The arrows whizzed past Oriah’s head as she dropped to the grass.
That was close, she thought. Her group was under attack from a rogue band of rebels, well-trained rebels. Her band couldn’t flee. They had to fight. Oriah was decent with a sword, but she decided to stay away from the front lines.
She slipped behind a tree and nearly stumbled over a prone form. She was shocked, it was one of the soldiers from her party. He had a bad gash over his heart; it wasn’t deep, but an inky substance coated the inside of his wound. The enemy had been known to use poisoned arrows and blades.
The fallen soldier was half-conscious and having difficulty breathing. He seemed to be in a great deal of pain.
Oriah knew some skilled healers back at the camp. They could instantly fix this wound. But with this skirmish going on, her voice couldn’t reach her comrades. And she wasn’t strong enough to lug the solider back with his armor. They were stuck.
The soldier coughed violently and was losing strength. He wouldn’t last long. Oriah began to panic. This man needed help, and soon!
She gingerly placed her hand over his chest wound. But she couldn’t help him. Oh, Lord, she prayed. Why couldn’t You have given me the gift of healing? I can sing well, but that will not help!
The thought to sing anyway crossed her mind. A sense of peace washed over her, and she complied. In a low, soothing melody, she sang a song of hope.
Take courage, O man. Your help is not far.
The God of the world, yes, He’s on our side.
Don’t let your heart trouble, don’t let it scar
with worry and fear. Go rise up and ride, for He is near.
Oriah glanced at the soldier’s wound, and to her amazement, the black substance dissolved. The man’s face eased, and he was at peace. Oriah looked up and noticed the enemy had been pushed back. Her brother, Oriad, was bounding toward her, sword in hand. “You okay, sis?”
Oriah pointed, “I am, but he’s not!”
Soon, the solider was whisked away and placed into caring hands.
* * *
Later, Oriah made her way down the white hallway, looking for the right room. She rounded a corner and found it. In a bed and upright was the man she had sung to. His green eyes were open and lively. A nurse was beside the bed. Oriah breathed a sigh of relief.
“Oh, I’m so glad to see you’re all right.”
At the sound of her voice, the man recognized her. “Oh my! You’re that angel who rescued me on the battlefield, aren’t you?”
She chuckled. “Well, sorta, I didn’t really save you.”
The nurse stood, “actually, you did save this man’s life.” Oriah was surprised, “what?” The nurse gestured to the man’s bandaged chest. “The poison wasn’t normal, it didn’t attack the body, it attacked the mind. It tried to drain hope from him. But, luckily you were there to sing to him.”
Oriah shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
The man spoke up. “The nurses told me that if I had been healed with the poison still inside, I certainly would have been killed. But during my mental struggle, your song gave me courage and I had hope. Thank you, your gift was exactly what I needed.”
Who knows? Maybe you were made queen for just such a time as this.
Esther 4:14 (MSG)
All these [gifts] are the work of one and the same Spirit, and he distributes them to each one, just as he determines.
1 Corinthians 12:11 (NIV)
Copyright 2011 by Molly Anderson. Use by permission only.