My father never had any patience with what he called “Jewish myths”.  Yet he had chosen to marry a Jewish wife, and, paradoxically, appreciated my mother’s faithfulness and the godliness[1] that came from her belief in those same so-called “myths”.

He always liked clever arguments that used words as finely crafted weapons, deftly directed to lampoon an opponent’s arguments and hold him up to ridicule.  Debating was in his blood and the verbal cut and thrust of argument delighted him.  In fact, he cared more about how an argument was presented than whether or not it was right.

In contrast, my mother was only concerned with truth.  Be it ever so well presented, no argument carried any weight with her unless it bore the stamp of truth.

From time to time, my father used to ridicule what he called her “preoccupation with truth”.  Yet he was proud of it too.  He was very pleased that he could rely on her to always tell the truth, and insisted that I be the same.

However, my father was harsh with me at times because he wanted me to have respect for the Greek gods and to strive for glory as the demi-gods constantly did.  But to me the gods deserved no respect, if any of the tales told about them were true.  And the heroes like Hercules, Odysseus and Achilles didn’t impress me either – they seemed to be much the same as the gods they acknowledged.  The heroes of my mother’s and grandmother’s[2] stories from Jewish history earned my respect far more, and they never demanded, or even wanted, my worship.

Abraham, Isaac and Jacob were not perfect, but they were admirable.  The heroes of the Bible were presented as men of faith whose amazing deeds came from their faith, not from pride or self-confidence.

“You just like that sort of hero because you don’t have any physical courage yourself,” my father said to me once.  There may have been some truth in what he said – I was always a quiet and retiring child, although I was not afraid of hard work.  But putting myself forward as a brave hero was not my natural bent.

Whatever the reason, I did admire quiet heroes, particularly the ones in the Hebrew Scriptures, of whom I had heard from my childhood.  I knew that there was only one God and that the gods presented by other nations were frauds.  One God, the creator of everything else, made sense to me, and humble heroes attracted me much more than loud-mouthed, opinionated, self-seeking heroes who knew of nothing but self-aggrandisement.

As I grew up, my father and I quarrelled often, and sometimes the arguments spread to include my mother, which made her life difficult.

Having been learning about the Hebrew scriptures from my earliest remembrance,[3] I was a committed follower of the God of the Hebrews – I suppose you might describe me as one who feared God but was not a complete convert, in that I had not been circumcised.

I was still quite young when I heard about Jesus, the one whom some claimed was the promised Messiah.  After examining the facts, I found them convincing and was baptised in the name of Jesus.

Not long afterwards, I met Paul, the apostle of Jesus Christ, and everything came to a head.  My father said that if I wanted to become one of those Christians – of course, he used the name as a term of contempt – then I wasn’t welcome in his house.  Naturally, he knew that my mother, his wife, was also a Christian, but neither of us mentioned that.  I didn’t want to cause her any more trouble.

Both then and over the years until my father died, she kept doing her silent best to show that following the Christ was the best way to live.  But I had to find somewhere else to live.

Paul was kind enough to offer to take me with him as he travelled, but there was one requirement.  Since Paul’s method of preaching was always to start in each new town by going to the synagogue, and the Jews all know that my father is a Greek, Paul thought that it would be best to circumcise me or I wouldn’t be able to be involved in most of his preaching.  In the end, it actually became a bit of a problem for me because people used me as proof that Gentiles should be circumcised (which was a pity, as it is exactly the opposite of what Paul believed), but at the time, it meant that I could travel with Paul, and that was a magnificent opportunity.  It was like travelling with my own personal hero.  I had been born too late to travel with Jesus as his disciple, but I could travel with Paul, and that made serving God so much easier.  Paul was brave, Paul was wise, Paul was courageous, Paul always knew the right words to use, Paul was, well, Paul! – and I have never known anyone like him.  I have tried desperately to imitate him, but I don’t feel that I do a very good job, particularly when it comes to handling conflict or opposition.

I have been very blessed in my life since I was forced to leave home.  I travelled with Paul for the rest of his second preaching tour until he left me in Corinth and Macedonia when he returned to Antioch.  After he began his third preaching tour, he sent for Erastus and me to come to him in Ephesus.[4]  After working with him there for a while, he sent me back to Corinth to see how they had responded to his letter,[5] and I was so pleased that he considered me a reliable messenger.  When I arrived, I found that the believers in Corinth had been very much upset by Paul’s letter, and it wasn’t long before I returned to him with a mixture of good and bad news.

Immediately, Paul invited me to help him write a letter to the believers at Corinth to answer some of their questions and problems.[6]

I stayed with Paul through that terrifying riot in Ephesus and then travelled with him through Macedonia and Greece.  While we were there in Corinth, Paul wrote to the believers in Rome.[7]

I mention these things because they show the way in which Paul worked and the lessons he taught me.  Unfortunately, I have never felt able to do the work as well as he did.  Most concerning to me were his predictions that some believers would attack the flock like wolves – words that, sadly, have been proved right many times since then.

Paul was indefatigable, a tireless worker, but Jesus’ plans took him away from direct work for several years.  It is easy to look back and see that this was a real blessing because it forced us to learn how to continue Paul’s work while he was still there as a rock for us to lean on.  His time in prison, first in Caesarea[8] and then in Rome,[9] meant that the work of direct preaching fell to others, and he became a sort of father figure to many of the congregations.  A father they would listen to and learn from, but whom they couldn’t meet without having to make a long trip.  Quite a few believers chose to make that journey and benefitted greatly from Paul’s wisdom.  He never turned anyone away, and no-one was ever arrested by the Romans for visiting him either, though the frightening possibility was always there in the background.

After all those years in prison, Paul spent a final period of freedom preaching enthusiastically, before he was imprisoned once more and executed – but not before he had written some more valuable letters for us.  Those of us who had been close to him felt very much alone.  In some ways I think it must have been much how the disciples felt when Jesus was killed.  Yet for us Jesus was still there, and the power of God was still with us to strengthen us in all that we did.  But Paul had become much more of a father to me than my real father ever was, and I still miss him.  He once told me that I shouldn’t let people despise my youth.  Well, they can’t do that now – I’m not young anymore!  In fact, I don’t expect to live much longer.

My life has been an incredible journey and I have seen some amazing changes in the world.  I really have seen the world turned upside down.

It is fair to say that one man, Jesus Christ, started the process.

He showed that one man can change the lives of hundreds of thousands of people – possibly even more – simply by inspiration.

 Many kings have changed the lives of millions before now, but they have done it through domination and intimidation, oppression and tyranny.  Empires have ruled the world, but Jesus led the world, and now his followers have changed the world.

Just a few people drawn from many different walks of life – rich and poor, noblemen and commoners, soldiers and slaves.  With the help of God, these few have overcome the world.

But the world is fighting back.  It always does.

In one of his letters to me, Paul spoke of the false teachings of two false brothers as spreading like gangrene.[10]  How right he was!  I reminded them of our hope of resurrection, and did my best to charge them before God to keep this fundamental hope clear in their minds.  I’m afraid that I have never found confrontation easy, even when it has to be faced up to, and I was probably not as blunt or uncompromising as Paul would have been.  Maybe it wouldn’t have made any difference, but anyway, they refused to listen to me.  

Paul also warned that such people would lead others into more and more ungodliness.  Well, they did, and I didn’t seem to be able to stop it.

The world has fought back mostly through infiltration: quarrels about words and empty chatter have entered our fellowship as if we were just a group of ordinary people, not believers who are called to be like Jesus.

Towards the end of his life, even Paul had difficulty keeping some of the believers on the path of truth.  Some were eager to gain positions of leadership, not because they wanted to lead God’s people in faith, but because they liked authority and recognition from others.  Paul could claim authority over them because of his selection by Jesus, but when Paul was killed, a lot of my confidence and authority died with him.

I knew the truth in detail: Paul taught me very thoroughly.  But I had never seen Jesus, never heard his teaching, never been spoken to by him on the road to Damascus – and so when troublemakers came, I found it very hard to oppose them as resolutely as Paul had commanded me to.  There was no doubt that God helped me, and that Jesus worked with his believers through me, but I feel that I let them down at times.

Following Jesus is an individual task in some ways, but as congregations we are meant to work together, and I fear that many of our congregations are now straying from the truth en masse – some through fear of the authorities, others through apathy or the leadership ambitions of men like Hymeneus and Philetus.

Already, some of the congregations that were flourishing in Paul’s day no longer exist.  I recently heard of a revelation made to John the apostle by Jesus that included letters to the seven congregations in Asia.  Ephesus, a congregation dear to my heart for many years, is described as having lost their first love.  He even threatens to remove their light completely unless they repent.  Already they are condemned by our Lord Jesus, and only a change in attitude will rescue them.[11]

Other congregations are even worse, and sometimes I despair of what the future holds.  Jesus once asked his disciples whether he would find faith in the earth when he returns.[12]  I never took the question seriously while Paul was alive, but now it bothers me every day.

My time of service is coming to an end.  The faith will slip from our grasp unless we revitalise our lives.

Come Lord Jesus – we need you.

[1] 2 Timothy 1:5
[2] 2 Timothy 1:5
[3] 2 Timothy 3:15
[4] Acts 19:21-22
[5] 1 Corinthians 16:10
[6] 2 Corinthians 1:1
[7] Romans 16:21
[8] Acts 24:6-7
[9] Acts 28:30-31
[10] 2 Timothy 2:16-18
[11] Revelation 2:5-6
[12] Luke 18:8