My name is Rhoda. I live in Jerusalem with my mistress Mary, the mother of John Mark. I’m not yet old enough to be married, having seen only twelve summers.
Yeshua was killed and rose again before I was born. The Jewish authorities have never really liked followers of the Way, but it wasn’t until recently they started persecuting us—legally and physically. Finally, they killed one of us.
It was Passover week, and for days we’d been praising God, thanking him for the gift of his Son, the perfect Lamb, who takes away all our sins. Then that wicked king, Herod Agrippa, had John’s brother James executed with a sword. Herod wants more than anything to please the Jewish leaders, and since the death of James made them so happy, he had Peter snatched up, too, and thrown in prison with a squad of four soldiers guarding him at all times. Herod intended to keep Peter there until after the Passover when he could hold a trial—and then kill him, too.
The believers gathered in my mistress’s house and in homes throughout the city, praying that God would take care of Peter and somehow keep that evil king from killing him. I must admit, I didn’t have much faith that would happen.
It was getting late, well into the next morning, and I had fallen asleep. Hurried banging on the door to the courtyard woke me, and I froze. What if it was a squad of soldiers, come to take us away to prison, too? I looked at Mary, who simply nodded and gestured to the door.
I crept out the door to the house and through the courtyard, fear wrapped around my heart like a snake. I peeked through the small window beside the door, prepared to see torches and Roman spears. But instead, I saw Peter!
I could hardly believe what I saw. I was so excited I ran back without opening the door. I left poor Peter standing on the street! But I had to let the believers know God had answered our prayers. “Peter is at the door!” I repeated it over and over.
Some of the guests scoffed at me. “You’re out of your mind,” they said. I kept telling them I may be a child, but I knew who Peter was and he was at the door. They said it was just his angel.
But Peter kept on knocking, louder and louder, until they heard it. When they opened the door and saw him waiting there, they were astonished. Peter came in and told us how the Lord had freed him from prison. Then he told us to tell James, Yeshua’s brother, and the other believers what had happened.
Peter gave me a hug before he left for another place. I could feel him, touch him, hear him. It wasn’t a dream. God had answered our prayers.
I would never again doubt him.