Empire's End (12 page)

“When Zuriel raised the matter—and I was proud that he did it peaceably—the apostles called together the greater multitude of disciples, of whom Stephanos was one, and said that it didn't make sense for them to stop teaching and preaching and take care of the widows. So they asked that the disciples seek from among themselves seven men of good reputation, full of the Holy Spirit and wisdom, whom they could appoint over this business. That way, the apostles could continually give themselves to prayer and ministering the word while these seven did this worthy work.”

“And Stephanos was one of those?”

“Yes, he was well known as a man full of faith and the Holy Spirit, as were the other six. We remember well the apostles laying hands on them and praying. Soon after that, the word of God spread, and the disciples multiplied greatly in Jerusalem. Stephanos performed wonders and signs among us all.

“Now I really must go. Zuriel will come looking for me.”

“Ma'am, please. How did Stephanos die?”

“Oh, he became a threat to the Pharisees. He was charged with blasphemy and stoned.”

“Kaia!”

“Coming, Zuriel. I have your figs!”

I moved stiff-legged back to the tent and tried to make small talk with Alastor and Taryn. Whether I hid my turmoil, I do not know. I felt as if guilt were written all over me. How long was I expected to stay here, and what was I to say?

It would have been folly to deny this was God's plan when He brought me here, but why not just tell me? He was meeting me in the wilderness and teaching me the deep things of Himself, and yet He arranged for me to learn the macabre truth this way?

I asked Taryn for a lamp and for the small table to use upon my return from the fishing expedition. Knowing I would be unable to sleep until I collapsed from exhaustion, I planned to write until then or until the oil ran out.

The fishing proved much different from what I expected. The other men, of whom Nadav was one, were not intimidated by Zuriel. They obeyed his few sparse commands, and the only thing he said to me was that the entire activity would take less than an hour. It took nearly half as long to get to the Sea as it did to work in the shallow water. We tied our tunics at our waists and waded out, some working rudimentary nets, others with poles and lines and hooks.

Few spoke to me other than to teach me the tricks and techniques, but I was touched by Nadav's simple prayer of thanks when the catch was separated into baskets for several to carry back. But just before we looked up from the prayer, Zuriel spoke in an urgent whisper. “No one move. Remain right where you are.”

“What is it?” Nadav said.

“If I'm not mistaken, horsemen stopped on the trade route could be Romans.”

“How can you tell?”

“Just from their silhouettes in the moonlight. They must have seen us. We must let them assume us locals and remain here till they're gone.”

Another of the men said, “Could they have seen our tracks from the enclave?”

“Not likely in the darkness,” Zuriel said. “But we'll be wise to cover
them when we do return. They would never stumble upon our outpost by accident.”

I could barely breathe. “How many are there?” I said, not daring even to turn and look.

“Four,” Zuriel said. “Not more than five. Why do you ask?”

I shrugged. “In case we are forced to engage them.”

“We'd be in pieces inside a minute!” he spat. “Are we to counter their swords with fishhooks? You're the smallest among us. You ought to see if you can get close enough to hear them, see what they're about.”

“Don't be foolish,” one of the older men said. “You were right in the first place. Wait them out. Let them leave.”

“He's the most expendable,” Zuriel said. “What's the risk?”

“Only our lives. And our families.”

“I'm not afraid,” Zuriel said. “I'll go myself.”

“Don't be insane!”

“Shh!” The wind had shifted and we could hear the horses' hooves on the stones of the trade route, then bits of conversation. The water seemed to grow colder when I distinctly heard one of the soldiers refer to General Balbus.

The others glanced at each other. “That's all we need,” Nadav said. “He's quite a reputation, that one does.”

“You can bet they're not around here looking for us,” Zuriel said.

“How can you be sure of that?”

“Because I helped find this location. No one knows where we are.”

Was it possible Theo had been spotted coming from this area?

We waited nearly an hour before the Romans trotted off and disappeared.

Upon our return Nadav showed me how to clean and gut the harvest, rinsing the carcasses in saltwater and hanging them on a line to dry in the sun the next day before the community shared them.

Nadav was largely silent and curt when he did speak, though he allowed that I had acquitted myself well as a new member of the fishing party. I responded casually, hoping to draw him into more pleasant conversation, but it was clear my hesitance to be more forthcoming about my horse had either offended or made him suspicious.

“Many are still undecided about you, Paul of Damascus,” he said, with careful emphasis on the latter. “I and my wife, Anna, included.”

I had the impression that forcing the issue would be to my detriment. “I appreciate your forthrightness. And I welcome your scrutiny.”

It was as close as I'd come to lying since I had arrived. I had evaded the whole truth and omitted details when necessary, but I did not want to render myself unworthy of what God had entrusted to me. If He was to continue speaking to me, far be it from me to become a bearer of false witness.

What might true scrutiny reveal about me? That I was Paul of Damascus, yes, at least of late. But that I was also Saul of Tarsus and had been responsible for people like these—in fact for some of these—to flee to a place like this. What might Nadav do with such information? Any progress I had made in persuading him of my authenticity as a brother would be ruined by this fact alone—that I had not been open about my past.

After that first night of fishing I had found myself too exhausted from the delay and the fear to write as I had planned. In fact, it was several weeks later—after having felt no freedom from the Lord to reveal my connection with Stephen to Alastor or Taryn—before I finally felt the urge again and came back from an evening in the sea and wrote and wrote, exhausting three quills and two inkwells, nodding off several times before hearing the watchman call fourth watch.

To my great embarrassment, when I awoke the sun was up, as were
all three members of the family. My lamp had burned out and my quill lay atop my pages, which had been moved slightly to make room for the light breakfast Taryn had provided. The olive juice had coagulated in the bowl and the bread was cold, and I could hear her insisting that Corydon be quiet until I had risen.

I ate quickly and thanked my hostess, telling the begging boy I couldn't play until evening but would see him around midday. After hurriedly scanning my pages to remind myself what I had written and to be sure there was nothing that might embarrass me if Taryn had seen it, I carefully wrapped and stored the parchments.

Rushing into the wilderness, I chastised myself for the fatigue of a short night and tried to clear my mind for whatever God had for me. All the way to the familiar rendezvous spot I pleaded with Him, as I had done for a month, to tell me what to do.
Why here? Why them? What would You have me say? Am I to compound their grief by revealing myself? It requires all the faith I can muster to feel Your forgiveness! How would I ever elicit theirs and know it was genuine?

I couldn't tell if the silence was due to my impudence for demanding an answer, because I was late, or because this was part of an elaborate test—the very reason He had brought me here from Damascus. Perhaps this was about more than preparing me for ministry.

Lest there be any doubt about my heart's posture before my God, I slipped out of my mantle at the base of the plateau and left it on the ground. When I reached the apex I knelt, my bare knees painfully supporting my weight. And I waited.

I died for your sins according to the Scriptures. I was buried, and I rose again the third day according to the Scriptures, and I was seen by Cephas, then by the twelve. After that I was seen by over five hundred brethren at once. After that I was seen by James, then by all the apostles
.

Then I revealed Myself to you also, though you persecuted the church of My Father. But His grace toward you was not in vain, for you will labor more than anyone, yet not you, but the grace of My Father which will be with you
.

Some will say there is no resurrection of the dead, but if that is so, then I am not risen. And if I am not risen, then your preaching will be empty and your faith also. You would then be a false witness of God, testifying that He raised Me—if in fact the dead do not rise. For if the dead do not rise, then I am not risen. And if I am not risen, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins. And if in this life only you have hope in Me, then you, of all men, would be the most pitiable
.

But I am risen from the dead! And I will deliver the kingdom to God My Father when I put an end to all rule and all authority and power. For I must reign till I have put all enemies under My feet. The last enemy I will destroy is death
.

Behold this mystery: you shall be changed—in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet when the dead will be raised. What is corruptible must put on incorruption, and what is mortal must put on immortality. Then shall come to pass the sayings: “Death is swallowed up in victory.”

“O Death, where is your sting? O Hades, where is your victory?”

The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the Law. But thank My Father who gives you victory through Me. Remain steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that your labor is not in vain
.

Again, with all the guilt and turmoil that plagued me, I felt unworthy of such divine encouragement. But I accepted it with the gratitude of a man in the desert for life-giving water.

I brushed away specs of blood from my knees as I put my mantle back on and began the long trek back to the refuge, but this time as the tops
of the tents appeared as great dark spots in the distance, I found myself on my knees in the sand again.
Lord, please! Just give me a word! What am I to do? I cannot live a lie of silence before these dear anguished souls. I know the lad is too young to understand, but in my flesh I would divulge the truth to his mother and grandfather as soon as he's asleep this very night. But is that selfish, only to relieve me of this weight? Is it fair to force them to some action for which they are not prepared nor might take if their grief was not so raw?

In due time
.

At that I fell prostrate in the sand.
Thank You, Lord! Though I still dread that day when the truth reveals me as the opposite of their new friend, I will trust You and rest in Your infinite wisdom
.

Rising and brushing myself off, I hurried to my new home and what would become my routine for days and weeks and months, and—to my great surprise—years.

YANBU

D
AY AFTER DAY AS
the weeks and months passed, I woke to the light, nourishing, delicious breakfast prepared so kindly by my hostess. Taryn grew more and more familiar with me until we were able to converse as friends and then almost as brother and sister. Gradually I got her to smile and occasionally even to laugh. Then the day came that she chuckled like Corydon at some foolishness we perpetrated at the expense of Alastor, and he played along.

My mornings in the wilderness evolved from tense forays of wonder to fascinating journeys into the heart of God Himself. The contrast between the desolate walk across the sand and ascent to the plateau and the sweet fellowship I enjoyed while being taught for hours made me look forward to these meetings the way I looked forward to heaven at the end of my days.

My fingers had quickly callused from the tentmaking, and the old craft came back to me, making my afternoons meld into one another. I was never bored, and as more and more Christ-followers joined the little city of refuge, my work merely increased. If I wasn't creating a new dwelling, I was repairing an old one, and even skeptical Nadav, his comely wife, Anna, and the curmudgeon Zuriel had seemed to reluctantly loosen their reins on me.

Evening meals became more than routine as Taryn came to welcome me into the tent the way she did her father and often asked what I would like her to prepare. It became common for her to sit up talking with me long after Alastor and Corydon had gone to sleep. Occasionally she put a hand on my arm to emphasize a point, and eventually she even leaned or rested her head on my shoulder.

Things changed between us when she grew comfortable enough to speak to me of her Stephanos. That made my mouth dry, but I believe she thought I was merely being respectful and letting her talk. The old guilt returned when she told me of his demise and how the news had come to her in their small dwelling in the City of David. How grateful I was that neither she nor her father had been present when it happened. Still, I rued the day when the truth would come out. I could only hope Taryn had come to trust me and care enough for me by then that my long silence would not prove to be too much of a betrayal to forgive.

It took several weeks for her to exhaust her stories of her husband, and though I found myself developing deep feelings for her, I strangely found myself not only not jealous of Stephanos but rather wishing I had known him. Oh, to be a man like him, known for his devotion to Christ and to the service of others!

Taryn was most impressed with my knowledge of the Scriptures and my willingness to help Alastor teach Corydon to read by using the scrolls.
“As moved as I have always been by your playing with him, I am so deeply touched by your care for his soul.”