A Night Like No Other: The True Love Story Of Mary And Joseph

A Night Like No Other

The True Love of Mary and Joseph

By Kristin Vayden

Blue Tulip Publishing

www.bluetulippublishing.com

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2015 KRISTIN VAYDEN

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

A Night Like No Other

The True Love of Mary and Joseph

Copyright © 2015 KRISTIN VAYDEN

ISBN: 978-1-942246-67-1

Cover Art by Melody Pond

TABLE OF CONTENTS

FOREWARD

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

ALSO FROM BLUE TULIP PUBLISHING

To the author of Romance my Father in Heaven who loved so deeply, the world, that He gave his one and only son so that whoever believed in him wouldn’t perish, but would have eternal life. ( John 3:16 paraphrased)

FOREWARD

Could you get two more boring, stereotyped, Sunday School images than Mary and Joseph? Why would anybody write a book about them? Our pictures of them today seem so far away from anything remotely approaching real people. Mary, the vision of calm and serenity immediately after giving birth to her firstborn (in a barn!) while Joseph stands by, the very epitome of stoic calm and manly control. It's like the people who make our Nativity scenes have been nowhere NEAR childbirth!

Sweat, fear, exhaustion, tears, screaming, and blood seem more the order of the day by my recollection. This disconnect can make a preacher's job mighty hard around Christmas time.

It is vital for a pastor to bridge the gap between the cardboard cutouts of Bible Story people in our minds and the all too fragile flesh of the real human beings who lived those stories. I haven't done my job until those who hear me preach understand that God related to, and partnered with, people as real as the kid who stocks groceries at your favorite store, or the policeman who gave you a ticket last Tuesday (and for what it's worth, I'm sure that you, Constant Reader, did not deserve it). God's people have always been real. Eww. Sometimes TMI real, in fact. So real, that the Bible even shines a light on the craziest, most unexpected plot twist of real mud and blood humanity that there has ever been: the eternal Son of God would need diaper changes. That's keepin' it real, as my sweet wife, Missy, would say.

Kristin's fundamental joy and passion resonates throughout her portrayal of the interaction between Mary and Joseph, giving figures—whom, until now, you may have known only as holy figurines in nativity scenes--a tangible warmth that only flesh and blood convey. Kristin has accomplished what the preacher covets—connecting our hearts to God's work in a way that makes us believe He could work in us, too. And Constant Reader, I can testify as her Pastor that she has been able to accomplish this because she knows this truth for herself.

If you ever wondered: "is my mess too real for God," then hunker down with A Night Like No Other for bit. True to the Word. True to the harsh realities of the lives of working-class Mediterranean’s almost two millennia ago. Before antibiotics, climate-controlled cars, or even wet-wipes, for Heaven's sake. You might find that real is what God does, simply as a matter of course.

Your time with Mary and Joseph in these pages will be well spent. Mine was. I love these kids (weren't we all kids before that first baby?) a little more for being with them along their journey. The Bible says, A brother is born from adversity. My blessing to you, Constant Reader, is this: may Mary and Joseph become brother and sister to you, and never again be merely haloed cardboard saints, that you might believe that God also has a purpose and plan for you.

Toby Wilson

Pastor, Trinity Church of the Tri-Cities

Pasco, WA

PROLOGUE

Around 1 BC in the City of Galilee

Israel under the Roman rule of Herod Antiapas

Jocabed pulled Mary close, hiding her small, tender face in the folds of her skirt as she brushed her soft, silky hair.

Soothing her.

Sheltering her from the barbaric scene.

Momma, I don’t understand. The child’s muffled sobs vibrated against her legs as she pressed in tighter, fear choking her small voice.

Jocabed blinked back tears as the men and many women began to pick up stones. It is justice, Hadassah. Jabel was wrong. She sinned. Adultery is not acceptable to Yahweh.

The shouts grew louder.

Harlot.

Jezebel.

Whore.

Jocabed’s eyes blurred with tears as she watched her friend, Jabal, on her knees, begging for mercy. Even from a distance, her pleading was clearly heard.

Forgive me! Mercy, I beg you! I have children… The last word was like a knife to Jocabed’s soft heart. She glanced down to her sweet Mary, holding her tighter.

Jabel began to beg once more.

Jocabed saw the first stone thrown. The large rock crushed the side of her friend’s face, knocking her to the ground and silencing her plea.

The other men and women began to throw their stones.

Jocabed closed her eyes as the ground began to turn dark with blood around the body of her friend.

The woman caught betraying her husband.

The woman caught in sin.

Jocabed turned, taking her daughter’s shoulders and keeping her tender heart from seeing the slaughter behind her.

Why momma? Mary sobbed quietly, her beautiful face tear streaked.

She was an adulteress. Jocabed choked out. How could you, Jabel! She thought, wondering what sort of pleasure was worth such a risk. To betray her husband, to betray her God?

Mary stopped midstride and pulled her hand from her mother’s grasp.

Mary! No! Jocabed knew that stubborn tilt to her daughter’s face and reached for her, but was too late.

Mary had turned and was running toward the bloody scene.

And stopped.

Jocabed placed her body between her daughter’s innocent eyes and the sight unfolding behind her. Mary’s small arms wrapped around her hips, burying her face in the folds of fabric and sobbed once again.

The shouting waned, the sound of rock hitting rock or flesh no longer echoed.

It is finished.

Releasing a labored breath, Jocabed scooped her daughter’s frame into her arms and carried her to the shelter of the wall, hiding her from the ugliness of sin.

The payment it demanded.

Momma…why? Why? Ada’s mother! Mary sobbed, pounding her tiny fists into Jocabed’s soft stomach.

Mary, my sweet Mary. Jocabed crooned, using her most soothing voice yet sensing a teaching moment that would never be forgotten by her daughter. Sin… She released a frustrated breath. How did she explain the ways of Yahweh to a small child when she, a woman grown, struggled with their depths?

Grant me wisdom.

Hadassah, what does your abba bring to the Temple?

Mary’s dark eyes glanced down for a moment before meeting her mother’s gaze once more. A lamb… or a dove.

Indeed. And what happens to the lamb or dove? Jocabed asked gently.

It’s slaughtered, Mary answered, her face an expression of uncertainty.

Yes, it’s slaughtered. And what pours out?

Blood, said Mary in a whisper, her eyes vacant as if remembering the horror of a few moments ago.

Only it wasn’t a lamb’s blood.

Pulling her daughter in closer, Jocabed bent on one knee, eye level with her daughter. "Blood, Hadassah, is the price for sin. Any sin. The lamb’s blood covers sin, but Jabal’s sin demanded not a lamb’s blood, but her own."

Mary’s eyes grew wide.

Sin is no small matter, Hadassah. Remember that. Sin requires blood in atonement. Always. Jocabed whispered the words, her heart heavy with loss and anger over her friend’s foolish choice.

Because the truth of sin, it never affects only one. Like poison, it infects many.

Come, let’s go home. Abba will be worried. Jocabed grasped her daughter’s small hand and gently tugged till she followed. Silent on the walk home, Jocabed only hoped that the trauma of the day produced seeds of wisdom. For if one thing was certain, until the redeemer came, they were all in need of atoning blood.

CHAPTER ONE

Mary rolled over on her pallet on the floor, the soft straw crinkling beneath her weight. If that rooster crows one more time…

Mary? Esther’s voice called, far too cheerfully.

Hmmm? Mary mumbled, the sweet call of sleep pulling her from awareness into a welcoming fog of—

Mary!

Her mother’s impatient tone jolted through her consciousness and she stood — eyes still closed — I’m awake!"

Esther snickered.

Mary opened one eye and glared at her sister.

Heaven help the man you marry, he’ll have to tend to his own breakfast if he wants it before noon! Esther teased, though she laughed sweetly and wrapped warm arms around her sister and hugged gently. Just don’t lean on me and fall asleep… She whispered.

I only did that—

Yesterday, you did that yesterday.

Yes, yes, Mary grumbled and released her sister. Yawning, she stumbled to the small table and grasped the coarse hairbrush and mercilessly dragged it through her charcoal colored