We made it as far as Athens and had to wait. Paul fell ill again. I cared for him as best I could, but he needed a doctor. “I’m sending for Luke.”
“No!” Paul lay pale, but vehement as ever in his opinions. “I will be all right in a few days. Luke is needed where he is. God can heal me, if He wills. And if not, then this is a burden I must carry.”
As soon as Paul was well enough, we set out again, only to be attacked near the port and stripped of our passage money. Damaris helped us, but one thing after another happened to keep us from going north. “Perhaps it is the Lord keeping us here, Paul,” I pointed out.
Paul, still not fully well, grew impatient. “It is Satan who delays us! We can’t wait any longer! Someone must go to Thessalonica and tell our brothers and sisters the truth before their faith is murdered by lies.”
Timothy said he would go. We laid hands on him, blessed him, and sent him off, eager to defend Paul and explain more fully Jesus’ promise to return. I admit I feared the young man’s natural reserve might keep him from being effective. Paul worried he might be killed. We both prayed unceasingly.
It was not an easy time for us.
Paul’s health grew worse, and he fell into a deep depression. “I’m afraid all we’ve worked so hard to accomplish is lost.”
We could do nothing but pray and trust in the Lord. The waiting proved a greater test of our faith than floggings and imprisonment!
But God was faithful!
Timothy returned zealous and with good reports. Rejoicing, we three returned to Corinth, renewed in faith and strength. Our good spirits dampened again though when, after a few weeks, the Corinthian Jews refused to believe a word Paul or I said. No matter how much proof we showed from the Scriptures, they hardened their hearts against Jesus. The last time Paul entered the synagogue, the gathering storm burst forth and some who despised Paul insulted and blasphemed Jesus to his face.
“Your blood is upon your own heads!” Paul cried out and left the synagogue. He stood outside, shaking his robes in protest. “I shake the dust of this place from me!” He raised his arm. “You and you and you.” He pointed to specific men. “I am innocent. Let your blood be on your own heads, for you have rejected the Lord God. From now on, I will go preach to the Gentiles!”
The neighborhood remained in an uproar that day and for days following.
Paul might say he consigned them to God’s wrath, but in truth the man refused to give up hope. I laugh now, for he moved in with Titius Justus, a Gentile believer. Titius lived right next door to the synagogue!
Not a day went by that the Jews did not see Paul receiving visitors. Crispus, one of their leaders, came to reason with Paul. Away from the sway and jealousy of the others, he received Christ. Soon, Crispus brought his entire family to hear about Jesus. Our enemies ground their teeth and muttered at those who came. Jews and Gentiles under one roof, breaking bread together? The Christ of God for all men? The hard-hearted refused to believe.
Paul received constant threats, and, as his friends, so did Timothy and I and others. But the attacks were far worse upon him. He became afraid. I am convinced that his fear rose from exhaustion. He worked constantly, from before dawn to long after dark. Even a man of his amazing stamina needs to rest. I certainly did. But Paul felt compelled to preach, compelled to answer every question with proof, compelled to pour himself out like a liquid offering. When he was not preaching, he studied the scrolls we carried, preparing for the next battle. He dictated letters far into the night.
A tired man is more easily shaken.
“I’m afraid,” he confessed to me one night. “It’s one thing for people to attack me, but my friends . . .” His eyes filled with tears. “I’m afraid of what my enemies will do next, Silas, who they might harm because of what I say.” I knew he feared for Timothy, and not without cause. But Timothy was as on fire for Christ as he. The young man had given his life as a living sacrifice for the Lord.
“You must do whatever the Lord tells you to do, Paul. If the Lord says speak, you already know you have Timothy’s blessing. And mine as well.”
Titius Justus wondered if Paul should press on. “He has good reason to be afraid, Silas.” Titius told me Paul received threats every time he left the house. The day before, the Judaizers had cornered Paul in the marketplace, and said they would kill him if he continued. When I confronted Paul about this, he said it was true.
“Perhaps we should move on again. We have planted the seeds. God will water and make them grow.”
Paul smiled bleakly. “It will be the same anywhere I go, Silas. You know that as well as I.”
Trouble followed Paul in the same way trouble had followed Jesus.
How many times had I seen the Good News greeted with anger and scorn? Most people don’t want to hear the truth, let alone embrace it. To accept Christ’s gift means admitting that everything on which we based our lives before has gained us nothing. It means surrendering to a power greater than ourselves. Few want to surrender to anything but their lusts. We cling to our vanity and go on striving to find our own way when there is only one way.
I praised God every time I saw truth dawn in someone’s eyes, the veil of Satan’s lies dissolved, a heart of stone beating with new life. The new believer stood on a mountaintop looking out at the vast hope laid wide open before them, an eternal, lifelong journey with the Lord. They became a living, breathing temple in which God dwelled. The rebirth was a miracle as great as Jesus’ feeding thousands on a few loaves of bread and fish, because it was evidence He lived; His promises continued to be fulfilled daily.
But fear sets in so easily.
We decided to be cautious. We thought it wise, but, in truth, Paul was silenced, and so was I. We had forgotten we must step out in faith, not sit and wait for it to grow in shadows.
By the grace of God, Jesus spoke to Paul in a vision. “Don’t be afraid! Speak out!” Jesus said many people in the city already belonged to Him. All we had to do was go out and find them!
We obeyed. With such great encouragement, how could we not?
We set out, faith renewed, zeal restored.
For eighteen months.
And then a new governor came to Achaia, and everything changed again.
Soon after Gallio took office, the Jews rose up against Paul, took him to the judgment seat and accused him of teaching men to worship God in ways contrary to Roman law. But Gallio was not like Pontius Pilate, easily swayed by a mob. Paul did not even say a word in his own defense before Gallio ended the session.
“Since this is merely a question of words and names and your Jewish law, take care of it yourselves. I refuse to judge such matters.” With a jerk of his head, guards moved and drove the Jews away from the judgment seat.
Greeks grabbed hold of Sosthenes, the leader of the synagogue, and began beating him. Gallio continued to conduct business and ignore the fracas. A Gentile punched Sosthenes, knocked him down, and kicked him right there before the judgment seat.
Paul tried to push through. “Stop!” Unwittingly, he used Aramaic.
I cried out in Greek and then Latin. They withdrew, leaving Sosthenes half conscious and bleeding on the stone pavement. The rabbi’s friends were nowhere to be seen. He shrank back from us in fear, though we only wanted to help him.
“Let us help you!”
“Why do you do this for me?” Sosthenes rasped. “You, of all people . . .”
“Because Jesus would do it,” Paul said, straining to help lift him.
Sosthenes stumbled, but we kept him from falling. He wept all the way to Priscilla and Aquila’s. Luke dressed his wounds. We sent word to the synagogue, but none came for him. They would not enter the house of a Gentile.
When Sosthenes became feverish, we took turns caring for him. We told him about Jesus. “He made the blind see, and the deaf hear. He raised a widow’s son and called a friend from the tomb in which he had lain for four days.”
I told him of Jesus’ trial before Pontius
Pilate, of how He died on the cross on Passover, and three days later, arose. I told him of my life in Jerusalem and Caesarea and how it changed on the road to Emmaus. Paul told him of seeing Jesus on the road to Damascus.
Sosthenes tried not to listen at first. He wept and covered his ears. But gradually he did listen. “It was not your words that convinced me,” he told us. “It was your love. I was your enemy, Paul, and you and Silas lifted me up.”
We baptized him.
He returned to the synagogue, determined to sway the others. He could not.
“It is not by your word or mine that men are saved,” Paul told him when he came to Titius’s home, “but by the power of the Holy Spirit.”
“They are my friends,” Sosthenes wept. “My family.”
“Continue to love them. And keep praying.”
A few months later, Paul decided to go to Cenchrea and fulfill a vow of thanksgiving to the Lord. “Jesus has protected me here in Corinth.” The vow required he cut off his hair and shave.
I helped him prepare. “How long will you remain in solitude?”
“Thirty days.”
“Will you return here, or do you want us to join you there?”
“You and Timothy must remain here. There is still much work to do. When the time of the vow is complete, Aquila and Priscilla will join me, and we’ll sail to Syria.”
I was stunned. And hurt. “Are you telling me you no longer need my services?”
He grimaced as though in pain. “Don’t look at me like that, Silas. I must go where the Lord leads, even if it means I must leave beloved friends behind.”
Paul left the next day. The parting was especially difficult for Timothy, whom Paul commanded to remain with me in Corinth.
The church met in Chloe’s home. And what a church it was, made up of reformed thieves, drunkards, idol worshipers, and adulterers. They flocked to Christ, who cleansed them of sin and made them like newborn babies. They rejected their previous practices of promiscuity, homosexuality, and debauchery and dedicated themselves to Christ, living holy lives pleasing to God. They became miracles, living testimony to the power of God to change men and women from the inside out.
Apollos, a Jew from Alexandria, arrived with a letter from Priscilla and Aquila. They commended him to us and asked that we welcome him. We did so, and he proved to be as great an orator as Paul, refuting the Jews with Scripture.
The church of Corinth was firmly established and continued to grow.
When Paul wrote that he intended to visit the churches we had planted in Phrygia and Galatia, I thought it time to rejoin him. Stephanas, Fortunatus, and Achaicus proved themselves as able leaders, along with Sosthenes. We sent word of our plans, but when we reached Ephesus, it was Aquila and Priscilla, and not Paul, who greeted us. “He’s gone on to Jerusalem for Passover.”
The news alarmed me.
“I should’ve come sooner and dissuaded him! The high council will look for any opportunity to kill him!”
Timothy was grievously disappointed. “Why didn’t he wait?”
“We all tried to dissuade him, Silas, but you know how Paul is when he’s determined to do something. There’s no stopping him.”
When they told me Paul had left his books and papers behind, I knew my friend was well aware of what awaited him in Jerusalem. “Paul would rather run toward death than leave the Jews in darkness.”
I thought of going after him, but after much prayer, knew God wanted me in Ephesus.
Timothy was not yet ready to stand alone.
“Landing place” is an apt name for Ephesus. It is the intersection of the coastal road running north to Troas and the western route to Colosse, Laodicea, and beyond. Ships from all over the Roman Empire sailed in and out of its port. With its magnificent road lined with marble columns, its theater, baths, library, agora, and paved streets, Ephesus rivals the grandeur of Rome and its infamous debauchery. The city is temple-warden to the three emperors, each honored by an enormous temple. However, it is the Temple of Artemis that dominates. Four times larger than the Parthenon in Athens, it draws thousands of devotees each year, eager to partake of the most depraved worship man creates. Add to this ships that arrive daily, unloading cages of wild animals from Africa and gladiators for the games.
Ephesus was a great trial to me. Everywhere I looked I saw astounding beauty and knew it housed horrendous sin. I longed for the religiosity of Jerusalem, the struggle of men to follow moral laws, the solitude of scholarly pursuits.
Priscilla and Aquila, already established as tentmakers, gathered believers in their home. They nurtured and taught new believers. Timothy and I preached in the agora. When Apollos returned, he preached with the logic of a Roman and the poetry of a Greek. Crowds gathered to hear him speak, and many came to faith in the Lord through his teaching.
Timothy grew as a teacher. Some questioned him because of his youth, but he was mature in the Lord and ready for leadership. Gaius was a great help to him. Erastus, also, proved helpful. He had been an aedile in Corinth, and used his administrative gifts to help the church in Corinth. No one lacked provisions.
We were a motley group, much like our sisters and brothers in Corinth. Repentant idolators, fornicators, adulterers, homosexuals, swindlers, and drunkards—all now living lives above reproach, helping one another and others. I quickly saw more miracles in Ephesus than I had in Israel during those three years that Jesus ministered. The Lord was alive, and His Spirit moved mightily in the midst of beautiful, wretched Ephesus.
When I received a letter from the council asking me to return to Jerusalem, I knew it was time for me to step down and place Timothy in leadership.
Though confident in the Lord, Timothy had little confidence in himself. “I am not ready, Silas.”
But the Ephesians were not easily led, and there were always wolves intent upon attacking the flock. “You are ready, Timothy. You have the heart and the knowledge. We are each called to a different task. I must go. You must stay.”
“But am I capable?”
I gave him what advice I could. “God has equipped you for the work. Remember: we can ask God for wisdom, and He will give it without rebuking us for the asking. But be sure when you ask Him that your faith is in the Lord alone. Don’t waver, Timothy. And don’t try to work things out on your own. Trust Jesus to show you the right path. Then take it! When He gives you the words to speak, speak them. Do those things and God will do His work here in Ephesus.”
He had good friends to stand with him—Aquila and Priscilla, Apollos, Gaius—all devoted servants of the Lord. I left with saddened heart, but fully confident that the Lord would use Timothy mightily to strengthen the Ephesian church.
It has been years now since I have seen Timothy, though we have exchanged letters. His heart is no less humble, though the Lord has strengthened him over the years, and sent others to encourage him, including John, the apostle, and with him, Jesus’ mother, Mary.
Mary has gone to be with the Lord now, but John remains.
Time has a way of turning in upon itself as you grow older. I cannot remember when some things happened, or how, or in what sequence events occurred.
Paul’s time to depart this world had not yet come. After a brief stay in Jerusalem, he returned to Antioch, where he reported on his journey. Then he returned to Ephesus. I was gone by then, home in Jerusalem. But when I heard, I knew Timothy would be much relieved to have his mentor back at his side, and would be all the more strengthened by Paul’s instruction and example.
Luke remained Paul’s companion and wrote to me often. God gave Paul miraculous power, which turned many from worshiping false gods. Those who made idols caused a riot. Fearing Paul would be murdered, the church sent him to Philippi. Timothy went with him, but returned soon after.
Others traveled with Paul after that. Some fell away in exhaustion. Others could not get along with him. Paul kept going. He was the most dedicated man I knew. He told me once, “Faith is a race, and we must run it wit
h all our strength.” I imagine him now wearing the laurel wreath.
I miss him.
Had I remained with him, my suffering might be over now. But the path the Lord has laid out before me is longer and winds more than I ever imagined it would.
I, like so many others, thought Jesus would return in a few days or weeks. Then we thought our Lord would return in a few months, then a few years. He said He would wait until all the world had the opportunity to hear of Him. And the world is larger than we ever imagined.
Paul planned to go to Gaul and never made it.
But again I digress. A tired man’s musings. I waste this scroll.
Silas wanted to quit the task Epanetus had given him. His neck, back, and shoulders ached. His fingers felt stiff. But it wasn’t the physical pain of so many hours laboring at the table. It was remembering the years and miles, the friends saved and lost.
Macombo brought a tray. “Have you finished?”
“No.”
“You have lived a rich life.”
Silas covered his face with his hands.
That night, he slept deeply and dreamed of Jesus. The Lord filled His nail-scarred hands with grain and cast it in all directions. Seeds took root—tiny shoots rising in deserts, on mountaintops, in small villages and great cities. Some drifted on the sea toward distant lands.
Jesus placed a scroll in Silas’s hand and smiled.
Paul felt drawn back to Jerusalem. Like me, it was his home, the center of all we had known and held dear. The Temple was still the house of God. I could not go up the steps and stand in the corridors and not think of Jesus or hear His voice echoing in my mind. My heart ached every time I stepped foot in that place meant to be holy and now so defiled by corruption.
We received word Paul had arrived in Caesarea. He stayed with Philip the Evangelist and his four daughters, all unmarried and with the gift of prophecy. They, like others—myself included—had chosen not to marry, but to await the return of the Lord. Agabus went to see Paul. He’d had a dream that Paul would be imprisoned if he came to Jerusalem.
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