“Martha: I watched the young girl in horrified fascination. I longed to march across the street, grab her, and drag her home. But I stood transfixed.”
The above quote is the first three lines from my book, Beloved Prodigal. It tells the might-have-been of Lazarus, Martha, and Mary—friends of Jesus.
Why did three single siblings live together when women yearned for children and a husband? What derailed their dreams?
Beloved Prodigal paints a picture of their fictional lives through their time with Jesus and the persecution Christians suffered. Lazarus had a price on his head for being alive.
Beloved Prodigal tells of Mary's betrayal of her family and God. Martha and Lazarus suffered ostracism, the loss of status, and Martha lost her husband. But Mary's dramatic redemption showed a woman completely in love with Jesus. Supernatural forgiveness brought her back to her family but not without a rocky road.
Walk with people you will love and hate. travel down first century BC streets and eat first century food. And you'll experience first century Christian persecution standing in the midst of it.
Martha: The day Mary left dawned with sunshine. Crimson-centered white lilies and red windflowers waved in the breeze from their places at the entrance. My spirit lifted with the promise of pleasant weather.
Two mornings before, Mary reached her sixteenth birthday. No man yet asked my husband, Hamel, for her hand. She didn’t care that the time for marriage neared the end. Did she want to spend her years alone and unprotected?
I sent her to the Markeplace for necessities we didn’t grow or raise. Her flushed cheeks hinted at excitement. Why? What did she plan? Why didn’t I ask? Mary never welcomed questions, but stiffened and walked away. She kept her thoughts locked inside, her face blank.
When she left, she wore a scarf with coins hung from the edges. The coins announced her availability for betrothal.
Five hours later, I paced between the fire pit and the courtyard entrance. Frantically, I gazed at the street, awaiting her return. A respectable Jewish girl must come home before dark. Sunset changed to nightfall, with no sign of her.
At the eleventh hour, Lazarus followed Hamel through the door.
I lunged at them. “Mary left for the Marketplace hours ago. She didn’t come home. What can we do?”
Lazarus put his arm across my shoulders. “She met a friend. Remember how distracted she gets? Here. Hamel and I will find her.”
Hamel nodded and smiled. He took my hand and rubbed it. “Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll find her.”
They rushed through the door so near their sandals skidded against each other. They returned hours later, defeated. The ebony night blinded them and hunger distracted them.
Lines marked my brother’s forehead, his brows puckered.
Hamel crossed the room to the table. “No one has seen her.” He picked up a round of bread.” I’m hungry. Please bring my food. I must eat.”
“Your plate is ready.” I took the dishes, kept warm on the fire pit, and placed them in front of Hamel.
“I pray she stayed with a friend. The village gossips don‘t need grist for their blather.” Lazarus slumped on his stool. “We’ll rest and try again tomorrow.”