Yeshua's Thief Read online

  YESHUA’S THIEF

  Praise for

  YESHUA’S THIEF

  If you’ve ever wondered what it was like to live “back in the day” when Jesus walked among us, this novel takes you there with compelling characters and a rich setting that come alive through a moving story that weaves imagination and Bible history together to make it relatable and real.

  —Michele Chynoweth, bestselling author of The Jealous Son, The Runaway Prophet, The Peace Maker, and The Faithful One

  R.E. Addison has written a gripping, compelling, and very moving novel, expanding an obscure character from the word of God. You will be drawn in immediately as you go on a revealing and challenging journey with Yeshua’s Thief!

  —Greg and Julie Gorman, authors, speakers, and founders of Married for A Purpose.

  R.E. Addison takes his readers on a suspenseful journey with twists and turns that ultimately remind us all that the grace of God can truly forgive your past, empower your present, and secure your future. I can hardly wait for the sequel.

  —Stan Coleman, pastor and church consultant, Marietta, Georgia

  Growing up without a dad was hard and painful, but knowing my dad lived an honorable life of integrity made it bearable. He died when I was two at the hands of a drunk driver. Hearing the anguish of a son who hated a father who chose a life of crime over a loving family brought this favorite and most powerful demonstration of redemption and mercy to life for me. Yeshua’s Thief is real and raw as the son of a thief grapples with living with an unwanted legacy that threatens to leave his own life in ruins. This book offers a firsthand look at pain, grief, and rejection but with the hope of forgiveness and unconditional love. It is my honor to highly recommend Yeshua’s Thief as a book you must read.

  —Janan Olsen, educator, serving as a university instructor and middle and high school public school teacher

  For many of us, the characters in the Bible seem as flat as the flannel-board pictures of them we played within Sunday School. Yeshua’s Thief brings several of these characters off the page and into life. The reader is pulled into a world of love, cruelty, fortune, lies, and redemption. You will never think of the thief on the cross in the same way after reading this book!

  —Diane Castro, owner of Sweet Home Books, Wetumpka Alabama.

  YESHUA’S THIEF

  A NOVEL

  R.E. ADDISON

  NEW YORK

  LONDON • NASHVILLE • MELBOURNE • VANCOUVER

  YESHUA’S THIEF

  A NOVEL

  © 2022 R.E. ADDISON

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Published in New York, New York, by Morgan James Publishing. Morgan James is a trademark of Morgan James, LLC. www.MorganJamesPublishing.com

  Scriptures taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

  ISBN 978-1-63195-531-0 paperback

  ISBN 978-1-63195-532-7 ebook

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2021902347

  Cover Design by:

  Rachel Lopez

  www.r2cdesign.com

  Morgan James is a proud partner of Habitat for Humanity Peninsula and Greater Williamsburg. Partners in building since 2006.

  Get involved today! Visit

  MorganJamesPublishing.com/giving-back

  For my grandmother Marilyn (Mee-Maw) Addison. Your constant prayers and dedication to your family will be felt for many generations. Our family will indeed be an unbroken circle in heaven.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  There are always so many people to thank when it comes to any creative work. The best works require a team, and Yeshua’s Thief is no different. First, I would like to thank my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, who made the kind of forgiveness this book illustrates possible through his willing sacrifice on the Cross. Next, I would like to thank my wife, Blanca, for encouraging me to finish the works I have started. I love you more than you can ever know. I would also like to thank my two children, Ryan and Karlie, for putting up with a dopey dad who likes to run these story ideas by them. A special thanks to my parents, Rick and Karon, who took in this foster kid and gave him a forever home, instilling God’s love and values which I hope to pass down to my children as well.

  Many thanks to my editorial team, Angie and Emily Kiesling, and the people at Editorial Attic for seeing the potential in this story and for the constant revisions that made it the story it is today. Thanks to Cortney Donelson and the team at vocem, LLC for the final pairs of eyes to make the book ready for publishing.

  To Greg and Julie Gorman, who, upon hearing the idea for this novel, connected me with Terry Whalen and the Morgan James Publishing team. To the team at Morgan James Publishing for giving this story a chance.

  I want to thank everyone involved in the drama team at The Grace Place and made the story of Yeshua’s Thief come alive.

  And finally, I want to thank you, dear reader, for reading this story in its entirety and opening your heart to reading the writings of a flawed and grateful writer.

  PREFACE

  I believe it is important to note that Biblical text does not say much about the thief on the Cross. The little we know about the thief lends itself to the belief that he still had a glimmer of humanity left in his soul. The Bible is not clear about his motivations, station in life, or how he knew of Yeshua. It just includes a conversation as he was dying. The following story is a work of fiction, and I wrote it because I believe there must be more to this man than just one significant moment in history. He must have had a family. The chances are good that the family would have been considered a broken one. We do not know if he had any children or a wife.

  We can surmise, however, that he knew in part some of the teachings of Yeshua. He knew enough to confess his guilt. He knew that Yeshua was the Son of God. He also knew that he needed mercy, not for this life, but for eternity as well. The story of the thief, though sad, is hopeful for many of us. The forgiveness offered him has given hope to countless people who have made mistakes and have come to know the life-saving Grace and Mercy of God the Father through the Son.

  I pray this story will remind you of your journey and the times when forgiveness was difficult to find.

  The story of Yeshua’s Thief is, in many ways, all our stories. We all deserve the thief ’s sentence. We all need forgiveness. And, even if you are not a believer, I hope you can find enjoyment and hope within these pages.

  PROLOGUE

  “My boy should be about fifteen now,” said Dismas while pulling his sword. Using a small smooth stone and some olive oil, he honed the edge.

  “Why do you bring that up now?” asked Rasheed.

  “No reason.” Dismas peered over the rock outcropping.

  “You said they were coming this way today. Right?”

  “Yes. It was in an invitation for Pilate himself.”

  Rasheed stood up to get a better view.

  Secretly Dismas hoped for a reprieve from the fighting and the pillaging. He was down to two men, and o
ne of those, he was sure, was not coming back from visiting his family in Nazareth. They had been dealt a crushing blow by the Romans. He still smelled of smoke from the fire.

  “Rasheed, I know you want revenge for last night, but we’re exhausted. It might be wise to blend in and get some rest before we go sabotaging the shipment against men who have a lot of training and are very rested compared to us.”

  “If we do that, then we lose the element of surprise,” said Rasheed. “Besides, what are we going to go back to if we don’t succeed?”

  “That’s precisely it. They don’t know who we are yet. Our families are safe for now.”

  “Your family is safe. Mine are all dead.”

  “You see, I knew that, and . . .” said Dismas.

  “It’s alright. It’s been a few years. But if we don’t do this, they died for nothing.”

  Dismas noticed Rasheed’s mouth quiver.

  “Well, it looks like you’re going to get your wish. Look!” Dismas pointed at the wagon pulled by four horses.

  “They’re moving fast for this pass. This only works to our advantage. Get in position.”

  Rasheed took his orders and ran through the maze of boulders to the edge of the pass. Leaning down into the dirt, he picked up the end of the rope they had laid out and buried across the path the night before. The rope was woven with sharp bone and metal bits to make sure the horses sustained damage, making retreat next to impossible.

  The sound of roaring hooves was within earshot, though the sound was not clear yet.

  Dismas ran to his position just three hundred paces ahead of the trail and climbed to the top of a large boulder. He picked up the bow and arrows he positioned there the night before. The sound of the roaring hooves slowly increased in volume. The detail only consisted of four Roman soldiers plus a driver. They were riding on either side of the carriage keeping a steady pace. Dismas knew they had to kill all the soldiers, or they would be found out quickly and executed.

  He could see Rasheed from his perch. Slowly, Dismas drew his bowstring. Misjudging the distance, Dismas held it there for what seemed like forever. He could feel his arms quivering, and his muscles began to fatigue. “Steady,” he told himself. He didn’t release the arrow until all he could see was his first target. The arrow released through sheer exhaustion.

  Silently the projectile flew through the air, hitting below his mark. He could see the horse’s front legs give way underneath the soldier, sending its rider flying forward and onto the rope. The carriage tried to stop, but it was too late. Rasheed pulled hard on the rope, wrapping the other end around the tree. The rope did not have its intended effect. The weight of the soldier held it down, and the carriage ran over him and the rope.

  Dismas nocked another arrow and sent it in the direction of the driver. This time it found its mark, pinning the driver to the wooden seat. Now the cart banked hard to the right, careening on its side and strewing its contents all over the desert floor. The other three soldiers found cover behind several rocks. Dismas scanned the area for a hint at where they might be hiding. He caught a glare off one of their helmets. Nocking another arrow, he quickly aimed and sent it flying. The arrow glanced off the rocks and found the leg of the soldier. He noticed Rasheed running through the maze of rocks. He was so mesmerized by his comrade’s ability that he failed to see the other two soldiers making their way to his perch. Shaking off his trance, Dismas looked around for the other two. He couldn’t see them. Turning in a circle, he scanned the rest of the countryside. Then he heard one of the men slip on the loose rocks to his left. His initial reaction was to send an arrow in that direction. However, when he reached for his quiver, there were none left.

  Drawing his sword, he slid off his perch, landing on the parched earth. Seemingly from out of nowhere, Rasheed charged the Roman, looping the rope around the Roman’s neck and pulling with all his might. The metal shards dug deep into the guard’s jugular, staining the rope and his white tunic red. Putting his foot on the Roman’s chest to keep his leverage, he pushed the man down to the ground until he saw no movement.

  As Dismas slowly approached, an arrow sailed past his ear and lodged itself into Rasheed’s stomach. Ducking down and turning in one swift motion, Dismas caught the other guard, who was charging him with a spear.

  His sword caught the man at the base of the chin, severing blood vessels and the bones at the base of his skull.

  The Roman shuddered as he crumpled to the ground in a bloody mess next to the bow Dismas had dropped on his way down from the boulder. Standing up, Dismas ran to Rasheed’s side only to hear him gasp for breath one last time—his eyes permanently open in shock.

  Dismas bowed his head in respect. With two fingers, he shut the eyelids of his friend and prayed.

  Now, it was just Dismas.

  With no men left to lead and no one to help him bury the dead, he slowly walked over to the cargo thrown out of the carriage. A glint of something shiny caught his eye. He walked over to see a wooden box. Gilded in fine silver, it had an inscription engraved into the metal lid.

  “A gift for one of the most gifted leaders of whom I entrusted the Judean territory. May this token of appreciation for your loyalty and service to Tiberius Caesar Augustus serve you and your household well.”

  When he opened the lid, he couldn’t believe what he saw—a dagger. The finest craftmanship Dismas had ever seen. The most valuable object he had ever held in his hands. And now it was his. I can’t keep the box, he thought. He knew the inscription would give away the fact that the dagger was stolen. Ripping out the box’s lining, he wrapped the blade and stuffed it into his satchel.

  Just up the road, he could hear the clod of hooves beating the compact earth. He had to move quickly. Running into the brush, he ducked down to his stomach so he could see under the brush.

  A Roman cart with a family pulled up. An apparent husband and wife stopped to survey the damage. With them were two teenagers.

  “Asher!” called the man.

  The teenage boy stood to attention.

  “Look for the dagger. I fear it has been stolen.”

  The teenage boy stepped down from the wagon and began looking through the wreckage. Dismas could see the boy picking up the empty box.

  “Abigail! Help your brother!”

  “Aw, dad. Do I have to?”

  “I said to get down there!”

  The father barked as he pushed her off the cart. The daughter fell to the ground. Dismas could see her pocket some of the strewn coins when her father was distracted.

  The bodies were fresh, and Dismas knew the father sensed his presence. Each of the teenagers filled a bag with as many coins as they could carry. The father scanned the horizon looking for God knew what. The girl was close enough for Dismas to see her bruised face. He tightened his grip on his sword.

  “Alright, get back up here,” called the man. “We’ll never make Tiberias if we sit here looking for the gift. It was most likely stolen.” Asher and Abigail did as they were told.

  “We have to hurry. Your new husband awaits,” he said to Abigail.

  “I could never love him. He’s disgusting!”

  The father backhanded his daughter, the sound of his hand so loud that Dismas expected her to spit some of her teeth out.

  Why would a father do that to such a beautiful girl? He waited for the cart to start moving again. When they passed him, he ran back, pulled an arrow from the body of his friend. Climbing to the boulder’s top where he was initially perched, he nocked the arrow. God? May this arrow find its mark and free this young lady, he prayed. The arrow released with a hiss. Time slowed down as Dismas watched the arrow hit its mark, right through the man’s neck. He could see that Abigail spotted him. The wife wailed out loud as the man slumped over. Dismas ducked down.

  Asher took the reins and, with a yell, pushed the horses to a gallop, making their escape. The body of the man fell off the cart and landed with a sickening, lifeless thud.

  Dismas col
lapsed in exhaustion. He knew he had to get up, but every muscle in his body ached. Slowly, he walked in the opposite direction.

  The dagger tucked into his waist was still covered by the cloth. There was no way to sell this thing soon. By now, the Romans would have everyone in Judea looking for this treasure. The desert sun beat down on his head. He had lost his head covering in the exchange.

  Dripping with sweat, he pushed on until he could see the outskirts of the city. He knew it was a risk coming to Tiberias, but his family was here. He could make camp by the Sea of Galilee and clean up. Walking forward, his legs trembled. He was fortunate enough to make it to the sea. He jumped in for a swim, gulping down mouthfuls of the life-giving liquid.

  The sea was more a freshwater lake than a sea. The cool water dulled the bloodstains in his garments to a light brown. When darkness came, he made a fire. His clothes were almost dry now, and he felt refreshed. He had money to buy food when he felt it was safe to go into the city. Aaliyah, his wife, would not be happy to see him. She disapproved of his political leanings and activist ways. His son, whom he’d not seen in years, must look quite grown up now. A tear formed in the corner of his eye as the fire absorbed his emotions in the quiet crackling. The flames licking over his firewood were hypnotic, and he soon fell asleep.

  CHAPTER 1

  As morning dawned on the city, Ezekiel walked home from the market with a basket of fresh fish. The scent of freshly baked bread rose to his nostrils through clean air. His father had given him a thin copper coin to buy the family’s daily food. The pit of his stomach churned as if a spirit was trying to make butter in his belly. It was the same churning as when he once got lost in the hills.

  He didn’t feel right buying food with Roman money, which was out of his father’s character. Dismas, his father, hated the Romans. Even though he was careful, the hatred bubbled to the surface when he had too much wine. It always upset Aaliyah, Ezekiel’s mother, who sent him to the market to talk privately with Dismas.