The Scribe: Silas

  Paul looked well, but I knew imprisonment chafed him. He could only preach to few.

  “Ah, Silas, you are a friend who knows me.” Paul grasped my arms in greeting, much pleased at the writing supplies I had brought him. “I have a dozen letters to answer and had no means to do so.”

  “Has there been any indication yet what the governor plans to do with you?”

  “Nothing. He calls for me and I tell him about Jesus. I live in hope he will listen.”

  I stayed a few weeks and wrote letters he dictated, then returned to Jerusalem. I went back to Caesarea after Passover and found Paul frustrated.

  “The governor finds me entertaining!” He paced, wretched with impatience. “He hopes in vain for a bribe. Had I money to offer, I would not!”

  Governor Felix’s heart proved to be hard.

  “Why does God leave me here?”

  “To refine you, perhaps, for a time when you will meet and speak to another far greater: Caesar.”

  He prayed all the time, not for himself, but for the churches he had planted. He is the only man I have ever known who could remember names, hundreds of them, and the circumstances of each person’s salvation. His love grew and could not be bound within those stone walls. Prayer gave his love wings. He wrote countless letters, some to me, though they are gone now, passed on to others or burned by enemies. Those in my possession will survive. I have made copies to leave behind. Paul spoke words from the Lord, instructions and counsel to the congregations struggling against Satan, who will never cease to prowl. We must trust in the Lord, His Word, and the power of His strength to overcome, to endure to the end.

  I thought some change would come when Rome recalled Felix. Judea made a man’s career, or destroyed him. When later I came to Rome, I heard Felix had been banished in disgrace, and saw it an apt end for a man who left Paul in prison for no other reason than to please his enemies. Perhaps in exile, Felix’s heart will soften.

  Porcius Festus became governor. He came up to Jerusalem and was greeted by the chief priests and leading men of Jerusalem. They had not forgotten Paul, and asked the governor to have him brought to the city and put on trial. Festus did not give in to their demands. He courted Jewish favor to keep the peace, but did not relinquish any of his power. He said if the Jews had charges against Paul, they must come to Caesarea and make them before the Roman tribunal.

  Before Festus left Jerusalem, the Lord gave me a vision of what was to come, and I went immediately to Caesarea.

  “Under no circumstances must you agree to return to Jerusalem for trial, Paul.”

  “I will go where I am led.”

  “If you return to Jerusalem, it is not God leading you, but Satan! Listen to me! Their purpose is not to put you on trial, but to kill you on the way. You will be silenced.”

  “Christ will never be silenced.”

  “If you will not take into account my vision, remember what the Lord told you years ago. You will speak before kings! Stand firm, my friend, and the Lord will keep you to the course. You will testify before Caesar!”

  When Festus ordered him to stand before the Jews and answer their charges, Paul called upon his right under Roman law to be heard. When Festus asked if he would be willing to return to Jerusalem, Paul refused. “I appeal to Caesar!”

  Festus and his advisers quickly agreed, no doubt grateful to pass along responsibility for so troublesome a prisoner. Festus may have thought sending Paul away would assure some peace in Jerusalem.

  King Agrippa and Bernice, his sister, came to Caesarea to pay their respects to the new Roman governor. Festus honored them with an elaborate ceremony and brought Paul out to speak before the king.

  One of our Roman brethren told me, “He challenged Agrippa as a man might challenge a friend. Paul asked if he believed in the Jewish prophets. I know nothing of these things, but the king was disturbed by the questions Paul raised. He left the room. Festus and Bernice went with him. I was told Paul might have been set free if he hadn’t appealed to Caesar.”

  Soon after, I received a letter from Luke.

  “The governor has given orders for Paul to be taken under guard to Rome. Can you accompany us?”

  I longed to go with them and prayed fervently that God would allow me to do so. I spoke with the others on the council and we all prayed about it. None had peace about letting me go, though they sent me to Caesarea to bless Paul and bring him provisions.

  He wept when he saw me. He must have seen in my face that I could not go. “I knew it was too much to ask, but I hoped . . .”

  “I’m needed here, for now, at least. When do you leave?”

  “Within the week.” He grasped my arms. “We worked well together, my friend. Think of all those thousands from Antioch to Athens and back again.” He sighed. “I wish you were coming with me. I could have used your help.”

  I tried to soften his disappointment and my own. “You’ve written a few good letters without me.”

  He laughed.

  What little time we had together, we used to write letters.

  I saw him off. It was a difficult parting. We thought we would never see each other again.

  But as I have learned over the years, God always seems to have other plans.

  * * *

  SIX

  * * *

  Someone cleared his throat. Silas turned.

  Epanetus crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “I have never seen a man so dedicated to a task.” He searched Silas’s face. “I did not intend to add to your grief.”

  “I have more good memories than bad, Epanetus.” Silas smiled wistfully. “When Paul sailed from Caesarea, I never thought to see him again.”

  “You’ve lost many friends.”

  Silas rose from the writing table. “As have we all.” He stretched. “Thankfully, they are not lost to us forever.”

  The Roman smiled. “The Lord is renewing your faith.”

  “Even a dog gets tired of licking its wounds.”

  “Patrobas said word has spread that you’re here. Many have asked to come. Do you feel up to teaching?”

  Teaching was second nature to Silas, but he feared that the larger gathering might endanger this small congregation. He voiced his concerns. “Perhaps I should move soon.”

  “I’ve lived with danger all my life, Silas, but never with a greater purpose than now. But I leave it to you.” He chuckled. “Curiatus is especially eager to speak with you. The boy has come every day that you’ve been here. He knocked at my door again this morning.”

  “He reminds me of Timothy.” Silas thought of Diana and wondered what life would have been like to have a wife and children and why this longing came now when it was past hope.

  “What do you say?”

  “Say about what?”

  “I wonder at your reverie, Silas.” Epanetus seemed amused. “Shall I send word to Diana that she may bring Curiatus?”

  Silas turned away and fiddled with the reed pens. “Just send for the boy.”

  Curiatus came, and Silas spent an hour answering his questions before the others arrived for the meeting.

  People sat close together to make space for everyone. Silas looked into their eager faces—strangers most of them, yet all bound together by love of Jesus.

  “I heard the Lord speak in Galilee,” he said. “He stood on a boat a little way from shore while thousands sat on the hillside listening. His voice carried to where I stood on the edge of the crowd, above them.” He smiled wryly. “I did not understand all of what He said, but what I did disturbed me greatly. His words went into me like a sword, cutting through all the notions I had about who I was and what I was meant to do with my life. To follow Him, I would have to change everything. That frightened me. So I left.”

  Resting his forearms on his knees, Silas leaned forward and clasped his hands in front of him. He could not see their faces through his tears. “I look back and see how many opportunities the Lord gave me, how often I knew His words were d
irected at the sin that held me captive, how long it took before I let Him remove all the traps that kept me caged.” He covered his face. “Oh, what fools we can be, holding tight to the things of this world and believing they are our salvation.”

  “But you let go, Silas. You gave your life to Christ. You wouldn’t be here with us now if you hadn’t.”

  Curiatus with his compassionate heart. Timothy all over again. Silas lowered his hands. “I can’t tell you I haven’t struggled or thought of what my life might have been.” He looked at Diana. “Or what I gave up.”

  Her expression softened. “We all struggle, Silas.” Her mouth curved so gently. “Each day has its trials to face.”

  “Yes.” He sighed. “Each day is a struggle to hold tight to faith.” Especially when one saw men and women executed for following Jesus’ teaching to love God, love one another, and treat everyone with compassion, mercy, and truth, even when it would not be returned in kind. “Jesus told us not to worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today’s trouble is enough for today, as we all well know. Jesus tells us to seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and live righteously, and He will give you everything you need. I saw Jesus. I heard Him speak. But you, here with me now . . . Your work will always be to have faith in what you have not seen with your own eyes, to trust in the testimony of men like Peter and Paul and John Mark.”

  “And you,” Diana said. “We trust in your word, Silas.”

  His throat tightened. He could not hold her gaze.

  “The world is Satan’s battlefield, but if we live in Christ, we live victorious through His death and resurrection. To believe is the hardest work of all when the world stands shoulder to shoulder against you.”

  “I’ve heard Christians say there never was a resurrection.”

  Silas glanced up sharply and saw Urbanus standing back. “I assure you Jesus lives.”

  “And what of the reports that Jesus’ body was hidden so that the disciples might make false claims about his resurrection?”

  “It is not a new claim, Urbanus.” Silas shook his head. “Those rumors have circulated for years. The Jewish leaders paid the guards at the tomb to spread them. I might’ve believed them had I not seen Jesus for myself. But I and the disciples were only some of the many who saw Jesus. He spoke to hundreds of His followers. He spent forty days with us after He arose from the tomb, teaching us and preparing us to go out and make the truth known: that we all can be reconciled to God through Him. Later, He appeared to Paul.” He spread his hands and shrugged. “The world will always lie about Jesus.”

  “And hate those who follow Him,” Epanetus said.

  “If only He had stayed with us, the world would know.”

  Silas smiled. “Someday, at the name of Jesus every knee will bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.”

  Curiatus looked back at the others. “Miracles are proof.”

  Diana put her hand on her son’s knee. “Miracles don’t sway people. Remember Silas telling us about the ten lepers Jesus healed? Only one went back to thank Him.”

  Epanetus agreed. “It wouldn’t matter if five hundred witnesses of Christ’s resurrection testified in a court of law. The fact is, my friends, some will refuse to believe, and no amount of evidence will ever sway them.”

  Silas felt their dejection. He had felt little hope when he came here. Yet, the weeks and work of remembering had helped renew him enough to give them some encouragement.

  “The proof is in this room.” He looked around slowly at each of them. “When Christ comes in, we change.” He smiled, his heart lifting as he thought of others he had known. “I’ve seen thieves become honorable and generous. I’ve known temple prostitutes who married and now live as faithful husbands and wives. I’ve seen homosexuals become chaste servants of God.”

  “Even so, Silas,” Patrobas said bleakly, “don’t you long for heaven? Don’t you long for an end to the suffering? for the fear to be over?”

  Silas let out his breath softly. He stared down at his clasped hands before speaking. “Every day over the past months, I’ve asked the Lord why I’m left behind when all but a handful of friends have gone on to be with Him.” He looked into the faces of those listening. “I’m not alone in those feelings. Life is a struggle. Even in the best of times, it’s a battle to live for Jesus in this fallen world.” Hadn’t he felt the emptiness and vanity of life when he had everything a man could want? “It would be a relief for anyone to accept Christ one day and be caught up into heaven with Him the next.”

  There was a soft twittering of laughter.

  Oh, Lord, I have lived like a man without strength for too long. Help me speak what I know is true, and heal my angry, doubting heart.

  He brought them back to earth. “But what of the lost?” He smiled sadly. “Remember. Jesus called us the salt of the earth. Our presence preserves life and gives others time to know the truth. The Lord will come when God decides. For now, we hold fast to faith. We cling to Jesus’ promises in the midst of tribulation.”

  Sometimes the tribulation came from within the body of Christ. He and Paul and Peter had written countless letters to the churches, warning them against false teaching, encouraging believers to turn back and follow Jesus’ example. Love others! Live for what is right! Live pure and blameless lives! Be faithful!

  Tribulation came from losing sight of Jesus and looking at the troubled, fallen world. Peter walked on water until he took his eyes off Jesus.

  Everyone in the room sat silent, the only sound the water splashing from the fountain.

  “I came to you broken in spirit and struggling in faith. The world is a sea of despair, and I was drowning in it. I have said words to you that I’d forgotten.” He looked up at Epanetus standing in the corner. “Thank you for making me remember.”

  When I returned to Jerusalem, the council gave me a letter from Peter, who had gone north to Antioch to encourage the church there. I struggled to read Peter’s writing. He had taken his wife and several traveling companions. Now, we learned he had sent four of those companions north—two to preach in Cappadocia, while two others traveled farther to reach Parnassus in Galatia. Peter intended to visit the churches in Pamphylia and Phrygia, travel on to Ephesus, then sail to Rome. Several men from Antioch had offered to go with him, but Peter said they were needed in Syria. I felt a fillip at those words.

  “I leave on the new moon and pray the Lord will provide me with a companion who can write in Hebrew, Greek, and Latin. Jesus called me a fisher of men, but never a man of letters.”

  I could almost see Peter’s self-deprecating smile, and chuckled. “He needs a secretary.”

  “Yes. He does.”

  James’s tone made me look up. He smiled at me. “Paul and Peter in Rome. Think of it, Silas.”

  I caught his excitement. “The Lord aims at the very heart of the empire.”

  “Who will we send?” another asked.

  “Someone must go and help Peter.”

  From the moment I read the first few lines, I had known what the Lord wanted of me. Smiling, I rolled the scroll and held it like a baton. “Send me.”

  And so they did.

  I took John Mark with me.

  I sold the last of my reserves, accepted the help of others within the body of Christ, and headed north. We all knew Peter could be impetuous. He might not wait. When I arrived and was brought to him, I saw I had barely reached Antioch in time. “Oh, ye of little patience,” I said, grinning.

  Peter had finished packing. He turned to me with a laugh. “Silas! I dared not hope!”

  We embraced. Though much older than I, he still was the stronger. A look of relief came into his wife’s face. “God is kind to send you with my husband.”

  I kissed her cheek. “I am the more blessed.”

  Peter slapped me hard on the back.

  I laughed. It was good to see him. Of all the disciples, Peter remained my favorite. The first time he told me he had denied
Jesus three times before the Lord was crucified, I knew we had much in common.

  “We leave for Tarsus in the morning,” Peter told me.

  “Will you allow Silas so little time to rest, Peter?”

  “We have little time, beloved. Besides, I grow older by the day.”

  Old, perhaps, but robust. He was twenty-five years older than I, and I was hard-pressed to keep up with him. There were days when I longed for sunset so that he would stop and I could rest!

  His wife managed without apparent difficulty. “The Lord has given me fifty years to learn to keep pace with him, Silas.” She even managed to prepare meals when we camped!

  I never tired of listening to Peter talk about Jesus. Who could speak with more authority than one who had been among the first to be called? Jesus had lived in Peter’s house in Capernaum. Peter had seen his mother-in-law healed of a debilitating fever. He had seen Jesus turn water into wine at a wedding in Cana. Peter had been on the mountain when Moses and Elijah appeared and spoke to Jesus. Peter had seen Jesus as He truly was: God the Son, the Light of the world. God had revealed Jesus as Messiah to this humble, oft-stubborn, hot-tempered fisherman. Peter had been in the garden of Gethsemane, where Jesus prayed in preparation for His crucifixion. While others fled into the night, Peter had followed after Jesus and the mob that arrested Him, staying close enough to see Him interrogated. Peter had listened to Mary Magdalene, and entered the empty tomb. And he had been in the upper room with the disciples when Jesus came and proved death had no power over Him.

  Before the Lord ascended, He commissioned Peter to “feed My sheep.” And while doing so, Peter never lost sight of his weakness. He always spoke freely of his failings.

  “Jesus asked me to pray, and I fell asleep during His hours of greatest need. When Jesus was arrested, I tried to kill Malchus,” a fellow brother now, and one of those who had traveled north with Peter. I had heard them joke about Peter’s bad aim.