15a - In Battle With Gods and Men

Saying farewell to his mother, grandmother, and to the congregation, Timothy set out with Paul on his journeys. There were three travelers, now. Paul had Silas to take the place of Barnabas, and Timothy to take the place of John Mark.

The first part of the journey took them through the cities where Paul had founded congregations, beginning with Pisidian Antioch. Each visit followed a similar pattern. Paul was received like an angel of the Lord and learned that the congregations were growing in peace. Silas read the letters from Jerusalem in regards to the Gentiles, and the people would ask about Barnabas.

Paul didn’t stay long in any of these cities. He felt compelled to move on. He avoided the larger cities of Mysia, even though they were filled with Jews and Gentiles longing to hear the word of salvation. He didn’t even enter Ephesus, the chief city of Asia Minor, famous for its sorceries and for the worship of Artemis, although he did consider it. In his heart he said that one day he would shatter the Ephesian idols with the sword of the word like Abraham shattered the idols of his father Terah. But for now he went on by. He also avoided Bithynia, and didn’t pause until he came to the shores of the Aegean Sea and the city of Troas.


Troas was the gateway to the civilized world, a port city lying opposite Achaia on the north-south route to Macedonia. Both Macedonian and Greek merchants could be found there, for Troas was the business center for Mysia, through which the grain of Asia Minor flowed to Macedonia. And since the latter was also a Roman colony, Troas was full of centurions, soldiers, and Roman officials.

There wasn’t as much racial mixture there as in the interior cities of Asia Minor. There were no Arabs, fresh from the desert, or degenerate idlers, with their sorcerers and soothsayers, like in Syrian Antioch. In Troas Paul felt the breath of Rome for the first time. He saw a purer manifestation of Greek culture, and this sparked a desire in him to conquer it with the word of God and the faith of Christ.

He was also deeply interested in the disciplined man of Rome, whom he secretly respected. The order-loving Roman, brought up in the framework of law and deeply rooted in the Roman tradition, the Roman centurion and the Roman legionary, ready to offer up their lives “for Caesar and Rome,” provoked Paul to a new fervor of spiritual will. Who could tell? Perhaps this was exactly the type of man who was best fitted to receive the faith in the one living God who ruled the whole universe and to accept Him in place of the wretched little idols whose “powers” ended with the boundaries of their cities. Paul had known Roman officials in his home city, and unlike most of his fellow countrymen, he didn’t despise the soldiers. On the contrary, he admired their spirit of devotion and sacrifice. He thought of himself as a soldier of Christ. His dream was to win the soldierly devotion and discipline of the Roman official to the right faith, and to direct it along the channel of true life.


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Troas is a fabulous place. The fragrant green shores of the Aegean Sea lie dreaming in the sunlight. Through the mist that hovers over the landscape shines the form of the sacred mountain, Ida. On its summit mighty Zeus sleeps in the jealous arms of Hera.

And here is Paul the Jew with the word of God in his mouth. He stands on the shore and looks across the quiet waters toward the hidden hills of Achaia. Olympus stands over there with its gods, and Athens, with her memories of the great men of old, the sages whose names had rung in his ears so often in the schools of Tarsus. These may not be the idols of Asia Minor, with their abominable priests, but they have authority and their roots go deep. They too must be turned and channeled to the truth, to the One who is God of all, the God of the universe, and the God of all men.


That night Paul had a dream. He is again on the road to Galatia. He climbs the mountain. Desperately tired, he comes to a slender waterfall, like a ribbon let down along the face of the cliff. It falls into a small basin whose sides are overgrown with moss. Paul sits by the basin in the moonlight and meditates on his mission. Suddenly he hears the voice of a man calling, “Help me!”

Startled he runs toward the voice. He speeds down the slope and comes to a wide, grass-covered plain bathed in moonlight. The plain is enclosed by rolling walls of mist, and by thick borders of bushes and evergreens. A multitude of faces peer at him from the mist and from the trees. Human faces, it would seem, and yet not human. They are the faces of demons in human disguise. Their faces laugh, their eyes glare, and yes, he can see foreheads with horns.

But before Paul can understand what it is he sees, he hears a whistling sound, and sees the figure of a woman floating toward him out of the heavy mist, her robes spread out like wings, her feet barely touching the ground. He knows she is the goddess Artemis! She is surrounded by a bevy of nymphs, all dancing around her. They are hunting a naked man. Broad-built, muscular, with the figure of an athlete, with a close-cropped beard and a face of metallic hardness, he flees.

“Help me!”

Paul wants to throw himself between the goddess and the man. But suddenly a hundred dancing nymphs surround him. Paul can see that the man has fallen down on the grassy field, under a bush. And now the entire plain is populated with gods and goddesses. He sees proud Minerva, with her golden veils, and naked Aphrodite, surrounded by her tiny cupids. Zeus, surrounded by his sons, sits on a throne, grasping the thunderbolt in his right hand. There are Apollo, Vulcan, and Hermes. There are gods of Achaia that Paul doesn’t know, and gods of the underworld, like Pluto with his tormenting demons. They are all assembled because of this one man, who keeps calling, “Help me!”

And then Paul understands. The naked man is the world, calling to Christ for help, and he, Paul, must come to the rescue.

With a lightning flash of understanding, Paul cries, “In the name of God!”

He bursts through the bands of nymphs and speeds across the field. The multitudes of demons become infuriated. They bare their teeth at him and run at him with lowered horns. He hears the shrieking of sirens seated high up in a cleft of the rocks. The gods assemble to do battle with him. Zeus throws the thunderbolt and the crash seems to split the world apart. Flames of fire start up and smoke fills the air. Helios passes on his chariot and fiery horses cross the upper levels.

But Paul, with the word of God on his lips, pushes through the press, mowing them down. He draws nearer to the man who is crying, “Come over to Macedonia and help me!”

And now Paul is within reach of the man, and the gods make one last desperate effort to keep them apart. Hands come out from the wall of flame and snatch at Paul’s clothing. Wild winds blow in his face to force him back. But Paul, with the word of God on his lips, pushes forward. He has broken through, he has taken the man’s hand in his hand, and he draws him along, saying, “In the name of God! Come! Come!”

And together they are lifted above the enchanted plateau. The gods sweep after them, but Paul holds fast to the man’s hand. Before them they see the lucid morning star, and they know the night of terror is behind them. They can hear lamenting, the desperate cry of the baffled demons, receding in the distance.


The next morning, when Paul goes out after washing and saying the morning Shema, the first man he sees is the same man from his dream, a broad-boned, muscular athletic man, with a bronze face and clear eyes that shine with the self-confidence of the Gentile. The close-cropped beard gives his face the aspect of a philosopher.

“My name is Luke,” says the man, introducing himself to Paul. “I’m one of the Gentiles who heard you preach in Antioch. I wouldn’t accept the faith then until I had a chance to study the holy books of the Jews. But now I know the words of the prophets have been fulfilled. I’ve come all the way from Antioch to ask you to take me with you. I can be of use where you’re going. I speak Greek well and I know the ways of the Romans. I know the sea and I know the roads. I’m also a healer and have many recipes for wounds and boils and bruises. You’ll need a healer on the path you’ve chosen.”

Paul looks closely into the steel-cold eyes of the Gentile and says, “How do you know the path I choose?”

Luke points seaward toward the invisible shore of Macedonia.

“The people of Macedonia need you.”


And so they left Troas by boat with the uncircumcised Luke. They took the direct sea route to Samothrace, from there to Neapolis, and from there to Philippi, the chief city of Macedonia, and a Roman colony.

The road from the port of Neapolis to Philippi led through rich fields, vineyards, and olive groves. Heavy willows stood on either side of the road, which was marked with milestones. Philippi itself was a mighty city, sparkling with cleanliness, its narrow streets paved with marble blocks. Everything they saw was Roman – houses, people, speech. The men and women on the street were good looking, tall, broad-built, draped in togas. There were Roman officials, soldiers, functionaries, and even Roman merchants and shopkeepers. The small-featured Asian was seen only among the slaves, artisans, and stall keepers who belonged to the poor part of the city.

This was Paul’s first encounter with the true Greco-Roman man. But it was just an encounter. How was he to get close to him?

After a thorough search, the messengers discovered that there was no Jewish synagogue in Philippi. Plenty of temples to Greek gods, but no synagogue. Nor was anyone interested in hearing the gospel. Any Greek or Roman they tried to talk to about it looked at them like they were babbling in a foreign tongue. What could they do? Without a synagogue with an ear for the message of Messiah, there was no inroad to the rest of the city.

Yet certainly it couldn’t be that there were no Jews in the city. So the messengers waited until the Sabbath because they knew that if there were any Jews in the city, they would find, here and there, a booth closed, a work stall abandoned, or a smokeless chimney. And there would be some place where those families would assemble to worship God.

And indeed, that’s how it happened. Luke was the one who first spotted a sign. A woman named Lydia, a rich dealer in dyed stuffs, whose shop was packed every other day of the week, was missing from her usual place on the Sabbath. Her shop was locked.

But it wasn’t just her place of business, prominent among the rich stores in the marketplace, that was closed. Her factories, her dyeing vats, her weaving looms were all closed. All her slave workers who distilled the juice of the plants and those who wove, and all her workers in the shop, were released for the day. For on the seventh day, not only the Jewish master rests, but also his servants, slaves, and beasts of burden all rest.

There were other shops closed as well. Paul and his companions followed a group of these people, mostly women, outside the city to the bank of a small stream that flowed through a green meadow, set with willow trees. Men and women sat separately in small groups under the shadow of white birches. Their silence brought to mind the story of the Jews on the riverbanks of Babylon, who hung their harps on the willows, saying, “How can we sing the songs of Zion on alien soil?”

The women had no learning, and the men had very little, but after a while, one of the men recalled a stray verse from a Psalm, in Greek, or a fragment of a prayer. They also repeated the words, “Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God the Lord is One.”

It was also apparent that not all of the men and women were Jews. There were Gentiles here attracted by the pure life of the Jewish family, and the sanctity of their faith.

So they sat, Jews and Gentiles, with no Scrolls of the Law to read from, and no synagogue officials or leaders of any kind. There were two or three pious Jews who had made the pilgrimage to Jerusalem once or twice in their lives, and they were able to tell the others about the Temple, and the High Priest. They had also learned about the Law of Moses and of the promises about Messiah. They knew that he would appear and assemble all Jews from the four corners of the world, and lead them, along with righteous Gentiles, to Mount Zion.

When it was discovered that the new arrivals were messengers from the Holy City, a veritable tumult of excitement broke out. All wanted to hear what these messengers had to say. Paul didn’t have to be asked twice.

“The Messiah promised by God to our fathers through the prophets has come. Though higher than the angels, he came in the form of a man of flesh and blood. He taught us what manner of life we should live, how we should love one another and forgive each other’s trespasses, so that we all might be united in the congregation of God and Messiah. And this Messiah consented of his own free will, in love, to take the sins of mankind on himself, in order that he might atone for the sins of the world with his own blood. He died the death of a slave, so that all men might be free and the world liberated from sin. All those who believe in him have their sins forgiven, and they become free from the law. And this is not only for the Jews, but also for the Greeks, for in their faith they become children of Abraham, cleansed from sin and bound to the God of Israel.”

Young Timothy also spoke, but it was Silas who produced the greatest effect. He took out the letters from Jerusalem and read the promise that all Gentiles who accepted Christ were released from the discipline of the Law of Moses.

The suddenness and significance of this news bewildered the people. First to take it in were the Gentile women and some of their husbands. The thought of sharing equally in the Messiah of Israel, without the heavy burden of Jewish law, appealed to them. The idea that their bodies and souls would be purified of all the sins they’d committed in ignorance, and that their portion in the world to come would be assured, was joyous news indeed.

The first person to join the new faith was the rich widow Lydia. She was not a Jew. She was a Gentile convert to Judaism. She and her household, including her slaves, workers, shop managers, and all the members of her immediate family, were baptized in the name of Jesus. She asked only one condition, that the messengers would make her house their home. In this way, she could show that after she accepted faith in Christ she was the equal of all Jews, and that no one could call her house unworthy just because it was the house of a Gentile.

Normally, Paul would not accept such hospitality. He would work to provide for his own needs. But recently he hadn’t stayed in any one place long enough to work properly. Plus he’d accepted a little help from the good women of Lystra, the mother and grandmother of Timothy. Paul also agreed with Lydia that accepting the invitation would be a symbol of the open door and ready ear that they had so far sought in vain in Philippi. And since the messengers had arrived in Philippi with their sack almost empty of provisions, Lydia’s urgent invitation to her home came at a welcome moment. Surely God had led them here.

Lydia was a practical woman of affairs and understanding. As the manager of a far-flung enterprise, superintending both the manufacture and sale of her dyed stuffs, it was evident to her that the organizational aspect of the apostle’s work was badly in need of practical help. So she offered to become responsible for the needs of their mission. She did this with such modesty, but in such a matter-of-fact way, that Paul, deeply touched, departed from his steadfast principal of accepting no help from congregations. From the widow Lydia he would take what was needed to carry out their mission.

Truth be told, Paul had never held too high an opinion of women, especially those who mixed in community affairs. He often preached that women should be modest, quiet and obedient to their husbands, leaving the latter responsible for public matters. He made an exception for Lydia, though.

Paul was practical enough to understand that women were often more sensible, more realistic, and more reliable than men. When he encountered such cases, he didn’t let himself be blinded by his general attitude. There were women who had contributed greatly to the success of his mission with their love and insight, applying medicinal oils to his sick and wounded body, or strengthening him in time of great trial with their voice. He didn’t push those women away, nor discourage them. Nor did he fail to notice that regardless of his general attitude toward women, they were always the first to follow him. His influence over them was too striking to be ignored. His temperament and his reckless self-dedication to his cause were keys to the heart of women.

Soon, with Lydia’s help, a little synagogue grew up on the bank of the stream outside the city, a place for both Jews and Gentiles to resort for prayer. And Paul and the other messengers preached the gospel there and won many souls among the Jews and Greeks.