When Heaven Hijacked Humanity, Part I: A World in turmoil
Matthew 1:18-25
A world fractured by sin, crying out for healing, met by a God who would rather enter our pain than abandon us to it.
Platon clutched his gladius. He lay on his pallet in the dark room, sleeping against the door the way he had every night since arriving in Antioch. But tonight, his eyes were wide open and his mouth shaped around a silent scream.
A crash shook the courtyard as a cart overturned. Soldiers shouted outside. Hobnailed sandals hammered the paving stones, echoing through the streets. He heard furniture breaking. Then Stephanas’ wife cried out in pain.
Platon bit down on the corner of his cloak.
He knew what came next.
He had done this before.
And Stephanas would not endure it.
Something slammed against the door, and Platon jolted despite his readiness.
“Stephanas! I know you’re hiding Christians here!”
A Legionnaire’s voice. Rough. Certain.
Stephanas grunted, breath hitching.
“I am not! There is no one here, Captain! Just me and my wife!”
Platon listened to the weeping from the potter’s home across the courtyard. He glanced toward Matthew’s sleeping form but saw only a faint shape in the dark.
Matthew was on his knees, praying silently.
“I’ll find them, Stephanas,” the captain said.
“And they’ll tell me you lied.”
A fist struck soft flesh. Platon flinched.
“Paulus—move out!”
Hobnails retreated down the ridge.
Platon helped Matthew to his bed.
The old apostle sagged onto it.
“What is wrong with this world?”
Platon’s voice cracked as he asked his question.
Matthew took a deep breath, steadying himself before replying. “We hear about it every day, Platon. The human experiment is bleeding. Three days ago, four refugees were sprawled across the marketplace. Not soldiers, but anti-Jewish gangs. Earlier this year, before Commodus was placed in command, the Idumean quarter was reduced to ash by a fire that was set in retaliation for something or other. The Idumeans are more appropriately the descendants of Edom or Esau. A Rich merchant stares out over what he thinks he owns, while a desperate When widow counts denari by lamplight, wondering if she’ll be able to buy a little bread and oil the next day, her hollow-eyed children watching from a doorway. They’re all different stories, Platon, but they all originate from the same search for meaning.”
Platon looked at him glumly. “So, the world is just cracked, then?”
Eden: What We Lost
Platon stirred the small fire.
Matthew moved slowly to the small table, where he wrote and they shared meals. He lit the single oil lamp. It sputtered to life and finally gave off a soft glow, framing Matthew’s face with a golden light. He sucked in a slow breath and blew it out forcefully, looking at Platon.
“It was never meant to be this way, Platon,” Matthew said sadly.
Platon looked at him quizzically. “What is it supposed to be like, then? What was it like before all of this?”
A soft knock came from the door. Platon crossed the small room, tightening his hand on the hilt of his gladius. He reached out to open the door, when it cracked open and a recovered Stephanas slipped inside the room. His eyes flicked between the shadows, counting the spaces in between. Platon knew this was born through the experience of suffering.
Matthew rose slowly. “Stephanas, we were worried. I have prayed nightly that God would spare you and your family any harm that might be brought about because of me.”
Stephanas leveled his gaze at Matthew. “I know you do, Matthew. This isn’t my first time dealing with Commodus’ patrols.”
He rubbed at a small scar that creased his chin.
“I’m very sorry for what you went through,” Platon said quietly, the pain evident in his voice.
Stephanas softened his gaze. “I know who you are, Platon.”
Platon looked down at the floor. “
I know that you’re sorry,” he continued, “I’m sorry you must keep reliving those parts of your life.”
He turned back to Matthew. “Luckily, my wife is made of sterner stuff than I am.”
“She is strong in the faith,” Matthew acknowledged.
“She is,” Stephanas softly, “stronger than I am at times. She told me that under no circumstances was I to turn you out.”
Matthew nodded gratefully.
“But understand,” he looked at Matthew and Platon in turn. “If the day comes that I think it’s unsafe, I will ask you to find other arrangements.”
“And we will, on that day,” Matthew agreed.
Stephanas stepped forward and hugged Matthew. “Hurry now. People need to hear what you have to say.”
Stephanas slipped out of the door, carefully checking the small courtyard before hurrying home.
“I wonder, why did the captain not search this room?” Platon mused, looking at Mathew.
Matthew winked and touched his nose.
Platon turned to light the small fire that lay in the hearth. “So…” He poured water into a clay bowl, preparing to break their fast.
“So, what?”
Platon watched the tiny flames lick hungrily at the dry branches.
“What was it like before all of this?”
“Let me tell you a story,” Matthew began. Platon gazed at the fire.
“We were given utopia. Eden can’t be described; none of us were there, but I’ll tell you how I imagine it.
“Imagine walking with God and talking to Him. The air is thick with newly created life. Each breath you take is in harmony with not only the new world around you, but with the creator—light fractures through the tree canopies, like ribbons of amber, colored honey-gold. The ground is soft, there are no thorn bushes, no weeds, nothing to choke the life-giving plants God has provided you. The water is so clear, you can see twenty feet down and count every pebble, each one placed lovingly in its spot by the master jeweler.
“And you commune with the creator. Our bodies were not meant for war, dear Platon. They were meant for communion with the Great Creator.” Matthew paused and took a sip of water.
Platon listened attentively, watching the porridge bubble in the pot.
Matthew continued.
The Fall: The Wound Beneath Everything
“But Satan fell, Platon.”
Matthew’s voice lowered.
“He was given dominion over the earth. I imagine he plotted, watching as God communed with us, his creation. Like a predator, I can see him now, separating Eve from her mate, from her God. It probably caused him immense pain to be in that place of beauty.
“ ‘Did God really say…’ With those words, he twisted the truth of creation. One bite of the forbidden fruit, and rebellion was born in the hearts of men.” He looked down at his scroll sadly.
Matthew realized he had been writing every word he had spoken.
“That easy, eh?” Platon asked. “Perhaps he should have made us out of sterner material.”
Matthew shook his head.
Angels, Free Will, and a Universe Torn
Platon stopped mid-bite.
Matthew exhaled.
“How does an angel fall? I thought angels had no choice.” Platon said, spooning porridge into a bowl for Matthew.
“God created angels as he created us,” Matthew nodded, accepting the bowl. “But you would agree that we have free will, correct?”
“Of Course,” Platon filled his bowl and sat down opposite Matthew.
“Then why would you think an angel, Lucifer, the most beautiful of them all, wouldn’t have free will?”
“I suppose I never thought about it that way,” Platon said. He studied the porridge on his spoon before taking a bite.
Matthew suddenly realized he was hungry and began to eat with enthusiasm.
Platon grinned. “I was wondering if you were going to eat.”
Matthew smiled sheepishly and continued.
“Not only did he rebel, but he took a third of the angels with him, which means God allowed him to do it.”
“Why?” Platon asked. “That sounds crazy.”
“It’s a hard thing,” Matthew agreed. “Unless you’re talking about a being, God, who is timeless. He has foreknowledge of the past, the present, and the future. That means he has a plan.”
“He could come on with it,” Platon muttered.
Matthew drew a slow breath. “We got off subject there a little, but to bring it back… One heartbeat of rebellion and the universe changed forever.”
Matthew shook his head sadly. “The soil that once gave its fruit without a fight now clenched its fists of thorns. Thorns came because of the curse. Now, man would have to fight the earth for sustenance.”
“Our bodies,” Matthew looked at his hands. “Designed for communion with God…”
He exhaled. “They began to break down immediately.”
But Platon wasn’t comforted.
Matthew leaned forward, gripping Platon’s wrist.
“Sin is an infection, Platon. Some infections take a long time. Especially the most insidious ones. Minds that used to think in harmony with heaven began to chase their own dreams and purpose, fueled by a now sinful nature.”
“There is no hope then, is there?” Platon stared at him, gently extracting his wrist from Matthew’s grasp. “Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Platon,” Matthew’s voice softened, “When people ask why the world hurts so much, as you did, it’s not because God is cruel.”
Matthew looked at him, his eyes wet in the lamplight. “It’s that we, humanity, broke his perfect creation. He hates sin because sin dismantles everything he loves: the laughter of children, the bond of family, and the very beauty of the world. And we, as his children, should hate it too.”
“And rebellion still whispers, even now: ‘Did God really say…?’”
Matthew’s voice faded. He rubbed his eyes.
“I need to lie down a moment.”
Platon helped him to bed.
“Rest. You can finish later.”
Matthew murmured:
“Keep asking questions.”
Platon put away the food.
The old apostle slept.
Outside, Antioch groaned.
The fire crackled.
Platon sat with a cup of wine, thinking about sin, suffering, and the broken world around him.
He didn’t know it yet, but heaven was already preparing its answer.
To be continued in Part II…
Next Post
👉 Interlude: A Roman Problem — Why Rome Fears This New Sect
When Heaven Hijacked Humanity Part I, continues our journey through the Gospel of Matthew.
Next time, the story widens: A new Roman Legate implements new policy in Antioch. ✨👑