by Wendy Hunt based on Acts 19:23-41

“You can't catch me, Sosthenes!” Ilya poked her head around a pillar and grinned.

Sosthenes lunged at Ilya as she raced down the library steps. Sosthenes said girls were no good. Today, Ilya would show him. Darting between donkeys, soldiers and merchants, Ilya glanced back to see Sosthenes' friends cheering him on.

Ilya ran faster. She'd prove that girls could outrun boys. Sosthenes closed the gap. Ilya veered into a maze of silversmiths' shops. She passed life-size figures of the goddess Artemis and tables of trinkets and statues. She bumped a table; it crashed down.

Ilya flinched, expecting a yell. Then she realized that the shops were deserted.

What's going on? she wondered. This should be the busiest part of Ephesus.

Suddenly, Sosthenes rounded a corner and charged at her. Ilya looked around wildly, then plunged through a passage, pushing aside a curtain.

Immediately, Ilya skidded to a halt. She was in a small curtained room. Inside a group of craftsmen were cheering. Edging along the wall, Ilya maneuvered near the front. Demetrius, Sosthenes' father, was speaking to the crowd, fire flashing in his eyes.

“Will we let this man Paul keep preaching?” Demetrius' booming voice filled the room.

“No!” they bellowed.

“Are we going to take back our livelihood, our trade as silversmiths?”

“Yes!” shouted the other men.

“If Paul keeps converting people from worshiping Artemis, we'll soon be beggars! We must stop him!”

Ilya froze in fear as the angry crowd turned. She ducked aside as men swept past. Her heart pounded in her chest.

What should I do? she thought. I need to find Father.

A scuffing sound interrupted her thoughts.

“I'll get you like my father's going to get that fool, Paul!” Ilya stared into Sosthenes' determined face. Even during a riot, he wanted to prove he was better. She shook her head.

“They won't get Paul,” she yelled, “and you won't get me either.”

Ilya ducked under the curtain and raced back to the Arcadian Way.

She heard angry voices yelling. People flocked to the theater like vultures to a carcass. Ilya sprinted to the library and up the wide steps. As she slid into the cool darkness, she saw Sosthenes stop and turn into the theater with the crowd.

Ilya shook her head. Boys! She climbed another set of stairs, her bare feet silent on the cold marble. The library was deserted, too. For a moment she thought her father, the city clerk, wasn't there. Then she saw a short figure reading a scroll by one of the tall windows. She hurried across the library and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Father!” she said.

The little man jumped and dropped the scroll but beamed when he saw Ilya.

“Ilya, my dear! What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Father, you have to come,” Ilya said quickly. “There's a riot in the theater.”

Her father's delighted expression melted into crinkles of concern. He jumped to his feet.

“Oh, dear!” he exclaimed. “What happened?”

Ilya hurried beside him, describing Demetrius' speech and the craftsmen's uproar.

The street was empty, but angry voices shook the stones under their feet. When Ilya and her father reached the theater, the roar was deafening. “Great is Artemis of the Ephesians!”

Ilya and her father pushed through the chanting crowd to reach the stage. She looked for the preacher Paul, but only saw his friends, Gaius and Aristarchus. Burly silversmiths pinned them against the stone pillars. She noticed Sosthenes dancing around the captives, taunting them.

Finally, the noise faded. Ilya's eyes flew to Father, small and helpless, gesturing for silence. Astonishingly, the people obeyed.

“Men of Ephesus,” Father said calmly, “our city guards the temple of the goddess Artemis. This is a fact, not something to fight about. Don't do anything rash. Demetrius can bring his complaint to court. There's no need for this commotion. Let's all go home before we're charged with rioting.”

Ilya glanced around. Silversmiths were nodding.

Demetrius hung his head. Ilya's eyes widened as she watched people turn and leave. They weren't shoving or yelling. In a few moments, the theater was empty.

Gaius and Aristarchus stepped to Father's side.

“Thank you, Sir,” Gaius said. “God used you for His purposes today.”

Father opened and closed his mouth a few times, not sure what to say. “That was amazing,” he said. “Silversmiths are usually stubborn men!”

Gaius smiled. “God demonstrated His power. His ways are above those of men.”

Father rubbed his eyes. “I'd like to talk with you about this God of yours.”

Gaius clapped him on the back. “Come, talk to Paul,” he said.

The three men headed out of the theater, Ilya trailing behind.

	Q: What is a bird’s favorite game? A: Air hockey. Adam O., 9, Arkansas Clubhouse Jr. Click here to subscribe