dwell in your words and your laws, let us seek and do your will here, as your servants do it in heaven. Give us all we need this day to serve you, and help us have the strength to forgive those who have wronged us, even as you have forgiven the wrongs we have done. Help us to follow your path rather than that of temptation and evil, since you are our deliverer and shepherd. For you hold the heavens and the earth in your hand, and we give you the glory for all.”