The Faithful Witness: The Story of Stephen - In His Telling

I often reflect on the days when my life took a turn that would forever silence my voice—but amplify the power of my faith. My name is Stephen, a humble servant chosen for a sacred purpose. Though many remember me as the first martyr of the Christian faith, I remember myself as one who clung to the words of the Master—words that carried me through life, and into death.

It all began in Jerusalem. The city pulsed with tradition, history, and expectation. It was here that the words of Yeshua HaNotzri—Jesus of Nazareth—set hearts ablaze. His voice was like the wind: gentle, yet impossible to ignore. I remember leaning in, hungry for truth, as He spoke to crowds on hillsides and in synagogues.

He would say things that shook the very ground of our understanding.

"אֲשֶׁרֵי הָרְדֻפִים בַּעֲבוּר הַצֶּדֶק"
“Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness…”
(Matthew 5:10)

I never forgot those words. Even when the stones began to fall, I remembered them. They were a promise.

I was one of the many who followed in the wake of His resurrection. I saw the transformation of lives, the healing of hearts, the awakening of hope. The Spirit of God descended at Pentecost like fire, and from that moment, the ordinary became holy.

I was chosen, along with six others, to serve—distributing food to the widows and caring for the overlooked. It may not have seemed like much, but I knew better. The Master once said:

"כִּי בָּרָבִים שֶׁיֵּשׁוּ אַחֲרוֹנִים יִהְיוּ רִאשׁוֹנִים"
“Many who are last will be first.”
(Matthew 19:30)

And so I served—wholeheartedly, joyfully. I prayed. I studied. And the Spirit filled me with boldness. Miracles began to happen, and people began to listen. But others—particularly from the Synagogue of the Freedmen—were threatened. When they could not refute the Spirit speaking through me, they twisted my words and accused me of blasphemy.

They dragged me before the Sanhedrin. As I stood before the council, heart pounding but spirit unshaken, I remembered more of Yeshua’s teachings:

"אַל תִּדְאָגוּ מָה תֹאמְרוּ... כִּי לֹא אַתֶּם הַמְדַבְּרִים כִּי אִם רוּחַ אֲבִיכֶם הַמְדַבֶּרֶת בָּכֶם."
“Do not worry about what to say… for it will not be you speaking, but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you.”
(Matthew 10:19-20)

And the Spirit did speak.

I recounted our history—Abraham, Joseph, Moses—the great cloud of witnesses who bore God’s promises and carried our people through darkness. I declared how the Righteous One, Yeshua, had come as the fulfillment of it all. Yet, like their fathers before them, the leaders resisted the truth.

Then came the words that burned from my soul:

"קְשֵׁי־עֹרֶף וּעֲרֵלֵי לֵב וְאָזְנַיִם!"
“You stiff-necked people! Uncircumcised in heart and ears!”
(Acts 7:51)

It was truth, but it struck them like a blade.

They shouted. They covered their ears. They rushed me like a storm.

As they dragged me outside the city, rage in their eyes and stones in their hands, I looked up. And what I saw filled me with peace:

"הִנֵּה שָׁמַיִם נִפְתְּחוּ, וּבֶן־הָאָדָם עוֹמֵד לִימִין הָאֱלֹהִים!"
“Behold, I see the heavens opened, and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God!”
(Acts 7:56)

My Messiah—my Yeshua—stood, not seated as the King who had finished His work, but standing. Standing for me.

I fell to my knees, battered and bleeding, and I remembered another moment—when Yeshua hung from the cross, bloodied and broken, and said:

"אָבִא, סְלַח לָהֶם, כִּי לֹא יָדְעוּ מַה־הֵם עֹשִׂים."
“Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
(Luke 23:34)

And I echoed Him:

“Lord, do not hold this sin against them.”

With that, I released my spirit—not into death, but into the hands of the Living God.

They thought they ended my story that day. But in truth, it had only begun. My blood became a seed. My silence became a voice carried on the wind. And among those holding the coats of my accusers stood a man named Saul—whose heart, like mine, would one day burn with the light of the Risen Christ.

I am Stephen. I remember the words of the Teacher not only because I heard them—but because I lived them. His voice guided my path. His Spirit filled my lungs. His mercy shaped my final breath.

And now, I ask you:

What words of Yeshua will you carry with you? What truth will sustain you when the world presses in? Will you live—not just for Him, but like Him?

I have seen the glory. I have run my race. Now I pass the torch to you.

Be faithful. Be bold. Be a witness.

 

 

Image is done by gptchat as per my instructions and direction.