“You were wiser than I.”
“You came to faith eventually. That is what matters.”
“When were you in Judea?”
His eyes flickered. “Years ago. What a country! Intrigue and savagery are not limited to Rome, my friend. Men are the same everywhere.”
“Some men never change. After all these years, I find my faith as frail as it was in the first weeks after Jesus ascended.”
“You suffer because you love Him, Silas. You love His people. Love brings suffering. God will help you find your way.”
Macombo came out to them. “The brothers and sisters are beginning to arrive.”
Silas joined them in prayer and singing praises to Jesus. He closed his eyes and covered his face as Patrobas read Peter’s letter. No one asked him to say anything. Even Curiatus remained silent, though he sat close to Silas. Diana was there also. Silas thought of Peter and his wife. They had teased each other with the familiarity of long years together rich in love.
Diana smiled at him, and his heart quickened.
He had felt euphoria before. And every time it had had to do with Jesus.
He looked at Epanetus talking with Macombo, Urbanus laughing with Patrobas. These people reminded him piercingly of those who had met in the upper room in Jerusalem so many years ago—men, women, slave, free, rich, poor. Jesus brought them all together and made them one family. One in Christ, one body, one Spirit.
The darkness he had felt pressing in around him rolled back a little and gave him a glimpse of the confidence he had lost. Not confidence in himself, but in the One who saved him.
I laugh now as I think of it. How can I express the joy I felt on the day I saw Jesus alive again? He looked at me with love, not condemnation! A friend of mine knew where the disciples had hidden, and we went to tell them the good news. We were both shaking with exhaustion and excitement by the time we knocked on the door of the upper room.
We heard voices inside, frightened, arguing. Peter, firmly commanding, “Let them in.”
My friend whispered loudly, “Let us in!”
“Who is with you?”
“Silas! A friend of mine. We have news of Jesus!”
Peter opened the door. I could see he did not remember me, and I was glad of it. My friend blurted out, “Jesus lives!”
“He was just here.”
My heart raced as we entered. I looked around the room. I wanted Jesus to know I’d changed my mind. I would do whatever He asked of me now. “Where is He?”
“We don’t know. He was here for a while, and then He was gone.”
“We were all sitting here and suddenly, there He was.”
“It was no ghost,” I said. “It was Jesus. We must go to the Temple.”
Matthew laughed. “So we can be arrested?”
“I’ll go.” I was brave in that brief moment.
Peter put his hand on my arm. “Caiaphas and the others will silence you.”
“Stay with us,” John said.
“We’ll leave soon. Come with us to Galilee.”
For months, I had wished to be a part of this group of chosen men, but I could not in good conscience leave Jerusalem. “I can’t!” How could I go knowing that Jesus was alive? “Others must hear the good news. I must tell Nicodemus.”
I knew where to find my father’s old friend. Nicodemus saw me coming, and met me in the portico. A finger to his lips, he drew me aside. “I can see by your face the news you bring. Rumors abound.”
“It’s no rumor, Nicodemus.”
“Jesus’ body is missing. That does not mean He’s come back to life.”
I leaned close. “I’ve seen Him with my own eyes, Nicodemus. He’s alive!”
His eyes glowed, but he looked around cautiously. “Unless Jesus walks into the Temple and declares Himself, nothing will change.”
“How can you say that? Nothing will ever be the same again.”
His fingers dug into my arm as he guided me to the Temple steps. He spoke low, head down. “Caiaphas and several others met with the Roman guards left in charge of the tomb. They have paid them a large bribe to say Jesus’ disciples came during the night while they were sleeping, and stole His body.”
“The moment Pontius Pilate hears of this, they will be executed for negligence of duty.”
“Lower your voice, my son. The priests will stand up for the guards who have agreed to be part of this plan. Go back to Jesus’ disciples. Tell them what Caiaphas and the others have done. They intend to spread this rumor quickly and as far as possible in order to discredit any claims that Jesus lives. Go! Hurry! They must convince Jesus to come to the Temple and declare Himself.”
I told Peter what Nicodemus had said, but he shook his head. “None of you must make the same mistake I did. I tried to tell Jesus what to do once. He called me Satan and told me to get away from Him.”
“But surely it would make all things clear to Caiaphas and members of the high council if He did go to the Temple.”
Simon the Zealot stood. “I heard Jesus say that even if a man returned from the dead, those men would not believe. If Jesus stood before them and showed them His nail-scarred hands and feet, they would still deny He is the Christ, the Son of the living God!”
Seven of Jesus’ disciples left for Galilee.
Peter told me later that Jesus had built a fire, cooked fish, and met with the seven disciples on the shores of the Sea of Galilee. He appeared to a crowd of five hundred—I among them—and then to His brother James. For forty days, Jesus walked the earth and spoke with us. I have not the words to tell you the many things I saw Him do, the words He said. He blessed us, and then He returned to the home from which He came: heaven.
I saw the Lord taken up in a cloud. The disciples and all the rest of us would still be on that mount had not two angels appeared. “Someday He will return from heaven in the same way you saw Him go!”
Oh, how I long for that day to come.
All of them are gone now, those friends I held so dear. Of the 120 who met in the upper room to praise God and pray, the 120 who first received the Holy Spirit who lit our faith on fire, and sent us out to proclaim Him, only two remain: John, the last of the Twelve, whose faith flashes like a beacon from Patmos, and me, the most unworthy.
Every day, I look up and hope I’ll see Jesus coming through the clouds.
Every day, I pray someday will be today.
THREE
After Jesus ascended to His Father, those of us who followed Jesus remained in Jerusalem. The Twelve—except for Judas the betrayer, who killed himself—stayed in the upper room, along with others who had come from the district of Galilee, including my friend Cleopas. Mary, Jesus’ mother, and His brothers, James, Joseph, Jude, and Simon were there, along with the Lord’s sisters and their families, and Mary’s sister as well. Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea came and went. We prayed for them constantly, for Caiaphas had learned they had taken down Jesus’ body, anointed it, and placed it in Joseph’s tomb, and he now threatened them with expulsion from the Temple. Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James the younger, and Salome were also there with us, along with Matthias and Barsabbas, who had followed Jesus from the day John baptized Him in the Jordan River. The Lord chose Matthias to replace Judas as one of the Twelve.
Fifty days after Jesus had been crucified, forty-seven after He arose, seven days after He ascended to His Father in heaven, on the day of Pentecost, when Jews from all over the empire gathered in Jerusalem, there came upon that house a violent, rushing wind such as I had never heard before or since. It filled the place, and then tongues of fire appeared on each of us. The Holy Spirit filled me, and I felt compelled along with the others to run outside. The fear of men that had haunted us was gone! We rushed headlong into the crowd, crying out the Good News!
A miracle took place inside us. We spoke languages we had not known. Peter spoke before the crowd with eloquence and a knowledge of Scripture that astounded the scribes. Where did a common fis
herman come by such wisdom? We know it came from Jesus, poured into him through the Holy Spirit!
I had a gift for languages, but on that day, I spoke to Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and Mesopotamians, all in languages unknown to me until then. That day of miracles, Christ spoke to all men through us. The Lord declared Himself to men and women from Cappadocia, Pontus, Asia, and Phyrgia. The Good News was preached to families from Pamphylia, Egypt, Cyrene, and as far away as Libya and Rome itself! Even Cretans and Arabs heard Jesus was the Savior, Lord of all!
Of course, some did not understand. They scoffed, hearing only babbling and gibberish. Their minds were closed and dark, their hearts hardened to the truth. But thousands heard, and three thousand men accepted Jesus as Savior and Lord. In one day, our little band of 120 believers grew to over three thousand! I’ve wondered since: was it one language we all spoke? the language all men knew before the Tower of Babel? the language all believers will one day speak in heaven? I know not.
When Pentecost ended, though we did not want to depart from one another, most went home, carrying with them the knowledge that Jesus Christ is the resurrection and the life, Lord of all creation. Later, when I began my travels with Peter and Paul, we found those whose faith had taken root on Pentecost, and begun to grow in a hundred different places.
Those of us who lived in Judea remained in Jerusalem. We were one family, meeting together to hear the apostles teach all Jesus had taught them. We shared meals together, prayed together. No one suffered from need, for we all shared everything we had.
The Lord continued to manifest His power through Peter, who healed a lame man.
Peter, who had once denied Christ three times and hidden with the other disciples out of fear for their lives, now preached boldly in the Temple, along with young John.
The Sadducees and priests, led by Caiaphas and Annas, denied the Resurrection, and put forth lies they had paid the Roman guards to tell. But where was Jesus’ body? Where was the proof? In heaven!
The message spread, maddening the high council. The Holy Spirit moved like wildfire through the streets of Jerusalem. Two thousand more soon accepted Christ Jesus as the way, the truth, and the life.
Persecution and suffering came swiftly as Caiaphas and others of like mind tried to put out the fire of faith. Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea were expelled from the high council and shunned by religious leaders. Peter and John were arrested. Gamaliel, a righteous man devoted to God, spoke wisely, suggesting the council wait and see if the movement would die on its own. “If this is from God, you will only find yourselves fighting against God.” The high council ordered Peter and John flogged before being freed.
We all hoped Gamaliel’s advice would sway the leaders. We prayed they would turn to Christ for salvation and join us in worshiping the Messiah we had been praying for centuries would come.
It was not to be. They hardened their hearts against the proof, more afraid of losing their power and prestige than of spending eternity in Sheol, away from the mercy of God.
In truth, I have learned over the years that most men refuse the free gift of salvation through Christ, and continue to believe they can save themselves by their good deeds and adherence to laws and man-made traditions. It is a miracle of God that any are saved at all.
We met every day in the Temple. Smaller groups met in houses throughout the city. Those of us who had the means took in those who lost their homes and livelihoods. God provided. We kept right on teaching and preaching, despite threats and beatings.
All my doubts had been swept away when I saw the risen Jesus; my fears, on Pentecost. I testified out of the joy of my salvation. Every breath was a thanksgiving offering to the Lord who saved me. God had sent His Son, appointed heir of all things, through whom He made the world. Jesus radiates God’s own glory, and expresses the very character of God. He sustains everything by the mighty power of His command, proven by His death on the cross and His resurrection. He purified us from sins, and now sits at the right hand of God Almighty. He is King of kings, Lord of lords!
I could not speak enough of Him. I could not spend enough time in the company of those who loved Him as I did. I could not wait to tell the lost sheep: “He is the Christ of God, the Savior of the world, the Shepherd who will lead you home.”
Perhaps it was due to my ability to write that I was made a member of the first council, for I was certainly not worthy to be counted among them.
“I was his brother and I didn’t know Him,” James told me when I tried to decline. “I stayed away when He was crucified because I was ashamed of Him. And yet, He came to me and spoke with me after He arose.” James became one of the leaders, along with Peter, who had become an immovable rock of faith.
With each week that passed, more came to believe, and the number of gatherings swelled. As our numbers increased, so too did our troubles. The devil is cunning; rousing anger was one of his many weapons. Arguments broke out between Jews who had lived in Judea all their lives and those who came from Greece. The Twelve spent most of their time serving Communion and settling disputes with little time left over to teach what Jesus had taught them. They grew exhausted. Tempers flared, even among the Twelve.
“Jesus sought solitude to pray!” Matthew said. “He needed time to be alone with His Father! Yet I have not a moment to myself!”
Philip groaned. “The only time we’re alone is in the middle of the night.”
John leaned back. “And by then, I’m too tired to think, let alone pray.”
“The Lord always found time.” Peter paced. “We must find time as well.”
“These people have so many needs!”
James, Jude, and I had discussed the problem at length and prayed about it. We sought to encourage and help if we could, but a solution eluded us.
Then someone said, “How long can we shoulder the whole load ourselves without complete collapse? Even Moses had seventy helpers.”
It caused me to think. “A landowner has foremen who hire workers to plow, sow seed, and harvest crops.”
“Yes, and an army has a commander who gives orders to his centurions who lead soldiers into battle.”
The Twelve huddled together in prayer, and then called all the disciples together. Seven men were to be chosen from among us to serve tables. From that day forward, to the benefit of all, the Twelve devoted themselves to prayer and teaching the Word.
Our meetings were peaceful and joy filled.
But outside, in the city streets, persecution grew worse. The religious leaders said we were a cult drawing the people away from worshiping the Lord in His holy Temple. We met daily in the corridors, and were sometimes driven out. When we preached in the streets, they arrested us. Stephen, one of the seven chosen to serve the church, performed signs and wonders that brought many to believe in Christ. Members of the Synagogue of Freed Slaves argued with him. Failing in that, they lied, and told members of the high council that Stephen spoke blasphemy. Arrested, Stephen was taken before the high council. His words so infuriated the members, they drove him out of the city and stoned him to death.
Grief did not stop the spread of the Good News. Though the apostles remained, persecution drove many believers from Jerusalem, scattering them throughout Judea and Samaria. Like seeds blown by the wind, their witness for Christ was planted everywhere they settled.
The council tried to stifle the message, but the Holy Spirit blazed within us. We went daily to the Temple, to the neighborhood synagogues, and from house to house, teaching and preaching Jesus as the Christ. Philip went to Samaria. When we heard how many came to faith in Christ there, Peter and John went down to help.
I felt no call from God to leave Jerusalem, not even when I was dragged out of my bed in the dead of night and beaten so severely it took months to heal.
“You blaspheme against God by calling Jesus of Nazareth the Messiah!” Six Pharisees smashed every urn, tore down curtains, cut open cushions and poured oil on the Persian carpets while I was accused, be
aten, and kicked.
“We should burn this place down so they can’t meet here again!”
“If you set fire to this house, it may spread to the street and beyond.”
“If you preach one more word about that false messiah, blasphemer, I’ll kill you.”
I wanted to have the faith of Stephen and ask God’s forgiveness for them, but had not the breath to speak. All I could do was look up into my attacker’s face.
I had seen him in the Temple among Gamaliel’s students. We all learned to dread the name Saul of Tarsus.
Over the next months, while I convalesced, serving with reed pen and ink, I heard of Saul’s conversion. I gave little credence to the rumors; for I had seen his face so filled with hatred he seemed grotesque. I had felt his heel in my side.
“I heard he met Jesus on the road to Damascus.”
I thought immediately of my own experience, but brushed the thought aside. Others said Saul was blind. Some said he still lived in Damascus with a man who accepted Christ as Messiah during Pentecost.
We knew Saul had gone north to Damascus with letters from the high council giving him permission to find all who belonged to the Way, and bring captives bound for judgment back to Jerusalem. Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea told us Saul had been with the men who killed Stephen. I wrote letters to warn them of danger and trusted in God to protect His own.
We heard the great persecutor had been baptized. A report came that Saul was declaring Jesus the Christ in the synagogues of Damascus. Another reported Saul the Pharisee had gone away to Arabia. Why, no one could say.
Men live in hope of their enemies repenting, and Saul of Tarsus had proven what an enemy he was.
I doubted all the reports about Saul’s transformation. I hoped never to see his face again.
Sons of Encouragement Page 78
