Crown of Thorns

The next day Marcel and Delicia discussed whether or not they should go to the Sabbath meeting. Marcel had not spent a very restful night and asked Delicia again about the meeting.
“Of course I think we should go to the Sabbath celebration, Marcel. I told you that last night. But you have not made it definite if we are to go. You only asked that if you go, would I go with you.”
Marcel had not been totally honest with Delicia, but now he opened up, “There is something I must do before I make a decision to go, Delicia. I – aahh, am going to the Roman temple and pray to my gods.”
He winced as he waited for Delicia’s reaction, but to his surprise she said, “That would be fine, dear Marcel. I will prepare our evening meal and please try to be home before the meal gets cold.”
Both of them smiled, but Delicia’s smile also hid the fact that she was bothered to know Marcel was still hanging onto his gods. She also knew, however, that he must make the decision on his own and not be forced in any way to believe in Jesus as the Messiah and his eternal hope.
Because he was so often late, he got the joke and retorted, “If I eat a cold meal it will be my loss, but I truly do plan on being home in time to sup with you.”
* * *
At the temple, Marcel was forced to choose among the gods to find one who will help him. Vejovis and Quirinus didn’t give him the relief he was hoping for when he prayed to them the last time. Who now would be the one god who would be there to comfort him?
As he entered the temple, and moved among the many gods, something very strange happened to him. Darkness overcame him like a heavy weight pushing down on him. Not just uneasiness but also a feeling of oppression, as if it were trying to dominate him. What was this darkness he felt? Where did it come from? Wasn’t he in the house of his gods? Weren’t they there to protect him from any evil?
As he grew more and more uneasy and exceedingly anxious, Marcel could hardly look at any of the gods. It struck him suddenly, I must get out of here immediately. Halfway through the temple, he turned back and started for the door. His feet were barely able to move. The heaviness became more intense as he found it ever harder to breathe. As he struggled toward the door, he had to pull his way from the pedestal of one god to another. As he looked into their cold faces, it seemed to him that they were looking at him with scorn, almost hate in their eyes. His breathing grew more and more shallow as he fought for every breath. His agony became unbearable as he fought to move forward.
Dragging his leaden body on his knees, it was all he could do to reach the door. Pulling himself up by the door jambs, he lurched outside gasping for air where he leaned against the wall trying to get his strength back. His body and uniform were soaked with sweat as he finally made it to his horse. What little strength he had left he spent to pull himself up and into the saddle. All he could think about was getting home to the loving arms of Delicia. Little did he know that the devil himself was persecuting him for reaching out to the Christ!