Empire's End (23 page)

Joseph insisted that for the next several hours I tell him all I could remember about my time in Arabia, before he finished his story of Peter and John's exploits. I told him everything. I even showed him Taryn's note to me.

He did not discount my pain or offer any easy solution. He merely comforted me and I became convinced he truly understood my agony. “I can only imagine how desperate you are to know where and how they are. And how it must wear on you to be unable to release her from her captivity.”

“How will I ever find out where she is, Joseph?”

“Only God can tell you. What does He say?”

“He tells me His grace is sufficient.”

“And so it must be.”

Later I buried my head in my hands as the carriage jostled along in the gathering darkness. After a while Joseph stopped the horse and asked me to hold the reins while he relieved himself and got a closer look at a stone marking at the side of the road. When he returned he said, “We're a couple of hours from an inn, if you're up to it. We can get a good rest there and be off at dawn. I estimate we'll reach Capernaum early in the afternoon on the third day.”

I told him I imagined the alternative to a couple of more hours of riding was sleeping under the stars, so I would endure if he would continue his story. I was fascinated by what had happened with the crowd I had found so threatening in the days after Jesus' crucifixion. Had someone told me that one day they would be my brothers and sisters in the faith, I
would have thought them insane. I never imagined the cult would survive more than a year.

Gamaliel had tried to assure us that if this group was not of God it would die out soon after the death of its leader, as had all similar hero-led movements. But none of the other cults had seen thousands of new adherents join their ranks, especially in the face of such opposition.

The idea that Jesus had risen was a fresh approach, and then to counter demands to produce Him by saying He had floated back to heaven seemed laughable to me. But how to explain this burgeoning growth? Naturally now I knew it was the work of God Himself, but when it happened it was an annoyance that had quickly become a problem—one I thought we had largely solved by executing the popular Stephen.

Now Joseph told me that the more severe the Temple opposition grew, the more the multitude of those who believed became of one heart and one soul. “Every day it seemed that anyone among us who lacked benefitted by someone else who possessed lands or houses, bringing the proceeds of things sold and laying them at the apostles' feet. They in turn distributed to anyone who was in need. I considered it a great privilege to do the same.”

“But it seems now you are very close to the apostles, someone they trust and confide in.”

“I am humbled to say it is so.”

“Because your land was worth so much?”

“Oh, I don't think so. Certainly many gave larger gifts than I.”

“Then why you? Are there not others who are as willing to serve as you are?”

“Yes, I believe there are.”

“But how many are as close to the Twelve?”

“Paul, I don't know, and I must say, deliberating on this makes me uncomfortable.”

“Forgive me, Joseph, but that may be the heart of the matter. Your very humility makes the Twelve trust you.”

“If I have anything to offer, being a Levite I do bring a certain knowledge of the Law—”

“But your reputation reaches as far as Damascus. You are the person who has even Peter's ear. He's Cephas, the Rock, the one everyone knows as the leader, the most courageous, the most outspoken. And you are his confidant.”

“Well, I don't know . . .”

I laughed. “Ananias doesn't travel to Jerusalem! He hadn't met you! Yet he had heard enough to send for you, and you came. You are held in high esteem, even by the leader of the apostles of Jesus.”

“I'm just grateful.”

“Joseph, Ananias told someone my story and that I would now like to connect with the apostles. He was told forthrightly that they had heard a similar story and didn't believe a word of it. They believed me a wolf in sheep's clothing.”

“That is what I thought, too, Paul. Reports from many outlying areas said our brothers and sisters were being treated as horribly as the followers of The Way had been—by you—in Jerusalem. Why should we not have suspected you?”

“No reason. But then I wonder, why
did
you accept Ananias' invitation to meet me?”

Joseph hesitated and looked away. “I knew none of the apostles would take the time. And I trusted Ananias.”

“Why?”

“Because I had heard good things about him. And he said God had
told him you were returning. A man of God dare not say something like that if it is not true.

“If you must know the truth, I had my doubts until I met him. When he told me of God's visit, he said it was so reminiscent of the vision he received at the time of your conversion, he knew it was of the Lord. His eyes shone and his face came alive in the very telling of it.

“If I have any spiritual understanding at all, I can tell when a man has had a real encounter with God. It wasn't possible that Ananias was mistaken.

“I couldn't wait to meet you, and I wasn't surprised when you walked through that door. When I heard your own story, I knew Ananias had chosen the right person to persuade Peter to meet with you. Peter does trust me, and if I tell him I believe you, he will give you an audience.”

“He will believe me too?”

“I did not say that. But he will see you.”

“He will convince the others?”

“You would do well not to assume too much, Paul. Peter may be the leader, but the apostles are not a military unit. Each has a mind of his own. Just because Peter meets with you doesn't mean anyone else will. James, the Lord's brother, probably will. He and Peter are often united.”

I didn't tell him the Lord had already told me I would meet James. Naturally my wish was to meet them all.

Two days later, when we pulled into Capernaum, I was immediately intrigued to see that a garrison of Roman soldiers was stationed there. “Don't get any ideas,” Joseph said.

“It's too late for that,” I said. “I could ask about a campaign in Yanbu, say something about the heroic actions of General Balbus, see if someone might give me an idea where he's located.”

“You're not thinking, Paul. No doubt that was a secret raid, and your knowing anything about it would only arouse suspicion. Let's ponder this before you do anything rash. Besides, you know who lives in this town, don't you?”

“Should I?”

“Peter's mother-in-law. Jesus once healed her.”

CAPERNAUM

I
KNEW IT WAS
foolhardy to sit out in the late afternoon sun, idly chewing bread and nibbling a fig next to the horse and cart. Joseph had arranged lodging for us in a tiny upstairs alcove at a modest inn, a mere pittance affording us two thin mats, use of the easement area out back, plus half a bale of hay and a few gallons of water for the horse. We were allotted no food or other provisions and agreed to leave the premises before sunrise.

Joseph advised me to make myself scarce till sundown while he set off to ask after people he knew from his association with Peter and James. I had no reason to be disagreeable and certainly not to disrespect my elder, but I had quickly tired of the dark, dank closeness of the diminutive upper chamber, and no other roomers were around at that time of day. So I fished my afternoon snack from the pack, stored the rest in the corner,
and found my way back down and out, making the horse my only shade. I tucked my shoulder bag in the carriage, wanting it never far from me. The horse nickered and whipped his tail, probably curious at what I was up to, but eventually he ignored me.

My mind was on Taryn and Corydon and that garrison of soldiers whose colors I could still see near the city gate a quarter mile away. What would be the harm if I moseyed over there and struck up a friendly, curious conversation? I was a Roman citizen. A taxpayer. Of course, I hadn't realized any income for more than three years, so I hadn't contributed to the public till in a long time, but I still had a right to inquire about government services, didn't I? Who knew what I might uncover?

The longer I sat in the waning sun, the more bored I grew, and the more I knew I ought to be praying. What kept me from it, of course, was that I was not at all in the Spirit at that moment. It wasn't that I was obligated to obey Joseph, but I knew in my soul that he had spoken to me from a place of wisdom. And as much as I tried to rationalize and persuade myself otherwise, I was thinking only of myself.

As I had to learn all too often at times like that, the Lord chastened me by speaking to me when I was the least prepared for it.

I have stricken you dumb for a purpose
.

You have stricken me dumb?
I prayed, forgetting once more that God never repeats Himself. And then, thoughtlessly, as if there were some possibility He didn't mean what He said, I tested Him. I opened my mouth to ask why or for how long, and of course I could emit no sound.

At that moment I espied Joseph being led back toward the inn from the heart of Capernaum by three men who appeared put out with him. They gestured and remonstrated, but they were far enough away that as yet I could hear nothing.

Do not attempt to speak
.

I was beginning to understand. Even if I wanted to help Joseph, I was not to get involved. Whatever power of logic or persuasion I might have, God had rendered it useless.

As Joseph and the others drew closer, I began to pick up their voices on the wind. It became clear he was trying to convince them he was innocent, a friend of Peter and his brother, and that he merely wanted to bring greetings from them to Peter's mother-in-law.

“And we're telling you, people saw you arrive in this town with a man who looks like Saul, the Sanhedrin's persecutor of people of The Way.”

“No one has seen him for years!” Joseph said. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

So the Lord had told him what to say as well! It would be suspicious if I pretended not to hear what was going on, so I finished my food and rubbed my hands together, standing as the men approached. The horse stutter-stepped and swung his head back and forth.

“This man right here!” one said. “Who is this?”

“Why don't you ask him?” Joseph said.

“Because I'm asking you! You tell us you have come from the apostles in Jerusalem, and I'm telling you we think you're up to no good.”

“Well, this is my horse and my carriage,” Joseph said. “If this were my traveling companion, he would have our provisions packed in it and we would be riding away right now, wouldn't we?”

“Who are you, sir?” the man demanded.

I stared at him.

“Are you deaf?”

I shook my head.

“Are you mute?” another said.

I nodded.

“Are you Saul of Jerusalem?”

I shook my head, perhaps putting too fine a point on the fact that God Himself had told me not to identify myself that way anymore, and walked toward the inn.

“Where are you going? Come back here!”

That caused the horse to stamp and whinny. I looked back to see Joseph give me a furtive glance as he grabbed the reins to steady the horse, and I also noticed no one had followed me. I hurried upstairs and grabbed our food pack, then rushed back down and waited in the shadow by the door.

The men shied away from the edgy horse and one said, “Control that animal!”

That was just what Joseph was waiting for. He leapt into the carriage and snapped a rein, making the steed bolt. The men fell back as the carriage swung around to where I waited. Joseph yanked the reins, causing the horse to rear—which kept the men at bay and gave me time to jump in, the pack in my lap.

The men lit out toward us, but rather than trying to get the horse to race away, Joseph gave the reins a mighty jerk that turned him to face them, clicked his tongue, and snapped the leather again. The young beast bounded straight at the men, forcing them to dive for cover, and we lurched off toward the city gate.

I turned to watch the men slowly rise and dust themselves off. They got what they wanted. They had kept Joseph and me from Peter's mother-in-law, wholly unconvinced we were brothers in Christ.

Joseph kept looking back until we were well down the road again and he was satisfied no one was in pursuit. “The Lord had to intervene there for no good reason,” he said finally, shaking his head. “Have you found your voice?”

“I have,” I croaked, testing it.

“That cost us, Paul. You know that, don't you?”

“Forgive me, Joseph.”

“It wasn't much money, but the coins were not ours to waste. The horse needed rest, as we did. And while I am not your master, clearly I knew best, and you ignored my counsel.”

“I'm sorry. Why did they not trust you, Joseph?”

“They suspected me from the moment I got near her home. Naturally they live in fear and must protect her. But I might have been able to talk my way in there had you not been in plain sight.”

“You're right.”

“Let's just hope word of this doesn't get to Peter before we do. I identified myself, but I had not told him I might try to visit her.”

“I would so have enjoyed talking to her about her times with Jesus.”

“You have no one but yourself to blame.”

I nodded, but I also noticed a twinkle in Joseph's eyes. “You are not still angry with me?”

“I am still disappointed.”

“You don't look it.”

He looked at me and shook his head. “I am trying to look remorseful, Paul.”

“So am I!”

“We behaved shamefully.”

I nodded solemnly. “We did. And now we have to travel how far to find lodging?”