Authors: Tim Lahaye 7 Jerry B. Jenkins
Luke's Story (10 page)
“I implored them that they would see me as one of them, a coworker in the kingdom of God through Christ.”
“You were asking a lot,” Luke said.
“Indeed I was. Peter and James sat silent, trading glances, but soon Peter stood and reached for me, calling me his brother and embracing me, welcoming me to their work. I nearly wept with joy.”
“But despite their acceptance, was it safe for you to do your work there in Jerusalem?”
“Nothing is safe for me anymore, Luke, and probably nothing ever will be. I spoke boldly there in the name of the Lord Jesus, amazing everyone, especially the rulers and the Hellenists—the very ones the martyr Stephen had debated. I soon became their target, of course, but when the disciples found out, they took me to Caesarea and sent me back to my hometown for my own protection.”
“So you
were
in Tarsus. Would you believe I asked about you there once?”
were
in Tarsus. Would you believe I asked about you there once?”
“You did? What for?”
“I had sought you out in Jerusalem after you had left for Damascus, and that’s where I first heard the rumors. I couldn’t believe it of course, but your family covered for you.”
“Many watch out for me,” Paul said. “Else I would already be in heaven.”
“How did your movement reach Antioch?”
“The churches throughout all Judea, Galilee, and Samaria began walking in the fear of the Lord and in the comfort of the Holy Spirit, and so they multiplied.”
Luke smiled, hoping it didn’t appear as fake as it was. “Not likely. But continue with how the sect has spread as far as my own city.”
“This was all started by those who were scattered after the persecution that arose over the stoning of Stephen. They traveled as far as Phoenicia, Cyprus, and Antioch, preaching to no one but the Jews. But some of them were men from Cyprus and Cyrene, who, when they had come to Antioch, spoke to the Hellenists, preaching the Lord Jesus. I believe the hand of the Lord was with them, and a great number believed and turned to the Lord.
“When news of this reached the church in Jerusalem, they sent out Barnabas to go as far as Antioch. When he got there and saw how far the grace of God had spread, he was glad, and encouraged them all to continue with the Lord in great purpose of heart. When we get back, Luke, you will find him a good man, full of the Holy Spirit and of faith.”
“And by then you believe I will understand the Holy Spirit.”
“By then you will be filled with the Holy Spirit and able to heal more than you ever dreamed as a mere physician.”
“We shall see,” Luke said, longing for just such an occurrence but still battling his skepticism. “Now bring me up to today. What were you doing disembarking in Antioch?”
“That was all because of Barnabas. He came to Tarsus to seek me and bring me back, telling me the work was growing and that he needed my help. I believed this was of the Lord, and I plan to stay there as long as necessary to assemble with the believers and teach a great many people.”
“You know what you’re getting into?”
“Of course not! I take each day as it comes and trust the Lord to give me wisdom and strength.”
“Has Barnabas told you what your critics in Antioch call the believers?”
“Oh, yes. Christians. They say it derisively, but I like it. We are what we are.”
NINETEEN
Luke had been genuinely intrigued to see Saul after so many years and so many stories, but he frankly wasn’t sure now what he thought of the Paul version of the man. In many ways, this was the same fearless, intense, opinionated, and tireless character he had known at university. But hadn’t he simply traded one tall tale for another? There certainly would be no dissuading Paul from his beliefs, but nothing said Luke had to agree with him. Still, he was more than curious. This sect of the socalled resurrected miracle worker was indeed sweeping the world, and if the growing body of believers in Antioch was any indication, there seemed no stopping it.
That didn’t make it genuine or true, of course. Romans and Greeks had been worshiping mythological gods for centuriut d Luke knew better than to assume that made them any more real. But had there been verifiable miracles? And could there be some cure for the worst inner characteristics of men, whether or not Luke was yet ready to call those sins or call himself a sinner?
Either way, his curious, history-scholar side wanted to understand the entire scope of the developing movement. Regardless what became of it, history would contain some record of it, its various episodes, and any residual effects it might engender.
“I’d love to tell you more, Luke,” Paul said. “I want to persuade you that it’s true and that you—”
“Forgive me, Paul, but I need some time alone. Perhaps we can continue this in the morning.”
Paul seemed to study him. “I will be praying for you.”
“I have no doubt that you will. Pray that I’ll be able to sleep, despite all the thoughts rattling in my head.”
Paul grinned. “I’ll pray the opposite. I’ll pray God troubles your spirit until you rouse me from my own slumber for more of this truth.”
ONE LUXURY AFFORDED a ship’s physician, even a part-time one like Luke, was that he was not required to share lodging with the crew. Lodging was too kind a term for it, of course, as the dozens of men merely shared a common area below where they hung wet sandals and salty garments on nails and slept in swaying cots made of braided rope attached to the rafters.
On the occasional voyage on a lesser ship, Luke had been assigned one of these rudimentary hammocks and found sleep nearly impossible among the snoring and ill—usually from drink—men. He appreciated a bit of privacy and quiet, though his chambers were cramped and had no window. The sounds of the water and the wind and the sails and the creaking of the boards usually served to lull him to sleep, as long as his own hanging cot did not sway excessively because of high seas.
This night was relatively calm, yet still Luke found himself unable to doze. Was Paul really praying that Luke would not be able to sleep? His quarters were pitch-black and he was as comfortable as could be expected, but the way his mind raced reminded him of his childhood. Back then he had had to quietly steal into the kitchen and light a small lamp so he could read until drowsy. Was it mere fate or destiny that he had been born with such a brain? He was grateful for how it had benefited him—favor with his master, an eagerness, yea, a hunger, to read and learn. He knew he owed his very freedom to his intellect, but his own adopted Stoic philosophy fought against believing in coincidence or chance. He did agree with Stoicism’s idea that men were powerless in the face of nature, so he had to attribute his scholarly curiosity and abilities to that.
His old friend, having paid for the privilege of private quarters, surely believed that whatever Luke enjoyed in this life was a gift from God, the creator of the universe. Could it be? What made Paul’s god anything more than the mythological beings so many Romans and Greeks revered?
Paul’s story had been dramatic and fascinating. And despit believed Saul had been steered to his firm convictions by having all of this forced into his mind as a youngster. He had always seemed honest to a fault, direct, blunt, a realist. While he clearly truly believed his god was the one true god, maker of heaven and earth, the only seemingly fanciful stories he espoused were ones contained in the ancient texts of his religion.
But what of all this new stuff? Healing the sick, giving sight to the blind, raising a man and even a young girl from the dead, and even the resurrection of the miracle worker himself. A bright light from heaven, the crucified Jesus speaking to Saul from the sky, visions, Saul’s own healing from blindness, his complete change, not of personality or character but of his life’s purpose.
It was all so much to take in.
After another hour of thrashing in the darkness, unable to rest, let alone sleep, Luke thought it only fair that Paul share his distress. He dressed and made his way to Paul’s quarters and lightly rapped on his door.
“Coming, Luke,” Paul said, laughter in his voice. Could he see through doors now too?
When Paul emerged, his hair mussed from sleep, Luke said, “How did you know it was me? Did God Himself tell you?”
“He
could have,” Paul said. “But the fact is, no one but the captain knows me on this ship, and this is his sleep shift.”
could have,” Paul said. “But the fact is, no one but the captain knows me on this ship, and this is his sleep shift.”
Luke shook his head.
“So I assume you have more questions?”
Again they climbed topside. They sat near the bow and Paul resumed his story. Luke was so enraptured by the account and its ramifications that he was startled when the injured seaman interrupted with apologies.
“It’s really starting to vex me,” the young man said, holding out his hand. “I can barely stand the pain and must hold it aloft for any relief.”
“Wait right here and I’ll get something that should help. Introduce yourself to my friend, Saul, er, Paul.”
Luke hurried back to his quarters, where he mixed a potion he hoped would be effective. But when he returned, Paul was alone. Before he could even ask after the crew member, Paul said, “I prayed for him. I think he’ll be all right.”
“But he needs this medicine.”
“You’ll be able to determine that when you see him again. Now, shall I continue?”
“Well, sure, but first, did you say you prayed for him? You think praying for a man with a deep wound that is turning is all he needs?”
“It seemed all he needed. I did tell him about the Christ first, however.”
“And how did he respond to that?”
“He seemed interested. I kept it simple. I merely told him that God had sent His only son into the world, that He lived a sinless life so He could quaHe coulday, now sitting on the right hand of God in heaven. I told him if he believed this, he could be saved from his sin, and that if he had faith he could also be healed of his wound.”
Luke cocked his head. Paul had really lost all connection with reality. “And did he have this faith?”
“Frankly, Luke, he appeared to.”
“And so you healed him?”
“I didn’t say that. I said I prayed with him and for him. He expressed faith in Jesus, and I expressed faith that
God
could heal him.”
God
could heal him.”
“You’ll forgive me if I add this tonic to his wound so that we might
help
God heal him, if necessary.”
help
God heal him, if necessary.”
“Though I gather from your tone that you are making sport of what I have been telling you, I beg you to keep an open mind.”
“Oh, of that you may be certain. And regardless of whether I accept all this, I am confident that you believe it, and that makes me want to hear the rest of it. But for right now, I must find my patient.”
“You’ll probably find him resting comfortably. Which I also plan to do, if it’s all right with you. I’ll see you in the morning, unless you need me before that.”
Luke and Paul ventured into the bowels of the ship, Paul heading to his room while Luke followed the sounds of snoring and groaning and peered into the communal sleeping quarters. An old crewmate in a cot near the door asked who he was looking for.
“The wounded man,” Luke whispered.
“That’s his bed,” the man said, pointing. “But he’s not there.”
Luke moved into the room and someone else asked what he wanted. He pointed to the empty cot.
“That boy’s on duty,” another said.
“Oh, surely not,” Luke said. “He shouldn’t be working.”
The man shrugged, so Luke headed up. He watched as a crew of six scampered about the masts, trimming the sails. “You there!” he called out, pointing at the young man. “You’re not to be working!”
“Be right down,” the man said, securing a rigging.
Soon he came clambering down a rope ladder and landed in front of the physician. He held up his injured hand. “Keeping it wrapped just to be safe.”
“Let me see that,” Luke said. “How’s the pain?”
“Gone!”
Luke led the man to a bench along the side and set his lamp where it would illuminate the area. He pulled the man’s hand close and slowly unwrapped the bandage. Not only did he find no discoloration, but he also found no wound! Luke lifted the lamp to where the flame was just inches from a thin, pink scar.
“What’s happened?” he said. “Tissnow he had experienced both. What other conclusion could he come to?
He wanted to shout, to leap for joy, to tell someone. He raced again to Paul’s room, only to find the door open and Paul sitting on his cot. Luke gushed what had happened. “I need you to explain it all to me, and right now. What has happened to me?”
“Do you believe?”
“I do!”
“Then you are saved! Praise God.”
“Saved from what?”
“Saved from your sin. Come, let’s go back up where we can sit.”
They returned to the very bench where Luke had examined the healed man’s hand. “Listen to me now, Luke,” Paul said, “and let me make plain to you the gospel I told you about, which now you have received and in which you can stand, by which also, as I said, you are saved, unless you believed in vain.
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