Stephen by Rachlan
Disclaimer: I do not own the story of Stephen- God has that privilege; He wrote it- I am just taking creative license with it. Enjoy.
I looked around frantically, seeing my friends, people i had known for years, looking at me with a gleeful, sick joy. My stomach lurched. "Lord..." I thought desperately, unable to finish the sentence. I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat the size of an orange. "Lord, I don't know if I can do this."
Every person in the crowd held a stone, from the youngest to the oldest. My family was there- my father, mother (who was crying), and even my twelve year old brother. They looked stricken, but knew they could do nothing for me. My mother suddenly made a move (as if to run to me) but my father held her back. The man in charge of this little "get together" was an elder in our village and he glared at my mother for the failed rescue attempt. I also saw another man, a man whose terrible reputation preceded him. I glanced at his face, trying to see why... why he hated me and my brothers and sisters so much. The man was not looking at me, though i could clearly see his face. There looked to be a look of pain and shame (the two emotions were there so briefly that i was sure i imagined them, though) before his mask of hateful indifference dropped into place once more.
"Saul ashamed?" i thought incredulously. Before i could ponder the thought further, however, i heard a voice, cold and full of spite. "Welcome, everyone, to my little party," Saul said with a terrible grin on his face. "You are all here to witness the...unfortunate (the sarcasm was heavy) death of this blasphemer." Now that he was closer, i could see the gleeful look in his eyes, mocking my earlier thoughts that he could be feeling shame. He spat the word 'blasphemer' out with so much loathing that a lesser man would have cringed. I was confident, however, that my Savior had a plan in all this, even if it meant my destruction. Saul was speaking again. "Perhaps the...victim... has a word in his defense?" he sneered. I was surprised to say the least, but wasn't willing to let this opportunity pass me by. As i opened my mouth, the words began to flow out and it seemed that i was no longer speaking. "Brothers and fathers, listen to me..."1 The impassioned speech coming from my lips lasted for probably ten minutes. Every so often, i would pause and look around, seeing the faces grow more and more murderous, Paul's foremost among them, though he didn't halt my speech.
"I did my best, Jesus," I whispered to the One I would soon see. I turned my gaze towards the sky and my jaw dropped at the sight. I couldn't help but speak. "Look! I see heaven open and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God." He was beautiful! I was so distracted that i didn't immediately notice the crowd until they were practically on top of me. After that... only pain, pain worse than anything i ever could have imagined. And then... it was over and there was no pain, nor would there ever be again. I was finally in the presence of my Savior.
1Whole speech and story can be found in Acts 6:8-7:60