The Scribe (15 page)

Ephesus was a great trial to me. Everywhere I looked I saw astounding beauty and knew it housed horrendous sin. I longed for the religiosity of Jerusalem, the struggle of men to follow moral laws, the solitude of scholarly pursuits.

Priscilla and Aquila, already established as tentmakers, gathered believers in their home. They nurtured and taught new believers. Timothy and I preached in the agora. When Apollos returned, he preached with the logic of a Roman and the poetry of a Greek. Crowds gathered to hear him speak, and many came to faith in the Lord through his teaching.

Timothy grew as a teacher. Some questioned him because of his youth, but he was mature in the Lord and ready for leadership. Gaius was a great help to him. Erastus, also, proved helpful. He had been an
aedile
in Corinth, and used his administrative gifts to help the church in Corinth. No one lacked provisions.

We were a motley group, much like our sisters and brothers in Corinth. Repentant idolators, fornicators, adulterers, homosexuals, swindlers, and drunkards—all now living lives above reproach, helping one another and others. I quickly saw more miracles in Ephesus than I had in Israel during those three years that Jesus ministered. The Lord was alive, and His Spirit moved mightily in the midst of beautiful, wretched Ephesus.

When I received a letter from the council asking me to return to Jerusalem, I knew it was time for me to step down and place Timothy in leadership.

Though confident in the Lord, Timothy had little confidence in himself. “I am not ready, Silas.”

But the Ephesians were not easily led, and there were always wolves intent upon attacking the flock. “You are ready, Timothy. You have the heart and the knowledge. We are each called to a different task. I must go. You must stay.”

“But am I capable?”

I gave him what advice I could. “God has equipped you for the work. Remember: we can ask God for wisdom, and He will give it without rebuking us for the asking. But be sure when you ask Him that your faith is in the Lord alone. Don’t waver, Timothy. And don’t try to work things out on your own. Trust Jesus to show you the right path. Then take it! When He gives you the words to speak, speak them. Do those things and God will do His work here in Ephesus.”

He had good friends to stand with him—Aquila and Priscilla, Apollos, Gaius—all devoted servants of the Lord. I left with saddened heart, but fully confident that the Lord would use Timothy mightily to strengthen the Ephesian church.

It has been years now since I have seen Timothy, though we have exchanged letters. His heart is no less humble, though the Lord has strengthened him over the years, and sent others to encourage him, including John, the apostle, and with him, Jesus’ mother, Mary.

Mary has gone to be with the Lord now, but John remains.

Time has a way of turning in upon itself as you grow older. I cannot remember when some things happened, or how, or in what sequence events occurred.

Paul’s time to depart this world had not yet come. After a brief stay in Jerusalem, he returned to Antioch, where he reported on his journey. Then he returned to Ephesus. I was gone by then, home in Jerusalem. But when I heard, I knew Timothy would be much relieved to have his mentor back at his side, and would be all the more strengthened by Paul’s instruction and example.

Luke remained Paul’s companion and wrote to me often. God gave Paul miraculous power, which turned many from worshiping false gods. Those who made idols caused a riot. Fearing Paul would be murdered, the church sent him to Philippi. Timothy went with him, but returned soon after.

Others traveled with Paul after that. Some fell away in exhaustion. Others could not get along with him. Paul kept going. He was the most dedicated man I knew. He told me once, “Faith is a race, and we must run it with all our strength.” I imagine him now wearing the laurel wreath.

I miss him.

Had I remained with him, my suffering might be over now. But the path the Lord has laid out before me is longer and winds more than I ever imagined it would.

I, like so many others, thought Jesus would return in a few days or weeks. Then we thought our Lord would return in a few months, then a few years. He said He would wait until all the world had the opportunity to hear of Him. And the world is larger than we ever imagined.

Paul planned to go to Gaul and never made it.

But again I digress. A tired man’s musings. I waste this scroll.

Silas wanted to quit the task Epanetus had given him. His neck, back, and shoulders ached. His fingers felt stiff. But it wasn’t the physical pain of so many hours laboring at the table. It was remembering the years and miles, the friends saved and lost.

Macombo brought a tray. “Have you finished?”

“No.”

“You have lived a rich life.”

Silas covered his face with his hands.

That night, he slept deeply and dreamed of Jesus. The Lord filled His nail-scarred hands with grain and cast it in all directions. Seeds took root—tiny shoots rising in deserts, on mountaintops, in small villages and great cities. Some drifted on the sea toward distant lands.

Jesus placed a scroll in Silas’s hand and smiled.

Paul felt drawn back to Jerusalem. Like me, it was his home, the center of all we had known and held dear. The Temple was still the house of God. I could not go up the steps and stand in the corridors and not think of Jesus or hear His voice echoing in my mind. My heart ached every time I stepped foot in that place meant to be holy and now so defiled by corruption.

We received word Paul had arrived in Caesarea. He stayed with Philip the Evangelist and his four daughters, all unmarried and with the gift of prophecy. They, like others—myself included—had chosen not to marry, but to await the return of the Lord. Agabus went to see Paul. He’d had a dream that Paul would be imprisoned if he came to Jerusalem.

Paul refused to go into hiding.

When Paul and Luke reached Jerusalem, Mnason welcomed them to his home. I would have enjoyed offering them hospitality, but my circumstances had changed over the years, and I no longer owned a house in Jerusalem or Caesarea. I did not see Paul or Luke until they came to the council, but when I did, it was clear nothing had changed between us.

“Silas!” Paul embraced me. I wept with joy. I had such mixed feelings about him being in Jerusalem. While I longed for our deep conversations, I feared he would be hunted down and killed. The Pharisees had never forgiven him for abandoning their cause. James and all the council members greeted him warmly. We all shared the same concerns about his welfare.

Paul gave a good account of his journeys, often calling upon me to add anything he might have forgotten regarding the cities we had visited together. He had forgotten little.

Of course, Paul longed to go to the Temple. James and I had discussed this possibility with the others and thought trouble might be averted if Paul took with him four men who had completed vows. By joining them in the purification ceremony and paying for their hair to be shaved, perhaps the Jews would see he had not rejected the Law.

Men plan, but God prevails.

Paul went to the Temple. He spent seven days worshiping there, rejoicing in the Lord. And then some Jews from Asia saw him, and spoke out against him. “Everywhere this man goes, he brings trouble upon us!”

I sought to defend him. “You bring trouble upon yourself by rousing mobs and causing riots!”

When anger meets anger, nothing good comes of it.

Accusations filled the air. Some claimed Paul had brought Greeks into the Temple to defile the holy place. Trophimus the Ephesian had been seen near the Temple, and they assumed Paul had brought him inside. The Jewish leaders grabbed Paul and dragged him from the Temple. They threw him outside and slammed the doors. Others began beating him. I cried out for them to stop and found myself in the midst of the fray.

Never had the sight of Roman soldiers and centurions so pleased me as that day! We would have died without their intervention. They surrounded Paul, and used their shields to keep the Jews back. The commander drew his sword and pounded it on his shield. “Quiet! All of you!” He shouted in heavily accented Aramaic, and then commanded his soldiers in Greek. “Put that man in chains until I find out what’s going on this time!”

Paul swayed under the weight of iron while the commander tried to gather the facts. “Who is this man you’re trying to kill? What has he done?”

“He stirs up dissension!”

“He’s desecrated the Temple of our God!”

“He’s Saul of Tarsus, and unjustly accused. . . .” We tried to come to his defense. Someone punched me in the side of the head. By the grace of God, I overcame the temptation to swing back.

“He’s the ringleader of a cult that defies Rome!”

Everyone shouted, each with a different answer, none near the truth.

Two soldiers hauled Paul up the steps of the barracks while others faced the crowd, shields locked in a wall of protection. Somehow Paul convinced the commander to let him speak to the crowd.

When Paul called out in Hebrew, the Jews fell silent. “I am a Jew, born in Tarsus, a city in Cilicia, and I was brought up and educated here in Jerusalem under Gamaliel. As his student, I was carefully trained in our Jewish laws and customs. I became very zealous to honor God in everything I did, just like all of you today. And I persecuted the followers of the Way.” He confessed the bloodguilt of holding the coats while others stoned Stephen, and going after others in his zeal against Christians, even traveling to Damascus to transport Christians from there to Jerusalem for punishment.

“As I was on the road, approaching Damascus about noon, a very bright light from heaven suddenly shone down around me. I fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to me, ‘Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?’”

They listened intently until he told them how God called on him to take the message of Christ to the Gentiles. Wrath came upon them like a fire.

Men ripped off their cloaks in protest and threw dust into the air.

“Away with such a fellow!”

“Kill him!”

“He isn’t fit to live!”

Friends grabbed me and pulled me against a wall and we watched the mob surge up the steps, trying to reach Paul. The commander shouted. Soldiers locked shields. Men fell back, tumbling into others. Some fell, trampled by those still pressing from behind. The shouting became deafening. Faces reddened and twisted with rage.

The commander had Paul hauled inside the barracks and the doors barred.

I ran for Luke. By the time we returned to the Roman barracks, the mob had been dispersed. I demanded to see the commander and told him Paul was a Roman citizen. He had us escorted to Paul.

He sat against the wall, badly bruised, his mouth split and bleeding. “At least I escaped a scourging.”

Luke saw to his wounds. I put my hand gently on his shoulders, and saw even that touch caused him pain. “Everyone is praying.” I had brought bread, almonds, raisin cakes, and watered wine.

Tears ran down his face. His shoulders slumped. “If only they would listen.”

Luke spoke gently. “They did, for a while.”

“The Lord gives them opportunity day after day, Paul. We will keep on praying and speak when we can. There are still many in Jerusalem who follow Christ, and the city has not been left to Ananias and his mob.”