Sons of Encouragement

by Francine Rivers

  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 justice 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 res
tore their kingdom as it had been under Solomon’s reign. They wanted King David, the warrior, not King Jesus, Prince of Peace.

  Paul rose, too, face flushed, eyes blazing.

  “The Holy Spirit was right when he said to your ancestors, ‘The hearts of these people are hardened, and their ears cannot hear, and they have closed their eyes. . . .’”

  They bristled.

  He calmed, but still spoke bold truth with no hint of compromise. “I want you to know that this salvation from God has also been offered to the Gentiles, and they will accept it.”

  They left. From the beginning, the Scriptures proclaimed Jesus Lord over all the earth. All those who turned to Him would be accepted. God told our father Abraham that he would be a blessing to others, that all the families of the earth would be blessed through him. The Messiah would come through the Jews.

  If only they would receive Him . . .

  I often weep for my people. I pray they will turn their hearts back to God. And I will continue to pray for that as long as I have breath.

  Of course, Paul continued to receive and teach in the house we rented for him. He welcomed all who came to visit, spoke the truth and won many to Christ, including Julius, who was eventually reassigned to another post, we knew not where. We prayed for him daily, that the Lord would protect him. A fire started, and a large section of Rome burned. Roman guards came with orders to move Paul to the emperor’s dungeon. We knew the end was near.

  Nero reigned like a petulant child, ordering the death of anyone he suspected of plotting against him. He had his own mother, Agrippina, executed; though I saw this as a just ending for a woman as wicked as King Ahab’s wife, Jezebel, who led so many astray by idol worship. She made her murdered husband, Claudius, into a god, and herself his high priestess, though the cult fast became a joke in Rome once she was dead.

  Seneca and Burrus are dead, and with them any hope of justice. Nero now listens to the counsel of Tigellinus, who has revived the treason law. Many Roman nobles have been executed on suspicion of conspiracy against the emperor. No one is safe. Even Octavia, Nero’s cast-aside wife of noble blood, has been executed, while his new empress, Poppaea, fans his growing vanity.

  The proverb holds true: “When evil sits upon the throne, good people hide.”

  Only Christians have the assurance of heaven.

  The emperor cast blame on the Christians for the fire because Paul and Peter prophesied the judgment will come with fire in the end. Some say Nero ordered it himself, to clear the way for his plans to rebuild Rome and call it Neropolis. Only God knows who did it and why, but we suffer for it. We are hunted down. We are bound to arena columns, doused with pitch, and set on fire to serve as torches for Nero’s games.

  We suffer the loss of those we love.

  Paul is beheaded. I have the coat he sent to me, a cherished gift from the Jerusalem council.

  Peter and his wife are crucified.

  Hundreds are in hiding, meeting in caves and holding fast to their faith in darkness.

  Luke left Rome.

  This world is not my home. Each day I live in it, I struggle. I remind myself that the battle is won, the victory is secure, and my life safe in the hands of Jesus, who will bring me home to heaven. And still, every day is a struggle to hold fast to that which I know to be true.

  Oh, how I long for the day when Christ will call me home and this war within me will be over!

  But I know this now in this quiet room in Puteoli: the Lord has left me here for a purpose. I must go on. I must run the race Paul spoke of so often. My friend reached the finish line and wears the laurel wreath. I imagine him now, sitting in the stadium of heaven, cheering me on.

  For Peter, life was a voyage, the Holy Spirit propelling him across the sea. The Lord has brought him and his wife to safe harbor.

  Those I loved most dearly are not lost, only beyond my sight.

  I cannot give up!

  I cannot fail!

  I must go on!

  SEVEN

  Silas put his reed pen aside and carefully cut the papyrus scroll so that none was wasted. He rolled the unused portion and tucked it into his pack. He blew on the last few letters he had written. They dried quickly. Removing the weights, he let his memories roll closed. With a deep sigh of satisfaction, he rested his elbows on the table and rubbed his face. The task Epanetus and the others had given him was finished.

  Copies of Peter’s letters had been sent to faithful friends in the five provinces of Asia, one to each elder trained by Paul. He had also made copies of Paul’s letter to Roman Christians, giving one to Patrobas. “Take this north to John Mark. If he has left Rome, give the letter to Ampliatus. He will guard it with his life.”

  He made another copy for Epanetus. It would help him teach those under his care.

  He had made copies of the letter Paul had asked him to write to all Hebrew Christians everywhere. He had fasted and prayed before writing it. The Lord revealed to him how the commandments, the rituals, and the prophets presented God’s promises and showed the path to forgiveness and salvation through Jesus Christ, the long-awaited Messiah. He knew well the struggle of the old faith and the new life in Christ, for he had lived it. He poured his heart into the letter, wanting all Jews to know Jesus was superior to angels, leaders, and priests. The old covenant was fulfilled in Christ, and the new had given them freedom in Christ. The sanctuary was no longer the Temple in Jerusalem, for the Lord now dwelled within the heart of everyone who accepted Him as Savior and Lord. Christ, the perfect sacrifice, had set them free. The letter commanded brothers and sisters to hold fast to their new faith, encourage one another, and look forward to Christ’s return. And it gave them instructions on how to live godly lives.

  Paul had read the letter and given him a satisfied smile. “Well written, my friend!”

  High praise, indeed, from a man Silas greatly admired. But he could take no credit. “The Lord gave me the words.”

  “Of that, Silas, I have no doubt.”

  How Silas missed talking to Paul about the Word of the Lord. He missed Paul’s passion, his dedication, his perseverance. He had been honored to watch Paul grow more humble over time, and had seen him near the end so filled with love and compassion that it spilled from him as it had from Christ. Paul’s touch healed many; his words rang with truth. God, in His infinite wisdom, had chosen an enemy and made him into a most intimate friend.

  Silas laid out the scrolls before him. His life’s work. He would not part with any of them, but would continue to guard the original letters Paul had dictated, and those he had helped Peter write, along with the one he had written but left unsigned. He weighed Paul’s letter to the Romans in one hand while holding several smaller scrolls in the other, smiling at the difference. Paul, the scholar, could not say anything in less than a few hours, while Peter, the fisherman, could speak the wisdom of the ages in a few minutes. Both had confounded the greatest minds in the empire, for the wisdom of this world is foolishness to God.

  Anguish and joy welled up in him. Clutching the scrolls against his chest, Silas bowed his head, tears of gratitude flowing down his cheeks. “Oh, Lord, that You would allow me such privilege . . .”

  How few had been given the opportunity to travel with one, let alone two great men of God. The Lord had placed Silas at Paul’s side when he had gone out to spread the Good News to the Greeks, and then, beside Peter when he made the long journey to Rome. He had served as secretary to each. He had walked thousands of miles with Paul, and sailed with Peter. He had seen both men perform miracles. He had helped them establish churches. They had been his friends.

  “. . . that You would use me, the least deserving . . .”

  I chose you. I formed your inner parts and knit you together in your mother’s womb. You are Mine.

  “May it always be so, Lord. Search me and know my heart. Test me and know my anxious thoughts. Point out anything in me that offends You, and lead me along the path of everlasting life.”

 
He carefully arranged the scrolls so that none would be damaged when carried. He left one on the table. He would read it tonight when everyone met.

  He felt a great burden lift from him. He had been cloistered far too long. It was time to go for a walk outside the walls of Epanetus’s fortress home.

  Macombo stood in the courtyard, holding a pitcher.

  “Tell Epanetus the task is finished.”

  Macombo straightened from watering a plant. “You look better than I’ve seen you.”

  “Yes.” Faith restored, he felt healed of affliction. “I’m going outside to see Puteoli. It’s about time, isn’t it?” He laughed. “I’ll be back before the meeting.”

  Silas wandered the streets all afternoon. He talked with strangers and lingered at the port. The sea air brought a flood of memories.

  “Silas?”

  His heart took a fillip at the familiar voice. He turned, pulse racing. “Diana.” She had a basket of fish on her hip. He looked for Curiatus. “Your son is not with you?” He never saw them apart.

  “He’s working. Over there. He’s a diver.” She pointed. “You can see him on the dock between those two ships.”

  Men shouted and Curiatus dove into the water. He came up next to a box floating near a ship and began securing a rope around it.

  “He’s a strong swimmer.”

  She had moved closer to him and looked up at him. “I’ve never seen you down here.”

  He felt lost in her gaze. “I haven’t been outside the house since I arrived on Epanetus’s doorstep.” Embarrassed, he gave a soft laugh and looked away. Had he been staring? “I’ve been wandering since early this afternoon.” He was an old fool. But he couldn’t seem to help himself.

  Her face lit up. “You’ve finished, haven’t you?”

  He nodded because he couldn’t trust his voice. It would soon be time to leave. He’d never see her again. Why should that hurt so much? He hardly knew her. He had not allowed himself to get too close to anyone in Puteoli, least of all this beautiful widow.

  “There’s so much I want to know about you, Silas.” She blushed and gave an embarrassed laugh. “I mean, we all want to hear your story.” She turned as Curiatus shouted for the box to be raised. “My son has pressed you since first you arrived.”