It was early morning, and the streets of Jerusalem were still quiet as Gedaliah and Shiloh made their way to their next masonry job. The early morning air was cool, the silence all around as the sun began to make its way up. The city would soon be bustling as always, but for now, there was peace. 

Gedaliah adjusted the weight of his tool bag over his shoulder, glancing at his father as they walked. He had not spoken to him about the marriage issue, as the focus on Stephen overshadowed that when he got home. Now was probably the best time to speak to him about it.

After a moment, he cleared his throat.

“Father, do you remember what you told me two years ago?”

Shiloh turned to him and raised an eyebrow. “Two years ago? Son, at my age, I struggle to remember what I said two days ago.” He chuckled. “What did I say?” 

Gedaliah smirked. “Well, you promised me that once I perfected my masonry work, you would find me a wife.”

Shiloh stopped mid-step. He blinked, then let out a hearty laugh, clapping Gedaliah on the shoulder. “By the heavens, did I say that?”

Gedaliah grinned. “You did. And I believe my work speaks for itself now, does it not?”

Shiloh stroked his beard, nodding in amusement. “Yes, yes, I must admit—you have become a fine craftsman. You handle stone as if it were second nature.” He shook his head with a chuckle. “And here I was, thinking I had more time before you reminded me.”

Gedaliah feigned an exaggerated sigh. “Father, I can see you truly forgot about it.” 

Shiloh raised a hand in mock surrender. “Well, I may have let it slip my mind.” He grinned. “Old age does that to a man, you know.”

Gedaliah laughed. “Well, old age or not, I shall not let you forget again.”

Shiloh chuckled, shaking his head. “Very well, my son. As you have mentioned it, I will speak with some of our brothers and begin searching.” His voice turned warm. “You have worked hard. You are ready.”

Gedaliah’s heart leaped. He nodded eagerly. “I will be a good husband, Father. I will care for my wife as the Lord commands.”

Shiloh smiled, pride glinting in his eyes as they resumed their walk. “I know you will.”

***

The afternoon sun hung high in the sky as Shiloh and Gedaliah made their way back from their work, their hands bearing the marks of a hard day’s labor. As they made their way back to the market square to purchase some food, their conversation was back on the issue raised earlier that morning as Shiloh, ever the wise father, took the opportunity to pass on words of counsel.

“Understand this, son: a wife is more than someone to manage your household, Gedaliah,” he began, his voice steady but warm. “She is your partner, given to you by the Lord. You must honor her, provide for her, and cherish her.”

Gedaliah listened intently, eager for every word.

Shiloh continued, “In our customs, a good husband ensures his wife is clothed and fed, yes, but love is in the small things—how you speak to her, how you listen.” He chuckled. “And do not think marriage is without its trials. Women are not so different from us—they have their own thoughts, their own ways. Patience, my son, will serve you well.”

Gedaliah grinned. “So, you are telling me that even Mother has given you difficulties?”

Shiloh laughed heartily, shaking his head. “Oh, your mother is a fine woman—but I would be lying if I said I have never been tested.” He placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “But marriage is not about proving who is right. It is about walking together. If you love your wife as the Lord commands, your home will be blessed.”

Gedaliah nodded, taking in his father’s wisdom. He could already envision his future—coming home to a wife who would greet him with joy, sharing meals, discussing the teachings of the apostles, raising children in the faith.

And what a lovely future it was. As lovely as the union he had witnessed all his life between Shiloh and Mathea.

He opened his mouth to speak…

…And a sudden ruckus broke through the air, cutting him short. 

Shouts. Angry voices.

Shiloh and Gedaliah both stopped in their tracks, turning toward the commotion up ahead.

A group of men were pushing through the street, dragging someone forcefully with them. 

Gedaliah and his father exchanged worried glances before hurrying forward.

“I wonder what is happening,” Gedaliah wondered out loud.

“It might be that a woman has been caught in the act of adultery, and they want to stone her,” Shiloh responded, shaking his head. “We must stop them if that is the case.”

As they drew closer, however, the shouting became clearer.

This had nothing to do with adultery or a woman.

“He speaks blasphemies against Moses and the temple!” 

“He must be punished!” 

Gedaliah’s breath caught as he caught sight of the person being dragged. 

It was Stephen.

His heart clenched at the sight. “No… no, this is wrong.”

Shiloh’s face darkened. “Stephen would never blaspheme.”

One of the angry men turned to them, his eyes blazing with fury. “He did! This man claims that Jesus of Nazareth will destroy the temple and change the laws of Moses!”

Another spat, “He twists the words of our fathers! He must be judged!”

Gedaliah’s mind reeled as the crowd moved on, yelling angrily. He could not believe this. These were certainly false accusations. There was no way Stephen was guilty of these accusations.

There was only one reason this was happening…

“Father… this is their doing,” he murmured. “The doing of the Freedmen.”

Shiloh turned to him. “The Freedmen?” 

Gedaliah nodded, his jaw tightening. “I was in the temple yesterday, and they were fiercely debating him. They were humiliated when Stephen left them speechless. They have conspired against him, just as the leaders did with our Lord.” He swallowed hard. “They have brought false witnesses against him.” 

Shiloh’s fists clenched at his sides, his expression grave. “Then we must pray, my son. For I fear they have already decided his fate.”

As Stephen was dragged further ahead, toward the council chambers, Gedaliah felt dread settle over him.

The enemy had come for another one of their own.

***

Night had fallen over the city, but inside Shiloh’s home, the oil lamps burned bright as the entire family was gathered, kneeling on the floor, their hands lifted and their voices low but urgent in prayer for Stephen.

“Lord, stretch out Your hand and deliver Your servant Stephen,” Shiloh prayed, his voice strong yet trembling with emotion. “You see the falsehoods spoken against him, the schemes of the wicked. Do not let them prevail.”

Mathea’s hands was clasped tightly as she whispered, “Rescue him, Lord. They lie against him just as they lied against Your Son.”

Gedaliah’s fists were resting on his knees. “Father, You delivered Peter and John. You sent an angel to free them. You can do the same for Stephen.”

Berechiah exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Jehovah Shalom, he did nothing wrong. He only spoke the truth. Deliver him, we pray.”

Amariah wiped a tear from her cheek, her voice barely above a whisper. “Lord, strengthen him… let him not be afraid.”

Moriss nodded, his brow furrowed. “Give him words to speak, words that no one can stand against.”

For a moment, the room fell into solemn silence. 

Then, Shiloh took a deep breath and lifted his voice again. “Lord, we do not know what tomorrow will bring, but You do. You are sovereign. You see the hearts of men. If it is Your will, deliver Stephen from their hands. But if he must suffer for Your name, let Your Spirit be with him, even in the trial.” 

A quiet but firm chorus of “Amen” followed.

Though their hearts were heavy, they knew their prayers were heard. 

Stephen was not alone. God was with him.

***

The morning sun had risen higher than usual by the time Gedaliah stepped out onto the compound, adjusting the strap of his tool bag over his shoulder. After an evening of intense prayers for Stephen, he allowed himself a little extra rest, knowing that his next job was after the noonday. Berechiah had left early to assist at the temple, as he always did.

Taking a deep breath, Gedaliah shut his eyes. “Elohim, may Your servant be redeemed from the hands of them that hate Your Son,” he whispered. “May he be freed from the scornful men and continue to serve Your people, as You appointed him to…”

Suddenly, hurried footsteps sounded from the distance.

Running footsteps.

Gedaliah barely had time to wonder what was going on before Berechiah appeared and rushed toward him, crashing into him and wrapping his arms around him tightly.

Gedaliah staggered slightly, alarmed. “Berechiah?”

He pulled back just enough to look at his brother’s face—and his heart dropped.

Berechiah’s eyes were red, his breath uneven and his body trembling. He clung to Gedaliah like a man barely able to stand.

“What is wrong?” Gedaliah asked urgently, gripping his brother’s shoulders.

Berechiah’s mouth opened, but no words came. He gasped for breath, his tears falling freely now as he wept loudly.

The sound of his sobs reached inside the house. Within moments, the door swung open, and Shiloh, Mathea, Amariah, and Moriss rushed out, their faces filled with concern.

“Berechiah?” Mathea’s voice trembled as she moved toward him. “My son, what is it?”

Shiloh stepped forward, his face drawn with worry. “Speak, Berechiah. What has happened?”

Berechiah pressed a hand against his chest, his body shuddering with grief. He turned his wet eyes to them all, struggling to find his voice.

Then, in between quiet, broken sobs, he whispered, “S-s-something terrible just happened.”

A horrible sense of dread fell over the family.

Shiloh was the first to find his voice. “What do you mean?”

Berechiah swallowed hard, his throat tight. “We were at the temple… helping with the offerings. And then—then we saw them.” He sucked in a sharp breath. “The members of the Sanhedrin. Dragging Stephen out of their courts.”

Moriss’ eyes widened. “What?”

Berechiah nodded frantically, his tears fresh. “We followed quietly… we thought… maybe they would send him to prison.” His voice cracked. “But they… didn’t.”

The family listened in horror as he continued.

“They dragged him outside the city. We… we kept our distance, but we could still see.” He gasped. “They threw him to the ground. They surrounded him.”

Mathea let out a quiet sob, her hands trembling.

Berechiah’s voice wavered. “They picked up stones.”

Gedaliah closed his eyes. They could see how this was going to end. “No… no, no, no…”

“They threw them—again and again.” His voice broke completely. “I saw Stephen fall. I saw him… I saw him lift his face to the heavens, his eyes full of light. And I heard him cry out, ‘Lord Jesus, receive my spirit!’”

Tears streamed down Amariah’s face.

Berechiah’s breathing hitched. “And even as the stones struck him—even then—he… he prayed for them. He said, ‘Lord, do not hold this sin against them.’”

Mathea collapsed to her knees, weeping. Shiloh bowed his head, his hands gripping his tunic.

Berechiah wiped his eyes with his sleeve, but the tears wouldn’t stop. “And then… he was gone.”

The weight of the moment was unbearable.

Gedaliah clenched his fists, his entire body trembling with emotion—anger, grief, disbelief.

The realization sank deep. Stephen, a great man full of faith, full of the Spirit, was dead.

Gone. Killed by these religious leaders.

The family held each other, mourning together. 

For Stephen.

Hmmm. They got Stephen. And you know how it goes from here onwards…