Empire's End (25 page)

But was I exhibiting worthiness now, losing my patience in a lonely alley in Jerusalem, creating lofty visions of myself as a close friend of the King of kings? Unable to control my restlessness, I edged into the street where the flickers of distant torches revealed any movement. The watchman immediately lifted his chin at me. When I only stared back, he surreptitiously gestured as if to wave me back into hiding.

What was wrong with me? In spite of myself, I felt my back stiffen, and I refused to comply! I could say this character trait made me the man I was, but it actually made me a monster, one who had led raids against people who were now my beloved brothers and sisters in Christ. This watchman was my fellow warrior in the cause of Christ, and I was making of him an adversary!

He faced me full-on and cocked his head, and I am sure he wondered why the guest of one of the most trusted men he knew would jeopardize the security of the people he was assigned to defend. What was I trying to accomplish?

Maddeningly, I had no idea myself. Some misplaced sense of authority or power? Christ Himself had been teaching me the holiness of humility. What I was doing, I did not understand. What I wanted to do, I did not do, but what I hated, that's what I did. In my flesh dwelt no good thing.

Lord
, I prayed silently, desperately,
speak to me
.

Let this mind be in you which is also in Me, who, being in the form of God, did not consider it robbery to be equal with God, but made Myself of no reputation, taking the form of a bondservant, and coming in the likeness of men. And being found in appearance as a man, I humbled Myself and became obedient to the point of death, even the death on the cross. Therefore My Father highly exalted Me and gave Me the name above every name, that at My name every knee should bow, those in heaven, those on earth, and of those under the earth, and every tongue should confess that I am Lord, to the glory of God My Father
.

Thank You, Lord
, I said, nodding to the watchman and stepping back into the shadows.
Forgive me
.

Moments later the door across the street opened and closed and Joseph appeared, trailed by a shorter, thinner man who appeared younger than I. He wore his mantle hood up and hurried across the street with Joseph. I peered intently in the darkness, eager to know whom I was about to meet.

JERUSALEM

W
ITH ONE HAND ON
my bag I reached to shake hands with the man Joseph brought into the alley. Joseph plainly tried to cover the awkwardness of the man's ignoring the gesture by gathering me in and saying, “Let's move to where we can talk.”

He led me to the center of the alley where it was so dark I could see nothing. “Paul bar Y'honatan of Tarsus, this is James bar Joseph of Nazareth, a brother of Jesus.”

I had to force myself to keep from gushing. “I—I—it's an honor.”

James' voice was quiet and precise. “I did not intend rudeness, sir, but I reserve the right hand of fellowship for those I know without doubt are my brothers.”

“I understand.”

“Now then, the hour is late, so let me tell you that Barnabas has told me your story in some detail and—”

“I'm sorry. Forgive me, but who?”

“Barnabas here.”

Joseph broke in. “It's a nickname Peter gave me long ago, Paul. No one calls me by anything else anymore. It means—”

“I know my Greek, Joseph, and it fits you. If you're not a ‘son of encouragement,' no one is.”

“Then please, stop calling me Joseph. I've been meaning to correct you since Damascus.”

“It's how you were introduced to me!”

“Well, now you know. James, please continue.”

“Paul, you must know that many among us—in fact almost all—find your story stretches the bounds of credulity. You would have us believe you were not seeking God, did not see the error of your ways, and felt no remorse over your atrocious acts against the believers—yet you were converted in an instant and three days later became an enthusiastic advocate of the gospel.”

“It's true.”

“So you say.”

“James, I agree that it sounds preposterous.”

“What does not sound so absurd is that not long after you proclaim this astounding message in the synagogues of Damascus, your life is threatened and you are forced to escape. If the former is somehow true, the latter is plausible. But how you claim you got to the enclave in Arabia, again—”

“I know.”

“And then, may I say, the three years there of meetings with Jesus and God the Father in the desert, including a vision or perhaps even a
visit to heaven—all while followers of The Way were being persecuted throughout the world in the same way you persecuted us before you disappeared . . . Well, you must admit, it sounds like a story invented to cover atrocities.”

“I admit that.”

“And now here you are, attempting to befriend those of us who knew my Brother intimately. Why should we not fear that your real motive is to infiltrate us?”

“I understand your fear.”

“Yet you wish to speak to our leader. To what end?”

“To join you as your brother, to stand alongside you, to risk my life with you in order to propagate the gospel.”

“If you are trustworthy, we will know immediately by the absence of the authorities. But if you are not, it will be too late. We will have put our brothers and sisters' lives at risk. How do we weigh such an expensive risk?”

“Seek the Lord.”

“We have. He is silent on this.”

“Ask me anything. I have learned the Lord's doctrine directly from Him, not from any man. If I were defrauding you, would I really know it? If I were a charlatan I would stumble somewhere, would I not?”

James fell silent, and as tempted as I was to fill the void, I held my tongue. I could hear Joseph's weary breathing and knew I needed to get him back to his aunt's and to bed. But how I wanted to somehow earn the right to speak with Peter that very night.

“Do you know,” James said, “that my own brothers and sisters and I did not even believe Jesus was the Christ until near the end?”

I could not stifle a gasp. “And your mother?”

“She knew from before He was born. Gabriel himself told her. She
tried to tell us, but we were full of ourselves, so of course we knew better. It wasn't that Jesus had done anything to indicate otherwise, but He made no claims until He left home when He was thirty. There had been occasional mysterious statements about doing His Father's business, like when He was lost for three days at age twelve and was finally found in the Temple confounding the elders. But it was only later, when I saw Him perform miracles, that I could no longer deny the truth.”

“Test me, James. Ask me anything.”

Again he fell silent. Finally he said, “All right. How were you, how is anyone, saved? What qualifies a person to inherit the kingdom of God?”

I felt as if God imbued me with His Spirit anew and as if I were standing before a crowd to preach, though I dared not raise my voice. I simply stated with confidence and authority, “Salvation came when the kindness and love of God toward man appeared. It's not by works of righteousness we have done but according to His mercy He saved us, through the washing of regeneration and renewing of the Holy Spirit, whom He poured out on us abundantly through Jesus Christ our Savior. Having been justified by His grace we have become heirs according to the hope of eternal life.”

In the quietness I detected emotion in James' very breathing. His voice came thick. “Then what about works of righteousness?”

I said, “This is a faithful saying, and these things I affirm constantly: those who have believed should be careful always to do good works, because these are good and profitable. But by grace are we saved through faith. It is the gift of God, not of works, lest any man should boast.”

James drew quavery breaths through his nose. Finally he managed, “I extend to you, my brother, not only the right hand of fellowship, but the embrace of a fellow sojourner in the gospel of truth.”

The three of us awkwardly grabbed for each other in the dark and
hugged tight. At last James said, “I would like to pray for you, Paul,” and we knelt. “Father, as I have heard my brother Jude so affectingly put it, ‘Now to Him who is able to keep us from stumbling, and to present us faultless before the presence of His glory with exceeding joy, to God our Savior, who alone is wise, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both now and forever. Amen.'”

We remained kneeling there for many minutes until Joseph finally struggled to his feet. “I need to get some sleep,” he said. “I'm sorry, Paul.”

“There is no chance of my seeing Peter tonight?”

“No,” James said. “He said he would hear my report in the morning, and if I was satisfied he would meet with you tomorrow night.”

“Here?”

“No. In fact, you are not to come back here. The other ten have voted not to see you until after he and I have labored with you without incident. You must understand, most of them saw dear friends and loved ones suffer at your hands.”

“I pray God will grant me the opportunity to prove my remorse and show that Christ has changed me.”

“I believe He will,” Joseph said. “Now we must go.”

As we made our way back toward the street and I was thanking both men for their patience and trust, I referred to the elder as Joseph again. “No one even remembers his real name anymore, Paul,” James said. “You need to resign yourself to it.” I promised to try.

The next morning I gained a deep respect for Mary. Rather than simply make herself scarce or make it obvious again that she was upset that her nephew had forced her to play hostess to a man she did not like or trust, she pressed the issue. She said that as soon as we were able, she wanted to hear how our meeting went with the apostles, and because Barnabas
had pressed John Mark into service as a courier—and because he knew the men and the situation—she felt he should be in on the discussion as well.

I welcomed the opportunity, and as she arranged for the four of us to talk in private in one of the far reaches of her airy home, I ran through in my mind the best way to open my argument and present my case. I needn't have bothered. This meeting was Mary's idea, and apparently she had thought a lot longer than I had about how it was to proceed.

While she was not unkind, the woman was direct and looked me in the eye as we sat at an ornate wood table. “Sir, as you are a guest, and because my cousin tells me you call yourself my brother in the Lord, I owe it to you to tell you why I have doubts about you.”

“Please.”

“Of course you know your reputation precedes you. The Lord Jesus was a dear friend of this family. He was treated shamefully by the Sanhedrin, turned over to the Romans, tried and convicted unjustly, and put to death in the most shameful way imaginable.” Her voice caught and her eyes filled, but she did not falter. “His death broke our hearts. We missed His promise that He would rise again, but we did not miss His resurrection, because He appeared to many of us, myself included.”

“Praise God,” I said, knowing I appeared devious but unable to stifle my emotion.

“The persecution,
your
persecution, sir, of those of us who maintained our devotion to the Lord, was vicious and reprehensible. Many people I loved were imprisoned or forced to flee, and you stood by as the husband of one of my best friends was stoned to death.”

“You were close to Taryn?”

Mary paled and glanced quickly at Barnabas. “How does he know her name?”

Barnabas raised a hand. “Finish your charges, Aunt Mary, and then give him the opportunity to—”

“I want to know how he knows her name!”

That I loved Taryn was on my lips, but I knew that would ignite a rage. “John Mark,” I said softly, “would you do me a favor? I would like my bag from my room, if you would be so kind.”

He hurried off as his mother continued. “She was not there the day her beloved was crushed by the rocks thrown by dozens of old cowards while you bravely guarded their coats, but I was. What kind of courage does it take for a mob of white-haired clerics to gang up on a beautiful young husband and the father of a baby—”

“Corydon,” I breathed, immediately knowing I shouldn't have.

“He knows the child too!” she railed at Barnabas, arms flailing. “I suppose you know where they are now! And her father? Do you know him?”

“I do.”

“Of course you do! The family fled the likes of you, but none of us knows where they went. Will we ever? Did you track them down and kill them as well?”

Barnabas reached across the table and spoke soothingly. “Mary, please. You have made your point and you must let Paul speak. He will explain how he knows Stephen's family. And Paul, set her mind at ease immediately about mother and child.”

“I believe they are alive.”

“And tell her the truth about Taryn's father.”

“Alastor was killed by the Romans.”

Mary set her jaw. “And you had nothing to do with that?”

“I was their target.”

“You're telling me the Romans were after you.”

“Ma'am, believe me, I understand your anger and I also understand your deep love for your friends. Grant me the courtesy of telling you what became of me after I perpetrated those crimes against Jesus and His followers, and I will accede to your wishes as to whether I am welcome in your house for another minute.”

For a moment I wondered if she would allow me to proceed. John Mark had returned and slipped me my bag. I pulled from it the scrap of parchment that bore Taryn's note and set it aside while he poured his mother a cup of water. “I am prepared to listen,” she said.

Mary sat with her hands folded so tightly her knuckles were white. I gathered from her expression that she would rather have thrown the water in my face and left the room. I told her forthrightly how justified I had felt in orchestrating Stephen's death and how proud I was to become the leading opponent of The Way in the days following Jesus' death. I even recounted my ridiculing what I considered the resurrection fable.