An Echo in the Darkness (Mark of the Lion, #2)

by Francine Rivers

“God speaks . . . a still, small voice in the wind.”

Her voice had become an insistent presence, echoing throughout the darkness in which he now lived.

What had been her crime other than having a sweet purity that had smitten the conscience and roused the jealousy of a foul harlot. A harlot who was Marcus’ sister. . . .

Not since Hadassah.

Hadassah had been the moon reflecting the sun’s light in everything she said and did; she was not the light herself and never claimed to be.

“Sit and rest, Hadassah. I’ll buy some bread and wine and return shortly.”

People see the mark of the lion on her. They fail to see what it means.”

“I’m saying your knowledge is all in your head, and that’s not enough. Saving knowledge is of the heart.”

The appeal was so often the same: Make me comfortable so I can go on doing whatever I want to do. They wanted sin without consequences. How do you bear us, Lord, when we are so stubborn and foolish? How do you bear us at all?

Later that night, Alexander would have grave cause to wish he had.

‘For as a man thinketh in his heart, so is he.’” She looked up at him. “On what does your heart dwell, Marcus Lucianus Valerian?”

Lord, I hold Marcus up to you. Lord, turn my daughter’s heart . . . Lord, I beseech you. Father, forgive them . . . Abba, take them in hand . . . In the name of your Son, Jesus, I plead . . . O Lord God of heaven and earth, save my children. . . .

Wasn’t I doing your will there, Lord? Couldn’t I remain with him and help the sick?

the Lord,

without him life had no meaning.

Sudden. Inexplicable. Complete joy.

Was it really that astoundingly simple? I believe.

Lord, help me. I used to love her like a sister. Now I dislike her so much it’s hard to stay in the same chamber with her. I sit and listen to her constant complaints and demands, and I want to scream at her about the suffering she caused me. Help me see her through your eyes, Father.

“We can’t control our feelings the way we can our actions.”

“Then know this, Mother. Your prayers have been answered. I found Christ. A man named Cornelius baptized me in the Sea of Galilee.”

“I have come home, Mother. To you. And to God.”

“It’s strange,” Julia said, bemused. She gave a soft laugh. “I can’t remember ever feeling so happy.” “It’s more blessed to give than to receive.”

“You are my dear brother, Prometheus. I love you very much.” “I love you, too,” he said hoarsely, unable to say more. His eyes were moist.

Julia wakened only briefly in the morning and then lapsed into a coma.

Releasing her wrists, he touched her face tenderly, tracing the mark of the lion. “You are beautiful.”

“Marry me,” he said. “Marry me now.”

“I will marry you, my lord.”

Yet I hold this against you: You have forsaken your first love. Remember the height from which you have fallen! Repent and do the things you did at first. If you do not repent, I will come to you and remove your lampstand from its place. (Revelation 2:4-5, NIV)