“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 unsettled 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.
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 adamant 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.
Sons of Encouragement Page 81
