Deaf ear

The midnight air inside the governor’s manor was thick and suffocating, despite the open windows overlooking the sleeping city. A massive storm was gathering on the horizon, its distant thunder shaking the glass panes.

Governor Jared paced the floor of his private study, his silk robes dragging on the Persian rugs. In the center of the desk sat an ancient iron scroll-case, forced open after centuries of being sealed. Inside lay the forgotten decrees of the Valley—the foundational statutes, the forgotten Sabbaths, and the strict moral laws upon which the kingdom had been built.

Beside the desk stood his chief advisor, Silas, a man whose smooth words had helped Jared secure his position of absolute power.

"The border tribes are threatening rebellion if we enforce these ancient taxes and property returns, Your Excellency," Silas said, idly twirling a glass of wine. "And the merchants are furious about halting commerce for a mandatory rest day. My advice? Burn the scroll. Toss it into the hearth. We live in a progressive age. We are too advanced to be bound by the heavy legalism of a past era."
Jared stopped pacing, his gaze landing on the crisp Hebrew script of the manuscript. His eyes caught a chilling warning written near the center:

"If you turn a deaf ear to my commandments and refuse to listen to my statutes, I will break your proud strength... I will make the sky above you like iron and the ground beneath you like bronze."
Jared felt a cold shiver pass over his skin. "Silas, these are not mere human edicts. These are the laws of the Sovereign. Look at the language. It says if we turn a deaf ear, the judgment is absolute."

Silas scoffed, walking over to the window. "Your Excellency, you listen to the archaic warnings of dead men. The modern priests themselves tell us that the Almighty requires only our hearts, not our literal compliance. They say the law has been done away with. There is no requirement, no need for rigid repentance. We are covered by a general grace."

"And what if the priests are wrong?" Jared countered, his voice trembling slightly. He picked up a smaller, apostolic parchment resting beside the old scroll. "The scriptures of the followers of the Messiah say the exact same thing. 'Whoever claims to live in him must live as Yeshua did.' Did He turn a deaf ear to the Father? James wrote, 'But don't just listen to God's word. You must do what it says. Otherwise, you are only fooling yourselves.' Jared pointed out the window, where the first jagged bolts of lightning lit up the city below. "We are fooling ourselves, Silas. We have built an empire on compromise, pretending we can ignore the Lawgiver while claiming His favor."

"The people want freedom, Jared, not restrictions!" Silas snapped, dropping his polite demeanor. "If you enforce these Sabbaths and clean laws now, you will lose the throne by morning. Turn a deaf ear to the scroll. Keep your crown."

Jared looked at the fire dancing in the hearth. It would be so easy to pretend he never read it. To continue the illusion that belief without obedience was enough. But the words of the text burned brighter than the flame: 'Anyone who doesn't obey the Son will never experience eternal life but will remain under God's angry judgment.'

A massive clap of thunder rattled the foundations of the manor, plunging the room into darkness as the candles blew out in the sudden gust of wind. In the dark, Jared made his choice. He reached down and closed the iron scroll-case, locking it securely.

"I will not turn a deaf ear," Jared said into the shadows, his voice firm and steady. "Let the merchants rage and let the tribes rebel. I would rather lose an earthly kingdom walking in obedience than stand before the King of Kings with my ears closed to His truth."