The Scribe Page 9

  Eunice came to me and asked to speak with me alone. “I’m afraid to speak to Paul,” she confessed. “He is so fierce.”

  “What troubles you?”

  “My son is loved by many, Silas, but as you have probably guessed, he is not a true Jew.” She lowered her eyes. “I took him to the rabbi when he was eight days old, but he would not circumcise him because of his mixed blood. And he’s never been allowed to enter the synagogue.” She worried her shawl. “I was young and headstrong. I married Julius against my father’s wishes. I have many regrets, Silas.” She lifted her head, eyes moist. “But having Timothy is not one of them. He has been the greatest blessing of my life and my mother’s.”

  “He is a fine boy.”

  “We saw Paul when he came before. When he was stoned . . .” She clasped her hands tensely. “My son could talk of nothing else after Paul left. He said if Paul ever came back he would follow him anywhere. And now Paul is here again, and Timothy has such hope.” Her eyes welled. “Paul is a Pharisee, a student of the great Gamaliel. What will he say when Timothy approaches him? I cannot bear to see my boy crushed again, Silas. I cannot.”

  I put my hand on her shoulder. “He won’t be.”

  Paul, who had no wife or children of his own, loved this young man like a son. “His mother and grandmother have taught him well. He has a quick mind and an open heart to the Lord. See how he drinks in the Word of God, Silas. He will be of great use to God.”

  I agreed, but was concerned. “In time, Paul, but he’s only thirteen and reserved by nature.” I feared that Timothy might prove to be like John Mark, too young to be taken from his family.

  “He thinks before he speaks.”

  “He’s somewhat timid in a crowd.”

  “What better way for him to outgrow those tendencies than to join us in carrying the message to other cities? He will learn to be bold among strangers.”

  A pity Paul had not encouraged John Mark in this way, but I did not mention this. Both young men had similar traits, though Paul seemed determined not to notice. “Timothy might grow even more timid if persecuted.” What Eunice had told me was also heavily on my mind, but I did not know how much to divulge to Paul without causing her embarrassment.

  Paul gave me a level look. “He is younger than John Mark, but stronger in faith.”

  That sarcasm again. I felt the heat rush into my face, and held my tongue with difficulty. Any time anyone argued with Paul, he engaged his considerable talents at debate. In this case, it would serve no other purpose than to pour salt on old wounds. Both of us would suffer in an argument over John Mark.

  A few hours later, Paul said, “Perhaps I am unfair.”

  Perhaps? “John Mark made good use of his time in Jerusalem.”

  Paul said nothing for a while, but I could see our difference of opinion plagued him. “Persecution will come whether Timothy stays here or goes with us,” he said finally. “He might be safer with us than left behind. Besides, we already have leaders in place here, Silas. Timothy can be of much more use elsewhere.”

  I knew I must voice my other concerns. “As fine a young man as he is, Paul, he will cause us nothing but trouble. You were a Pharisee. You know as well as I do that no Jew will listen to him. No matter how fine his reputation here, everywhere else he will be seen as a Gentile because of his father. Timothy is uncircumcised and, therefore, unclean in their eyes. We both agreed we must meet people and speak to them in ways they will understand. How can he go with us? He won’t be allowed in the synagogues! You know as well as I if we try to take him inside with us, there’ll be a riot. The Good News won’t be heard at all with Timothy as our traveling companion. Let him cut his teeth teaching Gentiles here.”

  Paul chewed on his lip, eyes narrowed in thought. “I think we should lay the matter before Timothy and see what he says about it.”

  Timothy presented the solution. “Circumcise me. Then no one can protest my presence in the synagogue.”

  The boy’s courage and willingness to eliminate any obstacles served to gain my full support in taking him with us. Paul made all the arrangements, and a week later, when Timothy’s fever abated and he was well enough to travel, we gathered the church elders from Lystra and Iconium. We all laid hands on Timothy and prayed the Holy Spirit would give him the gift of prophecy and leadership. His mother and grandmother both wept.

  I could see how difficult this parting was for the two women. Together, they had raised Timothy to please God, and now they presented him to God as their thanksgiving offering to Jesus Christ. Timothy had been their comfort and joy. Their love of the Lord and the Torah had prepared the way for them all to believe the Good News.

  “God will send you where He wills, my son.”

  Timothy stood tall. “Tell Father I will continue to pray for him.” His voice choked with emotion.

  “As will we.” Eunice laid her hand against his cheek. “Perhaps his love for you will open his heart one day.”

  We all hoped. And prayed.

  The three of us traveled from town to town. We spent long hours around campfires talking about Jesus. I told Timothy all I knew, amazed that the memories of Jesus’ teachings were so clear—proof that the Holy Spirit refreshed my mind. Paul and I preached whenever and wherever allowed. Timothy did as well, though he would sometimes be so tense and nervous, he would vomit before we approached the synagogue. I saw him sick many times while we worked together in Corinth, and later heard from Paul that even after years in ministry, Timothy still suffered greatly from a nervous stomach. Much of this I’m sure was due to his love for his flock in Ephesus. Timothy always agonized over the people in his care, even those who were wolves among the sheep.

  But I digress.

  In the beginning, we had Timothy stand with us, a silent encourager, speaking only when questioned directly. When he did speak, he revealed the remarkable wisdom God had given him. He was especially useful in reaching the younger people. While children were sometimes frightened by Paul’s passion and put off by my grave dignity, they flocked to Timothy. The boys thought him brave and adventurous; the girls thought him handsome. I laughed when I saw how they surrounded him, first out of curiosity, later out of fond regard.

  Paul worried. “It is no laughing matter, Silas. With such admiration comes temptation and sin.” He spent a great deal of time instructing Timothy on how to stay pure and avoid temptation.

  “Think of the younger ones as your sisters.”

  “And the older ones?”

  “Older ones?” Paul blanched. He looked at me.

  I nodded. I had seen more than one young woman approach Timothy with the clear intent of seducing him. “Never be alone with a woman, Timothy. Young or old. Woman is temptation for a man. Treat the older ones with the respect you would show your mother and grandmother.”

  Paul continued to stare at me. “Was there more you wanted to say?”

  “No.”

  He took me aside later. “I never thought to ask if you had difficulty with women.”

  I laughed. “All men have difficulty with women, Paul. In some manner or form. But be assured. I take my own advice.”

  “It is a pity he’s so good-looking.”

  The boy’s beauty was a gift from God. As far as I know, Timothy heeded our instructions. I have never heard a word of doubt regarding his integrity.

  Silas put his reed pen in its case and sat thinking of Diana. Every time she looked at him, he felt a catch in his breath and a tightening in his stomach. Was this what it was like to fall in love with someone? How could he love her after such short acquaintance? And the boy, Curiatus . . . He felt drawn to him as Paul had felt drawn to Timothy. The woman and boy made Silas wonder what it might have been like to marry and have children of his own, a son to bring up for the Lord.

  Many of the disciples had wives and children. Peter’s sons remained in Galilee. His daughter had married, had children, and gone with her husband to another province.

  Paul had been a
damant about remaining unmarried, and encouraged others to follow his example. “We should remain as we were when God first called us. I had no wife when Jesus chose me to be His instrument, and will never take one. Nor should you, Silas. Our loyalties must not be divided.”

  Silas had not agreed with him. “Peter’s wife has never been a distraction to his love of Christ or his dedication to serving the Master. She shares his faith. She walks the roads with him. She is a great comfort to him when he’s weary. And Priscilla and Aquila—look at all they have accomplished. They are yoked together with Christ.”

  “Peter was married when he met Jesus! So were Priscilla and Aquila.”

  “God had said, ‘It is not good for man to be alone.’”

  Aggravated, Paul had glared at him. “Is there a woman you want to make your wife? Is that the point of this argument?”

  Silas wanted to pound his fists in frustration. “No.”

  “Then why are we having this discussion?”

  “Not all men are called to be celibate, Paul.” Silas spoke quietly, but with firmness. “You don’t hear yourself, but sometimes you speak as though celibacy is a new law within the church.”

  Paul opened his mouth to retort. Uttering an exasperated snort, he surged to his feet and left the fire. He stood out in the darkness looking up at the stars. After a long while, he came back. “Who are we talking about?”

  Silas named two couples who had approached him on the subject.

  “They’re young. Their feelings will change.”

  “If pounded into submission?”

  Paul’s eyes went dark again. Silas cocked his head and looked at him gravely.

  “Time is short, Silas, and we should not waste any of it pleasing another person.”

  “I’ll tell Timothy that, the next time he strives to live up to your expectations.”

  “The Scriptures say a man should remain at home for a year and give his wife pleasure! I say what time we have must be dedicated to spreading the news of Jesus Christ.”

  “Yes. You say.”

  “We carry the message of life! What is more important than that?”

  “Nothing. But it does not have to be carried alone.”

  “We’re not alone. We travel in pairs.”

  “And some of the pairs could be husband and wife.”

  Paul’s eyes blazed. “The Lord could return tomorrow, Silas. Should we devote ourselves to anything or anyone that does not further the message of Christ?”

  “If we don’t love others, Paul, what good is all our fine preaching?”

  “You’re talking about lust, not love!”

  “Is this discussion about winning a debate, Paul, or about the very real struggles of people within the body of Christ? Some will be called to marry and have children. Will you tell them they are not allowed to do so because you are called to celibacy and dedication to evangelism?”

  “There is no time for marriage!”

  “So, now you know when Jesus will return. Is that what you’re saying? Even Jesus said He didn’t know! Only the Father knows!”

  Silas took a deep breath, realizing his voice had risen in anger. Anger would accomplish nothing. Oh, but Paul could be so adamant, so fiercely stubborn.

  “You were called of God to travel and preach, Paul. I’ve been called, of late, to accompany you. Each of us is called to different tasks and places within society. You have preached so yourself.”

  “All to build the body—”

  “Yes. To build! And if everyone refuses to marry or have children, even if God leads them to do so, what happens to our numbers within a generation?”

  Paul drew back and frowned.

  Silas spread his hands. “God made marriage, Paul. The Lord sanctifies the relationship.” He shrugged. “Perhaps the question is not whether men and women should marry, but how they should behave when they do. What is a Christian marriage to look like to the world around us? Love each other. What does that mean in terms other than the physical? Peter and his wife have been an inspiration to many. . . .”

  Over the months, they had discussed marriage and prayed for God’s guidance in what to teach about it. Everywhere they went, they had seen the way unrestrained sexual passion could destroy lives. Such passions were the foundation of idol worship.

  Silas took up the reed pen again and ran it between his fingers. When his father died, he’d had no time to consider marriage. The young woman who might have become his wife was given to another with his blessing. The loss had not touched his heart. He had barely known her.

  He wanted to know Diana and, because of these feelings, did his best to avoid her.

  But she was always at meetings, sitting nearby, attentive. It took determined efforts on his part to keep his gaze from drifting back to her. And her smile . . .

  He could not allow himself to think of her. It led him to thoughts of what might have been and could never be.

  Mixing another supply of ink, Silas set his own scroll aside and worked until late copying Peter’s letters. Only then did he allow himself to linger on his past again.

  Paul and I planned to go to Asia, but were prevented when Roman foot soldiers stopped us on the road and enlisted us to carry their gear. They demanded only the distance Roman law allowed. We saw this as an opportunity to tell them about Jesus and traveled with them all the way to the border of Mysia. We prayed about whether God wanted us to cross the mountains into Asia, but the Holy Spirit sent us north instead, and then east along the border of Bithynia and on to Troas.

  We knew the Lord had led us there. Troas is a strategic meeting point of sea routes on the northwestern coast of Asia, southwest of the old city of Troy. Its position close to the mouth of the Hellespont has made the Roman colony grow. The citizens have made harbor basins, which provide shelter from the northerlies for ships. Troas is the main port for crossing to Neapolis in Macedonia and reaching the land route to Rome. The Good News could spread easily in all directions from Troas.

  We met Luke, the physician, in Troas. Paul needed salve for an infection, and Luke was recommended to us. What a great friend he became, not just to Paul and Timothy and me, but to other brothers and sisters. He left his practice to join us in our travels. As soon as he accepted Christ, the Holy Spirit filled him with purpose, that of gathering facts and information about Jesus’ birth, teaching, miracles, death, burial, and resurrection. When he was not attending someone as a physician, he could be found hard at work compiling his reports.

  When we were in Ephesus, Luke spoke for long hours with Mary, the mother of Jesus, and John the apostle, with whom she lived. He met Lazarus and his sisters before they sailed to Tarsus. In Jerusalem, he spoke to James and several disciples. If he ever completes this history, the church can know it is a trustworthy account.

  While we were in Troas, Paul had a vision. “A man of Macedonia keeps calling out to me, ‘Come over here and help us!’”

  The four of us sailed to Samothrace and reached Neapolis the next day. We only stayed long enough to eat and rest before we headed for Philippi.

  We were all excited about what the Lord would do, for Philippi, a prosperous Roman colony, was on the Egnatian Way, the military road that joined Rome and the East. It was along this great highway that information traveled from one end of the empire to the other. From Troas, the message would travel by sea; from Philippi, by land.

  We spent several days looking for a synagogue.

  Paul grew dismayed. “We must be the only Jews in the entire city.” All it required to establish a synagogue was ten men who were heads of households.

  On the Sabbath, we went outside the city in search of a place of prayer under the open sky and near a river. We found a suitable place where the road crossed the Gangites River. Several women were already gathered there, praying. While Luke, Timothy, and I hesitated, Paul walked down the bank.

  “Come on.” He motioned to us to follow.

  One of the servant girls looked at Timothy and whispered
to her friend, who giggled.

  A woman in a fine tunic with purple trim took charge. Shushing the girls, she stood and gave Paul an imperious look. “We are Jews seeking a quiet place to worship God.”

  I took those words as a plea for us to leave. Paul was not so easily shaken.

  “We are Jews also,” Paul told her. “And these two are devout men of God.” He introduced each of us. “We bring you Good News.”

  The woman frowned. “What do you mean by ‘Good News’?”

  “We are followers of the Lord’s Messiah, Jesus. He was crucified, buried, and raised from the dead after three days. This man—” he pointed to me—“saw Jesus numerous times and saw Him ascend into heaven.”

  “Please.” She gestured, seating herself on an expensive Babylonian blanket. “Join us.” Timothy and Luke held back. “All of you.” She smiled. “I am Lydia from Thyatira. I’m a merchant in Philippi. I sell purple fabrics. And these are my servants—good young ladies, all of them.” She gave a pointed look at one who had sidled closer to Timothy and patted the place beside her. The girl obeyed. “Tell us more about this Jesus,” Lydia said.

  We did, with great pleasure. She listened intently and believed every word. So did those with her. “Is there any reason we cannot be baptized here?” Lydia wanted to know. “Today?”

  Paul laughed. “None!”

  The younger ones laughed joyfully and splashed one another in their exuberance, while Lydia stood on the bank, dripping with dignity. “Please, come to my house. I have plenty of room, and you may stay for as long as you like.”

  Paul shook his head. “We are thankful for your generous invitation, Lydia, but we wouldn’t want to make things difficult for you.”

  “I have a large house, Paul.”