by John Hagee
Soon, however, he realized that John’s breathing had grown too quiet. Jacob put his hand on the old man’s shoulder and shook him lightly. “John? . . . John?”
There was no response. The Apostle’s face was cold to the touch, and Jacob knew it was not simply from being outdoors. John had slipped into eternity while slumped against Jacob’s side.
His heart as chilled as the wintry day, Jacob picked up the Beloved Apostle, carried him inside, and laid him on the bed. Before he realized what he was doing, Jacob pulled the covers over the Apostle’s frail frame, as if putting him down for a nap. Then reality hit him: John was gone. He did not need to be taken care of anymore.
Jacob almost lost control of his emotions then, but there was too much to be done before he could allow himself to mourn. Some women from the church were there, and working through their tears, they began to prepare John’s body for burial. Jacob left to find Marcellus and Quintus, so they could help him get word to the believers across Ephesus.
Following the Jewish custom, they buried John before sundown on the day he died. Most of the church members had been notified within a few hours, so the funeral was well attended. And the weeping on the hillside was so loud and boisterous that Jacob reckoned it could be heard all the way to the harbor.
The shrouded body was laid to rest in a niche in the inner wall of the private tomb that was adjacent to Abraham’s sprawling villa. The rest of the family returned to the house, but Jacob remained in the mausoleum even after the last mourners had left. He couldn’t bear to leave John just yet.
Dry-eyed during the funeral, Jacob wept now in private. He hadn’t expected to be this emotional, but somehow the loss affected him even more deeply than the death of his father. Perhaps it was because he hadn’t witnessed Abraham’s death, but Jacob had been with John when he passed into glory. And perhaps it was because Jacob was a different man now, a more mature man, a man who understood more about life and death and faith and friendship.
The sun had not gone down yet, but it was always dim in the inner recesses of the burial chamber. Torches had been lit and placed in iron holders bracketed onto the wall. The cold marble crypt was an eerie place, yet there was comfort here. There was family here. John’s funeral bier contained the only intact body tucked away in the crevices, but the bones of Jacob’s mother and grandfather resided in carved limestone boxes, as did some of the servants who had worked for the family over the years. Eventually, “these old bones” of John’s would be collected and placed in a similar ossuary.
Bleary-eyed from weeping, Jacob looked up at one of the wall sconces where the torches burned brightly, dispelling the gloom. The last apostle is gone, Jacob thought.
Did that mean the persecution was over? Would there be no more martyrs?
As Jacob stared into the burning torch, he suddenly saw Polycarp’s image. Although it was Polycarp’s face he saw in the flames, it was the face of an old man—a very old, white-haired man, like John.
Jacob blinked and looked again; the image was gone. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Or was it a glimpse into the future?
It was too close in the mausoleum. Jacob needed fresh air. He walked outside and sat down on the gently sloping knoll where the family tomb had been built. Sitting cross-legged on the ground, he stared at the sky. It would be a beautiful sunset; streaks of pink and purple had stolen among the clouds, their rich hues bringing a depth of color to the fading daylight.
What a sad day for the church, but what a glorious day for John. In his mind Jacob pictured the Beloved Apostle’s reunion with his Master, and almost thought he could hear John’s raucous laughter. All of Jacob’s life he had heard John’s stories of the Rabbi from Galilee. Jesus of Nazareth. Lord and Savior. John had told the tales so vividly that Jacob sometimes felt as if he’d been there with the Twelve.
Now these old stories floated into his memory, drifting through his mind like the clouds scudding over the hills. Jacob also recalled conversations he’d had with John and Polycarp about the lives and deaths of the original apostles. Polycarp had wanted to collect and preserve the accounts of their martyrdom, so he had talked about it extensively with John, and had communicated on the subject with church leaders across the Empire.
Odd, Jacob thought now, that while John had been the last to die, his older brother, James, had been the first. James had been beheaded in Jerusalem by Herod Agrippa, shortly before the king’s own death.
Now John, the final member of the Twelve, was gone. And Jacob had been privileged to know him intimately. The Apostle’s influence on Jacob’s life had been, and always would be, profound.
Jacob was still pondering all these things when Livia found him on the hillside. She came up beside him and put a hand on his shoulder.
“It’s cold out here,” she said. “And you haven’t eaten anything all day. Why don’t you come inside?”
“I will in a minute. I’m just doing some thinking.”
“Is it all right if I join you?”
“Have a seat,” Jacob said, patting the ground beside him. “If it’s not too cold for you.”
“You forget, I’m used to the cold. And dressed for it.” Livia sat down, spreading her heavy fur-trimmed cape underneath her. “You, however, are not.”
“I’m fine,” he protested. Actually, he felt a bit chilled in the light woolen cloak he’d thrown over his tunic, but once she’d pointed out the temperature to him, he felt obligated to deny it.
“So, what are you thinking about?” Livia asked. “The Apostle?”
“Yes,” Jacob said. He paused and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “I’m also thinking about me, about the direction I’m supposed to be taking with my life.”
It was something he’d discussed with his wife even before leaving Cappadocia. Jacob had not been sure what he should do when he returned to Ephesus. He’d been home for several months now, and even though he had agreed to help Peter manage the shipping business, Jacob still did not have a clear direction.
Not until he had sat down on the hillside, that is. With all the reflecting he’d done during the twilight hour, something was stirring in him. That something was purpose, and as he began to tell Livia about it, everything came together.
“I always thought I had to choose between my father’s business and the ministry,” Jacob told her. “I chose the ministry, yet it wasn’t the right decision. I recently realized, though, that the shipping business is the ministry. My brother understood that long before I did. Last fall Peter and Rebecca sent a boatload of blankets for the prisoners on Devil’s Island.”
“And you arranged financial help for the Christians who lost their businesses in Smyrna,” Livia pointed out.
“Yes,” Jacob said. He and Peter had made interest-free loans to Sergius and Plautius, so the brothers could rebuild their blacksmith shop, and another one to Tarquinius for rebuilding the inn. “But there’s so much more we could do. That’s what I’ve been thinking about just now.”
He drew his legs up and spread his cloak over his knees, speaking his thoughts out loud as they came. “Matthew said in his book that the gospel of the kingdom would be preached throughout the whole world before Jesus returns. I hope that will happen in my lifetime. It’s already been seventy years; He’s bound to return soon.”
Excitement began to build in Jacob’s voice. “He’s coming back, Livia, and we must do whatever we can while there’s still time.”
“I agree, but I’m still not sure what you’re talking about. More relief work for the Christians who are suffering?”
“Yes, definitely,” he said. “But even more than that, we have to reach the lost. Do you remember what Paul wrote about evangelism in one of his epistles—the one to the Romans?” Jacob did not wait for her answer. “When he talked about winning the lost, Paul said, ‘How can they hear without someone preaching to them? And how can they preach unless they are sent?’
“That’s it, Livia. I’m not called to preach—I’m
called to send preachers!” Jacob couldn’t get the thoughts out fast enough now. “What’s the fastest way to travel long distances? By ship. We can use the shipping business to launch missionaries. We won’t just haul cargo—we’ll transport preachers. We’ll help them take the gospel not just to the far reaches of the Empire, but beyond . . .”
Jacob stopped because he was getting ahead of himself, but he knew that what he was sensing in his spirit was something with vast potential.
He stood and reached out a hand to help Livia up. “It’s dark now. Let’s get back to the house.”
As they walked past the mausoleum, Jacob saw that someone had closed the heavy door, sealing the tomb, and had placed a torch on the outside wall. The flame reflected off the gleaming Italian marble. Jacob stopped and went to retrieve the torch, and as he removed it from the holder, he thought once more of John.
Jacob paused and made a silent vow to his mentor and friend. I know my calling now, and I will fulfill it.
Then he took Livia’s hand and walked home, the torch illuminating their path, and the fire of the gospel burning in his heart.
DEVIL’S ISLAND
A Novel
Book One: The Apocalypse Diaries
IN HIS FIRST NOVEL, and the prequel to Avenger of Blood, John Hagee tells the powerful story of a Christian family caught in the persecutions of Rome—and how their lives interweave with the apostle John as he receives the book of Revelation on the island of Patmos.
The apostle John pushed aside the incense. “I will not make your sacrifice,” he announced to the Roman tribune. “There is one God, and his name is not Domitian.” Standing next to John at the stone altar of the emporer’s temple were other believers, including Asia’s most wealthy citizen, Abraham of Ephesus, and his family. Will Abraham follow John’s example? If he refuses to make the sacrifice, the shipping magnate’s vast fortune will be confiscated by Rome, and he will either be executed or exiled to Patmos— Devil’s Island. This exciting historical novel follows Abraham and his family as they make their choice to worship Ceasar or follow Christ, and it brings to life the days when Christians faced the lions in Rome’s Colosseum—and when the exiled Apostle received the great visions of Revelation.
ISBN: 0-7852-6787-5
