Men took charge of me, because I have a gift. They take me around, so that I can tell people’s fortunes. We go into market places, set up a little booth, and they charge money for my services. The men are happy with me, because I am good at the theater of it, convincing. I can read people, and the weird thing is, my predictions come true. So, people come back, and they tell their friends. I make a lot of money, but my handlers take it all.
What do I get? Voices, nightly visions, torments, daily abuse, and slavery.
My gift is a curse.
Even though something I cannot name torments me, I am drawn to follow a group of people. Their leader calls himself an apostle, and he has a doctor with him. I can’t help myself; I know something and I scream out, These men are the servants of the most high God, which shew unto us the way of salvation.
I shriek after them many days. Even though what I say is true, the leader is troubled. He understands it’s a demon speaking and addresses the evil spirit, I command thee in the name of Jesus Christ to come out of her.
That same hour, I am free.
My gift is gone.
I have peace.
Unfortunately, my masters notice the immediate change in me. They cannot exploit me as before. I am of no value to them. My handlers capture my liberators, bring them into the marketplace before the magistrates and say, These men, being Jews, do exceedingly trouble our city, and teach customs, which are not lawful for us to receive, neither to observe, being Romans.
And the multitude rose up together against them: and the magistrates rent off their clothes, and commanded to beat them. When they had laid many stripes upon them, they cast them into prison, charging the jailor to keep them safely: Who, having received such a charge, thrust them into the inner prison, and made their feet fast in the stocks.
I feel so sad for those men. They recognized evil and now, they suffer because they helped me. After calling upon Jesus to free me, they’re prisoners themselves.
“God, please free these men. They did nothing to deserve this. And Lord, thank you. I plan to sleep well tonight, back in my father’s home, in my own bed. From today forward, I want to serve You.”
Who am I?
In which book of the Bible do you find my story? (Hint: the doctor wrote it.)
Who were the two men who were beaten and put into prison?
Did God free them?
If so, how?