The Scribe (14 page)

I felt like flotsam, moving back and forth on the tide. If Paul wanted to go, I would go. If Paul wanted to stay, I would stay. I had come on this journey to stand beside him no matter the risk. If left to myself, I might have gotten on the first ship sailing for Caesarea!

We made it as far as Athens and had to wait. Paul fell ill again. I cared for him as best I could, but he needed a doctor. “I’m sending for Luke.”

“No!” Paul lay pale, but vehement as ever in his opinions. “I will be all right in a few days. Luke is needed where he is. God can heal me, if He wills. And if not, then this is a burden I must carry.”

As soon as Paul was well enough, we set out again, only to be attacked near the port and stripped of our passage money. Damaris helped us, but one thing after another happened to keep us from going north. “Perhaps it is the Lord keeping us here, Paul,” I pointed out.

Paul, still not fully well, grew impatient. “It is Satan who delays us! We can’t wait any longer! Someone must go to Thessalonica and tell our brothers and sisters the truth before their faith is murdered by lies.”

Timothy said he would go. We laid hands on him, blessed him, and sent him off, eager to defend Paul and explain more fully Jesus’ promise to return. I admit I feared the young man’s natural reserve might keep him from being effective. Paul worried he might be killed. We both prayed unceasingly.

It was not an easy time for us.

Paul’s health grew worse, and he fell into a deep depression. “I’m afraid all we’ve worked so hard to accomplish is lost.”

We could do nothing but pray and trust in the Lord. The waiting proved a greater test of our faith than floggings and imprisonment!

But God was faithful!

Timothy returned zealous and with good reports. Rejoicing, we three returned to Corinth, renewed in faith and strength. Our good spirits dampened again though when, after a few weeks, the Corinthian Jews refused to believe a word Paul or I said. No matter how much proof we showed from the Scriptures, they hardened their hearts against Jesus. The last time Paul entered the synagogue, the gathering storm burst forth and some who despised Paul insulted and blasphemed Jesus to his face.

“Your blood is upon your own heads!” Paul cried out and left the synagogue. He stood outside, shaking his robes in protest. “I shake the dust of this place from me!” He raised his arm. “You and you and you.” He pointed to specific men. “I am innocent. Let your blood be on your own heads, for you have rejected the Lord God. From now on, I will go preach to the Gentiles!”

The neighborhood remained in an uproar that day and for days following.

Paul might say he consigned them to God’s wrath, but in truth the man refused to give up hope. I laugh now, for he moved in with Titius Justus, a Gentile believer. Titius lived right next door to the synagogue!

Not a day went by that the Jews did not see Paul receiving visitors. Crispus, one of their leaders, came to reason with Paul. Away from the sway and jealousy of the others, he received Christ. Soon, Crispus brought his entire family to hear about Jesus. Our enemies ground their teeth and muttered at those who came. Jews and Gentiles under one roof, breaking bread together? The Christ of God for all men? The hard-hearted refused to believe.

Paul received constant threats, and, as his friends, so did Timothy and I and others. But the attacks were far worse upon him. He became afraid. I am convinced that his fear rose from exhaustion. He worked constantly, from before dawn to long after dark. Even a man of his amazing stamina needs to rest. I certainly did. But Paul felt compelled to preach, compelled to answer every question with proof, compelled to pour himself out like a liquid offering. When he was not preaching, he studied the scrolls we carried, preparing for the next battle. He dictated letters far into the night.

A tired man is more easily shaken.

“I’m afraid,” he confessed to me one night. “It’s one thing for people to attack me, but my friends . . .” His eyes filled with tears. “I’m afraid of what my enemies will do next, Silas, who they might harm because of what I say.” I knew he feared for Timothy, and not without cause. But Timothy was as on fire for Christ as he. The young man had given his life as a living sacrifice for the Lord.

“You must do whatever the Lord tells you to do, Paul. If the Lord says speak, you already know you have Timothy’s blessing. And mine as well.”

Titius Justus wondered if Paul should press on. “He has good reason to be afraid, Silas.” Titius told me Paul received threats every time he left the house. The day before, the Judaizers had cornered Paul in the marketplace, and said they would kill him if he continued. When I confronted Paul about this, he said it was true.

“Perhaps we should move on again. We have planted the seeds. God will water and make them grow.”

Paul smiled bleakly. “It will be the same anywhere I go, Silas. You know that as well as I.”

Trouble followed Paul in the same way trouble had followed Jesus.

How many times had I seen the Good News greeted with anger and scorn? Most people don’t want to hear the truth, let alone embrace it. To accept Christ’s gift means admitting that everything on which we based our lives before has gained us nothing. It means surrendering to a power greater than ourselves. Few want to surrender to anything but their lusts. We cling to our vanity and go on striving to find our own way when there is only one way.

I praised God every time I saw truth dawn in someone’s eyes, the veil of Satan’s lies dissolved, a heart of stone beating with new life. The new believer stood on a mountaintop looking out at the vast hope laid wide open before them, an eternal, lifelong journey with the Lord. They became a living, breathing temple in which God dwelled. The rebirth was a miracle as great as Jesus’ feeding thousands on a few loaves of bread and fish, because it was evidence He lived; His promises continued to be fulfilled daily.

But fear sets in so easily.

We decided to be cautious. We thought it wise, but, in truth, Paul was silenced, and so was I. We had forgotten we must step out in faith, not sit and wait for it to grow in shadows.

By the grace of God, Jesus spoke to Paul in a vision. “Don’t be afraid! Speak out!” Jesus said many people in the city already belonged to Him. All we had to do was go out and find them!

We obeyed. With such great encouragement, how could we not?

We set out, faith renewed, zeal restored.

For eighteen months.

And then a new governor came to Achaia, and everything changed again.

Soon after Gallio took office, the Jews rose up against Paul, took him to the judgment seat and accused him of teaching men to worship God in ways contrary to Roman law. But Gallio was not like Pontius Pilate, easily swayed by a mob. Paul did not even say a word in his own defense before Gallio ended the session.

“Since this is merely a question of words and names and your Jewish law, take care of it yourselves. I refuse to judge such matters.” With a jerk of his head, guards moved and drove the Jews away from the judgment seat.

Greeks grabbed hold of Sosthenes, the leader of the synagogue, and began beating him. Gallio continued to conduct business and ignore the fracas. A Gentile punched Sosthenes, knocked him down, and kicked him right there before the judgment seat.

Paul tried to push through. “Stop!” Unwittingly, he used Aramaic.

I cried out in Greek and then Latin. They withdrew, leaving Sosthenes half conscious and bleeding on the stone pavement. The rabbi’s friends were nowhere to be seen. He shrank back from us in fear, though we only wanted to help him.

“Let us help you!”

“Why do you do this for me?” Sosthenes rasped. “You, of all people . . .”

“Because Jesus would do it,” Paul said, straining to help lift him.

Sosthenes stumbled, but we kept him from falling. He wept all the way to Priscilla and Aquila’s. Luke dressed his wounds. We sent word to the synagogue, but none came for him. They would not enter the house of a Gentile.

When Sosthenes became feverish, we took turns caring for him. We told him about Jesus. “He made the blind see, and the deaf hear. He raised a widow’s son and called a friend from the tomb in which he had lain for four days.”

I told him of Jesus’ trial before Pontius Pilate, of how He died on the cross on Passover, and three days later, arose. I told him of my life in Jerusalem and Caesarea and how it changed on the road to Emmaus. Paul told him of seeing Jesus on the road to Damascus.

Sosthenes tried not to listen at first. He wept and covered his ears. But gradually he did listen. “It was not your words that convinced me,” he told us. “It was your love. I was your enemy, Paul, and you and Silas lifted me up.”

We baptized him.

He returned to the synagogue, determined to sway the others. He could not.

“It is not by your word or mine that men are saved,” Paul told him when he came to Titius’s home, “but by the power of the Holy Spirit.”

“They are my friends,” Sosthenes wept. “My family.”

“Continue to love them. And keep praying.”

A few months later, Paul decided to go to Cenchrea and fulfill a vow of thanksgiving to the Lord. “Jesus has protected me here in Corinth.” The vow required he cut off his hair and shave.

I helped him prepare. “How long will you remain in solitude?”

“Thirty days.”

“Will you return here, or do you want us to join you there?”

“You and Timothy must remain here. There is still much work to do. When the time of the vow is complete, Aquila and Priscilla will join me, and we’ll sail to Syria.”

I was stunned. And hurt. “Are you telling me you no longer need my services?”

He grimaced as though in pain. “Don’t look at me like that, Silas. I must go where the Lord leads, even if it means I must leave beloved friends behind.”

Paul left the next day. The parting was especially difficult for Timothy, whom Paul commanded to remain with me in Corinth.

The church met in Chloe’s home. And what a church it was, made up of reformed thieves, drunkards, idol worshipers, and adulterers. They flocked to Christ, who cleansed them of sin and made them like newborn babies. They rejected their previous practices of promiscuity, homosexuality, and debauchery and dedicated themselves to Christ, living holy lives pleasing to God. They became miracles, living testimony to the power of God to change men and women from the inside out.

Apollos, a Jew from Alexandria, arrived with a letter from Priscilla and Aquila. They commended him to us and asked that we welcome him. We did so, and he proved to be as great an orator as Paul, refuting the Jews with Scripture.

The church of Corinth was firmly established and continued to grow.

When Paul wrote that he intended to visit the churches we had planted in Phrygia and Galatia, I thought it time to rejoin him. Stephanas, Fortunatus, and Achaicus proved themselves as able leaders, along with Sosthenes. We sent word of our plans, but when we reached Ephesus, it was Aquila and Priscilla, and not Paul, who greeted us. “He’s gone on to Jerusalem for Passover.”

The news alarmed me.

“I should’ve come sooner and dissuaded him! The high council will look for any opportunity to kill him!”

Timothy was grievously disappointed. “Why didn’t he wait?”

“We all tried to dissuade him, Silas, but you know how Paul is when he’s determined to do something. There’s no stopping him.”

When they told me Paul had left his books and papers behind, I knew my friend was well aware of what awaited him in Jerusalem. “Paul would rather run toward death than leave the Jews in darkness.”

I thought of going after him, but after much prayer, knew God wanted me in Ephesus.

Timothy was not yet ready to stand alone.

“Landing place” is an apt name for Ephesus. It is the intersection of the coastal road running north to Troas and the western route to Colosse, Laodicea, and beyond. Ships from all over the Roman Empire sailed in and out of its port. With its magnificent road lined with marble columns, its theater, baths, library, agora, and paved streets, Ephesus rivals the grandeur of Rome and its infamous debauchery. The city is temple-warden to the three emperors, each honored by an enormous temple. However, it is the Temple of Artemis that dominates. Four times larger than the Parthenon in Athens, it draws thousands of devotees each year, eager to partake of the most depraved worship man creates. Add to this ships that arrive daily, unloading cages of wild animals from Africa and gladiators for the games.