Evening meals became more than routine as Taryn came to welcome me into the tent the way she did her father and often asked what I would like her to prepare. It became common for her to sit up talking with me long after Alastor and Corydon had gone to sleep. Occasionally she put a hand on my arm to emphasize a point, and eventually she even leaned or rested her head on my shoulder.
Things changed between us when she grew comfortable enough to speak to me of her Stephanos. That made my mouth dry, but I believe she thought I was merely being respectful and letting her talk. The old guilt returned when she told me of his demise and how the news had come to her in their small dwelling in the City of David. How grateful I was that neither she nor her father had been present when it happened. Still, I rued the day when the truth would come out. I could only hope Taryn had come to trust me and care enough for me by then that my long silence would not prove to be too much of a betrayal to forgive.
It took several weeks for her to exhaust her stories of her husband, and though I found myself developing deep feelings for her, I strangely found myself not only not jealous of Stephanos but rather wishing I had known him. Oh, to be a man like him, known for his devotion to Christ and to the service of others!
Taryn was most impressed with my knowledge of the Scriptures and my willingness to help Alastor teach Corydon to read by using the scrolls. “As moved as I have always been by your playing with him, I am so deeply touched by your care for his soul.”
It had been ages since she had worn her veil inside the tent, and in the low lamplight of the evening she caught me staring at her. When she did not look away, I mustered my courage, held her gaze, and reached to lightly caress her cheek. To my delight and thrill, she did not pull away. I wondered how long it would be before she would permit a kiss.
Taryn began waiting up for me on those nights I had fishing duty. And often when I took my turn as watchman, she would silently hand me a cup of something to eat or drink.
When Corydon reached the age of six, I noticed less fleshiness in his face, more definition, more awareness in his eyes. With his rudimentary reading skills came questions, youthful and naïve at first, but sometimes insightful. I came to appreciate and enjoy his mind.
On my walks across the desert every morning, I thanked God for my new family and allowed myself to speculate on whether He might bless me by making it truly mine one day. Was it possible that fit the plan He had for me?
I had misgivings, for He continued to make plain that I would suffer for my calling. Clearly there would be much travel, hardship, and persecution. Would it be right to subject a wife and child to such a life, willing as I was to take it on? And what of her father?
On these questions I found God silent.
9
THE DISCOVERY
YANBU
THE PROPHETS OF OLD had intrigued me since I had begun reading them as a child. But now, though I was beginning to understand the unique privilege I enjoyed of God’s making me an apostle of Jesus, though I had never seen Him before He had ascended to heaven, I comprehended that prophecy—at least of the foretelling nature—was not to become one of my gifts.
I could only imagine the terrible responsibility of knowing what was to come, for two and a half years into my odyssey, a sense of foreboding came over me. It wasn’t as if I was wholly unaware of what caused it. Though pessimism had never been part of my character, I was enough of a realist to know that a man’s life cannot sustain solely joy and happiness for long. Especially when lurking in the back of his mind—and often at the forefront of it—lay two inescapable realities.
The first was that I had clearly been called to a life of suffering. God had made that manifest from the first. So this idyllic season was only that, a season. A man could expect to enjoy such delight for just a while.
Second, if my love for Taryn—and yes, that is what it had blossomed into—was reciprocated and became what I had come to long for, the truth would have to emerge. There was no longer any hiding our feelings for one another. First her father had noticed, and then he had consented to allow us time to stroll alone occasionally under the stars.
Then came the awkward day over supper when Corydon blurted, “Are you to become my new papa?”
Before I could devise even an evasive response, his mother said, “Would you like that, son?”
I stopped mid-chew and noticed that Taryn and Alastor stiffened as well, waiting for the verdict of this near-seven-year-old, upon whose opinion it seemed all of our futures hung in the balance. He appeared to think deeply about the prospect.
Then he shrugged, dipped his bread in the communal bowl, and said, “I like this, Mother. What is it?”
She laughed. “Just vegetable broth with a bit of animal fat.”
Corydon looked puzzled at our grins and shaking heads.
Nothing could have deterred me from my calling, no matter what I faced. One morning I assured Him, I have given up everything and would give up anything in my future to remain your bondservant.
Anything?
Anything, Lord!
Anything?
Hurt that He made me repeat it, I wondered if my Lord did not believe me. Did He question my devotion, my resolve?
Anything?
Lord, please! I don’t know how else to say it, to show it. I will never be ashamed of Your gospel, for You have taught me through Your mercy to me even when I was dead in my sins, that it is the power of God to save all who believe! I am willing to be poured out for You, to die for You! Yes, anything!
Anyone?
How could I have been so blind? Was Taryn my test, my trial? Would she determine the true measure of my devotion? Had I mistaken her for yet another divine gift when His entire elaborate construct was designed only to make her my Isaac? Was I willing to sacrifice a life with her on the altar of my faithfulness?
Lord, don’t ask this of me.
Only the night before, Taryn and I had finally allowed ourselves to talk seriously of our future. For months others in the refuge had noticed the difference in her. She appeared outside her tent without her veil, looked radiant, conversed more, was quick to smile and often to laugh. She even chuckled at good-natured teasing about me.
Alastor told me he had raised at a meeting of the elders the question of whether it remained appropriate for me to lodge with them. The consensus was that as long as he trusted me and that she and I were never there alone, until such time as there was a betrothal, the matter of propriety was his judgment to make.
“You’re saying that if I ask for her hand, I will need to find somewhere else to dwell until the marriage.”
“Did you say ‘if’?” he asked with a twinkle.
“When.”
“But you’re not asking yet?”
“Not quite yet.”
“I am not a young man, Paul.”
“I would not be marrying you, Alastor.”
“Oh, I am afraid you would be!” he said with a laugh.
He and I talked long into the night about the things God was telling me and how hard my life would be. To my great relief, Alastor did not take this lightly. “You are wise to ponder the ramifications,” he said. “And it is only fair she knows the reality.”
That last pierced me, of course, because there was so much she did not know.
Taryn and I had taken to walking arm in arm during our nighttime strolls and often praying together. After a week or two of loving embraces at the ends of these evenings, out of view of the curious eyes of whoever was on watch, we kissed. In the weeks that followed we shared life stories, and I told her almost everything. I could tell she thought nothing of my leaving out the name of my native city but referring only to the region. And naturally I did not use my Greek name.
We joked about Paul meaning “small,” and she said she had never seen me that way. “Not even the day we met,” I said, “when you knew nothing about me? I’m not much taller than you, love.”
She cocked her head and seemed to study
me. “Truthfully, that day I was wary of you. Without warning, Corydon announces a man, and there you stand with Father, next to a black stallion that dwarfs you both. And yes, now that I think of it, I was struck that you were short.”
“Yet you found me handsome, with my bald head and Roman nose. I tried to stand tall and hide my bowed legs.”
“You don’t have bowed legs! What I noticed was that you seemed unaffected by whatever journey you had endured to reach us, and the closest town is miles away. I was in mourning, protective of my son and my aging father.”
“But you just said you never saw me as small.”
“Only then. As soon as you befriended Corydon and revealed your character, you grew in stature.”
“And so how tall do you see me now?”
“Oh, you could look down on the Colossus at Rhodes.”
I drew back to stare at her. “You know of the Colossus?”
“Don’t insult me, Paul. My father taught me everything he would have taught a son. I read the scrolls. I read history. Why do you think we were among the first to recognize Jesus as the Messiah?”
“You were among the first?”
Taryn nodded. “Father, being a rabbi, was skeptical in the beginning, but he was there when Jesus fed the multitudes. He saw Him restore a man’s sight. When Stephanos and I took Corydon, not even a year old, to hear Jesus, the Lord had children in His lap and was blessing them. His disciples scolded the people for bothering Him with children, but Jesus immediately corrected them and asked for more to join Him. I was standing at the edge of the crowd, shading Corydon’s face from the sun, when Jesus noticed and caught my eye. He lifted His chin, I can still see it, and gestured almost imperceptibly that I should bring my baby to Him.”
Taryn’s face contorted and she pressed a finger to her lips.
“When I handed Corydon to Him, Jesus cradled him so gently that the other children immediately quieted and leaned in to see the baby’s face. Jesus whispered, ‘He’s sleeping,’ but just as He said it, Corydon awoke with a gurgle and grabbed the Lord’s finger. The Lord chortled—I don’t know how else to say it—and that made the children giggle, and the baby smiled.”
Again she was overcome and had to gather herself.
“Then He looked at me with a smile of such joy that I will not forget it as long as I live. He put His hand atop Corydon’s head, the tiny fingers still wrapped around His, lifted His eyes toward the sky, and said, ‘Father, bless this child.’”
That night I wrote until the wee hours again, eager to make a record of every detail. “What must she have thought,” I wrote, “when not long after that, Jesus was crucified and her own husband was stoned?”
I hadn’t had the heart to ask if she had shared that story with Corydon. While he was now at an age where he would enjoy it, it would raise questions about the nature of God and what kind of blessing rested upon him if his own father had been brutally murdered. I wrote several pages on my own crushing inner turmoil, agonizing over when and how I could tell the love of my life of my role in the death of her husband.
As the days progressed and we told each other more and more of our stories, Taryn shared how her father had persuaded her and Stephanos to examine the Scriptures with him and to see how Jesus fulfilled the ancient prophecies of the Messiah. “We risked everything, sacrificed everything, and became believers, followers of Jesus and The Way. When Jesus was crucified, we were devastated and terrified, yet Stephanos was among the first to believe the report of His resurrection. He became more like Jesus than anyone else I have ever known. I feared his boldness could cost him his life, but I did not expect it to happen so fast.”
That night I wrote that I was concerned my uneasiness showed when we kissed each other good night. Taryn had come to know my moods and expressions and asked what was troubling me. I told her I felt I had almost come to know Stephanos through her memories and that I wish I could have met him. “I mean, I wish I could have known him.” (As for meeting him, in a manner of speaking I most certainly had.)
She said, “And you shall, at the resurrection.”
The following day in the wilderness I pleaded with the Lord anew for permission and for the words. I don’t know how long I can endure this deceit, for that’s what it feels like and that is what it will appear to her.
In due time.
I couldn’t tell my God that His answer was not enough.
That was also the day He taught me: The just shall live by faith. The wrath of My Father is revealed from heaven against all who suppress the truth in unrighteousness, because what may be known of Him He has shown to them. Since creation, even His invisible attributes have been clear and can be understood by the things that are made, even His power and eternal Godhead. So people are without excuse. They knew Him, but they did not glorify Him, nor were they thankful. Their foolish hearts were darkened. Thinking themselves wise, they became fools and changed the glory of the incorruptible God into images like corruptible man, and birds and animals and creeping things.
Therefore, My Father gave them up to the lusts of their hearts to dishonor their bodies among themselves, those who exchanged His truth for lies and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator.
He gave them over to debased minds to do things that are not fitting. Filled with unrighteousness, sexual immorality, wickedness, covetousness, and maliciousness, and full of envy, murder, strife, deceit, and evil-mindedness, they are whisperers, backbiters, haters of God, violent, proud, boasters, inventors of evil things, disobedient to parents, undiscerning, untrustworthy, unloving, unforgiving, and unmerciful. Knowing the righteous judgment of My Father, those who practice such things are deserving of death, along with those who approve of those who practice them.
My Father will render to each one according to his deeds: eternal life to those who continue doing good, seeking glory, honor, and immortality; but to those who are self-seeking and unrighteous and do not obey the truth, their lot will be His indignation and wrath, tribulation and anguish.
Now I was confused. Could men somehow earn their salvation by continuing to do good? No. No one was capable of that.
My Father made you alive when you were dead in trespasses and sins, living according to Satan, the prince of the power of the air, the spirit who now works in the sons of disobedience, among whom also you once conducted yourself in the lusts of your flesh, fulfilling the desires of the flesh and of the mind.
But My Father, who is rich in mercy, because of His great love, even when you were dead in trespasses, made you alive together with Me and will make us to sit together in heaven. That is your message to the Gentiles, that in the ages to come My Father might show the exceeding riches of His grace and kindness toward men through Me.
For by grace you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourself. It is the gift of God, not of works, lest anyone should boast. For you are His workmanship, created in Me for good works.
You are no longer a stranger or a foreigner, but a fellow citizen with the saints and members of the household of God. Built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, I being the chief Cornerstone, the whole building, being fitted together, grows into a holy temple.
Walk worthy of My Father, fully pleasing Him, being fruitful in every good work and increasing in His knowledge, strengthened with all might, according to His glorious power, for all patience and longsuffering with joy, giving thanks to Him who has qualified you to be a partaker of the inheritance of the saints. He has delivered you from the power of darkness and brought you into My kingdom, and in Me you have redemption through My blood, the forgiveness of sins.
I am the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. For by Me all things were created in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or principalities or powers. All things were created through Me and for Me. And I am before all things, and in Me all things consist. I am the Head of the body, the church, the Beginning, the Firstborn fro
m the dead, that in all things I may have the preeminence.
For it pleased My Father that in Me all the fullness should dwell, and through Me to reconcile all things to Himself, whether things on earth or things in heaven, having made peace through the blood of My cross.
It had been my practice to walk deliberately back to the slowly expanding campground of refuge each day, meditating on everything the Lord had impressed upon me and allowing Him to sear it into my soul. But this day I felt filled to overflowing. When would He send me out? When would I get to preach? When would I be able to proclaim His truth to the world?
I had submitted myself to divine counsel and training and instruction. I knew the importance of preparation, especially because my message would be welcomed by only those few the Spirit drew to see their need. Others would hate it and me for spreading it, but that had long since stopped mattering to me. If it were up to me, I would have said I was ready. As Samuel of old had offered, I wanted to shout from the rooftops, “Here am I, Lord! Send me!”
And so it was that I could not keep myself from rushing back. Taryn was always busy with her chores and with Corydon, and so while we would greet each other, smile warmly, and extend kindnesses to each other throughout the day, we generally kept to ourselves and looked forward to time together in the evenings.
This day I wanted to find her immediately and steal her away from whatever seemed more important at the moment. I wanted to give her just a taste of that with which God was blessing me and tell her that perhaps it was time to get serious about our future. Maybe the Lord wasn’t ready to send me out quite as quickly as I planned, but I sensed He was building toward something. He was certainly no longer spoon-feeding me the milk of His word. I was being steeped in doctrine and the knowledge of men’s hearts more deeply than in any lecture I had ever sat through—even from the great Gamaliel himself. I had the feeling that my first audience, whoever and wherever it might be, would get the loudest, heaviest, most vigorous dose of preaching they had ever heard. How would I contain myself?
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