For a moment Paul was aghast at this identification with a pagan deity, then his face suffused with anger and shame and he tore his robe in a typically Hebrew gesture of sorrow and disavowal. “Men!” he shouted. “Why are you doing this? We are merely men with natures like your own. We have come to tell you the good news so that you may turn from these foolish things to the living God who made heaven and earth and sea and all they contain.”
The chief priest looked befuddled. “Are you not Jupiter and Mercury, His messenger?”
“Nay, we are men like yourselves, by name Paul and Barnabas, Jews who preach the words of the living God and His Son, Jesus Christ.”
By this time the priest had begun to realize the error into which he had fallen. Being human, he turned his anger not against himself for his stupidity, nor the crowd for being fickle, but upon the men whom, a few minutes before, he had been ready to acclaim as gods. “Jews!” He spat the word out as an insult. “Dare you to call the goddess Diana a vain idol before her very temple? Retract or I call upon the goddess to smite you from that rock.”
Paul lifted his head defiantly. “Invoke your pagan idol,” he told the priest. “If she be indeed divine, let her smite me with lightning and hurl me from this rock as an evidence of her power.”
Nothing happened, and the priest, defeated but still haughtily defiant, led his procession back to the temple. Now that the visitors were proved mere men and not gods, most of the crowd turned away, too, but a number still remained. To them Paul preached eloquently. Luke could see that something, perhaps the altercation with the priest, had kindled again in Paul the fire which had been subdued after his experience in Antioch, for the Paul who spoke now was more nearly the same one who had dared the sorcerer Elymas on the steps of the temple at Paphos and held the crowd spellbound in the synagogue at Pisidian Antioch.
V
Fired with enthusiasm, Paul went out that very evening to speak in the streets of Lystra to all who would stop to hear him. Barnabas, however, remained behind, and Luke saw that his friend was worried. “What is it, Barnabas?” he asked as they sat talking after the evening meal. “You are troubled about something.”
“Paul does not know of this yet,” Barnabas said, “but I had disquieting news from Antioch through a caravan we met on the way here.”
“What is wrong?”
“Some of the elders in Jerusalem have been urging that all who follow Jesus obey the Jewish laws of diet and be circumcised. They have even sent out representatives who teach that Gentiles cannot be accepted into the Church without first obeying these rules.”
“But that would wreck the whole program of carrying the word to the Gentiles!” Luke cried, aghast.
“That is not the worst,” Barnabas continued dourly. “The proselytizers have already come to Antioch and caused a split in the church there.”
“How could Peter let a thing like this happen?” Luke asked. “It was his vision at Joppa that authorized you to preach to the Gentiles.”
“Peter is easily swayed,” Barnabas explained. “The Judaizers are even claiming that Peter himself supports this new rule.”
Here was disquieting news indeed, for if Paul were to learn that his work among the Gentiles was being jeopardized by the very people who had been given the task of spreading Christ’s gospel on earth, the shock might bring on again the depression which had worried Luke so much after their painful experience at Pisidian Antioch. And yet it was not fair to keep the news from him much longer.
“I have tried to persuade Paul that we should return to Antioch,” Barnabas said, “without telling him about this until we get there and can see what the situation really is. But he wants to go on with this work, since he has met with some success in Galatia.”
In the end they decided to say nothing to Paul for a few days, hoping that some other expedient would come to mind. Paul continued his preaching, and on the Sabbath he went to the proseucha, a temporary building which served the small Jewish congregation of the city as a place of worship in lieu of a synagogue. The Jews received him rather coldly, for they had been warned about him from Antioch, so he turned his efforts more and more to the Gentiles, with considerable success.
Luke was becoming adept at learning the sentiments of a city from the idle talk of his patients, and as he worked in his small surgery he soon detected evidence of a strong undercurrent of resentment in Lystra against Paul. As usual, it was fanned both by the priests of Diana, who had ample reason to hate the apostle, and the Jews, who objected to the freedom with which Paul invited Gentiles to share the favors of Jehovah.
This time, however, disaster struck before Luke had a chance to make any preparations. He was setting a fracture late one afternoon when Thecla came running into the surgery, sobbing hysterically that Paul was dead. When Luke calmed her enough so she could talk intelligibly, he was able to get the story of the tragedy.
Paul had been preaching in the streets, as usual. This time those who sought to destroy him had skillfully infiltrated the crowds, saying that he was really a practitioner of black magic and sorcery and was in league with devils. One told of seeing him at midnight conferring with evil spirits and another professed to have seen him robbing a grave. To a people as ignorant and superstitious as these, little more than a rumor was necessary, and this spread rapidly through the crowd. When Paul had finished his address and started homeward, a threatening group followed after him, accusing him of all manner of evil.
Paul had tried to argue them out of the foolish charges, for he was afraid of nothing when it came to spreading the beloved word. But the crowd was in no mood to listen and began to pelt him with balls of clay mixed with spittle, so that in a matter of minutes his robe was spattered with mud. Then the ringleaders, judging correctly the temper of the crowd, began to pelt him with stones, and soon a veritable avalanche was pouring upon his head. Buffeted with stones, half blinded, Paul had still tried to reason with his persecutors, but a large stone had struck him on the temple, felling him and leaving him senseless. When someone in the crowd shouted that he was dead, they had ceased the stoning and dragged his inert body to the refuse heap just outside the gates of the city.
“Did you touch him?” Luke asked Thecla. “Could you be sure that he is dead?”
“I didn’t see him closely,” she said. “But I heard them screaming that he was dead.”
“Go to the house,” Luke directed, “and tell Barnabas to bring a cart to the rubbish heap. I will see whether Paul is really beyond help. Sometimes victims of stonings are knocked senseless but can be saved by a physician.”
A crowd of people stood at the gate, watching the inert and battered form lying on the refuse heap. Some were weeping, some mildly curious, but there seemed little animosity left in them now. Luke pushed his way through and went to kneel beside Paul’s body. His fingers automatically sought the pulse, and his heart leaped when he detected a slow, even beat. Quickly Luke ran his fingers over the apostle’s skull, seeking some evidence of a dangerous fracture, but found none. There was a rounded bluish swelling over the temple which could account for the unconsciousness, since blows in that region brought stupor more quickly than in any other part of the head. The very location of the blow might have saved Paul’s life, Luke realized, by bringing on unconsciousness before he could be battered to death by the stones.
There was a well close to the gate, and Luke tore off part of Paul’s now tattered robe and moistened it in water.
As gently as he could he began to sponge away the blood which had run down the apostle’s face from a half dozen superficial cuts, in addition to the wound which had felled him. The coolness of the water served to revive Paul, and he opened his eyes and stared at Luke. “They stoned me as they did Stephen,” he whispered. “Why am I alive?”
“You were knocked unconscious and the crowd thought you were dead.”
“Then God must have guided th
e stone that felled me.” He moved his head a little and saw the crowd waiting at the gate. “Are they waiting to stone me again?”
“No. Those who did it ran away. Many of the crowd there are believers; they were weeping for you when I came through the gate.”
“Then I must show them that God keeps watch over His servants.”
“Thecla has gone for Barnabas and a cart. You must lie still until they can come.”
“We who have faith in Christ can triumph over evil men and stones,” Paul insisted. “If I rise and walk into the city, all will know the power of Jesus.”
“You will be endangering your life,” Luke warned.
Paul smiled. “God saved me from the stones, Luke. It does not seem to be His will that I die here in Lystra. Help me up, please.” At first the apostle swayed so from dizziness at the change of position that Luke was forced to support him or he would have fallen. But when his head cleared a little, they began a slow progress toward the city.
A cry of amazement went up from the crowd when the man who they had been told was dead began to walk, and people all around them fell to their knees, some praying, some shouting with joy at the seeming miracle which had brought Paul back to life. Others pushed forward to touch the apostle’s robe in the hope that some of the power which had raised him might spread to them. What had been an ignominious defeat had now become a triumphal procession, more impressive to these simple-minded people than any preaching could have been, for here was visual evidence of the power of God which Paul had been telling them had raised Christ from the tomb.
They met Thecla, Barnabas, and Timothy bringing the cart, but Paul refused to ride, and so the triumphal procession continued through the city to Eunice’s house. That night all of Lystra hummed with the news of the miracle which had been wrought that day, and crowds gathered around the house demanding that Paul come out and speak to them. Even in his weakened condition he continued to do so, until shortly before midnight he fainted and Barnabas sent them away.
In the morning Paul seemed to be all right, but Luke was worried about him, and after a conference it was decided that they should all return to Iconium, Paul and Glaucus riding in the carriage which had brought Thecla and her father to Lystra, the others following in carts, including Timothy and his mother and grandmother. At Iconium, Luke hoped that Paul could rest and heal the injuries from the stoning.
When Paul became feverish shortly after their arrival in Iconium, Luke thought at first that the effects of the stoning had brought on another recurrence of the intermittent fever which was the apostle’s particular nemesis. But Paul soon fell into a stupor, alternating with periods of delirium, and Luke was certain that the trouble was coming from the injury which had rendered him unconscious at the stoning.
The fever continued to burn Paul’s body and his delirium increased. Luke remained at his bedside most of the time, as he always did when charged with the care of a seriously ill patient. And when he had exhausted his meager supply of drugs with no appreciable effect upon Paul’s condition, his hopes for his friend’s life grew lower and lower.
Glaucus was now so weak that he was unable to teach, and the entire burden of the school fell on Thecla’s shoulders. Luke helped her when he could, but they could snatch only an occasional moment to be alone together. In spite of the work and his worries about Paul, Luke was experiencing a quiet happiness here in Iconium with Thecla that he had never known before.
Barnabas was working steadily to build up a strong church in Iconium and meeting with considerable success, but Luke knew that he was worried about the things he had heard from Antioch regarding the change of policy toward Gentile converts on the part of James and Peter in Jerusalem. Then they learned that proselyte Christians had actually appeared in Pisidian Antioch and Lystra, announcing that Paul and Barnabas were no longer authorized to accept Gentile converts freely upon the profession of their belief in Jesus and the resurrection from the dead. Barnabas and Luke both realized now that they could not remain aloof from the controversy much longer, but neither felt that he could leave Paul and go to Antioch and Jerusalem.
So the months passed, one and then two, before Paul began to show definite signs of recovery. Even when he was able to sit up in bed there were long weeks before he was well enough to travel again. In this period of enforced rest, so galling to one of Paul’s temperament, Timothy helped him most. Whenever he was not busy with his schooling or with the chores of the household, the young man was always with Paul, his eyes glowing with interest and excitement as he listened to stories of other cities and other lands. And as strength returned to his hands, Paul taught Timothy how to cut the tough cilicium and sew it into tents and other useful articles of cloth.
The warmth of spring was already beginning to filter from the seacoast up into the mountains before Paul was able to attend services with the congregation at Iconium. And on his first visit he learned of the activities of the proselytizers who had come behind him to undo his work, when one of them, lately come from Jerusalem, rose in the synagogue and spoke against Paul, telling of the new decisions of the elders at Jerusalem.
Luke had expected trouble when Paul first learned of this new complication, but he was surprised by the calmness with which the apostle received the bad news. Instead of reacting with anger, Paul rose after the proselytizer and talked at length, recounting how Peter had received the vision at Joppa in which he had been instructed to kill and eat the animals let down from heaven in a sheet. Then he went on to interpret how Peter had taken this as a sign that he should preach to the Gentiles and how, when he reached the house of Cornelius at Caesarea, the Holy Spirit had descended upon the converts there, proving that the vision of Peter had indeed come from God. The crowd listened eagerly, for they had been troubled by the words of the proselytizer, and at the end of the service hundreds gathered around Paul to hear more.
Afterward, at the home of Glaucus, Paul asked, “How long have you known of the work of these Judaizers, Barnabas?”
“Several months,” Barnabas admitted.
“Why did you not go to Antioch and Jerusalem if necessary?”
“Luke was not certain that you would live, Paul,” Barnabas explained. “I stayed to help in any way that I could.”
“The welfare of no one person is worth more than the Church of Christ,” Paul insisted. “We must lose no time in getting to Antioch at once.”
“Suppose Peter and the elders will not relent in their decision about the Gentiles?” Luke asked. “What will you do?”
For a moment Paul did not speak, as if he were considering such an eventuality for the first time. Then he said decisively, “The Church of Jesus can never grow among the heathen if it is hemmed in with senseless restrictions. Before I would let them destroy my work I would break with Peter and the elders and start a new church.” Then he added briskly, “But we will not consider such an eventuality. When I talk to the others in Antioch and Jerusalem, I am sure I can convince them that God intends for the Gentiles to be accepted without restrictions.”
“You are going with Paul to Antioch, aren’t you, Luke?” Thecla asked as he held her in his arms for the few precious moments they tried to find for each other each day.
“What else can I do, dearest?” he said resignedly. “Paul is in trouble and he still does not have his strength. He will need all the help his friends can give him.”
“You and Paul are more than just friends Luke,” Thecla said. “Both of you are a part of some great purpose of God’s.”
“But when are we to think of ourselves, Thecla?”
“God’s plan for you comes first, Luke. We both belong to Jesus before we do to each other.”
“It will not be long,” he promised. “And when I come back to you nothing will ever separate us again.”
VI
They arrived in Syrian Antioch in the middle of an afternoon, and Luke went immediatel
y to the apothecary shop where Probus ministered to the sick and poor along the Street of the River. A long line of people waited outside the shop. Probus was applying a dressing of balsam to an ulcer on the leg of an old man, but when he saw Luke his eyes kindled with pleasure and he engulfed the young physician in a hearty embrace. For a moment both were too filled with emotion to speak.
Probus held Luke by the shoulders and searched his face keenly. “You have matured since I left you in Perga,” he said then.
“Perhaps it was the whips,” Luke said, smiling.
“Surely you did not let them whip you too,” Probus said quickly. “You, a Roman and the son of Theophilus.”
“How did you know about it?”
“These cursed proselytizers who have come here to wreck our work told of it. They used the whipping as evidence that neither the Gentiles nor the Jews had accepted Paul in Galatia.”
“But the whipping was by Jews. Our mission was an outstanding success among the Gentiles everywhere.”
“We need good news,” Probus said. “The Judaizers have nearly wrecked the church here at Antioch.”
“But how? Gentiles were first accepted here.”
“As soon as these agents appeared here with their story that Gentiles must be circumcised and adhere to Jewish rules of eating in order to be accepted by Jesus, many in the Church seized upon this new idea to set themselves above the Gentiles. Now each side spends its time fighting the other for fear it will get ahead, and nothing is accomplished.”
This was bad news indeed, for the church at Antioch was the pattern for all others, the example given by Paul and Barnabas everywhere to show how Jew and Gentile, black and white, rich and poor could work together for the teachings of Jesus.
“What about Thecla?” Probus asked. “Is it still the same with you?”
“We are to be married when I return to Iconium in a few months.”
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