The Scribe Read online

  “You spoke eloquently of grace, Paul. Can you offer none to John Mark?”

  “I forgave him.”

  His tone rankled. “How kind of you.”

  How easily we forget that harsh words serve only to fan anger into flame.

  Paul looked at me, eyes dark, cheeks flushed. “He deserted us in Perga! I can forgive him, but I cannot afford to forget his cowardice.”

  “John Mark is no coward!”

  “I would have more respect for him if he spoke for himself!”

  All I had done was make matters worse.

  Immediately upon our arrival in Antioch of Syria, I read the letter to the congregation. The Gentile Christians were relieved by the instructions of the Jerusalem council, while some Jewish Christians protested. When the seed of pride takes root, it is hard to dig out. Judas and I stayed to teach Christ’s message of grace to all who had faith in His crucifixion, burial, and resurrection. A few Jews left, rather than hear more. We continued to encourage those who had not been deceived by men’s pride in their own good works. We hoped to strengthen their faith so that they could stand firmly against the persecution we knew would come.

  Often, I heard Paul preach. He was a great orator who presented the message with proof from Scripture. He could switch from Greek to Aramaic with ease. He never surrendered when debated, but used his considerable intellect to win converts—or rouse an angry mob! No question confounded him.

  I began to understand John Mark’s difficulty. A man with Paul’s dramatic conversion experience, intellectual powers, and education could make the most earnest Christian feel ill equipped to serve beside him. If not for the advantages given me in my youth, I too might have been intimidated. I was not afraid of Paul, but his impassioned character and his confidence that he was always right annoyed me on numerous occasions. That he was right gained my respect if not affection. Brotherly affection developed through longer acquaintance.

  A letter came from Jerusalem.

  Paul watched me read the scroll. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing is wrong.” I rolled it again, wondering why I felt such deep disappointment to be called home. “Judas and I are called back to Jerusalem.”

  “Once matters are settled there, come back to Antioch.”

  His command surprised me. We had said little to each other since our argument over John Mark. While we respected each other, shared faith in Jesus, there remained a barrier between us that neither of us had made great efforts to tear down.

  “You are a fine teacher, Silas.”

  I raised my brows at the compliment and inclined my head. “As are you, Paul.” I did not flatter him. “I’ve never heard a man argue the case for Christ so thoroughly. If faith came through reason, the whole world would accept Jesus as Lord.”

  “We must do as Jesus commanded! We must go out into all the nations and make disciples!”

  “And so you and Barnabas shall.” I smiled faintly. “And others.” I meant John Mark.

  “You are well equipped to do the work, Silas. The council has twelve members, and they can draw from others who knew Jesus personally and walked with Him during those three years He preached. Let the council cast lots for another to replace you.”

  A man likes to think himself indispensable. “I would not presume—”

  “Is it presumption to ask God’s will in the matter? I could see it in your face when you read that letter you’re holding. You prefer teaching to administration.”

  “I know more of administration than I do of teaching.”

  “When we delight in the Lord, He gives us the desire of our hearts. The Scriptures tell us that. And your desire is to go out into the world and preach. Can you deny that?”

  “We each have our place in the body of Christ, Paul. I must serve where I’m needed.”

  He started to say more and then pressed his lips together. With a shake of his head, he spread his hands and walked away.

  Judas and I returned to Jerusalem and the council. I spoke with John Mark and saw his disappointment. “I will go to Antioch and speak to Paul myself. Perhaps after we talk, he will see I’ve lost my timidity.”

  I thought that a wise idea. The young man was Barnabas’s cousin, and Barnabas would encourage Paul to give him a second chance. As for my desire to return to Antioch, I left it to the Lord. I knew there were others who could travel with Paul, men wiser than I in how to deal with his strong personality. But I wanted to go. He challenged my faith. One could not be complacent in his company.

  Not long after John Mark left Jerusalem, a letter came from Antioch addressed to Peter and James.

  “Silas, Paul asks that you be released from the council so that you can travel with him throughout Syria and Cilicia. He wants to visit the churches he started and see how they’re doing.”

  The request surprised me. “What of Barnabas? Has he fallen ill?”

  “He and John Mark have gone to Cyprus.”

  I could imagine what had happened between Paul and Barnabas. Paul had not relented, and Barnabas could not crush the spirit of his cousin. Nor should he.

  Peter looked at me. “Did Paul speak with you about this while you were in Antioch?”

  “Yes.” I could feel the others staring. “I told Paul I would serve wherever I’m needed.”

  James studied my face. “You have been praying about this for some time, haven’t you?”

  “Unceasingly.”

  The council members discussed the matter. Some did not want me to leave Jerusalem. My administrative abilities had been of use in the church. But I knew Paul was right. Others could take my place—men of strong character and faith who stood firm despite persecution.

  “You’ve traveled far more than any man here, Silas. You would be a good companion to Paul. Do you feel the Lord calling you to this work?”

  “Yes.” I had asked the Lord to give me clear opportunity if that was His will, and Paul’s letter and the council’s response eliminated my doubts.

  Other questions would have to wait until I met Paul in Antioch.

  We prayed and cast lots. Barsabbas was chosen to take my place. He was an honest, hardworking man who had proven his love of Jesus and the church on many occasions.

  I left the next morning for Antioch.

  Paul’s greeting was cool. “You sent him, didn’t you?”

  I didn’t have to ask whom he meant. His face said it all. Would his anger run so deep we would be unable to work together?

  “John Mark told me he intended to speak to you. He thought once you talked with him, you would see he is no longer as timid as he was. I take it things did not go well between you.”

  “Well enough for others, but I didn’t want him on this trip.”

  By others, he meant Barnabas.

  “Why not?”

  “I have no way of knowing how long we will be gone, Silas. A year at the least, probably longer. I’m not convinced of his dedication.”

  “And Barnabas disagreed.”

  “It was the first time I’ve seen him angry. He insisted Mark go with us. I refused to take the risk.”

  I smiled faintly. “How do you know I’ll have the courage to stay the course?”

  A muscle worked near his right eye. “The night I broke down your door, had you beaten, and smashed everything we could lay hands on, you didn’t curse me—not once—nor did you cry out against what I was doing.” He met my gaze. “I intended to kill you, but your manner stayed my hand.”

  “God stayed your hand.”

  “I wish He had stayed my hand on other occasions.”

  I knew he meant his part in the stoning of Stephen. “Our past is the burden we left at the cross.” I told him what I had done so there would be no secrets between us.

  “At least . . . you never committed murder.”

  I could not help but smile. “I can see clearly you’re an ambitious man, Paul, but let’s not compete over who is the greater sinner!”

  He looked surprised and then
paled. “No! We all have sinned and fallen short of God’s glorious standard. This is the truth men need to know so that they will understand their need of our Savior, Jesus Christ.”

  His anguished declaration told me that the training of a Pharisee continued to test his faith. He had great regret. But didn’t we all feel remorse over things of the past—our blindness, the wasted days and years we did not live for Christ? We must remind one another: by grace we are saved, not by works. “There is no condemnation for those who belong to Christ Jesus.” Paul would need to be reminded of his own words—often. “God saved us by His grace when we believed. And we can’t take credit for this; it is a gift from God.” God had chosen this man to bear testimony, and his violent, self-righteous past was proof of God’s ability to change a man into a new creation and set him upon a new course.

  His eyes grew bright with tears. “We’ve been washed in His blood.”

  “And clothed in His righteousness.”

  “Amen!” We said in unison. We laughed with the joy of free men joined in common purpose.

  Paul grasped my arms. “We will do well together, my friend.”

  Yes, we would, though neither of us knew yet how difficult our days together would be.

  * * *

  FOUR

  * * *

  Before we began our travels, Paul and I discussed our strategy. “The Greeks know nothing of the Scriptures,” he said, “so we must speak to them in ways they will understand.”

  My father had said the same thing in several ways. “My father insisted I have training in logic and Greek poetry.” I had to know how to think like the Greeks in order to best them in trade.

  We would not burden the fledgling congregations with our support. I had some resources on which we could depend, but Paul insisted he would work for a living.

  “Doing what?”

  “I come from a family of tentmakers. What can you do?”

  “I can translate and write letters.”

  We decided to stay to the major trade routes and centers so the message would have the best chance of being carried more quickly through the empire. We would start with the synagogues. There we expected to be welcomed as travelers and given lodgings as well as the opportunity to preach. We agreed to maintain contact with the Jerusalem council through letters and messengers.

  “Even if the Jews welcome the Good News, we must not neglect preaching to the Gentiles in the agoras.”

  The marketplace was the center of all social, political, and administrative functions in every city from Jerusalem to Rome, and as such would afford us greater opportunity to meet men and women unfamiliar with the news we carried.

  Once we made our plans, we set out, visiting the churches in Syria as we headed north. It was hard going. I was not used to traveling on foot. Every muscle in my body ached, each day adding to my discomfort, but Paul was driven, and so drove me as well. I did not protest, for we both thought time short and that Jesus would return soon. I knew I was not so old that my body would not become accustomed to the hardship of travel. We carried in our hearts the most important message in the world: the way of salvation for mankind. Discomfort would not delay us.

  Though robbers did.

  We were set upon by six men as we traveled north through the Taurus Mountains. When they surrounded us, I wondered if Paul and I would ever make it to Issus or Tarsus. One robber held a knife to my throat while another searched me. Two others dug around in Paul’s clothing to find something of value. I should not have been surprised that he carried nothing. He had said from the first day that he would trust in God to provide for us. I was not so mature in my faith, though I had been a believer longer than Paul. I had a pouch of coins tucked into my sash, which a brigand found almost immediately. Other than my coat, a sash my father gave me, the inkhorn and pen case containing reeds, and a small knife for erasures and cutting papyrus, I had nothing of value.

  “Look at this!” The robber held up my money pouch and shook it. He tossed it to the leader, who opened it and spilled the denarii into the palm of his hand. He grinned, for it was not a small amount, but enough to carry us for many weeks.

  Another searched Paul. “Nothing!” He thrust Paul away in disgust.

  “I may not have money,” Paul said boldly, “but I have something of far greater value!”

  “And what would that be?”

  “The way to your salvation!”

  They hooted in laughter. One of them stepped forward and put his blade against Paul’s throat. “And what about yours, you fool?”

  Paul’s face flushed. “Even thieves and robbers are welcome at the Lord’s table, if they repent.”

  I could see how little they welcomed that declaration, and I prayed our journey would not end with our throats slit on a dusty mountain road. If that was to be our end, I decided not to go silently to the grave. “Jesus died for all our sins—yours as well as mine.”

  “Who’s Jesus?”

  I told them everything in short order, while praying that my words would fall like seeds onto good soil. Perhaps their hard lives had plowed the ground and made it ready for sowing. “I saw Him crucified, and met Him four days later. He spoke to me. He broke bread with me. I saw His nail-scarred hands.”

  “He confronted me on the road to Damascus months later,” Paul said, undaunted by the knife at his throat. He gripped the man’s wrist and looked at him. “If you leave me dead on this road, know that I forgive you.” He spoke with such sincerity, the man could only stare. Paul let go of him. “I beseech the Lord not to hold your sins against you.”

  “Let him go!” The leader growled.

  The robber withdrew, confused.

  “Here!” The leader flung the pouch of coins. I caught it against my chest.

  “What are you doing?” The others protested. “We need that money!”

  “Would you have their god on our heels? Others will come along this road.”

  Did I trust in God’s provision or not? “Keep it!” I tossed the pouch back. “Consider it a gift from the Lord we serve. Better to accept it than rob others and bring further sin upon yourselves.”

  “You should be careful what you say.” A robber held up his knife.

  “The Lord sees what you do.” Paul stepped forward, and looked up at the man on horseback. “These men follow in your steps.”

  He shifted uneasily upon his horse and held my money pouch like a poisonous snake.

  “The next band will be sorely disappointed in how little these men have to offer.”

  I felt encouraged by the robber’s sudden concern for our well-being. Fear of the Lord is the foundation of true knowledge. However, his next words filled me with misgivings. “Bring them along!”

  They took us into the mountains. Their camp reminded me of En-gedi, where David had hidden in the wilderness from King Saul and his army. Plenty of water, cliff walls for protection, a few women and children to greet them. I was exhausted. Paul talked all night and baptized two of the robbers on the third day of our captivity.

  They accompanied us as far as the mountain pass called the Cilician Gates.

  “Jubal said to give this to you.” The man tossed me the pouch of coins.

  God had brought us safely through the mountains. The Cilician plain spread out before us, lush green from the waters of the Cyndnus.

  We stayed with Paul’s family in Tarsus and preached in the synagogues. Paul had come here after meeting the Lord on the Damascus road and spent time in seclusion before he began preaching the message of Christ. The seeds he had planted had taken root and flourished. The Jews received us with joy.

  We moved on to Derbe, a city in Lycaonia, named after the junipers that grew in the area. Again, we preached in the synagogues, and met Gaius, who became a good friend and, later, a traveling companion to Paul. Gaius knew the Scriptures well and embraced the Good News before anyone else.

  Lystra filled me with dread. The last time Paul had preached in the Roman colony near the unsettle
d southern mountains, he had been stoned.

  “God raised me,” Paul said. “I walked back into the city on my own two legs. Friends washed my wounds and helped me escape with Barnabas.” He laughed. “I guess they feared if I remained, my enemies would kill me again.”

  I didn’t think it amusing. But I was curious. How many men have died and lived again to tell of it? I asked him what he remembered, if anything.

  “I can’t say what I saw. Whether my soul left my body or was still in my body, I don’t know. Only God knows what really happened, but I was caught up somehow to the third heaven.”

  “Did you see Jesus?”

  “I saw the heavenly realm and earth and all beneath it.”

  In awe, I pressed. “Did the Lord speak to you?”

  “He said what He said to me before. I cannot describe what I saw, Silas, but I was in a state of misery when I came back. That I remember quite well.” He smiled wistfully. “The only one who could understand what I felt is Lazarus.” He put his hand on my arm, his expression intense. “It is better that we don’t speak of the experience, Silas. Those in Lystra know something of it, but I dare not add more.”

  “Why not?” It seemed to me his experience confirmed our lives continued after our bodies rested.

  “People are likely to become more interested in heavenly realms and angels than in making a decision about where they stand with Jesus Christ in this life.”

  As I have said, Paul had more wisdom than I.

  I wanted to ask more, to press him for everything he remembered, but I respected his decision. And I did not want to make assumptions about his course of action regarding Lystra. “Those who sought your death would be confounded if they were to face you now.” Whether we passed through Lystra or remained to preach was for him to decide. I knew God would make His will known to Paul. The man never ceased to pray for His guidance.

  “They will be confounded. Whether they listen and believe this time remains to be seen.”

  Lystra is a Latin-speaking Roman colony in the consolidated province of Galatia. Remote and filled with superstition, it proved hard ground for the seed we bore. But our time there yielded a few tender shoots. And we met one who was to grow tall and strong in faith; a young man named Timothy. His mother, Eunice, and grandmother, Lois, believed in God. His father, however, was a Greek pagan who remained devoted to idol worship.