Well, good morning!
We had quite an eventful day yesterday...we were lobbying at the capitol and then attended a rally on the south steps. To experience democracy at it's finest was unbelievably thrilling. For as I walked through the old hallways, and gazed at the building that mirrors our nations capitol, I was completely amazed at the presence of God.
To be a citizen of this nation, a citizen of Texas, is such a privilege that all at once, I felt humbled and honored to be standing amongst history! When I thought of how many people fought for the freedom I now possessed that enabled me to speak up for the rights of the people and talk with the leaders who make our laws was awe-inspiring.
Tomorrow, I will post some pictures of our trip, including the one we took with the governor!
For now, here is Part III of Claudia's Prayer...(Above this post I will put today's jewelry.)
Claudia's Prayer, Part III
On our first trip here, I had marveled at the splendor and majesty of Herodius' palace. Now, as I fingered the silk bed covers with their pure white pillows and real goose-feather stuffed mattress, I was disgusted.
All of this...finery, as I had heard it been called, no longer impressed me. Especially since I now knew it had most likely been paid for, with the blood of innocent men's lives. Innocent men who were willing to do anything for a man like Jesus. I had heard the rumors, whispered among the servants here at the palace, they were all afraid of being sold, sold into slavery just because they loved this man who called himself the son of God.
A wry thought came to mind just then, was it just me, or did anyone else see the irony in Pilate living under the same roof as these “Christians”? Of course no one was supposed to know of their existence, but I did, due in part to the fact that I often snooped around the kitchen after I was presumed to have gone to bed. And I never had to worry about what Pilate thought, he was out the moment his balding head hit the satin covered pillows.
On one such night, I heard one of the girls, with no more than 14 years to her name, talk of how this man Jesus had changed her life. She was about to leave Herodius' palace to become the wife of a well known centurion. A place in which many girls her age would have died for. Only this would be one of the hardest things she would ever do, for I heard her whisper to my maidservant Shayna, that she had personally met Jesus and pledged her allegiance to him.
If her would be husband, the Roman centurion, ever found out, she would most surely be sent away from his house and into exile for the rest of her days. With all of her family dead and her only living relative an older sister, in the same position, that would mean certain death.
I was scared of all this talk. At least she had the advantage of being a Roman. Any Jew was already suspect of shady dealings, and they would be pressed all the more sharply for answers about this man, whom they believed had begun an uprising.
Who was this Jesus anyway? And why did he act like each day might be the last chance you had to accept what he said was true? What was the meaning behind his speeches anyway?
Maybe sleep would help me rest from these tiresome thoughts, I wondered, as I lay back down on the plush bed covers. Little did I know it would bring me more pain, and in the end, joy than I had ever imagined possible.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
A Really Quick Post
This has to be quick, more tomorrow...
Claudia's Prayer, Part II
I often borrowed my maidservant's clothes, forgoing my usual cosmetic treatments and abandoning all jewelry, for just one night among the people, one night amidst everyone my husband was governing. How else better to know how they really thought? During these trips, I had met some very interesting people, and by far the most interesting, the followers of Jesus Christ.
A sudden stirring in my heart made tears prick the sides of them. The past two trips here had been very meaningful, and this time I was hoping for just one more chance to see him. Last time, I had watched from my balcony as He stood in the street and healed a lame man. A man I had passed in scorn not but an hour previously. Seeing him treat that man as if he were the only person that mattered, had begun to change my heart and my perspective.
When I watched Jesus, he treated everyone the same, no matter your rank, status, or how many wives you had. No matter your crime, your stand on the publics' opinion of him; he seemed to know and accept you without hesitation.
I rubbed my head, realizing just how much it had begun to throb. Pilate told me I thought too much. I think in this case he was right. Making my way back to the large silk bed, I thought about all that had transpired over the past few years.
Claudia's Prayer, Part II
I often borrowed my maidservant's clothes, forgoing my usual cosmetic treatments and abandoning all jewelry, for just one night among the people, one night amidst everyone my husband was governing. How else better to know how they really thought? During these trips, I had met some very interesting people, and by far the most interesting, the followers of Jesus Christ.
A sudden stirring in my heart made tears prick the sides of them. The past two trips here had been very meaningful, and this time I was hoping for just one more chance to see him. Last time, I had watched from my balcony as He stood in the street and healed a lame man. A man I had passed in scorn not but an hour previously. Seeing him treat that man as if he were the only person that mattered, had begun to change my heart and my perspective.
When I watched Jesus, he treated everyone the same, no matter your rank, status, or how many wives you had. No matter your crime, your stand on the publics' opinion of him; he seemed to know and accept you without hesitation.
I rubbed my head, realizing just how much it had begun to throb. Pilate told me I thought too much. I think in this case he was right. Making my way back to the large silk bed, I thought about all that had transpired over the past few years.
Monday, April 6, 2009
An Easter Story
Starting today, in addition to posting cards and jewelry every day or so, I will post a portion of the story I wrote for Easter last year.
Let me just give you a brief background on why I wrote this. Every year we write a story on Easter, but with a different person's perspective. From the guard at the tomb, to Mary the mother of Jesus, to Jesus himself; I have written quite a few over the years. However, last year, I felt called to do something different, someone who is often not focused on.
Through a good deal of research, and some artistic embellishment, I wrote a story based on Claudia, Pilate's wife, and the dream she had preceding the crucifixion of Jesus Christ.
Be sure and come back each day to find out what happens next...here is today's chapter:
Claudia's Prayer
Rachel Marie Bentham
“I, Lady Claudia, have no idea what is to become of all this talk, rumors they are, and hopefully, I beg the god of speech and wisdom, right now, that is all they will stay...” the letter to my sister in Capri had grown quite lengthy and the quill in my hand was damp with my cramped hold on its sleek black body. I let it go, and watched as it rolled to a stop on the edge of the small table I had been writing on.
It was almost 3:00 in the morning and my mind would not be quieted. My husband Pontius Pilate had been mysteriously aroused only half of the hour before and he had told me not a word. I could hear my maidservant, Shayna, rustling around in the back of the room, adjusting th large silk bed and tidying the room.
Standing, I walked over to the window that overlooked the crowded city, now still and eerily quiet. This was Jerusalem, the city promised to the Jewish nation. The city my husband had fought so hard to gain control of.
He was a disturbed man, very nervous and timid at times. At at others, power seemed to throb out of the veins standing out from his neck. How odd, I had always thought, that one could be so scared yet so scary at the same time.
How he hated coming to Jerusalem every year for the Holy Feast. The crowds made him especially nervous. He himself had nothing against the religious people of the town, but the emperor and all of his other counselors would not understand that sentiment. It was for this reason my husband avoided confrontation at any level, with anyone.
I smiled despite myself. I was much more the opposite and Pilate knew it. If our roles were reversed, he knew I would make quite a stir in the city. Although, he was still unaware of my secret excursions every year during the Holy Week. If he only knew..."
Let me just give you a brief background on why I wrote this. Every year we write a story on Easter, but with a different person's perspective. From the guard at the tomb, to Mary the mother of Jesus, to Jesus himself; I have written quite a few over the years. However, last year, I felt called to do something different, someone who is often not focused on.
Through a good deal of research, and some artistic embellishment, I wrote a story based on Claudia, Pilate's wife, and the dream she had preceding the crucifixion of Jesus Christ.
Be sure and come back each day to find out what happens next...here is today's chapter:
Claudia's Prayer
Rachel Marie Bentham
“I, Lady Claudia, have no idea what is to become of all this talk, rumors they are, and hopefully, I beg the god of speech and wisdom, right now, that is all they will stay...” the letter to my sister in Capri had grown quite lengthy and the quill in my hand was damp with my cramped hold on its sleek black body. I let it go, and watched as it rolled to a stop on the edge of the small table I had been writing on.
It was almost 3:00 in the morning and my mind would not be quieted. My husband Pontius Pilate had been mysteriously aroused only half of the hour before and he had told me not a word. I could hear my maidservant, Shayna, rustling around in the back of the room, adjusting th large silk bed and tidying the room.
Standing, I walked over to the window that overlooked the crowded city, now still and eerily quiet. This was Jerusalem, the city promised to the Jewish nation. The city my husband had fought so hard to gain control of.
He was a disturbed man, very nervous and timid at times. At at others, power seemed to throb out of the veins standing out from his neck. How odd, I had always thought, that one could be so scared yet so scary at the same time.
How he hated coming to Jerusalem every year for the Holy Feast. The crowds made him especially nervous. He himself had nothing against the religious people of the town, but the emperor and all of his other counselors would not understand that sentiment. It was for this reason my husband avoided confrontation at any level, with anyone.
I smiled despite myself. I was much more the opposite and Pilate knew it. If our roles were reversed, he knew I would make quite a stir in the city. Although, he was still unaware of my secret excursions every year during the Holy Week. If he only knew..."
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