Fire and Sword

by D. Brian Shafer

Serus and Gabriel watched as Paul assembled the crew and told them that he had some important news for them. Gabriel nodded in approval.

  “Well done, Serus,” he said. “Not even this opposition was able to stop the Lord’s message to Paul.” They looked at the apostle as he spoke. “And now he’ll get to Rome.”

  “Yes, but to what end?” Serus asked. “I feel as if I have helped Paul out of one storm and into another.”

  Gaius, the ship’s owner, came out on the deck with the others. He had largely kept to his quarters throughout the crisis, but decided he better hear what Paul had to say. For all he knew, this man—who had predicted this disaster—might bring charges against him and incite a mutiny. He told the centurion as much, but the man paid him no attention.

  “Men, you should have taken my advice not to sail from Crete; then you would have spared yourselves this damage and loss,” Paul said.

  Several sailors looked toward Gaius, who swallowed uncomfortably. “It isn’t my fault,” he said. “I left the decision up to the captain.”

  “You urged him on,” accused a voice.

  “It’s your fault we are going to die!” said another.

  “Wait!” said Paul. “Keep up your courage! Not one of you will be lost.”

  “Another message from your God?” someone asked.

  “Don’t mock his God,” said an old man. “He was right the first time.”

  Paul ignored the comments and continued. “Nobody will die. But we must lose this ship.”

  “My ship?”

  “Last night an angel of the God I serve stood beside me and said, ‘Do not be afraid, Paul.’ He told me that all of you would live because I am to appear before Caesar in Rome. So keep up your courage, men, for I have faith in God that it will happen just as he told me.”

  “But my ship?” asked Gaius. “I’ve already lost my cargo.”

  “Your ship will run aground somewhere, Gaius.”

  “Better the ship be destroyed than us,” a man said.

  “But…” Gaius protested.

  “Quiet!” said the centurion. “Pray to Paul’s God that He doesn’t decide to send you down with this ship for your ungrateful attitude.”

  “Land! I see land!”

  The sailors rushed to see the first sign of land in two weeks. The coastline was unrecognizable, but it didn’t matter. The exhausted men found their strength returning with their hope, as the ship drew closer and closer to the unknown island. The men took depth soundings and decided that, given the rapidly shallowing water, they had best run the ship aground.

  The grinding noise of the ship, coupled with the sudden lurch, told the men that they finally had hit land. The sailors scrambled about the deck, soldiers looked out for prisoners, and the captain barked orders to the crew. But Paul looked at the land, still a good distance away. They had not run aground; they had hit a sandbar.

  “She’s breaking up!” Lucus yelled.

  “Make for shore!” The men jumped into the frothing water, swimming toward shore or finding whatever piece of wood or rigging that might carry them toward land. The storm was beginning to subside, but the waves were still violent and thrashed the men against the rocks with tremendous force. Within the hour, the men were sprawled up and down the sandy beach. Paul looked up in time to see Luke wading ashore. Then he fell asleep, relishing the steadiness of land after days on a stormy sea.

  “They made it!” Rugio shrieked. “They made it after all!”

  “Shall we attack them on the beach?” Nathan asked.

  “No. I have to think.”

  The storm was dying down as the angels working with Rugio dispersed. The humans had actually made it to the beach—all of them. How could this be? The storm was the greatest Rugio had ever created. Lucifer would not be happy with the report. Still, Paul did not make it to Rome. He was shipwrecked. Perhaps that would placate Lucifer. But somehow, Rugio knew that it would not.

  “What will you tell Lucifer?” Nathan asked.

  “Nothing yet,” Rugio said, looking at the island that had been the salvation of the men on board the ship. “Not until I kill Paul personally.”

  The men gathered around along the beach. Lucus, a man who was well acquainted with most of the islands along the trade routes, was completely baffled. Two weeks in a storm had caused them to be taken so far out of their way that they might be anywhere. The owner, having regained his footing and therefore his nerve, was angrily asking how they would get off this “accursed place.” The centurion, ever the soldier, ordered his troops to maintain the prisoners lest any get an idea to make a break for the trees.

  “Where do you think we are?” Luke asked.

  Paul picked up a smooth rock. “Not in Rome,” he said smiling. “But we’ll get there. It is my destiny.”

  “I wonder if there are any cities in this place?” Luke said, scanning the rocky hills. “With food …”

  “Hey look! Over there!” came a shout.

  The men saw some figures approaching them from the forested area. They were strange-looking men, but did not appear threatening. The centurion ordered his men to stand ready just in case. The men came within 20 feet and stopped. One of the men stepped out and began speaking in a tongue nobody seemed to know. The captain called back to one of his men.

  “Ahmose,” he called. “Come here. That sounds like your talk.”

  Ahmose, a Tunisian, listened to the men speak again. He smiled.

  “Yes, I know that dialect,” he said. “We must be near Africa.” He spent a couple of minutes talking to the man. He explained what had happened, and after a few minutes the man turned to leave. The only word Paul picked out that sounded familiar was the name Publius.

  “They said this place is called Malta,” Ahmose said. “And their leader is named Publius. He has a villa just over there. We are invited there this evening.”

  The Maltese men who remained gathered wood and built a fire for the cold, wet castaways. They huddled around its inviting warmth.

  “A fire certainly can change an attitude,” Paul said as the men gathered near the heat. “Now all we need is some food, and we’ll be quite set.”

  “Paul, did you ever imagine these sorts of things?” Luke said. “I mean of all the things you have experienced since you have been in the Way?”

  “You mean the fun parts?” Paul asked, smiling. “The stonings, beatings, attempts on my life, robberies, cold, hunger …” He indicated their situation with a wave of his hand. “Shipwrecks? Of course, one never knows.”

  He leaned back. “But think of it, Luke. I’ve also been in palaces, had plenty. I’ve learned to be content in all situations so that I am never disappointed. My God will supply all my needs through His own treasury. Just as He supplied this fire.” He looked at the embers. “Which needs a little attention. Stay here, Luke. I’ll get some more wood.”

  “Perfect!” Rugio said. “Nathan, where is that viper?”

  Nathan pointed to a rocky outcrop. Underneath some driftwood was a snake, indigenous to this place. Rugio smiled. “Now we’ll introduce Paul to some real fire!”

  Rugio vanished and entered into the body of the snake. Nathan watched as Rugio manipulated the snake and sent it slithering through the pieces of driftwood near where Paul was gathering sticks for the fire. Paul picked up several pieces of wood and piled them near the flames. When he picked up one piece, some of the islanders jumped back in terror and pointed.

  Rugio saw his mark, and before Paul could react, sank the snake’s fangs deep into Paul’s arm. The angel could feel the venom coursing out. He came out of the snake and appeared next to Nathan to watch Paul die.

  “Good strike,” Nathan said.

  “Finally, one of us has succeeded,” Rugio said. “Now I can report back to Lucifer that Paul is finished.”

  Paul realized what had happened and looked at the snake, still hanging onto his arm by its fangs. The men around the fire watched in terror as Paul shook the snake off his arm and into the fl
ames, where it writhed in pain for a few seconds and died. Paul tended his wounds. The Maltese men talked among themselves. Ahmose overheard them.

  “They are saying that you must be a criminal,” Ahmose said. “Because that snake bites and kills people deserving of death.”

  “He is a criminal, all right,” said Rugio. “And deserving of death!”

  “Yes,” said Nathan. “But why isn’t he dying?”

  “Give it time, Nathan,” Rugio countered. “Some deaths are for relishing.”

  As they waited, it became more and more apparent that Paul was not being affected by the snake’s venom. The islanders began talking again, looking at Paul in awe.

  In fact, Paul was feeling better and better having eaten some food provided by the men of Malta. He sat back and enjoyed the warmth of the fire.

  “They are now saying you are a god,” Ahmose said. “Because you did not die by the snake bite.”

  Paul laughed.

  Rugio did not.

  “It’s time to report to Lucifer,” Nathan said reluctantly.

  “I don’t understand,” said Rugio. “This snake kills a man in minutes. We have often seen men die by this venom. Ordinary humans die from this!”

  “Ordinary humans, yes,” said Nathan. “But this is Paul.”

  “Paul is a man just like any other.”

  “Paul is a man,” said Nathan. “But not like any other. Because he has found something that other men have not.” They looked at Paul as he began teaching the others about Jesus Christ. “Favor with God. Paul will die when it is time. And I have the feeling that when the time comes—he will be ready.”

  Paul’s Cell, Rome, A.D. 67

  “…For I am already being poured out like a drink offering, and the time has come for my departure. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that Day—and not only to me, but to all who have longed for His appearing.”

  Paul put down the stylus and massaged his aching hands. He looked over at Luke who was reading the other manuscript. He smiled as he continued writing.

  “…Only Luke is with me…. Alexander the metalworker did me great harm. The Lord will repay him for what he has done…. The Lord will rescue me from every evil attack and will bring me safely to His heavenly kingdom. To Him be the glory for ever and ever. Amen!”

  “There,” Paul said, laying down the stylus. “See that this gets to Timothy in Ephesus. I’m hoping he can come to me this winter.”

  Luke took the letter from his friend.

  “Do you think you’ll still be…here…this winter?”

  Paul smiled.

  “If not, my friend, I will be in a far better place.”

  Paul stood to stretch. This had been his home since appearing before Caesar. The acrid smoke of the recent fires filled the room as well as the prisons. Nero was arresting everyone—especially Christians—who might be a suspect in the fire.

  “You must get this letter and yourself out of Rome before you are arrested too,” Paul said. “The fact that you are not a Jew will only help you so far in Nero’s world.”

  Luke nodded, tears springing to his eyes. He looked at how Paul had aged over these few years. He remembered the early journeys—the days walking from town to town, the wonderful exploits of God, the many times God rescued him from men and beast alike—and now, this apostle of the Gentiles humbly awaited Nero’s ax man.

  Luke turned to leave.

  “If I don’t see you soon, I’ll see you soon,” he said.

  Paul embraced the man.

  “And soon we shall all be united once more,” he said. “You, me, Stephen, James. All of us who loved the Lord. We will celebrate again one day, Luke. And all who believe upon His name—from this day and onward. Every man and woman who calls upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.”

  “‘Every man and woman who calls upon the name of the Lord shall be saved,’” quoted Lucifer. “Fitting words for a man about to die. Finally.”

  “Perhaps with Paul out of the way, we can finally bring the Church to its knees,” offered Kara. “We always knew that the leaders of this community were the real threat.”

  Lucifer was silent. He looked at his council.

  “I used to think that,” Lucifer said. “But I was wrong. The problem is not just killing off the leaders. They will come and go. The problem is what happens now.”

  “What do you mean, my prince?” asked Pellecus.

  “The Church will always be empowered by the Spirit and is therefore something we cannot destroy,” Lucifer continued. “As Paul said, the Lord will make Himself known to any of the vermin who call upon His name. Therefore, my friends, we have to make a shift in our strategy.

  “Until now, we have been fighting the wrong people. We did all we could to stop the Messiah from appearing. We opposed Messiah Himself after He arrived. We took on the leaders of the Church and proved powerless to stop the spread of this. We will never destroy the Church in total. But we can destroy its individual parts.”

  “Meaning…”

  “Meaning, Pellecus, that humans like Paul and Stephen are exceptional. Most tend toward the Ananias and Sapphira variety.”

  The angels laughed.

  “As a whole, the Church will always exist, but individually we can weaken believers so the total of the Church is compromised. Hear me, brothers. Our task now is to discourage the Church individually, to create compromise, to lead people astray, to make people see the Church as a kingdom to build for self and not salvation. In short, the Church is only as strong as its individual parts. Weaken the parts, my friends, and the entire Body suffers.”

  “That was Paul’s teaching,” Kara said.

  “He was right,” Lucifer said. “The Church is a Body. Our focus cannot be merely on the head—from now on, we must attack all the parts of the Body, and by doing so, will encourage weakness throughout. Our work is clear.”

  Lucifer stood and stared at the sun setting over the Aegean.

  “If, as has been foretold, we are to be dragged into the very hell prepared for us, we shall do whatever we must to take as many humans with us. And we will bring such temptation, such persecution, such wealth, such force against the Church as we can muster—and in the end, this body will become a weak and pitiful organ—living but limp; a diseased and distant community, surviving but just barely.”

  Lucifer looked over the group.

  “Let that be the legacy of Paul!”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  D. Brian Shafer is a pastor and writer. He lives in Waco, Texas, with his wife, Lori, and their three children, Kiersten, Breelin, and Ethan. He is the author of the Chronicles of the Host series, available in bookstores nationwide.

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