Fire and Sword

by D. Brian Shafer

  “Sirs?” spoke a voice nearby.

  Peter turned to see a well-dressed man, semi-bowing to them.

  “You are friends of Philip?” the man inquired.

  “Yes, Philip is our friend and brother.”

  “Then you serve the same Christ as he?”

  “We do,” said John, looking at Peter.

  “Then I should like to be baptized,” the man said.

  “Of course, my friend,” said Peter, looking around. “Let us find a pool, and we can…”

  “No, no,” said the man. “You don’t understand.”

  By now a crowd had begun to collect around the three men.

  “I have been baptized in water. Philip saw to that. But he spoke of another baptism. Another possibility …”

  Peter and John reached out to the man, laid their hands on his shoulders, and began to pray. At first the man looked around at the crowd and smiled, feeling the awkwardness of being the center of such attention. But when he began to pray and ask the Lord to touch him, he was suddenly filled with the Spirit of God. He cried out loud in joyous praise to God.

  The crowd was astonished, though some, who had also been converted by Philip, asked to be prayed for as well.

  “The Lord is good,” said Peter. “Their hearts are open.”

  “And God is willing,” John said, as he reached out to pray for the next person.

  “And God is willing,” sneered Rugio.

  “Of course He is willing,” said Pellecus. “Every opportunity He has to dupe these people with His Spirit presents another difficulty for us.”

  Rugio and Pellecus were watching as people approached John and Peter seeking answers, asking to be baptized, or satisfying their curiosity. Pellecus shook his head in disbelief.

  “You must remember, Rugio, that these people are born to fall for something religious,” he began. “They are a murky blend of their own gods, gods imported by conquering armies, and the God of Jerusalem. Even Simon has succumbed to the teaching of these men.”

  He sighed. “I long for the Baals.”

  Chapter Seven

  SAMARIA

  Chronicles of the Host

  Failed Effort

  Despite Sustrin and Nergal’s attempts at inflaming the religious passions of the city, the people continued to listen to John and Peter. Unseen by any human, Nergal’s legions were sweeping in and out of the crowd, agitating, spreading a mocking spirit, and otherwise seeding havoc as best they could by speaking into the minds of men and women. They found themselves ineffective, as if they were being constrained by something greater than themselves. Indeed they were…

  “What is the matter with these people?” Nergal said in disbelief. “They have always been susceptible to our religious suggestion!”

  He watched as spirit after spirit moved in and out of the crowds, whispering, tugging, and suggesting thoughts and actions that would compromise Peter and John. But the people seemed intent on what these strange men from Jerusalem were saying and doing. An angel came to Nergal.

  “My lord, they resist,” he said.

  “I can see that,” snapped Nergal. “Find a way through this resistance.”

  “But, my lord, it is as if they are shielded—their eyes and ears are blind to us.”

  “That is because they are seeing for the first time!”

  Nergal and his aide turned to see Crispin and some of his angels with him.

  “Well, the learned Crispin has arrived in Samaria,” sneered Nergal. “Come to see the death throes of a movement?”

  “Come now,” said Crispin. “Your side isn’t doing that poorly…yet.”

  “We’ll see, teacher,” snapped Nergal. “Here comes Simon, and if I am a judge of human hearts, there is more in his mind than curiosity.”

  “Simon is a believer now, Nergal,” said Crispin, as they watched the invisible-to-humans onslaught of Nergal’s angels among the people. “Your angels are ineffective because there is an overwhelming desire among these people to be set free from such corrupting and confining thought. The Spirit brings liberty. And where there is liberty, there is choice.”

  Crispin looked squarely at Nergal. “Choice is dangerous among humans who are being liberated!”

  “Watch and learn, Crispin,” said Nergal, as Simon approached John and Peter. “You’ll soon see that liberty can bring along a prison of its own. And Simon still carries his…”

  “Sirs?”

  John and Peter turned to see Simon, looking quite humble, though dressed very richly. They immediately knew this was the man Philip had told them about.

  “You are Simon?” Peter asked, as he finished praying with a woman.

  “Yes, and you are men of great power, I see.”

  Peter smiled. “Nothing in what you see is of our own power,” he explained. “All of this is from the Lord.”

  “That is why I am here,” Simon continued, looking about the crowd. “But might we speak elsewhere?”

  He led John and Peter to an alley where they could talk without the crowd pressing in. He smiled sheepishly at them.

  “You are men of God, as I can see,” he began. “I am as well. Or at least I served a god once who served me well. I made quite a good living.”

  He indicated his clothing. Peter and John remained impassive.

  “But when I met Philip he spoke of the God you serve and whose disciple I now am. In fact, I was baptized by Philip.”

  “What is it you need?” asked John.

  “I wish to continue the good work that Philip started in my city. But he never spoke of the power that I see today. I see you touching people, and the power of God comes over them like a flood.”

  Peter smiled. “Yes, that’s the Holy Spirit of God.”

  “I want that,” said Simon.

  “And you may have it,” said Peter. “The Lord wants all His people to be filled with His Spirit.”

  “No, no,” said Simon, looking around. “I want to be able to do that—what you are doing. I want to have the power to touch people and see them healed…transformed.”

  He pulled a small bag of coins from his cloak.

  “Give me the secret…the words…or whatever it is. Give me the ability to lay hands on people and watch the Holy Spirit come upon them.”

  Peter was astonished.

  “Your filthy money perish with you!” he said. “How dare you try to buy the gift of God? You are a greedy man, Simon. You only want this ability to fill your coffers with the money of people too ignorant to realize that God’s grace is a gift and not something to be trafficked in like cheap goods.”

  “But …”

  “Your heart is not in this ministry! Your heart is darkened by its own lust and bitterness. You better repent in truth before you perish. Perhaps God will have mercy on you yet.”

  He placed a hand on Simon’s shoulder.

  “My friend, you are captive to your bitterness. Pray for God’s mercy.”

  Simon fell to his knees. “Please pray for me! I don’t want these terrible things to happen to me!”

  Peter and John knelt down.

  “Like you said, Nergal,” Crispin said, as they watched the men pray. “Liberty is a dangerous thing.”

  “This is not over, teacher,” said Nergal. “Samaria will never fall to your Lord!”

  “Really?” said Crispin. “If Simon is all you have to hold Samaria, then you had better prepare for disappointment!”

  Nergal vanished in a rage. The remaining angels watched the men finish praying and walk off together. They followed them.

  “There’s a lesson here,” said Crispin to his student angels. “Never let your enemy in on his own weakness. He’ll eventually reveal it, and you needn’t lift a finger to help!”

  “You are the one called Saul?”

  No answer.

  “That’s him,” came a voice Saul recognized. It was Judas, the owner of the house. “They brought him here a few days ago. He’s been in here mumbling, praying. Won’t e
at. I’m glad you’re here to take him.”

  The men entered the small room where Saul had sat in the prison of darkness for many days. Saul didn’t acknowledge the stranger until he felt the man’s hand on his shoulder. Saul lurched back, knocking over a clay pot.

  “Saul?”

  “What do you want?” Saul asked weakly.

  “My name is Ananias,” the man said. “I have been sent to help you.”

  “There is only one who can help me in Damascus now.”

  “It is He who sent me.”

  Saul sat up. Could it be? Perhaps the Lord had not abandoned him after all! Saul started to get up, but Ananias told him to be still. Judas looked on with great interest.

  “Saul, the Lord who met you on the road sent me so you might see again.”

  “I will see again?”

  “And,” Ananias continued, “that you might be filled with the Holy Spirit.”

  Saul felt Ananias’ hands on his head. He swallowed hard as the man began to pray. Saul wasn’t sure what to do, so he remained still. Suddenly, as Ananias continued praying, his eyes began to feel something warm covering them. He brought his hands up and rubbed them.

  They burned, but with a burning that was more irritating than painful. Ananias watched as Saul lowered his hands. There were small flecks that looked like fish scales on his hands. As Saul rubbed his eyes, more of the stuff came off. Finally, Saul looked up, the flecks all over his hands and cheeks and around his eyes. He could see!

  The man staring down at him was smiling. Saul figured him to be about 30 or so. He was dressed in the clothes of a Damascus merchant. The other man, Judas, stood with his mouth wide open. He was ready for these strange men to get out of his house. Ananias helped Saul to his feet.

  “Where are we going?” Saul asked.

  “Come,” said Ananias, looking at Judas. “There are others in Damascus.”

  Chronicles of the Host

  Growing Community

  There were others in Damascus—many of whom were reluctant to receive their former enemy as a brother. Yet Saul began to show himself truly changed and spent several days with the disciples in Damascus. He also began to speak in the synagogues—proclaiming with great boldness and insight that Jesus is the Son of God.

  Some who heard were astonished.

  “Isn’t he the man who was arresting people who called on that name?” they would ask. “He is working with the chief priest, isn’t he?”

  Even the Host was curious as to the outcome of such a transformation. Was it genuine or a clever ruse? Nevertheless, Saul’s influence grew to the point that he baffled even the most articulate of the Jews in proving that Jesus Christ was indeed the Messiah. Such influence was not lost on Damascus—nor on some who sought other means to still the voice of the one who had previously stilled the voice of so many others…

  The city of Damascus was ancient even in Saul’s day. Ananias was slowly warming to Saul and had begun schooling him in Damascus’ rich history. Known for its many narrow streets, arched gateways, and baths, Damascus was an exotic crossroad of east and west, and, in Saul’s mind, another strategic place from which the Lord would launch the fledgling Church He was creating. The one street that Saul had grown accustomed to—Straight Street—was as good as its name: one of the few straight pathways in the city.

  Ananias indicated a house unfamiliar to Saul, and the two of them entered. A man greeted them and quickly shut the door on the twilight city outside. Saul nodded at several people, who stared at him cautiously. Saul smiled. By now he had grown accustomed to such suspicious glances. After all—only a few weeks earlier he had been arresting these people. Now he was one of them.

  “Saul has made quite a change,” said Serus.

  “And an impression,” Crispin agreed. “More and more people are coming from darkness to light. The Most High did well to call him.”

  The two angels were situated inside the little house in which Saul was staying. Outside, groups of angels stood about—assigned to protect the community of believers. From time to time one of Kara’s angels would come in close to observe, only to be driven off by one of the host.

  Inside the house several women were packing food. Saul was saying his good-byes to the men, thanking them for their hospitality in Damascus. Many of them were tearful. They had grown to love Saul while he was with them. So much had happened in such a short time.

  “The Lord has used you mightily, Saul,” said Ananias, the man who had introduced Saul to the group. “Many have come to believe because of you.”

  “And many have come to hate you,” said Joseph, the owner of the house. “I’m sorry you have to leave us on such terms. But the Lord’s will is not for you to die by an assassin’s dagger in Syria.”

  Saul looked at the men with compassion.

  “Thank you all,” he said. “I’ll never forget the kindness you have shown me. You took me in knowing that I had been sent to arrest you. May God continue to bless you here in Damascus.”

  “And may God bless your mission in Jerusalem, Saul of Tarsus,” said Ananias as the men gathered around him to pray. “It isn’t everyone that the Lord calls by throwing them off the back of an animal.”

  “At least He didn’t talk to him like He did with Balaam and his donkey,” someone called out.

  Everyone laughed.

  Saul smiled.

  “He talked, my brother,” he said, rubbing his sore hip. “He talked.”

  They all shared his laughter.

  “Special indeed is your mission, Saul.”

  Saul looked into the eyes of the men who loved him. He felt compelled to tell them something—to speak a parting word of encouragement, of comfort. It was as if the very Spirit of God was rising in him. For some reason he thought of Stephen.

  “I once held the clothes of men who stoned a man to death. His only crime was that he loved the Lord. I recall that his blood spattered my ankles. I only hope that I can atone for that murder in a small way by bringing as many people into the Kingdom as I can. And should the Lord require my life, I will consider it a small thing in comparison to what He has given to me. Pray for me, brothers, that I will fulfill God’s mission.”

  The men prayed for Saul, and he took the pack of food that the ladies had provided for the trip. He thanked them one more time; then a knock came on the door. It was Saul’s escort to the wall of the city. Ananias made sure that the street was empty.

  “Good-bye, my friends,” Saul said. “May the Lord bless you all.”

  Then he vanished into the darkness.

  “Back to Jerusalem I go,” said Serus, as they followed the men.

  “Your task is a great one,” said Crispin. “I’m sure there will be many attempts on Saul’s life before this is over. Keep him, Serus. Saul bears watching.”

  Serus watched the men lower Saul in a basket over the city wall. Crispin’s words rang heavily as the angels watched Saul slip off into the night. He could only imagine where the Lord might take such a man; the enemy would certainly be planning his destruction. He looked at Crispin.

  “I wonder what Lucifer is thinking right now?” he finally said.

  “I’d say he is thinking the same thing that you are thinking,” said Crispin, smiling. “What am I going to do with Saul of Tarsus?”

  Paul’s Cell, Rome, A.D. 67

  “So do not be ashamed to testify about our Lord, or of me His prisoner. But join with me in suffering for the gospel, by the power of God, who has saved us and called us to a holy life—not because of anything we have done but because of His own purpose and grace. This grace was given us in Christ Jesus before the beginning of time, but it has now been revealed through the appearing of our Savior, Christ Jesus, who has destroyed death and has brought life and immortality to light through the gospel.”

  Paul looked up from his writing. His eyes were bothering him. Luke was reading another portion of the same letter. Here they were—the two of them—in a Roman cell reading what was probably
Paul’s final encouragement to Timothy. If only he could deliver the letter in person. But that was not to be—not this time. At least Luke could still come and go as he pleased. Perhaps he could get this letter to Timothy as he had the first. After all—this was his mission. He continued reading.

  “And of this gospel I was appointed a herald and an apostle and a teacher. That is why I am suffering as I am. Yet I am not ashamed, because I know whom I have believed, and am convinced that He is able to guard what I have entrusted to Him for that day …”

  Paul laid the writing down, staring vacantly at the parchment.

  “Paul?”

  No answer.

  “Brother?”

  “I’m sorry, Luke. My mind was elsewhere.”

  Luke smiled at his old friend. “Jerusalem?”

  Paul laughed. Then he coughed uncontrollably. Luke handed him a cup of water.

  “Jerusalem. Apart from the city that awaits us in Heaven, it is the only place that truly captured my heart. And yes—when my mind wanders, it usually finds itself there. I miss it, Luke. Even though it would have none of me.”

  Luke looked at the letter Paul had been writing.

  “Herald, apostle, and teacher,” Luke said. “I’d say that sums it up neatly.”

  Paul smiled.

  “I left out old and achy,” Paul said, warming his hands at the meager fire. “And scarred. I believe I reminded the Galatian church of the marks I bear on my body for the cause of Christ.”

  “You wear them well,” Luke said, sitting next to the old apostle.

  “I certainly wear them.” Paul rolled up a sleeve and indicated a long scar along his forearm. “Remember the riot in Ephesus? Someone in that crowd had a nasty tool that he thrust at me. And my back. Looks like the bottom of a ship, it’s so marked up. But all that was later. After leaving Damascus I enjoyed a marvelous season of ministry with Barnabas in Antioch.”

  “You hadn’t yet met Peter, right?” asked Luke.

  “Not yet,” Paul said. “But as I recall he was pretty busy himself during that time. Very busy indeed.”