The Scribe: Silas

  “I denied even knowing Jesus, not once, but three times.” Tears often streamed down his cheeks when he spoke. “Jesus called me Petros, ‘the rock,’ and my faith was sand. And still He loved me, as He loves you. He forgave me, as He has forgiven you. He restored me, and will restore you. Jesus asked me three times if I loved Him, once for each time I denied Him. Jesus knows us better than we know ourselves. . . .”

  I wondered at times why there were no riots in the cities we visited, few attempts to murder Peter. He spoke the same message Paul did and with the power of the Holy Spirit. Yet, the Jews paid no attention to him. I can only surmise the Jewish leaders thought a fisherman beneath contempt. Paul was a scholar; Peter was not. Paul had been one of their own, even one elevated in stature by his intellect and training under Gamaliel, the grandson of Hillel, to whom only the best and brightest could apply. Peter had been trained by Jesus, the One who opened the gate to all willing to come into His fold.

  Thousands came to know Jesus through Peter’s testimony. I saw the light come into the eyes of so many.

  As we traveled the same route Paul and I had taken, I saw and was able to introduce dear friends. Aquila and Priscilla opened their home to us in Ephesus. Timothy and I spent precious hours together. He missed Paul, but had become an able leader. He loved Paul like a father, and grieved deeply over his imprisonment. “I fear he will die in Rome.”

  And so he would. I knew at the time, but did not tell Timothy lest his confidence be crushed. He still worried he was not up to the task Paul had given him.

  “Paul would not have sent you back to Ephesus to deal with difficulties among these believers if he had not had confidence in your faith and ability to teach. Hold fast to what you know, Timothy. Do you remember what Paul taught you?”

  “He taught me many things.”

  “And what did he say about Scripture?”

  “It is inspired by God and is useful to teach us what is true and to make us realize what is wrong in our lives. It corrects us when we are wrong and teaches us to do what is right.”

  “And through the Scriptures, God prepares and equips His people to do every good work.”

  “Yes,” Peter said, “but remember, too, my friends, it is not you who saves. It is the Lord who captures the heart. Unless the Lord calls someone, they will not come.”

  “I am learning that every day,” Timothy said bleakly. “My words often fail to convince—”

  “Your work is to believe, my son.” Peter spoke firmly. “And testify to the truth of Christ. Jesus is the only begotten Son of God, crucified for our sins, buried three days, and raised. You teach that, and the Holy Spirit will do the rest.”

  Peter spoke in simple words, and God used them to crack open the hardest hearts.

  Yet, still, I have learned that it is not in the nature of some men to allow God to do the work. People—even those with the best of intentions—try to save others by their own strength, thinking their words can persuade and change hearts. They often find themselves disciplined by God. I pray Timothy never went down that path.

  We sailed from Ephesus. Peter stood at the helm, savoring his time on the sea, while I groaned for the feel of land beneath my feet. We arrived safely in Greece and met with Apollos.

  Men were often in awe of Peter, and he knew how to put them quickly at ease. He revealed his frailties and failures. “We are all ordinary men who serve an extraordinary God.”

  Priscilla and Aquila had sent their greetings to Apollos.

  “I am indebted to Priscilla and Aquila,” Apollos said. “They had courage enough to take me aside and correct my teaching. I knew nothing of the Holy Spirit.”

  I laughed. “Priscilla is like a mother hen.”

  Apollos grinned. “Indeed, she is. She took me under her wing rather firmly.”

  Corinth was beset with problems.

  “So many turn back to their old habits.” Apollos sought Peter’s advice. “The people can’t seem to break away from sin.”

  “Without God, it is impossible. Even those who have accepted Christ and received the Holy Spirit contend with the sin nature. I battle natural inclinations every day.” Peter slapped Apollos on the shoulder. “The problem, my young friend, is not how to break the chains—God has already done that—but the willingness to enslave ourselves to Jesus, who sets us free.”

  “A great paradox.”

  “Our faith is full of paradoxes. It takes the mind of Christ to understand.” Peter laughed. “That’s why the Lord had to give us the Holy Spirit. So we could understand.”

  While the Lord promised peace of mind and heart to believers, the Christian life is a constant battleground, for the world is set against God. We also struggle with the power of sin. We fight against sinful desires. We war against our selfishness. Even when we do good, pride tries to steal glory from God. One paradox after another. The only way to win is to lay down our arms. The only way to live is to die, to give up our life to Christ. Jesus is the only victor, and only by surrendering completely to Him do we share that victory.

  Peter said it more simply. “Trust in the Lord and the power of His strength. . . .”

  The church leaders gathered daily, plying him with questions, and the once hotheaded, impetuous fisherman spoke with the patience of the Master.

  The oft-asked question: “How do we avoid persecution?”

  Peter said, “Jesus did not avoid crucifixion. He gave up His life for our sake, and calls us to do the same for others.” He never wasted words. “Trials will show that your faith is genuine. Be glad when persecuted. Instead of asking to avoid it, ask for the strength to endure.”

  Believers walked with us over the Corinthian isthmus. Peter used every moment to teach. “We are one body, together in Christ. Nothing can separate us. Think clearly in the midst of tribulation. Exercise control. The Lord has given us the ability to restrain ourselves. Don’t complain. Live as God’s obedient children. Don’t slip back into your old ways. Remember, the heavenly Father to whom you pray does not have favorites. He will judge or reward you according to what you do. Believe in Him and behave in a way pleasing to the Lord.”

  Before we boarded the ship, he gathered them close. “Hold fast to your faith, children. Live your life in reverent fear of the Lord, who loves you and sent His Son to die for your sins. Rid yourselves of evil and show sincere love for each other. Pray. . . .”

  I longed to unfurl a scroll and write his words down, but had not the opportunity then. But I remember now. He dictated short, beautiful letters, copies of which I keep with me. The words they contain are my shield of hope against arrows of doubt. I tell you, whenever Peter spoke, his words came like pearls from God’s treasure box.

  “If we die with Him . . .” he said.

  They responded as we had taught them. “We will also live with Him.”

  “If we endure hardship . . .”

  “We will reign with Him.”

  “If we are unfaithful . . .”

  “He remains faithful, for He cannot deny who He is.”

  Peter embraced and kissed them one by one as he had kissed his own children good-bye, trusting God to protect and guide them in the difficult days ahead.

  I often think of Apollos, Aquila and Priscilla, and so many others I met along the road.

  And I pray for them, knowing, if they live, they still pray for me.

  We had hoped to board a ship destined for Rome, but ended up sailing to Tarentum instead. Perhaps I became used to sailing, for the journey across the Savonic Gulf did not leave me a huddled mass beside a putrid basin in the belly of the ship, or hanging over the stern. I even joined Peter at the bow, though I had cause to think better of it later. When the ship dipped, a wave splashed up over me and had not Peter grasped hold of my belt, I would have slid down the deck and underfoot of working sailors. His laughter boomed. How I loved that man! He was so unlike the scholarly men I had known, and yet, like a father.

  I have not been on the sea since that voyage
, but when I stand by the window here in Puteoli, and smell the salt sea air, I think of Peter and his wife. Not as they died, but as they lived, and live still in the presence of the Lord. All pain and suffering is over.

  For them.

  Before we reached land, Peter had become acquainted with every sailor aboard our ship. He knew wind and sails, and they knew he was one of them—a man of the sea. When his Galilean accent proved too difficult for some, I translated. He told them sea stories: the Flood and Noah’s ark! Moses parting the Red Sea! Jonah swallowed by a huge fish! the stormy Sea of Tiberias and God the Son, Jesus, who walked on water! Jesus, crucified, buried, raised, offered life eternal to anyone who believed.

  As we neared Tarentum, Juno, the first mate, came to Peter. “I have decided to give up the sea for the Lord. As soon as we reach port, I will ask Asyncritis to release me and go to Rome with you.”

  Peter put his arm around him and faced him out to sea. “I told you of the fierce gale when we were on the Sea of Galilee and how Jesus slept? how we awakened Him, and He commanded the wind and sea to hush and be still?”

  “Yes.”

  Peter put his hands on the rail. “We crossed to the country of the Gerasenes. No sooner had we come out of the boat than we saw a wild man running out from among the tombs. He came toward us. He had been chained and shackled there numerous times, but nothing could hold him. I was much younger then, and far stronger than I am now, but I feared the man would do harm to Jesus. He screamed curses at us and frothed at the mouth. When he picked up stones, I thought he meant to hurl them at us. Instead, he gashed himself until his arms and legs streamed blood. Jesus said, ‘Come out of the man, you evil spirit.’ Just a few words, quietly spoken as the man ran toward us. I thought the demoniac meant to attack Jesus, and I got in his way.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I often put myself in front of Jesus. You see, I still didn’t understand who He was.”

  Peter gripped Juno’s arm. “Jesus took hold of me and stepped past. He went out to meet the demoniac.” His voice roughened. “The man fell to his knees and bowed down, crying out, ‘I beg you, don’t torture me!’ His name was Legion. That’s how many demons lived in him!” He let go of Juno. “They spoke. We were all terrified of him. Voice after voice came from that wretched man, pleading with Jesus not to send them to some distant place. The demons knew who Jesus was and from where He had come. Jesus cast them out after they asked permission to enter a herd of pigs feeding on mountain grasses.”

  He leaned his hip against the rail and looked at Juno. “The herdsmen saw everything just as we did and ran away. They brought the townspeople back. We had bathed the man, by then, and baptized him. Nathanael had given him a tunic and belt, John a robe. When the townspeople all saw him in his right mind, they were even more afraid. They begged Jesus to leave the Ten Towns and go away.”

  “Fools, all of them!”

  “Do not be so quick to judge, Juno. Some are not ready to accept Jesus the first time they meet Him.”

  I knew the truth of that only too well.

  “Did Jesus say or do anything to change their mind?”

  Peter smiled. “No. He got into the boat.”

  “And set sail?”

  “Yes.”

  The sudden flap of a sail made Juno glance up sharply. He barked an order; several sailors moved quickly to do his bidding. He returned his attention to Peter. “Jesus took the man with Him.”

  “No. He didn’t. The man begged to come with us. Jesus told him to go home and tell everyone what great things the Lord had done for him. ‘Tell them how merciful God has been.’”

  Juno scowled. “You said Jesus called men to follow Him.”

  “Yes, Juno, but sometimes following means staying where you are.” Peter put his hand on Juno’s arm and smiled. “Remain as first mate on this fine ship. Serve your captain as you would serve the Lord. Wherever you are bound, God goes with you. What you carry now within you is precious cargo, cargo more precious than all the gold in the empire. The Good News of Jesus Christ. Carry it to distant shores. Spread the Word among all those you meet. Remember what Jesus said to the demoniac: ‘Tell them everything the Lord has done for you and how merciful he has been.’”

  “I understand,” Juno said grimly, “but I would rather go with you and Silas.”

  “Ah, yes, and I would rather be with the Lord.” He spread his arms. “But here we are—you, me, my wife, Silas—all of us servants of the Lord who saved us and called us to Himself. We do His will, not our own.”

  We stayed in Tarentum a few weeks, during which Peter met often with Juno. Two other sailors came with him. Peter blessed Juno before we left. “The Lord is your captain.”

  We followed the road over the mountains. While resting in Pompeii, we spoke to people in the agora. Then we headed north for Rome.

  Word spread of Peter’s arrival, and Jewish believers came to see him. Some of them had been in Jerusalem during Pentecost when the Holy Spirit had come, and were among the three thousand saved.

  There was no word of Paul.

  Rome is both magnificent and depraved, a towering achievement of man’s efforts and limitless vanities. We found our way around the city easily and learned many things from the Jews who had returned from exile after Emperor Claudius’s death. Some said Agrippina poisoned her husband soon after he adopted her son Nero. Britannicus, natural son of Claudius and his heir, died mysteriously during a dinner party, leaving Agrippina to rule. She did so, later declaring Nero emperor of Rome. Many knew she held the reins of power. Roman coins bore her likeness facing Nero, signifying their equality.

  Letters arrived from Puteoli. Paul had arrived in Italy under Roman guard, after he and Luke had spent three months on the island of Malta, where they had been shipwrecked. “He will stay at the Forum on the Appian Way and then at The Three Taverns. . . .”

  John Mark and I hastened to meet them, and I was filled with joy at the sight of them. Laughing, Paul embraced me. “I did not think I would see you again! And here you are in Rome ahead of us. And John Mark!” He embraced the young man, their misunderstanding long since put to rest.

  “I understand you had quite a voyage.” John Mark grinned.

  “A long, dark, wet voyage, but filled with opportunity!” He introduced us to Julius, the Roman officer in charge of him, and then greeted the others who had come with me. Luke and I talked. His first concern was Paul’s health.

  “Julius said Paul can have his own lodgings while he awaits trial. Can you arrange for this, Silas?”

  “Yes. Peter knows several people who can secure lodgings for you both.” I smiled. “So, Paul made a believer of his guard!”

  “Julius has not said so directly, but he has the greatest respect for Paul, and God has used him mightily in protecting our friend from harm. When the ship wrecked within sight of shore, the other soldiers wanted to execute all the prisoners so their lives wouldn’t be forfeit if any escaped. But for Paul’s sake, Julius ordered them all spared.”

  Luke explained how Paul had warned the ship’s captain from the onset of the voyage that they would be shipwrecked and all cargo lost. “No one would listen. We ran before a northeastern storm for days. We couldn’t see the stars, so there was no way to know where we were going.”

  They had lightened the ship by casting the cargo overboard, and then some of the gear as well.

  “Some feared we would end up shipwrecked on the African coast. In truth, Silas, I thought we would die. Only Paul had hope. God had told him he would stand trial before Caesar, not that any man aboard believed him. The ship hung up between two rocks. We could see a beach. Those who could swim to shore did so. The rest of us clung to whatever floated. I drank my share of seawater. So did Paul.”

  “How were you received on Malta?”

  “Very well. It was cold and raining. The people built a fire on the shore. A poisonous snake bit Paul, and he shook it off into the fire.” He chuckled. “The people thought he must be a murderer and ju
stice would prevail. They sat around watching and waiting for Paul to die. When he didn’t, they thought he was a god and took us to Publius, who honored us even more when Paul healed his father. The man was dying of dysentery. Malta brought their sick to Paul, and he healed them.” He shook his head. “I’ve often wondered why he cannot heal himself of his impaired vision and the infection that plagues him.”

  “He told me once those things keep him dependent upon God’s strength.”

  I sent word ahead to Rome. Paul wanted to meet with Peter and then as many Jewish leaders as would come.

  Within days of his arrival, the Jewish leaders filled Paul’s rented house to hear what he had to say.

  “I am bound with this chain because I believe that the hope of Israel—the Messiah—has already come.”

  They shook their heads. “We have had no letters from Judea or reports against you from anyone who has come here. The only thing we know about this movement is that it is denounced everywhere.”

  What they said was true. We had been denounced by many whose hearts had become so hard that no seed of truth could be planted. Jews as well as Gentiles. We prayed constantly that we would have time to spread the Good News in Rome, for all roads led to the great city. Those same roads would carry Christians to every province in the world.

  Another meeting was set. Many more came to hear Paul. He preached from morning through the day and into evening, offering proof from the five books of Moses and the Prophets.

  When he finished, the Jewish leaders rose. “We will discuss the matter among ourselves.”

  I despaired at those lukewarm words. I knew those who believed at that moment had not the strength of faith to come back and hear more. The others stood stiff-necked with pride, rejecting the idea that the Messiah would choose to die rather than call upon angelic forces to purge Israel of its Roman oppressors. They wanted nothing less than that their Messiah restore their kingdom as it had been under Solomon’s reign. They wanted King David, the warrior, not King Jesus, Prince of Peace.