This has been quite a dive into the beginnings of the early church. Unfortunately, though, the persecution is in full effect, and we need to see what happens with Gedaliah and family. Let’s find out…

“My son… my daughter… locked away like criminals.”

The air inside the house was thick with fear. Mathea sat on a low stool, her hands clasped tightly together, and eyes squeezed shut while her lips moved in silent prayer. Gedaliah and Berechiah stood by the doorway, tense and restless, while Shiloh remained seated at the table, his face lined with sorrow.

They had barely slept. The moment Berechiah rushed in with the grim report that Moriss and Amariah had been seized, thrown into prison by Saul of Tarsus and his men the night before, the house had plunged into turmoil.

Everyone knew that things had changed since Stephen’s death, but the reality was getting starker by the day. Now these haters of the Way were going all out to silence them, and it could not have felt any realer than it possibly could, knowing two of their own had been nabbed by the authorities.

Shiloh shook his head. “This is awful,” he murmured for the ten thousandth time. “This is really awful.”

The tense silence over the room remained as strong as ever. Everyone was wondering what to do. 

Shiloh closed his eyes briefly before opening them again, his expression pained but firm as he turned to his family.

He opened his mouth to speak. “We cannot stay here.”

Mathea lifted her tear-filled eyes to him. “My lord…”

He looked around at them all, his voice heavy with sorrow. “Saul will not stop. He is hunting us, dragging men and women out of their homes, throwing them into prison. If we remain in Jerusalem, we may be next.”

Gedaliah felt a lump rise in his throat. “So you mean…”

Shiloh inhaled deeply and nodded sadly. “We have to leave.”

Mathea gasped softly. Gedaliah and Berechiah exchanged troubled glances.

Shiloh’s voice wavered slightly, but his decision was unwavering. “We must leave as soon as possible. Probably tonight.”

Mathea shook her head slowly. “But, but, my lord, we cannot just… abandon Moriss and Amariah. They… they need us. We have to do something…”

Shiloh’s jaw tightened. “I understand your feeling, Mathea, but… as sad as it is, you know there is little we can do; the Sanhedrin have approved of these arrests and will not release them because we asked. And if we stay, we will only be thrown into prison with them. Or worse.” 

Nobody had an argument against that. As much as they hated to hear it, it was the truth. Saul had the approval of the Sanhedrin, and nobody was going to stop him. Any pleas for clemency would be dead on arrival.

Berechiah swallowed hard. “But… but, but where do we go, Father?”

Shiloh ran a weary hand over his face. “Samaria. Galilee. The brethren are spreading out—we will find refuge.” He turned to his wife. “Mathea, I do not do this lightly. Believe me, I do not. But if we stay, none of us will be safe.” 

The weight of his words settled over them. 

Nobody looked happy. Because nobody was. 

This was their home. The city where they were raised. Where they had worked, built friendships, shared meals, seen the Lord move in power. And now, they were being driven out—not by famine, not by war, but by persecution.

Mathea wiped her eyes. “So, we leave at nightfall?”

Shiloh nodded grimly.

Gedaliah exhaled, rubbing his forehead. “So this is what it has come to.”

Berechiah whispered, “Sadly so. Saul will not rest until we are all gone.”

The room fell silent again.

Then, Shiloh rose to his feet. “Gather what you can carry. We go where the Lord leads.”

One by one, they stood, knowing they had no other choice.

Their hearts were heavy.

But they knew they had no other choice. It was either they stayed in their familiar surroundings and ran the risk of getting arrested, or they left and saved themselves.

***

The evening air was cool, but inside the small home, the sorrow filling the atmosphere was stifling. Gedaliah and Berechiah moved around their shared sleeping space, quietly gathering what little they could carry. A modest satchel each—nothing too heavy, nothing that would slow them down once they left.

Their hands worked mechanically, but their minds were elsewhere. 

Berechiah was mute as he folded a tunic before placing it inside his bag. He then let out a slow breath. “I never thought it would end like this.”

Gedaliah glanced at him and nodded slowly. “None of us did.”

Berechiah stood back and looked around the room, taking in every detail—the simple wooden frame of their sleeping mats, the oil lamp that had been refilled countless times, the small, carved chest in the corner where they had once hidden childhood treasures. 

“We built forts in here when we were boys,” he murmured.

Gedaliah’s lips twitched into a brief, sad smile. “Yes. I remember that very well. And Father scolded us for using his best tunics as walls.”

Berechiah chuckled softly. “Indeed. We got quite an upbraiding that day, did we not?”

“I can never forget it.”

They fell silent for a moment.

Then Gedaliah turned to the corner of the room, his eyes lingering on a faint scratch along the wooden door frame. He walked over and ran his fingers along it.

Berechiah watched him. “That is from the time you tried carving your name into it, right?”

Gedaliah nodded, a bittersweet chuckle escaping him. “Yes. I only got halfway through before Mother caught me. She gave me a lecture about ruining the door, then made me wash dishes for a week.”

Berechiah smirked. “And I still say you deserved it.”

Gedaliah chuckled softly for a minute. The lighthearted moment quickly faded as reality sank in once more.

Berechiah exhaled and turned to his older brother. “This is home, Gedaliah. It’s all we’ve ever known.”

Gedaliah tightened the strap of his bag, his jaw clenching. “And now, we have to leave it behind.”

Another heavy silence stretched between them.

Finally, Berechiah straightened himself and slung his bag over his shoulder. His voice was quiet but steady.

“Well… we may be leaving our home… but we are not leaving the Lord.” 

Gedaliah nodded, his grip tightening around the strap. “No. Never.”

***

Shiloh stood in the main room, his satchel slung over his shoulder as he looked around the eerily silent house. He exhaled deeply, feeling a deep sadness spread through his chest.

It was time. Time to leave Jerusalem and find a new place to dwell.

Mathea stepped out from the inner room, her eyes brimming with tears. She clutched the edge of her shawl.

Shiloh glanced at her and sighed deeply. “Mathea…”

He stepped toward her, his voice heavy. “This cuts me deeply as well. If I could, I—” He swallowed hard. “I would give anything to save Moriss and Amariah.”

Mathea shut her eyes, a single tear escaping down her cheek. “I know,” she whispered.

Shiloh placed his hand on her shoulder. “The very least we can do is pray for them. Let us trust that Elohim will keep them safe and preserve their lives from any untoward–“

The door suddenly burst open, the force of the impact sending a loud crash echoing through the home and interrupting him.

Mathea gasped and stumbled back. Shiloh barely had time to react. 

The sound of heavy boots. The glint of steel. The sharp bark of orders. 

And in an instant—everything unraveled, as Saul of Tarsus and his soldiers stormed in.

***

From the small back room, Gedaliah and Berechiah froze at the sound of the crash. The unmistakable voice of Saul of Tarsus roared through the house. 

“By the authority of the high priest! Arrest them!”

Their mother’s cry of terror cut through the air, followed by their father’s shout of defiance.

Berechiah clutched Gedaliah’s arm, his breath ragged and his eyes full of terror. “Oh no! G-Gedaliah, they’re here! Saul’s here! We’re going to—”

“Silence!” Gedaliah hissed, eyes flashing. Saul was around, but they could not afford to make noise. His mind worked fast as he thought of what to do. If they hesitated, they were as good as dead.

Then he turned.

The window.

They had to jump out and make a dash for it.

He grabbed his brother’s wrist and yanked him toward it. “Go! Now!”

Berechiah hesitated. “But—”

“GO!”

Berechiah quickly heeded his older brother’s instruction. Just as he scrambled out, the door to their room burst open.

“THERE! THE SONS!”

A soldier’s guttural shout sent a jolt of terror through Gedaliah.

Oh my goodness, I need to move fast!

He lunged through the window just as a hand swiped at his tunic. 

With a thud, he hit the ground outside and stumbled to his feet, Berechiah anxiously waiting for him. 

Behind them, Saul’s voice boomed with fury—

“DO NOT LET THEM ESCAPE!”

Footsteps thundered behind them. 

Gedaliah and Berechiah ran, their hearts pounding in their chests as they raced through the compound and into the narrow alleyways, the sound of their pursuers loud behind them.

This was it.

The chase of their lives.

***

Gedaliah and Berechiah raced through the streets, their sandals pounding against the stone-paved ground. Shouts erupted behind them, the soldiers relentless in their pursuit.

“Stop this instant!”

“You dare resist the authority of the high priest? Surrender right now!”

“FASTER!” Gedaliah barked, throwing a glance over his shoulder. They were gaining distance, but not quite enough.

They zigzagged through the maze of streets, dodging wide-eyed pedestrians wondering what was happening. The city was a blur of earth-toned walls and frantic movement as they pressed forward, their lungs burning.

Then, somewhere within the market square, Berechiah stumbled, clutching his side. His face contorted in pain.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh! My side!”

All that intense running had caused a painful stitch.

Gedaliah skidded to a stop, grabbing his brother’s arm. “Berechiah, GET UP!” 

Berechiah gasped. “I— I can’t! My side— I can’t breathe—”

Gedaliah’s stomach dropped.

Behind them, the shouts grew louder. They were running out of time.

“Come on, Berechiah!” Gedaliah urged, trying to pull him up. “They’re still coming!”

Berechiah shook his head, his face pale. The pain was far too intense; any attempt to run would cause the extremity of the pain to further increase.

Just then, a voice echoed. 

Urgent. Sharp. Desperate.

“Gedaliah! Here! Quickly!” 

Gedaliah’s head snapped toward the sound…

… and he saw Talmor.

He was crouched behind a stall, his eyes filled with urgency. It was as if he already knew.

Sanctuary.

Gedaliah didn’t hesitate. With one swift motion, he hauled Berechiah up and half-carried him toward Talmor.

As they took their place, Talmor signaled to them to be silent.

Seconds later, the soldiers thundered past, still yelling out threats and demands to surrender. Their voices went from loud and intimidating to fading out within seconds.

The three of them held their breath, silent as stone.

As the footsteps faded into the distance, Gedaliah’s grip on his brother tightened.

They had escaped. For now, at least.

The three men exhaled deeply, their bodies slumping against the wooden stall. Relief washed over them for a moment.

Then Talmor shook his head, his voice low and grim. “Saul has gone mad with this persecution. I am so relieved to have managed to save you two, however.” 

Gedaliah turned to him sharply. Something in his tone sent a chill through his spine. Almost like he had failed to save someone else.

And now that he thought about it, where was…

Talmor’s next words made his stomach drop.

“Gideon has been arrested as well.”

Gedaliah gasped, covering his mouth.

Berechiah let out a small, strangled whimper. “They—they just came for our parents as well…”

Talmor sighed, running a hand over his face. The weight of it all pressed upon them. He met Gedaliah’s eyes.

“We need to leave. Now. All of us.” His voice was firm. “We might have escaped tonight, but make no mistake—Saul will not stop. He will make sure we are put in jail at all costs.”

Gedaliah swallowed hard, nodding. “We were leaving tonight. Until… he came. And took our parents.”

Talmor exhaled. “By the heavens, this is tragic. We must go now.” He stood straighter. “Zillah and her sister, Leah, are ahead of us. We shall join them.”

Silence hung between them as the reality dawned once again.

This was their home. The streets they ran as children, the temple where they worshiped, the city where they had known joy and sorrow—

And now, they were being driven away. By this Pharisee desperate to silence every follower of the Way.

Berechiah wiped his eyes, his voice barely a whisper. “We have no choice, do we?”

Gedaliah sighed, his head down. “No. We do not.” 

Talmor placed a hand on Gedaliah’s shoulder. “Then let’s go.”

And as they slipped into the shadows, their journey out of Jerusalem began.

Dang, what a downer! The brothers escaped by the skin of their teeth, losing their parents in the process. This new phase of life is gonna be even tougher now.

How will they cope? Will their faith be affected by this? Well, Season 2 will reveal all to us!!