15b - In Battle With Gods and Men

One day as Paul and his companions were on their way to the synagogue, where he was to preach, he encountered a half-crazed slave girl possessed of an evil spirit. She was led around at the end of a rope like an ape. As she passed Paul she heard some things he was saying that caused her to turn around and run after him. She started yelling, “These men are the servants of the High God, and they show us the way to salvation.”

This was not an uncommon sight in Philippi. Slaves were used for any number of things from the heaviest physical labor to the highest type of intellectual work. Women were used as concubines, and boys were trained in the satisfaction of unnatural lusts. There were musicians, educators and skilled manuscript copyists, as well as stargazers, healers, and all kinds of sorcerers.

Occasionally a slave was found who was afflicted with epilepsy and who would babble when fits came on him. As soon as such a slave was discovered, he would be trained in the art of prophecy. Such a slave brought a high price. He was kept on a leash and led around by his owner, sometimes to visit the sick, and especially the mentally deranged, and sometimes to perform for rich people who believed in soothsaying. Sometimes the sick slave would bellow like a wild animal, sometimes he would assume the grave tones of a prophet, and sometimes he would even claim to speak for a god, or perhaps a demon, who had entered into him. When he fell into convulsions and uttered wild, disjointed words, bystanders would take them as prophetic.

The cost of one of these “prophets” was high enough that it was a rare individual who had the luxury of owning one. So associations were formed in order to purchase one of these wretched souls, who would then be exploited on a regular business basis.

There was a famous slave girl in Philippi at that time who was led from customer to customer to forecast the future, and it was well known that her owners were deriving an enormous income from their human property. It so happened that this girl was Jewish. She knew of the Messiah for whom the Jews waited. She also knew of the one living God in whom the Jews believed. Thus, when she was led past Paul on that day and caught some stray words from him, some deeply imbedded memories of her childhood were awakened. This was why she turned back and began to scream, “These men are the servants of the High God!”

Her owners dragged her away, but the incident repeated itself several times over the next few days. Whenever she caught sight of the apostle or his companions at a distance, she dragged wildly at her leash and a lunatic frenzy came over her. Her eyes wild, she would repeat, “Look! There they are! They are the ones who know the road to salvation.”

These incidents were a source of discomfort to the messengers. Curious people gathered around the demented creature and looked at the messengers from there. Her wild way of screaming about Messiah and his sanctities threatened to turn the message of the apostle into a vulgar or ridiculous thing. After several encounters had taken place, the rumor began to spread that the messengers too were more or less possessed. Paul ignored the girl for a time, but then concluded that the problem would have to be faced. So one day as she began to scream at him, he stopped short and approached her. The girl stood still.

Paul fixed his half-blind eye on her, stared awhile, and then addressed the demon in her, “In the name of Jesus Christ, I command you to leave her!”

Immediately the girl’s whole demeanor changed. The crowd that had gathered saw the transformation coming over her. They could almost see the demon lodged, tooth and fang, in her vitals and in the walls of her body, as though he had heard the word of command and was digging deeper into the flesh and nerves of the girl to fight against the power that was forcing him out. The demon seemed to take over the girl’s voice, screaming, a dreadful, inhuman sound, a wailing, a snarling and howling, in which there was a horrible note of supplication. It was as if the pitiful body of this girl had become a battleground between Apollo and the Holy Spirit.

Then it was like a knife ripped her open, for one last desperate scream came out of her, and she fell to the ground, spitting out the demon.

Her guardians picked her up, as wet as she was with the agony of her trial. But she stood there looking at them with eyes they were not accustomed to. She seemed to be asking, Where am I? They told her she was being taken to the sick to prophesy. But how could she prophesy now? The guardians threatened her and scourged her with her leash, and yelled at her to prophesy. But they knew it was useless. Apollo had left her, and the demon was gone!

They led her away to report to her owners, who could immediately see that something had happened to their precious and costly slave. The Jews had ruined her. They’d used magic of their own to kill the magic in her. She was now a broken, useless instrument.


The next day a mob gathered in front of Lydia’s shop, upset at the Jews who’d killed the spirit of the slave prophetess. These were the same Jews who were preaching new gods and new customs. The Jews were bringing discord into the city!

The mob broke into the shop and took the two leaders of the guilty group hostage. A gigantic Roman seized Paul, twisted his arms behind him, and led him out. A Greek similarly took Silas. Accompanied by the roaring multitude that kept shouting, “The Jews are leading a revolt in the city,” the officers dragged the prisoners across the marketplace to the council of the elders.

“These men have brought tumult to our city! They preach hateful gods and customs!”

There was no investigation. No one asked what it was the Jews had preached. The words “Jews” and “tumult” were enough. The two messengers were thrown down on the spot, and their clothes ripped from their bodies. This caused great delight to the gathering crowd of Gentiles, both Greeks and Romans. Vulgar and obscene jests flew about as fingers pointed at the sign of the covenant of Abraham on the flesh of the messengers.

Paul was yanked up, and his naked body, lean from years of fasts and privations, was tied to one of the marble pillars of the building, his flat breast against the stone. Silas was tied to the neighboring pillar. Two gladiatorial men, naked except for their aprons, came striding out of the inner chambers. There were gigantic whips in their hands, the thongs of which were loaded with lead and had been steeped in vinegar. The signal was given, and the scourging began. The thongs whistled through the air and fell on the shoulders, backs, necks, and cheeks of the messengers. Rivers of blood and perspiration streamed down the lacerated flesh.

They could have thrown their tormentors into a panic by simply proclaiming their Roman citizenship, but they didn’t. They hadn’t come to Philippi as Roman citizens. God was their aegis. He alone was their protection when they set out to carry the gospel to the ends of the world. So they silently accepted the burning lashes, rejoicing in their hearts that they were privileged to suffer for the sake of Christ.

“How sweet, O Lord, are the sufferings you make us bear for the holiness of Your Name!”

Through all of it, not a word of complaint, nor a whisper of resentment, came from the lips of the scourged men.

After the scourging they were untied from the pillars, and two officials were assigned to place them under arrest, and to be responsible for them with their lives. Paul and Silas were dragged through the corridors of the building and thrown into a cell. A chain was thrown around their legs and fastened to a heavy block. This was done in such a way that they could neither stand up nor lie down. It felt like their limbs were no longer their own, but part of the dead block to which they were chained. The captors locked the door and left.


Before long a strange sound is heard from out of the black cell, a song of praise and gratitude to the Lord for the sufferings endured in the name of Christ. Inside the cell, the men are caught up in ecstasy. They feel like heaven is opened to them. Although they cannot move, they sing, “Yea, though I walk in the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me.”

The prisoners in the other cells listen with a mixture of wonder and terror. They know of the scourging and that the Jews are bound to the block. But they can hear the singing, and they catch the words of praise and gratitude.

More than all of them, though, it’s the chief jailer who is astounded by the bearing of these prisoners. Such men could not be rioters, much less criminals. Their endurance during the scourging, the silence, the absence of complaint, and now this singing and obvious joy? Could it be that these are indeed servants of the one living God, as the slave prophetess said? He’d also heard that these men preached of a tormented savior who had come down from heaven. He’d heard talk of this “Son of God”, who was to come with the clouds of heaven to sit in judgment on all men, according to their deeds. And it was because they were so certain of the truth of their contention that the prisoners sang with pure joy. If what they say is true, then woe to him, their jailer, who has this part in their suffering!

Suddenly something happens to confirm his fears. A sound of thunder is heard coming from the foundations of the prison. A flash of lightning illuminates all the cells, and a furious wind passes through the corridors. A wild yelling can be heard coming from the cells. The gods must be angry because the messengers of God have been scourged. Zeus is filled with wrath. Peals of thunder and lightning flashes follow in close succession. The iron locks of the prison are torn apart. Then darkness, and in the darkness, tumult and panic. The doors of the prison are suddenly wide open. The jailor doesn’t move. He is afraid of the anger of the gods, or maybe of the God, he’s not sure. The prisoners must be escaping, but still the jailor doesn’t move. He knows he has forfeited his life. He seizes his sword and there is a flash of steel in the darkness.

Paul, the only one who has kept his head in the middle of the storm, cries out, “Stop! Do yourself no harm! We are all here!”

The jailer throws his sword away, falls at the feet of the apostle, and stammers, “My lord, my lords, what shall I do to be saved?”

A few moments later the messengers are unchained from the block. The jailer attends to them in person, washing their wounds. Trembling, he offers them bread and wine.

The chief jailer of the prison of Philippi is received into the faith of Christ.


Now that God’s name had been sanctified and they’d been saved without the protection of Rome, the messengers revealed who they were. It happened the next morning when the elders of the city, hearing about what had happened during the night, sent word to the jailer to set the prisoners free.

“They scourged us without trial, openly and in the presence of the people, and we are Roman citizens,” declared Paul to the elders of the city.

Scourging Roman citizens without trial was a grave error, and so the elders came forward one by one, pleading with Paul and Silas to forgive them. They also begged them to leave the city. Paul also felt that it was God’s will, and so he agreed.

So Paul and Silas went back to Lydia’s house to say goodbye to her and to the faithful who were present there. They left Luke behind to strengthen the foundations they’d laid, he being skilled in the Roman tongue. They left Philippi in the direction of Amphipolis, on the road to Thessalonica, where there was a Jewish community and a synagogue.


In Thessalonica, Paul looked for work at his trade in order to return to his principle of being a burden to no one. He wanted to show by example that the work of Christ was not something at which a man should earn his bread. And so, the whole first week in Thessalonica Paul worked at the loom, intending to go to the synagogue on the Sabbath.

He also found lodging with a certain Jew by the name of Jason, for someone in Philippi had recommended him. Jason became Paul’s first convert in the city. On the Sabbath Paul preached in the synagogue. In fact, he preached there for three Sabbaths in a row. He preached as he always did, quoting the prophets and other scripture, proving from them that Messiah had to suffer and die in order that he might rise from the dead. A few of the Jews were convinced and many of the pious Gentiles. There were also women among them, both Jewish and Greek.

On one of these Sabbaths, as he was preaching in the synagogue, he observed a shrunken little Jew, who listened to him with open mouth, his round blue eyes shining with enthusiasm. Paul took note of the man, approached him later, and befriended him. The Jew’s name was Aristarchus, but while his name was Greek, his heart was filled with the hope of Israel. He placed himself at once in the service of Christ. Years later this man would accompany Paul on his most dangerous journeys and share his prison cell. In a sense he became Paul’s servant.


As Paul founded a congregation of believers in Thessalonica the anger of the unbelieving Jews was aroused even more quickly, it seemed, than elsewhere. For some reason, they had even less tolerance for his sermons on a slain Messiah than did Jews in other cities. They couldn’t bear the thought that he spoke against everything that had been sanctified by tradition and by the martyrs of many ages.

And of course, Paul used no sweet phrases or honeyed words when faced with opposition. He said what he had to say sharply, as though he were wielding a knife. Word also got around that these were the men who’d incurred the wrath of so many other Jewish communities. They brought discord and tumult everywhere else, and now they were in Thessalonica for the same purpose.

Thessalonica was a city of coarse market and harbor workers, men with little learning. The Jews of Thessalonica, like those of Alexandria, were employed around the port. Some of them were pack-carriers, at least to whatever extent this work wasn’t done by slaves. Others were sailors, shipwrights, and exporters. They were the type easily influenced to rioting, and the men who were opposed to the messengers went around the dock inciting them, saying that Paul was taking the kingdom of Messiah away from them, and was giving it to a certain Jesus, who had been killed.

The messengers took refuge in Jason’s house. They called all those who had accepted Christ, and Paul and Silas taught them the ways of the new faith there.

After some time had passed, Lydia heard of the danger that threatened the apostle in Thessalonica, for there was a lively commerce between the two cities. She sent some of her men to help the messengers. Paul was deeply moved by her thoughtfulness, and he stored the memory of her help in his hour of need in his heart.

Opposition to the messengers continued to grow, until one day a mob of dock workers and pack-carriers stormed into Jason’s house, intending to capture the peace disturbers. But the young congregation had been keeping an eye out for such a possibility. Aristarchus brought the report of the mob’s approach, and he was able to get the messengers out of the house before the mob got there. He guided Paul to the road to Berea. Jason and certain others who were found in the house were hauled before the magistrates, and only when Jason assured them that the messengers had left the city was he set free.


In contrast to Thessalonica, the messengers found an open ear and a receptive heart for the gospel in Berea. As usual they preached in the synagogue first. But the Berean Jews weren’t content with Sabbath preaching alone. They gathered with Paul every day, after the evening Shema, and read the scriptures. Paul taught them where to find all the passages in which the prophets and King David had foretold the coming of Christ. The Jews of Berea decided to found a congregation of believers and to draw all the pious Gentiles, men and women, who attended the synagogue.

But in spite of the success, Paul’s heart was still in Thessalonica. The sapling he had left there was newly planted in the soil. The men of Berea, however, wouldn’t hear of Paul leaving them. Meanwhile, news of Paul’s preaching and soul winning in Berea had reached the ears of the opposing faction in Thessalonica. A number of zealots, convinced that they were doing the work of God, set out for Berea and tried to stir up the city against the messengers.

The enmity of the zealots was directed chiefly against Paul rather than against his companions because of the sharp words he had directed toward them. So the congregation of Berea decided to send Paul away to go “as far as the seashore.” Silas and Timothy remained in Berea, to complete the work Paul had started. Paul was accompanied by some of the faithful of Berea. He went on to Athens, to wait there for Silas and Timothy to join him.

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.

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.

13 - The Opened Door

Fourteen years had passed since Paul last saw Jerusalem. His previous visit with Barnabas at the beginning of his ministry lasted only a day or two, and he hadn’t even looked around. Now the city was so changed, he barely recognized it. The streets were filled with emaciated beggars from the famine, and the Court of the Gentiles overflowed with the poor, who came to the charitable institutions for a handful of dried figs, or a measure of barley. Judea was suffering under a double plague. Besides the famine, there was the burden of taxes imposed by Herod Agrippa.

Agrippa was not a raw tyrant like his great-grandfather, but neither was he a true patriot, although he tried to present himself as such after the experience in Alexandria. He ingratiated himself with the priesthood by bringing sacrifices of oxen and other cattle, and by carrying his basket on his own shoulders on the Day of First Fruits. This so hoodwinked some of the rabbis that they held him up as a model to the people.

But in his provincial residence, away from the eyes of the people of Jerusalem, he built sports arenas, theaters, and circuses, instituted gladiatorial combats, and didn’t hesitate to pollute the soil of Palestine with combats between men and wild beasts. He convinced the Jerusalem rabbis that he pursued these heathen practices, not because he wanted to, but as a matter of politics. For he wasn’t just the King of Judea, he was also ruler of the pagan provinces.

And all the time, he squeezed labor and money out of the masses.

As bad as the condition of the general population was, it was even worse for believers, who once again lived their lives in terror. They stopped winning new souls, and once again fell back into a self-contained communal life. Most of them met outside the city in the large court of Mary, Barnabas’ sister. Others wandered the streets hungry and half-naked. James spent whole days in prayer and fasting. He attracted a large group of Pharisees, including his brother Jude, and they all spent so much time in prayer on the marble steps of the Temple Court, that their knees became hard and their legs stiff like the hind legs of a camel.


Now Simon Peter wasn’t happy with the believers’ inactivity. He was at the peak of his strength, and though he looked old, he was still only in his mid-fifties. During the eighteen years since Christ’s death, Simon had preached the resurrection to every corner of the Holy Land. He’d been to Joppa, Caesarea, and Samaria, and had become willing to lighten the burden of Jewish Law just a tad in order to draw in Gentile converts.

James, on the other hand, kept a watchful eye and a firm hand on congregational affairs. He shuddered at the thought of believers diminishing their devotion to traditional Judaism by even one iota. Whenever he heard of any laxity in regard to orthodox observances, he sent messengers at once with stern instructions to correct the situation. Communities trembled at the thought of his displeasure. Even Peter looked up to him.

It was to James that Paul wanted to bring Titus as his demonstration of the perfection the non-Israelite could achieve without conversion to traditional Judaism.

The believers, however, under the rigorous spiritual rule of James, wouldn’t even talk to Titus, let alone admit him to the common meals. How could they possibly break bread with one who was uncircumcised? They looked suspiciously at Paul for introducing this temptation and stumbling block into the congregation of Jerusalem.

But Paul was determined to spin a thread between Titus and James that could later be drawn around all the uncircumcised who wanted admission into the congregation.

Titus himself wandered the streets of Jerusalem like a confused and bewildered soul. Everything was so strange. There was the vast flood of pilgrims in their multicolored robes, exotic gestures, and queer, outlandish customs, and he was impressed by the grandeur of the Temple. He was forbidden, of course, to go beyond the Court of the Gentiles but he felt the awe and devotion of the pious multitudes when they brought their sacrifices. He saw countless worshipers lying with their faces pressed to the marble floor of the court, and the whole tremendous picture of faith and surrender was indescribably impressive.

Yet it left him cold, and feeling like an outsider.

He’d abandoned his own temples and his own gods, but he couldn’t be admitted to this Temple and this God. Paul hadn’t given him a Jewish redeemer, but a God he could accept naturally, like he’d once accepted his fathers’ gods. He had no connection with all this that was going on around him.

This then was Paul’s desire, to bring the heavily yoked James together with this spoiled child of the Gentile world, who was forgiven by the grace of faith.


Even though Simon Peter lived under the influence of James, Paul felt he’d be a sympathetic listener. Simon lived with his wife in Mary’s house, a good distance from the place where James gathered the Pharisees around him. So Paul headed there first.

Simon sat in Mary’s garden and listened with lively emotion to the story of Paul and Barnabas’ memorable journey through Galatia. Paul described in detail the rebirth experienced by the uncircumcised Gentiles when they entered the faith.

He also gave Simon the money the Gentiles had sent to the poor of Jerusalem as proof that the lord had performed a miracle among them and that God desired that the Gentiles should come to him.

“Take away the stumbling stone of the law, and the whole world will stream to Mount Zion,” said Paul. “Prayer houses will rise up in all cities, even in the most remote villages. Wherever man lives, the Name of God and of Christ will be spoken. With you taking the news of Messiah to the House of Israel, and me taking the gospel of Christ to the Gentiles, all men will come together and the Kingdom of heaven will begin on earth.”

Simon listened attentively, his heart filled with joy. But he also shared James’ fear that vast multitudes of Gentiles streaming into the congregation without taking on the Jewish yoke, would overwhelm the Jews with the power of the heathen spirit. The Gentiles would not become Jews. The Jews would become Gentiles. When he spoke those fears, Paul rushed to reassure him.

“Would you like to see the miracle of faith in the Gentile? I’ve brought him with me. He’s uncircumcised in the flesh, but in the spirit he’s a child of Abraham. Would you see him and put him to the test, Simon?”

“Yes, I’ll see him. Bring him to me so I can see this miracle for myself.”

So Paul went out, brought Titus in secretly, and presented him to Simon Peter.

Standing before someone who’d been privileged to serve Jesus in his lifetime, Titus’ knees shook. He didn’t know whether to stand there or to fall at the man’s feet.

Simon looked at the tall, handsome young man and into the simple blue eyes that dared not look at him but were turned downward in modesty and awe. Titus scarcely dared breath. But Simon put his hands on his shoulders, and said, “It’s all right, my son. Tell me, what brought you to the God of Israel? And what brought you into the congregation of believers in Messiah?”

“It was my hunger for the truth, and for the meaning of our existence. I found these in the one living God and Creator. My desire was to be redeemed from my sins, and to be part of the grace that promises me the help of Christ. My teacher and guide, Paul, taught me these things.”

Simon pondered the answer. Surely this was a declaration of faith in the God of Israel. But he probed deeper.

“And what obligations does this faith in the living God of Israel and your acceptance into the congregation of Messiah bring?”

“I’m obligated to live out my life in the grace of faith, and to accept the life of our lord Jesus as my ever-present model. I’m obligated to love those who hate me, to bless those who curse me, and to drive all evil thoughts from my heart. The lord died for me and he is in me. Therefore I do all things as if he were in my place.”

“And do you know, my son, that in acknowledging the one living God of Israel, and in believing in Messiah, you are a son of Abraham, and you must carry on your body the sign of the covenant between Abraham and God?”

“My teacher and guide, Paul, taught me that we Gentiles are free from the yoke of the law and that we are under the sign of the grace of faith, that by our faith alone we become children of Abraham.”

“But suppose your teachers and guides tell you that in order to become truly a child of Abraham you must have the sign of the covenant on your body. What then, my son?” asked Simon.

Titus grew silent and visibly pale. Paul did also.

Then Titus recovered his self-assurance and answered in a firm voice, “Did not the lord Jesus suffer and die for me? Though I live in the flesh, in the spirit I live in him. Therefore my flesh and my blood and my limbs are his. And if my teachers and guides in the faith should tell me that I must let my body be burned in the fire for the sake of the lord, I would surely do it. Do with me what seems best in your eyes.”

“You may be uncircumcised,” answered Simon, “but you are truly a faithful son of our father Abraham. God grant that such as yourself multiply among the Gentiles.”

Kissing the young man on both cheeks with the kiss of peace, Simon Peter sat down to eat with the uncircumcised convert.


Simon brought a full report of his conversation with Titus to James, who listened in thoughtful silence. His recent uneasiness over the influx of Gentiles into the ranks of believers was evident. He couldn’t help but rejoice in the grace of God bestowed on the Gentiles, but he trembled lest Israel be carried away and lost in the tide of the Gentiles.

He knew a final decision must be made, for this question was being asked everywhere congregations were arising. The Gentiles were knocking loudly on the doors, and it was impossible to keep those doors closed to them.

James, Simon and John were considered the three pillars of the faith, and all of them had aged beyond their years. Perhaps this was the result of their many fasts and self-mortifications, or perhaps it had to do with their longing for a death that would make them eternal witnesses of the faith. These three called the other leaders of the Jerusalem congregation together in the old dwelling place in the David wall.

Many new faces were also present. There were old men with white beards, and large fringed garments thrown over their sackcloth clothing, Pharisees mostly. They sat on low stools, or on the ground below the original disciples. There were also younger men whose beards were still black. Particularly prominent was James’ brother Jude, a swarthy young man who looked a lot like him. He had a dark, lustrous beard, and lively coal black eyes. Though he was comparatively young, he was seated in a rank above the older sages. As a member of the holy family, his rank was next to that of his brother.

James conducted the meeting.

The Lord’s Prayer was recited, and James said a brief prayer to ask for the intercession of the Holy Spirit, that it might rest with them during their deliberations.

First on the agenda was the report of the apostles. Barnabas did the talking rather than Paul, since he alone had gone out with the authority of the congregation.

Barnabas told the story of their travels through the Gentile cities. He pointed out that everywhere they went, they followed the original instruction of Messiah to go first to the House of Israel. Many Jews had converted and fully accepted the faith. Others had refused. This caused dissension, sometimes leading to physical clashes. Barnabas also told of the wonders and signs Paul performed. Barnabas gave all credit to the powerful gift of his companion’s speech, placing himself in the background of the story.

He told the story of their mission to the Gentiles in even greater detail. He wanted the assembly to understand beyond any doubt that God’s compassion had been directed to the Gentiles, and that He had prepared their hearts for salvation. They were begging to be allowed into the faith. As an example of the power of conversion in the lives of the Gentiles, they’d brought an uncircumcised convert with them, whom Simon had already met. Furthermore, there were the gifts the converted Gentiles had sent, proving beyond all doubt that the virtue of compassion had been implanted in them.

The assembly listened to the long report attentively. There was open joy and tears of gratitude on many faces, but there were also faces that grew dark. Some even began to burn with suppressed indignation. Voices were raised, asking for permission to speak. The first such voice was sharply against admitting the uncircumcised.

“Anyone who doesn’t have the courage to be circumcised for the sake of the God of Israel isn’t worthy of admission into Messiah’s congregation. We can only admit those who have the strength to give their blood to the covenant.”

A few voices called out in protest at this. One voice, louder and more insistent than the others, was that of a Hellenist leader named Silas. He was a man who knew well the ways of the Gentiles, and he defended the uncircumcised converts.

“God created all people according to their separate natures, and faith must follow the nature of the person. Only then can it be solid and enduring.”

Barsabas, another Hellenist Jew also came to the defense of the uncircumcised converts.

James signalled for quiet and asked Paul whether he had anything to add to the report of his companion.

And of course he did. He was doing everything he could to keep his passions in check, and he intended to reinforce Barnabas’ speech with his own. To that end he decided to first talk about the law before he took up the topic of the Gentiles.

“What law is strong enough,” he began, “to throw an iron circle around our desires, lusts, and passions? The serpents of sin will always find a crack in the wall, wide enough to get through, as long as they feel that a welcome awaits them inside. What law is so all-embracing that it could cover every little act if man’s heart itself is a swamp of unclean things? How many messengers will you have to send to the Gentile cities to keep watch over all the transgressions and ensure that every fence the rabbis have erected around our lives still stands?

“And let me ask this. Do we who stand under the sign of the law comply with the law? Who of us is blameless? So what other law could tear the nature of the Gentiles out by its roots, if the law of the one living God can’t?

“It is the law of Christ that has taken the Gentiles’ granite hearts, crushed them, and made them soft as sponges to suck up the balm of compassion that falls from heaven. I brought them faith in the one living God they’ve never seen nor heard. I brought them faith in a Christ who was scourged, tortured, and crucified, and they cast away their gods of power, perfection, and beauty, for Christ.

“And now they are prepared to let their bodies be burned for the God of Israel. Who awakened this thirst for salvation in their hearts if not God Himself? And if these blossoms are planted in the hearts of the Gentiles, would you uproot them? Let Christ perform his wonders and gather up the people of the world as the reaper gathers up the sheaves. All nations will bow the knee to the righteous redeemer, the Holy One of Israel, and all men will be brothers in a common bond of faith. The glory of God will be poured out on the entire world, fulfilling the words of the prophet, ‘the lowland will be lifted up and the mountain will be brought low. The crooked will be straightened out and the rough places made smooth. And the glory of God will be revealed and all will see it.’”

Paul’s speech was more passionate than he’d intended, and it had its effect. Even the faces of the oldest disciples, which had remained somber during Barnabas’ speech, lightened up a bit. But the protest from the other side was equally as vigorous. Among those grouped around James there was a sharp unrest, a muttering and whispering, portents of an approaching storm. Jude, James’ young brother, stood up to speak.

“With the permission of my rabbis and guides, I will ask the apostle one question: what will be the Gentiles’ guide if not the law entrusted to us? Who is strong enough and great enough to place the responsibility for all human conduct on frail and delicate faith? What is faith without works? Love of God is indeed a high ideal, for anyone who can accomplish it! But we’re only human, with both good and wicked impulses. The world is filled with chaos and confusion, and God has planted this little island called Israel, and has given this island laws and commandments to be our guide. Take away these laws and commandments and we’re carried away by the chaos and confusion of the world. Without them we wander eternally in the desert. Without them there is no salvation.”

“True! True!” cried the men around him. But those cries of approval provoked a counterdemonstration on the other side, and for a moment it seemed the assembly would lapse into utter disorder.

Then Simon Peter arose, and all grew silent to hear what he had to say. “Men and brothers! You know that the lord long ago chose me to tell the Gentiles the good news of redemption. God knows the heart of man, and He pointed to the Gentiles and decreed that the Holy Spirit should rest on them as it does on us. He made no division in this respect between them and us. So why do you put a yoke on the neck of the Gentiles, such as our fathers and we ourselves have not been able to carry? We believe with perfect faith that by the grace of the lord Jesus they will be saved even as we are saved.”

The silence in the room was thick. Peter was taking a stand and the Pharisees’ were thunderstruck.

James was silent throughout the whole passionate debate, weighing each argument. He listened, but neither spoke nor gave any evidence of his feelings. But his mind was working fiercely. He was moved by the wonder of so many conversions, and he wanted to find a way to remove some of the barriers for the Gentiles, and yet leave enough to keep them close to the Jewish congregation.

The ancient sages had taught that it was sufficient for the Gentiles to observe the primal commandments of the sons of Noah: recognition of the one living God, rejection of idol worship, abstention from whoredom, and refrain from eating the flesh of a living animal or of an animal that was strangled. The Gentile converts were already doing these things. So he reached a decision.

“Men and brothers, hear me! The prophet has said, ‘After this I will return and rebuild the tabernacle of David. I will rebuild its ruins, that the remnant of mankind may seek the Lord among all the people where My Name will be spoken. So says the Lord.’

“Therefore it is my opinion that we not trouble the hearts of the Gentiles who have turned to God, but that we write them that they refrain from the abomination of idolatry, from fornication, from blood, and from the eating of strangled animals. For Moses has his people in every city, who preach his law, and it is read in the synagogues every Sabbath.”

Now that the two most respected men of the congregation, Peter and James, had spoken their views, the controversy was ended.

The assembly resolved to confirm Barnabas and Paul in the apostleship and to send Barsabbas and Silas with them to carry letters to “the Gentile brothers” in Antioch and in Cilicia, bearing greetings, as well as the record of the resolution.

“It has come to our attention that certain of our brothers have gone out among you and troubled you with their speech, and have misled you, saying that you must be circumcised in the flesh and observe the Law of Moses. We have not authorized any such thing. Therefore be it known to you that, having sat in deliberation on this question, we have resolved to send to you our beloved Paul and Barnabas, together with certain other of our men.”


At the first ceremonial meal following the session, Titus the uncircumcised Gentile sat with all the others. True, Jude sat somewhat removed from him and was afraid to touch him, but Simon and James gave him a special welcome. James sat with Titus. They broke bread together, and repeated the prayer of the lord in unison.

This was the happiest day in Paul’s life.

12 - Afflictions and Persecutions

And so the messengers continued on their way, Paul leaning on his staff and Barnabas carrying the bundle of provisions. Sometimes they spent the night in the clay hut of a poor villager, and told him the good news in exchange for shelter and a cup of goat’s milk. Sometimes they slept in the open, under the starry sky. Often the fire they lit for protection attracted shepherds, and the story of redemption would be told by firelight in the field. The hill people were simple. They listened with wonder to the story, and then looked up at the great stars, as if they expected God to show himself in the clouds. The messengers feared no robbers. Their treasure was any man’s for the asking.

Five days out of Antioch they came to the friendly shelter of Iconium, and though the Jews in Antioch had written them off, Paul now rethought his threat to turn to the Gentiles. Who but Jews, after all, could better understand the story of redemption? Okay, so they quarreled with the Jews in Antioch, but were the Jews in Iconium any less their brothers? Besides, their footsteps seemed to automatically take them to the Jewish synagogue. It was the only way they could discover whether or not there would be an open heart and a ready ear, whether among the Jews or among the god-fearing Gentiles.

Iconium was a pleasant spot in the heart of the Phrigian-Pisidian hills. The soil was fruitful and watered by many wells and rivers. The air came in cool waves from the heights. The people were simple and hardworking, and much different from the inhabitants of a Roman colony like Antioch. Greeks and Jews lived together as peasants, artisans, and small merchants. Paul was happy and at peace among this simple folk.

And he needed rest. The malaria he’d contracted at Perga broke out again, and the reawakened fire ate up his bones. One day he tottered and fell while preaching. His eyes turned inward and a dreadful expression came over his face. The Jews covered him with a sheet and carried him to his bed in the hospice.

When Paul came to, he was greatly ashamed, more before the Gentiles than before the Jews. He felt that his words were wasted because of what happened and that no one would ever listen to him again. What sort of good news could he be bringing to others if he himself was tormented by sickness and could find no cure?

But a marvelous thing happened. Gentiles as well as Jews came to the hospice, bringing little gifts, like a bowl of milk, a cruse of oil, and a vase of ointment. Paul was deeply moved that Gentiles would come to visit him in his sickness. There was one woman who tended him with special care. She sewed shirts for him out of the cloth others brought and gathered the best oils for him. She also brought him wine of pressed figs to restore his strength, and every day she made his bed and prayed with him for his recovery. Paul’s eyes filled with tears and his heart was warm with faith and hope. He thanked God for having humbled him in his own eyes, so that he might not fall victim to pride, and for having lifted him up in the eyes of others, especially strangers and Gentiles.

One day he made it a point to talk to Barnabas about it. “Look and see the grace God has given them through Christ. Even before they know him, he prepares their hearts for understanding. If a Jew were to do what these folks have done for me, we wouldn’t consider it anything special. But the Gentiles have no Abraham to teach them compassion, so when they do so, it’s against their nature. Their nature says, Steal, rob, do after the desires of your heart. But instead they treat me with kindness. They’ve learned the grace of compassion from their own hearts. Great is their merit!

“The Gentiles long for salvation, and we keep it from them. Who are the sinners, they or we? God has opened a spring of help in Jesus Christ. We can’t remain closed in by our narrow limits and feel ourselves righteous, when the world is going under in a flood of whoredom and sin. We must carry salvation to the world. The whole earth must be made fruitful with the living waters of God’s word. It’s written about Christ, ‘I have set you as a light to the nations, and you shall be a salvation to the ends of the earth.’”


A rush of energy returned to Paul and filled his limbs and nerves. Once more he threw himself into the work of winning souls for Christ. He preached on Sabbaths, on Mondays, and on Thursdays. He spoke in the synagogue and in the markets. He visited the workshops, and went into fields and homes. He visited rich and poor alike. Wherever men were found, he was there. In Christ there was neither freedman nor bondman, neither master nor servant, neither men nor women. All were born equal.

Soon a new congregation blossomed in Iconium. The new believers spread their faith among their own kinsmen and fellow laborers, among their friends and fellow members of the synagogue. Soon the city was divided, half the people in favor of the messengers and the other half against them. Both Jews and Greeks were in each half. Families were also divided. There was quarreling in the homes, in the marketplaces, and in the synagogue. Wherever Paul appeared, he became the center of a crowd, and anytime he opened his mouth, a fierce dispute broke out. The Jews and Gentiles on his side stood together. And those who opposed him were united in their desire to drive him out of the city. Some planned to stone him, but the believers heard of the plot and warned Paul and Barnabas of the danger. They packed their belongings and left the city.

But Paul left behind him a deeply planted congregation of Christians, made up of both Jews and Greeks. Before leaving he charged them to hold fast to the faith in God and Christ, and God would take them under His wing.


From Iconium the messengers set out across the mountains, and came to the region of Lycaonia, and the cities of Lystra and Derbe.

In Lystra an unusual thing happened.

When Paul finished preaching in the synagogue, he saw a paralyzed man among the listeners. The man’s face was aflame with faith. He stretched out his hands to Paul and asked for help. Paul thought of Simon Peter performing miracles in the power of the Holy Spirit. So he approached the man. The half-closed, half-blind eye of Paul bored deep into the eyes of the cripple and seemed to take his will captive. The cripple, filled with faith, and believing that Paul could help him, let his will become Paul’s. The longer Paul stared at him, the more he knew that he held him, like a potter holds a pot.

Suddenly he raised his voice and commanded, “Rise up, and stand on your feet!”

And the miracle happened. The lame man stood up.


Now there was a temple to Zeus in Lystra, and the local priest had persuaded the Greeks that Zeus and his attendant and servant, Hermes, were about to appear in Lystra. So when they saw or heard about the miracle Paul had performed, they ran through the streets of the city crying, “The gods have appeared to us in the likeness of men!”

Not realizing what was happening, Paul and Barnabas were standing in the city gate telling people about Christ, when they saw a large crowd coming toward them. Men and women were dressed in festival clothes. The women wore wreaths of flowers as if they were going to the temple, and the men had on multicolored tunics. The priest of Zeus was in the middle, leading an ox with gilded horns. Boys and girls carried baskets of flour, and danced and sang around the ox. The crowd soon circled around Paul and Barnabas.

The priest came forward in his ceremonial robe, threw himself at Barnabas’ feet, and cried out, “Almighty Zeus! I knew you’d come. I’ve always assured your people that you’d reveal yourself to us. Now you’re here. The people know you, great Zeus. In your graciousness accept the sacrifice we bring to you at the gates of the city.”

The multitude kept crying, “Zeus! Zeus!”

And pointing to Paul they cried, “This is the chief speaker. He must be Hermes!”

An improvised altar was built on the spot and covered with branches. A tripod was brought, and the smoke of incense rose from it.

The crowd was beside itself with joy and kept pointing at Barnabas, crying, “See the black beard? Every hair can pull up a mountain! See those eyes? The fire in them gives light to the sun and stars!”

And of the nervous, restless Paul, “See, he can’t stand still for a moment! That’s Hermes. His hands and feet are wings! He flies like an arrow to fulfill the commands of Zeus!”

And indeed, Paul could not stand still. All his wiry, bony body trembled, as in a fit. And Barnabas, shamed and bewildered, look on helplessly. The people danced around them, and the priest got ready to sacrifice the ox.

Suddenly Paul tore his clothes, in sign of mourning, and Barnabas followed suit.

Then Paul shouted, “O men and women, why do you do this?”

For a moment the people stopped the dancing and singing, and stared in fear. And Paul, taking advantage of the silence addressed them. His voice quivered with pity and suppressed anger.

“Hear us! We are only men of flesh and blood, just like you. Look at these bodies. They’re like yours. We’ve come here to preach to you, so that you might cease from folly and abandon your gods, which are nothing but emptiness and delusion, and turn to the one living God, who created heaven and earth and the sea and all that is in them. And though he has allowed the nations to wander and err in their own ways, He did not relinquish his authority over them. He is the beneficent and loving God of all of us. He is the God who sends down rain from heaven and the season of fruits, and he fills our hearts with nourishment and peace.”

As the crowd listened, the priest, realizing what this would do to his reputation, began wildly waving his arms to get Paul to stop. These men weren’t just denying that they were gods. They were actually urging the people to abandon their gods and to turn instead to the God of the hated Jews. He desperately tried to get Paul to hold his peace, accept the sacrifice, and concur in the deception. Finally, he brought the sacrificial knife and turned toward the ox. But Paul would not let the sacrifice be consummated. Rushing forward, he overturned the improvised altar, while never ceasing to talk and to preach.

The priest, realizing that there was no coming to terms with this man, started to yell, “The Jews have fooled us! They come to us disguised as our gods but they preach their own Gods! The Jews have fooled us!”

The astonished crowd heard the cry and began to back away from Paul and Barnabas. Word quickly spread through the streets and reached the temple of Zeus. The priest’s cry was picked up like a slogan, “The Jews have fooled us! They disguised themselves as our gods in order to preach their own.”


To make matters worse, men from Antioch of Pisidia and from Iconium came to Lystra the very next day. They reported how the messengers had spread disaffection against the old gods in their cities and had caused dissension between Jews and Jews, and between Greeks and Greeks.

The people’s anger grew daily. The hatred was as intense among Jews as among Greeks. The priest, in particular, burned with shame at Paul’s exposure of him.

Paul tried to ignore it. He still went out preaching among the people. He spoke in the synagogue to Jew and non-Jew. And in the face of opposition and danger, he created a congregation of Christians. He strengthened it and proved by his own example that in the spreading of the faith there should be no fear.

On a certain day, when Paul was preaching to a small group, an angry crowd of Jews and Greeks descended on him, scattered his listeners, and dragged him off outside the gates of the city. When they came to a hollow place in the ground, they threw him into it, and began to pelt him with stones. They continued to throw stones until they thought he was dead, and then they returned to the city.


Paul lay in the field outside Lystra covered in blood. His body, head and face were bruised and cut. His eyes were closed. Half conscious, he didn’t know if he was dead or alive. He was aware of a figure emerging out of the night that reminded him of something he’d seen in Jerusalem in his former life as Saul. He saw an angel imbedded in stones up to the waist, so that only the upper half of his body was free. The face and wings of the angel were lifted to heaven. This was the image he’d seen when he sat and guarded the clothes of the witnesses at the stoning of Stephen.

Great joy flooded his heart, and he said to himself, “Now I know God has forgiven me, for like Stephen, I have been stoned for the sake of Christ.”

Suddenly he felt a light hand, like the hand of an angel, passing over his body, wiping away the blood. Love and devotion were in that touch; it was as gentle as the hand of a spirit might have been. He thought that God had surely sent an angel to comfort him. Opening his eyes, he saw a lad of fourteen or fifteen standing over him with eyes looking down on him with love and compassion.

Paul said, “Who are you, my son?”

“My name is Timothy. My father is a Greek, but my mother is Jewish. I’ve heard of the God of Israel from my mother, and now I’ve heard of Messiah from you. I saw what these men did, and I’m here to help you.”

Then Paul embraced the boy and said, “You are a faithful son of Abraham, for you have his virtue of compassion. May your like be increased in Israel.”

By this time the believers Paul had won in Lystra arrived with Barnabas and found the stoning place. Paul was already standing up, leaning on Timothy, and he returned to the city in the company of the disciples. He went into the house of Eunice, Timothy’s mother. His grandmother Lois also lived there. Everyone in the house was Jewish, although Eunice had married a Greek. The women washed Paul, wiped the blood from his body, and kept him there a few days.

On the morning of the third day he baptized Timothy in the name of Christ.

Then he got ready to leave. First he strengthened the hearts of the new congregation, said farewell to Timothy, and, together with Barnabas, headed down the road to Derbe.


They didn’t stay in Derbe very long. Paul wanted to revisit the towns from which he’d been driven out, and to see that the work he’d started at the risk of his life not die. Barnabas was shaken and astonished when he heard Paul say that they should return to Lystra, Iconium, and Antioch. But he obeyed without question, believing that God was ever Paul’s guide.

They stole into the cities under cover of night and knocked softly on the doors of the believers. In Lystra, Paul assembled the faithful in the house of Timothy’s mother, and there they fasted and prayed together. He strengthened them, saying, “We will have to bear much to be worthy of entering the Kingdom of Heaven. But for his sweet name’s sake we will endure it all!”

Paul didn’t preach openly on these visits, for he wanted to avoid the tumults that had attended his first visits. He was content to preach only to believers, to strengthen their bonds in Christ and their brotherly love for each other. He also picked out the ablest and most devoted of them and set them as elders and leaders over the others in a manner similar to the Jewish synagogues.

If belief in Messiah was the fulfillment of the prophetic messages for the Jews, for the Gentiles it was a completely new birth. God had breathed a new soul into them. The old life of impurity fell away, and a new life began. They felt that for the sake of their portion in Christ, they must guard their lives from uncleanness, and practice the virtues Christ had taught. Love, devotion and faith were their commandments and virtues. This law was as binding on them as the Jewish law on the Jews. And as the Jews were faithful to the Law of Moses, and were ready to lay down their lives for it, so the new believers were called on to lay down their lives, if necessary, for their fellowship in Christ.


On the way back to Syrian Antioch the messengers stayed in Perga longer than the first time through. Paul hadn’t done any preaching there because of his sickness and the dispute with John. So now he founded a congregation in the busy port according to the same model as in the other cities.

From Perga they went to the port of Attalia, and founded a congregation there too. Then they sailed for Seleucia, avoiding Paul’s hometown of Tarsus, because he wanted to get back and make his report to the congregation that had given them the authority to spread the faith.


Some travelers had already told the congregation in Antioch about the accomplishments of Paul and Barnabas in Galatia, so they arrived to sort of a heroes’ welcome. There were lit lamps and candles in the doors of all the Christian houses. When the elders heard the details of their work, the congregations they founded, and the souls they won to Christ among the Gentiles, their joy and wonder were boundless.

“Surely,” they said, “this is the finger of God. God has opened the gates to the Gentiles, and He fills them with faith through Christ. Now we must pray that the gates be thrown open even wider, so that they may never be closed again.”

Paul and Barnabas stayed a longer time in Antioch. They needed rest after their journey. But while there, Paul took up the task of training Titus to replace John as a helper in future missions.


Reports of Paul’s travels had reached Jerusalem as well as Antioch. The elders there learned that Paul had admitted uncircumcised Gentiles to the congregation and that he taught a strange doctrine not taught by Messiah. Without laying on of hands, he had set out on a mission to Gentile cities with no other authority than that of the congregation in Antioch. A storm broke out. What was Saul thinking, they asked? Was he trying to establish a new authority? Hadn’t the lord vested the authority in his disciples alone? The Holy Spirit could not rest on any community without the blessing of the first disciples! This was a very dangerous precedent. The community of Antioch should not have made a compact with this man who had caused so much suffering to the congregation of Messiah.

Messengers were sent to Antioch with the warning that all the work done by Saul was a house built on shifting sand. There were no Gentiles in the faith of Messiah. Whoever desired to enter the faith must first enter into the covenant of Abraham and be circumcised. Without that yoke, there could be no Kingdom of Heaven. The works performed in the name of the community of Antioch were delusions and falsities.

Paul saw the danger of all his work being undone. He saw that he must go up to Jerusalem and take up the struggle there. He was no longer “the young man Saul who once persecuted the faithful and now bears witness for Messiah.” He was Paul, who had traveled through the length and breadth of Galatia, planting a chain of gardens of salvation. If the sacrifice of the Gentiles had not been acceptable to God, He would not have turned their hearts toward goodness. And Titus was his foremost witness.

Titus worked exactly as if the Law of Moses were inscribed on his heart, and he was filled with love, goodness, compassion and sympathy. Let Titus the uncircumcised appear in Jerusalem and testify for the work of Christ.

Paul’s decision to leave Titus in Antioch when he and Barnabas went out on their missionary journey had been a wise one. Titus had surrendered everything for his faith in Christ, visiting the sick, comforting the weak, and feeding the poor. Not one word of anger or pride came out of his mouth. He was a model of what could happen to a pagan in Christ. This was his virtue: to be circumcised not in the flesh, but in the heart.

So Paul took Titus with him as a witness for the Gentiles, and the three of them, Paul, Titus, and Barnabas, went up to Jerusalem. They passed through Phoenicia and Samaria, and in every city Paul stopped awhile to tell how God had opened a door of faith to the Gentiles.

11 - Across the Mountains

Unlike Barnabas, who could accept all things from Paul, even the formal changing of his name, young John Mark struggled to accept Paul as the leader of the deputation. He knew that the elders in Jerusalem had not given Saul any authority. They’d sent him to Antioch to strengthen the faithful, and here he was on a mission to the Gentiles. It was true that Simon Peter, to whom John looked for guidance, had made certain concessions, but Simon regarded his mission to the Jews as primary, and his mission to the Gentiles as secondary. But Saul, or Paul, or whatever he wanted to call himself was going to Gentile cities, where few Jews were to be found. But what disturbed him even more was that Paul tended to speak more about Messiah than he did about the God of Israel. But Messiah was only God’s servant, who had come to reveal God’s will. The most important thing was belief in the one living God.

John had no doubt about his Uncle Barnabas’ piety and had no problem accepting his leadership. But as soon as Paul assumed that role, John began to show opposition. In Perga, Paul made the decision not to go to the house of Israel in the great cities of Syria and Asia, but to venture instead to remote places in the hills of Phrygia and Galatia, where only tiny settlements of Jews were to be found.

John spoke out, “Why should we take the gospel so far away, on the dangerous road of the Gentiles, when the house of Israel is so thirsty for it, and is closer as well.”

“The easier road we leave for others,” answered Paul. “I’ve chosen the harder one.”

“The disciples in Jerusalem didn’t send us to Galatia. They sent us to Antioch to teach. They gave us no authority for any other work.”

Deeply troubled, Barnabas cried out, “John! How can you speak so in the presence of one whom God Himself conferred with authority? Didn’t you see with your own eyes the miracle done through him in Cyprus?”

“My rabbis have taught me to look for no miracles where the cause of God is concerned. I have nothing in my hand except the authority given me by my rabbis in Jerusalem,” answered the young man, abruptly.

So John left and returned to Jerusalem, but Barnabas, who had faith in Paul, stayed.


It wasn’t enough, it seemed, that John abandoned them, for another trial soon came. While they were in Perga, Paul fell sick with malaria. A fiery circle clamped around his head, while his bones were filled with ice, so that his blood was stabbed with alternating pangs of heat and cold. It was as if God were seeking to humble Paul, lest the pride of his heart be awakened by his triumph in Cyprus. Barnabas tended him lovingly, as a son tends his father. He sat with him night and day, applied oils to his body, and gave him warm wine to drink, until Paul’s strength returned. As soon as he was able to stand without his knees buckling, he insisted on taking the journey into the hills, by the path leading to Antioch in Pisidia.


From the sea town of Perga to the city of Pisidian Antioch was a journey of some five or six days. That is, if one survived the journey at all. The road was extremely dangerous. Robber bands lived in the mountain caves by the side of the road, and all the efforts of the government to clear them out had had no effect. Merchants never traveled except in groups and with armed guards. But Paul and Barnabas traveled alone. Moreover, faithful to Paul’s resolution never to become a burden on the communities he visited, they borrowed no provisions in Perga and didn’t even take a donkey with them to carry their baggage. Not that there was much to carry. They had their mantles, a change of linen, a few manuscripts, and a day’s supply of food. Barnabas loaded this on his own shoulders. Paul was still too weak, and could only walk with a staff. Thus the two messengers began their ascent.

At first the journey had a good effect on Paul’s health. The light, fresh wind blowing down from the forests of cypress and laurel slowly extinguished the fire still flickering in his head. It was early summer, between Passover and Pentecost. On the road upward they saw countless oleanders with their delicate rose blossoms. Wild pomegranates grew in the forests, peeping out from among the heavy foliage of the bushes. The soft earth was covered with flowers and herbs, such as jasmine and violet. The air was sleepy with the buzzing of bees and the murmuring of insects, and there were many birds in the branches of the cypresses and laurels. The sound of rushing spring water came from hidden places in the forests, a delight to the spirit. All this had a healing effect on the sick man.

They also passed many houses of dried clay, roofed over with branches, nestled among the trees, and men and women and domestic animals loitered about them. Cows grazed in tiny clearings, and herds of goats clambered wildly up the impossible crags. Sometimes the travelers were refreshed by the sight of a flock of sheep feeding in a green hollow. This was home soil for Paul, for this was the hill country rolling from the shoulders of Mount Taurus by Tarsus.


As they continued the ascent, a change came over the landscape. There were no more blossoms. There were no delicious odors, beautiful sights, or refreshing sounds here. Instead they saw crippled trees whose branches had been combed out by an iron wind. Here and there an iris clung with its last energies, or a lonely laurel dug its roots into the ground like nails, and held out in the struggle against the wind. No houses looked out cheerfully from among the trees. Instead, they became more and more aware of the grim front of the mountain rocks. Here and there they saw a water channel, but the water was gone, or almost gone, and there were just cascades of stones.

On the fourth day they came to such a channel. It was evening, and since they were a long way from the nearest settlement, they decided to spend the night there by the water’s edge. They scraped up a little water from between the stones to wash their hands and feet, so they could say the evening Shema. Afterwards they washed their hands again, and ate a few mouthfuls of dried figs and bread, washing it down with water. Within the shelter of the channel they found a softer place and lay down. They talked of Christ and his mission, which had brought them to this remote place, until sleep overcame them.

In the middle of the night, Barnabas was awakened by something that sounded like a distant waterfall. He knew he hadn’t heard one when they went to sleep, so as the sound grew louder, he thought it best to wake Paul. As he was doing this, a wave of water burst on them, and the lower levels of the channel filled with bursts of foam. Barnabas immediately grabbed Paul into his powerful arms, swung him on to his back and began to climb. Coming out of deep sleep, Paul immediately realized that this was the water that suddenly breaks down from the mountain peaks every year about this time.

“Faster, Barnabas!” he cried.

Waist deep in water, Barnabas clambered desperately up the shifting slope, Paul clinging to his back. The stones rolled away, but he dug into the crevices and inch by inch lifted himself and his burden beyond the upper edge of the watercourse.

Barely escaping with their lives, their baggage carried off by the roaring water, the two messengers fell on their knees, put their faces to the ground, and gave praise to God.

“God sent us a test to see if we’re fit to carry the gospel to the world,” Paul said.


On the fifth day a band of robbers captured them and took them to their leader in his cave. He asked them who they were, where they came from and what they carried with them.

“We are Jews from Jerusalem, and we carry a great treasure of the God of Israel.”

“I’ve heard that Jews gather money for their Temple,” answered the robber captain, “so if that is what you mean, give us your silver and gold, and your lives will be spared.”

“Our treasure does not consist of silver and gold, but of something else. Whoever possesses it has eternal life.”

Then Paul told the robber captain the treasure of the gospel, saying that he could have it for free, for salvation was open to all. Realizing that these were two empty-handed Jews on a mission for God, the robber captain sent them away in peace with a supply of bread and water.

So the messengers labored onward. Having started their journey on Sunday, they reached the gates of Antioch on the afternoon before the Sabbath.


“Antioch of the hills” lay on a high plateau surrounded by hills, part of the mountain ridge that stretched from Mount Taurus to Mount Olympus. It was a city of commerce. The Jewish population was isolated from the influence of the Temple because it was so difficult and dangerous to get there, so there were relatively few visitors. The Jews of Antioch had little learning, and scholars among them were few. A process of assimilation had set in, and there were cases of intermarriage between Jews and Greeks. In spite of all that, the community had its great synagogue and various institutions with an appointed head, elders, and cantors, who kept guard over the life of the Jews and holding it, so far as was possible, in the ways of the rabbis of Jerusalem.

Like other cities in Asia Minor, there were many god-fearing Gentiles in Antioch, drawn into the decency and modesty of Jewish life. Women converts outnumbered the men, because of the severe ritual of Jewish law. But the women made no secret of their conversion, and to some extent it was their influence that brought men to the services.

Upon entering the city the messengers first asked about the location of the synagogue. Though exhausted by the laborious and dangerous journey, they dragged themselves through the streets and were received with the dignity and friendliness always given to wandering preachers. The elders of the synagogue attended to their needs, gave them lodging in the nearby hospice and within a couple of days, Paul and Barnabas regained their strength.

The Jews in Antioch were eager to hear these rare visitors and waited impatiently for the second week to end. Word spread about their arrival, and on the Sabbath the synagogue was packed with worshippers, Jewish and non-Jewish.

After the reading of the Torah the head of the synagogue honored Paul by allowing him to read the prophetic passage for the week. After that he invited Paul to speak with these words, “If you have a word of comfort for the people, let us hear it.”

Something in Paul’s manner and gestures struck the people as different from the ways of other preachers. He didn’t address himself to Jews only.

“You men of Israel,” he began, “and all you that fear God, hear me!”

He started the story from the exodus, went through the judges and the days of Samuel to the ascension of King David, who was mentioned in the prophetic passage that day. From David he turned to Messiah who must be descended from the house of David according to the prophets. He announced that Messiah had already come, in the person of Jesus, who had risen as the help of Israel.

Again he addressed himself to Jews and Greeks alike, “Children of the race of Abraham,” he said, “and all those among you who fear God! It is to you that Messiah has been sent!”

He went on to tell them how the elders in Jerusalem hadn’t recognized Messiah and hadn’t heeded the words of the prophets, which they read every Sabbath, and they’d handed Messiah over to the Gentiles. He was tortured and put to death on the cross, also according to prophecy. But on the third day God raised him from the dead. And Paul continued to quote the sayings and hints of the prophets and King David’s Book of Psalms, to the effect that all this had to be, and that this Jesus was the true Messiah.

He closed with words that rang strange to Jewish ears, “Everyone, be he Jew or Greek, who believes the gospel I bring to you, who believes in Jesus the Messiah, shall be justified by him in all those things wherein they could not be justified through the Law of Moses.”

As strange as these words were, the whole congregation received them in great joy. Many Jews and Gentiles followed the messengers to the house where Paul and Barnabas had been invited for the Sabbath meal. They wanted to hear more of this tremendous good news they had never heard until now. The Jews of this remote city were astonished that no previous messengers of the High Priest had told them these things when they came to collect the Temple tax. Neither had other messengers coming from the Pharisees. Thus the house was filled with members of the congregation, and many questions were asked. Paul and Barnabas never tired of repeating the details of their message, and when the afternoon ended, the Jews and Gentiles asked them to remain another week and to preach again the following Sabbath.

Paul and Barnabas certainly didn’t need to be asked twice. Nor did they spend the week in idleness. The next day, Paul invited all those he felt were most inclined to accept the new faith to the hospice. He spoke to them separately, and formed them into a separate group, calling them Christians. They would be a congregation within the congregation of Israel. He took both Jews and Greeks into the group and made them all equal in the brotherhood.

The Greeks were even more eager to enter the faith of Christ than the Jews, for this was the first time that a door was opened for them into the Holy of Holies without their having to pay for it through circumcision and observance of the laws of pure and impure food. But there were also Jews who were weary of these strictly enforced laws, the number of which seemed to increase daily. By faith in Messiah, they could be free from that yoke. And not only was their future free, but the sins they’d committed in the past were wiped out, and they were washed clean.

The hospice was like a beehive all that week, and by the second Sabbath, those who received baptism were of the congregation of Christians.


In the head of the synagogue’s house there was tumult and protest. Many Jews said that Paul and Barnabas were breaking up the community. And the head of the synagogue himself saw that he suddenly had a second congregation without his permission, in which there were Greeks who hadn’t converted to Judaism. Here these men show up with no documents from the priests or sages and without any proof, and preach Messiah. Worse, they put no obligation on the Gentiles. Uncircumcised people who make no commitment to the commandments and good deeds that are most holy to Israel are promised what is dearest to Israel, Messiah.

At a meeting of the elders, they argued, “If faith in Messiah brings greater redemption than the Law of Moses, and if Greek and Jew are equally entitled to the faith, let them come to us to admit the Greeks as equal brothers. Don’t let them create a second congregation behind the backs of the synagogue authorities.”

In some ways the angriest people were the pious Gentile women. Many of them had worked diligently to persuade their husbands and children to follow their example. And now, suddenly, these two men show up who say that this painful acceptance of Judaism is wasted and meaningless. They say that every Gentile who simply believes in Christ is more entitled to the promises of Israel than they are.

“What else could it mean,” they asked, “but that all our devotion was folly? Those who continue to worship idols and defile themselves in the temples now have a greater portion in the God of Israel than we who kept ourselves pure. Surely these men are deceivers. If it’s true that Christ has come and the Law of Moses is done away with, then surely the priests and sages of Jerusalem would have sent messengers to us. Let these false messengers be driven from the city!”

So the division became deeper and grew stormier throughout the week. It was talked about in the marketplace, in the shops, and in the vineyards. Jews and Greeks talked about it everywhere, even in the temples.

On the second Sabbath Paul and Barnabas came to the services along with their followers in the new faith. As soon as Paul mounted the pulpit, a tumult broke out. Shouting continued until Paul descended and left the synagogue.

The next day when the elders of the Jewish community assembled, a number of Gentile women converts appeared before them and complained most bitterly against the messengers. In order to stop the dissension in the city, the elders decided to ask the messengers to leave.

Before they left, Paul said, “It was necessary that the word of God should be spoken to you first. But seeing as how you have rejected it, and do not consider yourselves worthy of eternal life, we turn to the Gentiles.”