14 - In Your Blood

On the Sabbath the Christians of Antioch met in the synagogue on Singan street. After the reading of the law, the two messengers from Jerusalem, Barsabbas and Silas, were presented to the congregation. They read the letters from Jerusalem, causing indescribable joy among the Gentiles. They were accepted as equal children of Abraham, without having to pay the penalties the Jews paid. Paul shared their joy, having been the one to throw down the walls that divided Jew and Gentile. Now there was just one congregation in God and in Christ.

After this, Paul proposed to Barnabas that they go visit the cities where they had founded congregations and then after that they would consider where else they should go.


* * * * *

Barnabas wanted to take his nephew John Mark along. Paul was adamantly opposed to this, but he also didn’t want to lose Barnabas’ friendship. So when Barnabas indicated that he wouldn’t go on the journey without John, Paul answered, “Joseph, my brother, we are both servants of the lord. Wherever the lord sends us we will go, whether together or separately. The ways of the lord have brought us together, and now the ways of the lord will part us. But they will surely bring us together again one day.”

So the two friends fell on each other’s necks, and after a long embrace they set out on their separate paths.


Instead of Barnabas, then, Paul took Silas with him. He’d been impressed with the way Silas had defended the admission of the uncircumcised converts at the Jerusalem council. Having been a participant in the debate, a witness of the resolution, and a personal messenger of the decision, Silas would be of great use.

Paul left Titus behind in Antioch, to keep watch over the affairs of the congregation and to report its progress to him. Paul also advised him that he would send him out on special missions occasionally.

Thus Silas was his only companion, and they left Antioch with just a small bundle of provisions. In spite of Antioch’s wealth, Paul would be beholden to no man. He knew he could always find work to support himself.

Paul and Silas sailed to Tarsus, Paul’s birthplace, but they didn’t stop to visit. Instead they set out on foot across the rugged Taurus Mountains. Paul had been a skillful mountain climber in his younger days, and he actually helped his younger companion on the climb.

So they went, step by step, across the crags and ravines, through dangerous passes under overhanging ledges of ice and snow, into the regions where the last gaunt cedars battle with the cold and wind. After a time, even these hardy growths ceased, and all they saw was the gloomy, pitiless fronts of the rocks. All the storms that had ever passed over the Taurus heights were petrified in these crags. Once again Paul passed the nights in the dangerous hollows of the wadis.

Eventually they reached the dangerous ledge called “the Cilician Gates,” on either side of which the slopes fell away to dizzying depths. One false step and the traveler would be thrown down on the countless spears and needle rocks. Eternal winds raged through this narrow passage, clawing at the bodies of the two messengers, and pushing them toward the dangerous edge. Paul and Silas advanced with great care, sometimes even crawling.

Then the way led downward, and they finally came on some green spaces, where they walked through little swamps of melted snow. When night came they found an old dilapidated camel stall to shelter in, one of many such on the road that descended into the flatlands of Iconium. They spent the night on rotting sackcloth, among camels, donkeys and their drivers, and vermin ate their bodies.

Weeks passed without a warm meal. Their food was dried cakes, and as these gave out they plucked edible leaves and herbs from the roadside. As they came down from the higher regions, they were plagued by swarms of insects and scorpions. Thick clouds of them darkened the air, drifting out of the swamps. Their blood was poisoned, and their bodies broke out in boils. Paul’s hands looked like those of a leper, and blood and pus oozed from a hundred places. His good eye was covered with a heavy blister, so that he was blinded. This was his condition when Silas led him onto the level stretch before the city of Iconium.


So for the second time Paul arrived in Iconium sick and broken in body, and on top of that, practically blind. He dreaded the effect his appearance would have on these Gentiles, considering their regard for the perfection of the body. But to his delight and astonishment, he found a wonderful welcome full of love and tenderness. The people reacted as if an angel were visiting them. They lifted him up and carried him to bed. The same loving feminine hands that had tended him before tended him now. If looks of tenderness and affection could have healed him, he would have risen from his bed immediately.

That evening the believers assembled in the house, crowding around Paul’s bed. They comforted him with the news that the numbers of the faithful were growing constantly. Both Jews and Gentiles were being added everyday. The old disputes among the Jews had been forgotten, for the group of Gentile converts had gotten large enough that the Jews had little choice but to maintain peace with them. The Jews in the synagogue became accustomed to the Gentiles, and any remaining differences were more like the disputes between family members rather than enemies.

The apostle lay on his bed in his temporary blindness, surrounded by the good people of Iconium. He felt the warmth of their affection. He felt them sharing his physical pain, and he was moved by the endless flow of gifts and attention. Indeed, it was as though their loving spirit did more to heal him than their medications. He felt his hardened, burning flesh grow softer and the poisons drain out of him.

Oh, if he could only bring the men of Jerusalem to Iconium and show them this miracle of faith! The tears beat against the bars over his eyes. And suddenly he could see all the faces grouped around him. Eagerly they began questioning him about his life since his previous visit. They asked about Barnabas and wondered why he was no longer with him. Paul simply told them what Jesus had taught, that there are many mansions in “my Father’s house. They who are in Christ are always united.”

Two weeks passed before Paul recovered enough strength to resume the journey. Indeed, he left Iconium with much more than physical health. He felt reborn.


From Iconium the group traveled to Derbe, where Paul again encountered familiar faces. There too the congregation was growing in numbers. The opposition to the Gentiles on the part of the Jewish congregation had also died down, and the community of the faithful was at peace.

One of the things Paul heard about in both places concerned the young man of Lystra, Timothy. The people told him how Timothy had visited them and preached on the Sabbaths, and had taught them the foundations of the faith, and the proofs and prophecies in Scripture. The young man was proficient in Hebrew lore, and by his preaching many were convicted of the truth of Christ. Moreover, he was modest, and therefore loved by all.

This news didn’t really surprise Paul. Timothy had probably risked his life to sneak out of the city to minister to his bloodied body. He was like an angel laying healing hands on the wounds torn in his flesh by the stones. And of course, there was the kindness of his mother Eunice who had graciously received him into her house. Nor had he forgotten Timothy’s grandmother, an old, old Jewess named Lois, who sat, with trembling lips, her big-veined hands folded in her lap, listening intently to the words of the messengers. How happy she’d been when Paul received her grandson into the congregation of believers!

Paul’s heart yearned for these people, and he hurried on to Lystra to see the congregation he founded there and the young man whose name was on everyone’s lips.


* * * * *

Old grandmother Lois lay sick in bed, and her daughter tended her. When she heard that Paul was coming, she strengthened herself, rose from her bed, put on her Sabbath robes, and went out to meet him. A frail, trembling old thing, she pressed her toothless mouth to the apostle’s shoulder, grateful that she was privileged to see him once more before God called her away. This excitement was similar to what she’d felt many years before when she accompanied her family on her one and only pilgrimage to the Holy City and saw the High Priest. She had only one wish now. She wanted to see her grandson accepted into the covenant of Abraham, like all other Jews. Then she could close her eyes in peace, secure in the faith of her fathers.

“After all, he is a Jewish child,” she murmured, indistinctly, holding on tightly to Paul’s robe, as if it were a rope thrown to her in the sea, her furrowed, fleshless hands shaking. “He always wanted to know about Jewish things. When he was still almost a baby, he went to Sabbath services with the women. He stood with open mouth listening to the rabbis.”

“Yes, it’s true,” added his mother proudly. “My husband took him to the temple of Jupiter, but he didn’t like it. Even then his heart revolted against idol worship. When it was time for him to prepare for the competitions with the other boys at the gymnasium, there was this struggle in him between Jupiter and the God of Israel. Oh, I felt it! During the day he was like the other boys. He learned what they learned and took part in their games. The priest liked him and would have made him a priest too.

“But at night he would sit by his grandmother and me, and ask us to tell him about the God of the Jews, about Jerusalem and about Messiah. And we told him whatever we knew. I’ve never been to the Holy City, but my mother told him what she remembered about it. He started going to the synagogue by himself, and my husband allowed it. In fact, before he died, my husband became one of the pious Gentiles, God be thanked. But the boy was still uncertain.

“Sometimes he was drawn to the laughter and merry games and dances that were part of the service of Jupiter. And sometimes he was more drawn by the words of the prophets and the stories of the patriarchs. I often saw him off by himself, sad and confused, not knowing to which world he belonged.

“He was like that when you came along, like an angel of the Lord, and told him the gospel of Messiah. Ever since then, he’s been whole-heartedly part of the faith. He’s even preached in the synagogues, here and in nearby cities. He’s also studied the sacred books, so that he can cite the evidence in them. Many people listen to him, but some have a problem because he’s not circumcised, and isn’t part of the congregation of Israel.”

Paul looked steadfastly at the young man who stood before him with trembling heart and lowered eyes. Timothy’s face was the face of a Gentile, neither soft nor weak. He had a strong, bronze-like face, with clear powerful lines. His body too was perfect and powerful. His shoulders were massive, his chest an arch of muscles. He had strong hips and his head rested on a straight, proud neck. It was as if a master sculptor had created the form, and life had been breathed into it. Every detail was perfect, straight nose, delicately outlined lips, and two perfect arches of brow above his eyes.

But the eyes were not pagan, for they shone with a divine awe, with inquiry and devotion. The eyes were Jewish. They were filled with supplication and flashed into your heart. One could never forget those eyes. He had one more sign of a Jew, his tender little beard, just beginning to sprout. In his outward look, this was the one thing that looked Jewish.

Just as there was a contradiction of his two heritages on the outside, so too had there been one on the inside. A heart that had once been proud, hard, and self-confident, had yielded to the humility of the faith. In the place of perfection and harmony born of ignorance, there was within him now the perfection and security of knowledge. Knowledge of the faith had begun to inscribe itself on the empty page of his heart. And if one looked closely, one could see a warmth that was just beginning to inscribe itself outwardly, adding a touch of tenderness and pain to the iron features. As time passed, this would become more and more evident.

The Gentile Titus had been brought to faith by his search for truth. This young man, Timothy, had been brought by the heritage of his forefathers, his pagan nature having been thwarted by the Jewish strain. He was an authentic plant in the garden of Israel, and had an unfailing love for the God of the Jews. Deep inside, Paul knew that God had sent him a helper, a staff, as it were, for his old age.

Paul drew the boy aside into another room. He locked the door and they both sat on the floor close to each other. He asked him, “Tell me, my son, how did you come to faith in the one living God?”

“My father, when I was a child my mother took me to the synagogue with her. I learned of the miracles performed for our forefathers and how God had made an eternal covenant with them. I also learned that the day would come when He would send his anointed one to draw all nations to Mount Zion, that they might know the Name of God. I longed for this.

“My mother and my pious grandmother protected me from all uncleanness, and because of them I never participated in the idol worship of my father. I wasn’t touched by the abominations around us. I waited like all Jews for the coming of Messiah, and when you came and told us about his coming, I rejoiced. It was like I saw the glory of God. And when I slipped out of the city that night and saw you lying, all bloodied and wounded for the sake of Messiah, I envied you, my father and teacher, because you had shed your blood for the sake of the gospel. I wanted to be a part of that, for your blood was shed as a witness of Messiah.”

Paul thought that this was exactly the way a son of his own would have spoken. And for the first time Paul longed for such a son. Indeed, he now thought of Timothy as his own son, for certainly no one, stranger or friend, had ever shown him the kind of love he did in that stone pit. And his heart was filled with yearning and compassion toward him like any father toward his son.

Since Timothy’s mother was Jewish, he was considered Jewish. He’d been brought up under the shadow of the Jewish faith, and his hunger for the redemption was a Jewish hunger. If he went out to speak to Jews, they would listen to him. And the Gentiles would listen, too. The young man stood between the two, for in his blood Greek and Jew were united. And the way Timothy was, so Paul desired to be. Formed like a pagan, strong, manly, and disciplined, with love of order, respect for nature and the world, but his heart always on fire for God, his spirit bound to Christ, and in his blood the unquenchable stream of the compassion of Abraham, humility before God, and longing for peace and love.

To himself Paul thought, “This, my son, will be an example to the Jew-Gentile just as Titus is an example to the Gentile-Jew. And so the two will come together, and join hands and affirm that all boundaries have been wiped out between them.”

Out loud he said, “Hear me, my son. You desire that my portion should be yours. My portion shall be yours, and you will join with me in my apostleship.”

“O my father, and my teacher!”

The young man threw himself with his face to the ground.

But then Paul spoke further, “Arise, my son, and hear me. Your mother is a Jewess, and through her you are a Jew. You will carry on your body the sign of the covenant of Abraham, even as all of us do, so that no one will claim that you are a stranger. You will speak to the children of Abraham as a child of Abraham and bring them the gospel God has planted in your heart. They will listen to you and be saved.”

The young man fell silent. His face went pale, and a look of fear flashed over his eyes. He got his bearings, rose to his feet, stood before Paul, and was silent.

“Do you understood what I’m saying, my son? Is it in your heart to do willingly what it’s proper for you to do?”

Timothy let a little more time pass. His heart thundered in him. He looked straight at Paul and said, “My father and teacher, bring me into the covenant of Abraham for the God of Israel and for the Messiah of Jacob.”

“In your blood you shall live!” responded Paul.

Then Paul took a knife, and with his own hand placed the sign of the covenant of Abraham on his son, for only a son of Israel may perform this act.

Timothy stood motionless. Not a muscle quivered on his rock-like face. With clenched fists and eyes turned upward, he repeated, “For the God of Israel and the Messiah of Jacob. For the God of Israel and the Messiah of Jacob.”

“You are my son. Today I have begotten you!”

Paul embraced Timothy, and with this act, he bound the young man to him in an eternal bond of blood.