The representation of so many gods, combined with the Greek need to be precise, had even caused the creation of one idol that intrigued Paul; dedicated to an “unknown god,” it was designed to placate any god who had not been recognized. Paul found his way to a market where many men met to debate their varying points of view in regards to religion and life.
Two groups in particular were intrigued with Paul’s teaching: the Epicureans and the Stoics. The Epicureans taught that life was best experienced through the senses, that there was no real life after death, that life and knowledge must be accumulated by what is experienced. The Stoics believed that life is best lived void of passion, that reason must control passion, that true knowledge is only attainable when one is in complete control. But what brought these and others to this place was the exchange of thoughts and ideas—and the words Paul brought them were intriguing.
“Excuse me, sir, but your words are strange to us,” said a man. “We have many gods here.”
“Yes, and each one says something different!” said another to general laughter.
Paul smiled. “You do have many gods here,” he said. He walked over to one stone in particular. “I even found among all these others an inscription for an unknown god.”
Paul stood in front of the idol. “Men of Athens, that which you worship as unknown, I am going to proclaim to you. The God whom I serve—the God who made the world and everything in it—is the Lord of Heaven and earth and does not live in temples built by hands. God does not live in rocks and buildings. Nor is He is served by human hands, as if He needed anything. You yourselves understand that He who created all is not dependent upon human wisdom.”
“But, sir,” asked one man, “we have always worshiped in temples. If we do not worship what we see, then how can we truly worship? Was this not what man was made for—to worship?”
Several men agreed.
“Of course,” said Paul. “From one man He made every nation of men, that they should inhabit the whole earth. God did this so that men would seek Him and perhaps reach out for Him and find Him.” Paul paused and looked at Silas. “Though He is not far from each one of us. For in Him we live and move and have our being. You are learned men. Even some of your own poets have said, ‘We are His offspring.’ Agreed?”
“Of course we believe that,” said a Stoic. “Indeed we are His offspring.”
“Well, then,” Paul continued, “since we are God’s offspring, we should not think that the divine being is like gold or silver or stone—an image made by man’s design and skill. We are like our Creator in this—that we are made in His image. And friends, in the past God overlooked such ignorance, but now He commands all people everywhere to repent of such false worship.”
Paul placed his hand on the altar to the “Unknown God.”
“These will not suffice anymore. We have no excuse to worship such things. For He has set a day when He will judge the world with justice by the man He has appointed. He has given proof of this to all men by raising Him from the dead.”
Crispin and Serus watched Paul as he deliberated with the Greeks on the following day. Each of the men there was proud of his philosophy and argued his point passionately. Crispin listened with interest at the intricate—albeit flawed—lines of reasoning that human thought had developed. As an instructor at the Academy of the Host, Crispin often debated with students who listened to his teaching. One student in particular had taken the debate too far—Lucifer—and the result forever marred all human thinking. He regretted those days of opposition in Heaven.
“These men don’t know what they speak of,” said Serus, listening to a Stoic deliver his thought with great dispassion. “Such nonsense.”
“It’s what comes of a mind created by the Most High, but separated from Him,” said Crispin. “A mind void of truth will always stray to its fundamental root.”
“Ignorance?” asked Serus.
“Pride,” Crispin said.
They continued their stroll, stopping to listen to a man argue that wisdom is the essential thing. Several enemy angels also hung about—inflaming the intellectual arrogance that human knowledge always feeds on. Among them was Pellecus, who enjoyed any opportunity to see Paul bested by another human. Crispin noted these angels.
“Those creatures. They were great in their day. They taught alongside me at the Academy and were very good handlers of truth. Gifted teachers. But pride set in and ruined both the gift and the message.”
“So says you, Crispin,” barked back Pellecus, who was sitting amid a group of Stoics. “Human minds are great empty pots. Just waiting to be filled.”
“True,” said Crispin. “The Most High gifted men with a great capacity for learning. But when men stray from the truth that only comes from God, they will inevitably fill their minds with something less than truth.” He looked at the Stoic with compassion. “Anything that is not of God is not of truth.”
“Truth is an evolving dynamic,” said Kara. “As all of these humans prove. Each has created his own truth. Each is satisfied with his own gods. They even have a stone dedicated to any god they might have missed.” He winked at Crispin. “You know how offended some gods get.”
“The gods they worship are nothing more than prideful conjectures,” said Crispin. “Wishful thinking on the part of men who know there is something greater than themselves but are helpless in attaining it. The Most High created men to be hungry for His love. But pride has pushed that love away.”
“Pride is what fans that desire to reach the Most High,” countered Pellecus. “In whatever form it takes—be it stone, wood, or gold. It is not these pathetic creatures’ fault that the Most High is offended at being carved in rock.” He patted a beautiful statue of Apollo. “Some of them are quite good actually.”
“Pride sometimes fans the desire to achieve or reach greatness,” said Crispin. “But it deceives. No man may attain the Lord apart from His gracious reaching out. We found that out when the Most High was willing to die for the very creatures who lost their way.”
“Nevertheless, the Lord would do well to accept the praises of men who seek Him in stone.”
“Perhaps your master accepts such praise,” said Crispin. “The Most High is worshiped in spirit and in truth. Not in prideful nonsense.”
“This is exactly why the rebellion took place—this sort of slavish acknowledgment of a God who is too holy to be seen and too easily offended.”
“Did you say rebellion?” Crispin asked slyly. “I always thought it was a progression of angelic thought.”
“It’s war, Crispin,” said Pellecus. “However you define it. And in the end this love you spew will fail. Men will never give way to such grace. They are too steeped in themselves to worship anyone else with real meaning. Love will always fail when it’s left to humans.”
“Precisely,” said Crispin. “That’s why it wasn’t left to humans.”
They continued walking, moving in close to where Paul stood praying, as he prepared to speak with the men who had invited him back. Silas and the others were with him, also praying and asking God’s blessing on their effort.
“I like Paul!” exclaimed Crispin. “Here is a man who has learned a great deal. Think of it, Serus! A brilliant man in human terms. A man of letters. Versed in his nation’s law. But he was lost in that pride that causes religion to become poison.”
Paul stood to his feet.
“And now he dare not speak until he has asked for the Spirit’s help!” Crispin continued. “Wise is a man who waits on God before opening his mouth.”
Serus looked at Pellecus. “Angels as well!”
Crispin nodded in agreement.
Chronicles of the Host
Corinthian Success
Upon leaving Athens, Paul and his friends continued in their mission to bring truth and light to a world darkened by ignorance and fear. His training in tent-making proved a blessing, as he worked with some Jews friendly to him named Aquila and Priscilla. As usual, the en
emy was at work, stirring up the other Corinthian Jews in opposition to Paul. In anger, Paul told them that from now on they may remain in darkness—he would reach the Gentile world.
But the Most High, proving as always that He is long-suffering toward those in bondage, spoke to Paul in a vision and told him that there was great success to be found in Corinth. Thus Paul ignored the threats of the Jews and remained in Corinth for some time. But as Paul’s resolve was to bring light to the darkest corners of this world, his heart pulled him back toward one of the darkest of cities in this corrupted world: Ephesus.
Ephesus was ripe with spirits. The city itself was a stronghold of magic, sorcery, and worship of vile and sensual gods from all over the world. Kara had seized upon the human tendency to exalt things of which they are ignorant; consequently, when a fragment of rocky debris fell to the earth and landed near the city, the citizenry, influenced by Kara, proclaimed the favor of a goddess named Artemis, and built a great temple to her.
This temple was a great source of pride to our fallen brothers, for many humans throughout the world paid homage to this goddess. Her shrine, housed where the rock fell, beckoned men and women to adore her and bring great offerings. Some men, unscrupulous and greedy, even took to selling images of the goddess for mere money. Many of the Host were thankful they knew nothing of money, nor did they want such knowledge.
For two years Paul and his group labored in Ephesus. Kara did his best to compromise the witness of Paul. It was not Kara who caused Paul a great deal of grief however, but a man, a devotee of Artemis who saw his influence waning and his fortune dwindling because of the message these men brought to the Ephesians…
Chapter Eleven
EPHESIAN ENCOUNTER
Ephesus, A.D. 54
“Did you receive the Holy Spirit when you believed?”
The men looked at each other with bemused expressions. They had become acquainted with the teachings of Jesus from disciples of John the Baptist who had come to Ephesus a while back. But what was this talk of the Holy Spirit? A new teaching?
They answered, “No, we have not even heard that there was a Holy Spirit.”
Paul looked at them. “Then what baptism did you receive?”
“John’s baptism,” they replied. “Some of his followers taught us and baptized us all. The twelve of us.”
“Excellent!” Paul said, commending the men. “But John’s baptism was a baptism of repentance. Turning away from sin. Don’t you recall that he also told the people to believe in the One coming after him?”
The men looked at Drachus, the unofficial spokesman of the group. He walked over to Paul and nodded.
“Yes, they spoke of One who was greater than John. We were told to await His coming.”
“He has come, my friend,” said Paul. “Jesus of Nazareth. And after His coming He ascended to Heaven where He is now. It is in His name that you must now be baptized—that is, the name of Jesus.”
“Must we be baptized in Jesus to be saved?” one of the men asked.
“No, no,” Paul said. “Your baptism in Jesus is an indication of Jesus’ life. Nothing will attain salvation apart from faith. But baptism will proclaim now and forever the great work that the Lord has done in your hearts.”
On hearing this, the men huddled together and spoke for a few minutes. Finally Drachus came back to Paul. “We are so glad you came to Ephesus,” he said. “We have been waiting for this day. And we would welcome baptism in the name of Jesus.”
Paul and Silas rejoiced as the men led them to a body of water. Here they were baptized into the name of the Lord Jesus. When Paul placed his hands on them, the Holy Spirit came on them, and they began to speak in unknown languages. They also prophesied in the name of the Lord. As the men left, wet and worshipful, Silas turned to Paul. “This bodes well for Ephesus,” he said. “May this city be ripe for the Spirit!”
But Paul sensed something else. “The city is indeed ripe for the Spirit, Silas,” he said. “But pray, my friend. Ephesus is already ripe with many spirits.”
Ephesus was one of the most spiritually desolate places Paul had ever visited. Teeming with spiritualists, diviners and fortunetellers, occultists and astrologers, as well as a great many charlatans who took advantage of people’s fears for a price, Ephesus was a place of great darkness. Paul looked up at the great temple of Artemis, its many columns and beautiful edifice paying homage to the goddess whose shrine was within.
Paul bit into a piece of fruit as he thought about the day’s plan.
Being full of darkness, commerce, and all of the sensual pleasures imaginable, Ephesus attracted all sorts. The Ephesians considered themselves very sophisticated, even on par with the other great cities of the empire. Paul saw Ephesus as a supreme place of demonstration—a showcase for the Lord’s light in the midst of darkness. Silas yawned as a group of men scuffled by.
“There they go,” said Silas, pointing to them.
“Ah, the Sceva family,” said Paul. “Taking on another victim, I suppose.”
“How do they do it?” asked Timothy, who had been with Paul ever since joining him two years earlier. “I mean—how can they cast demons out of people when they themselves do not call upon the Lord?”
Paul watched the men—seven brothers—disappear into a house. He had heard how they went about driving unclean spirits from people. Ever since Paul had arrived in Ephesus he had seen the worst in men’s ability to play on people’s fears and make a living. Still, these men seemed to have a successful record of driving out spirits who were harassing people. As far as Paul was concerned, it was one big fraud.
“You must understand the enemy,” said Paul. “The ultimate motive of Lucifer is to deceive men—to keep them in the dark. If they can do so by mimicking the Lord’s ability to overcome darkness, then all the better.”
“But they attribute it to the Lord!” Timothy protested. “How can that serve Lucifer’s purposes?”
“Because they are falsely attributing,” Paul explained. “Think of it. If they can appear as a spirit of a dead family member or some other being who brings encouraging words, then of what use is the Lord? No, our enemy is clever. And he will use anything—even the Lord’s name—if it will deceive in the end.”
“Then prepare to witness deception,” said Silas, looking past Paul. “For here they come!”
“What are you doing?” Kara demanded. “Why are you guiding those men to Paul? You know I don’t approve of such things!”
“Don’t worry, Kara,” said Grolus. “By consorting with Paul, they will gain credibility just as Paul will lose his. I only thought …”
“It’s time you quit thinking and start serving me as you are told. I will tell you what to think and when! These men are dangerous.”
“As you wish, my lord,” said Grolus.
“And be extra efficient today,” Kara added. “Your authority here in Ephesus was a personal appointment by Lucifer himself. And he is coming to see your administration in action. Make it good!”
Grolus seethed with anger toward Kara. After all, it was Grolus’ idea to begin deceiving these men—these seven brothers—and using them in a farce to mimic the Lord. Yet ever since he met with success by working with accommodating spirits who pretended to be cast out of people, Kara had taken charge as if he were the one who had begun this work. And now these seven sons of Sceva had become Kara’s point of pride in Ephesus—a hallmark which he used to point out the efficiency of his administration to Lucifer. Grolus turned toward Kara, who was droning on about the men.
Don’t you worry, Kara, Grolus said to himself. I will indeed make it good today. As you say—extra smart!
The men approached Paul cautiously. Paul stood and offered them a place in the shade near him. They were surprised that this man—who they viewed as competition for the hearts and minds of Ephesians—would be so cordial. One of the brothers, a man named Jason, spoke first.
“You have done well in Ephesus,” Jason began. “You have
been here for over a year now.”
“Two years,” Paul corrected.
“Yes. And in those two years we have both been doing good work. Serving the great power you serve.”
The man stopped, waiting for a response from Paul, yet Paul only listened.
“But one thing we have noticed,” Jason continued. “Whereas we are able to remove these spirits through a variety of means, you are able to achieve this with just a few words.”
Silence.
Another man stepped forward. His name was Stephen.
“What my brother is trying to ask is this: by what power do you overcome these spirits? What magic do you use? What god does this?”
Paul shook his head. “We use no magic,” he said. “We simply use the authority given us by our Lord. It is in His name we speak. There is no other.”
“But there are others,” Stephen insisted. “We have used them. And the spirits have given way!”
“From what I know of you, there has been an appearance of success. Otherwise, people would not call on you. But if the spirits gave way, I assure you it was not by any other name, nor any other power,” Paul stood and placed a hand on Stephen’s shoulder. “You are deceived, my friends, and I urge you to repent and ask the Lord to have mercy on your lives before something befalls you. You are being toyed with and aiding in the deception of others.”
“We deceive nobody!” snapped Stephen. “We do the work of the Lord. Remember, Paul; we too are Jews. We too have the heritage of Abraham. And since you won’t give us the words you use, we will instead invoke that authority!”
The men turned away from Paul. Jason turned back to thank him, but his brothers urged him away. As they left, a man ran up to them, out of breath. “Please. You are the sons of Sceva?”
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