John's Story (18 page)

John began to believe he would survive Patmos after all.

L
ITTLE MORE THAN
a year later, Caesar Augustus Domitian was assassinated in a palace coup, ending his reign of terror. He was replaced by Marcus Cocceius Nerva, who, though his sovereignty would last fewer than two years, made immediate changes, setting about to restore the image of the government in the eyes of the populace. He renamed Domitian’s lavish dwelling the House of the People, personally resided elsewhere, pledged an oath to the Senate vowing he would execute none of its members (Domitian had killed eleven and exiled more), allowed no statues to be made of himself, and established economic measures to help the poor.

More significantly, Caesar Nerva released all those imprisoned by Domitian and freed exiles not found guilty of serious crimes.

John, the beloved apostle and disciple of Jesus the Christ, was free to return home.

Fall,
A. D
. 96

John’s decrepit body bore the ills of age and months of punishing labor, yet his mind was afire. While the memory of his miraculous deliverance from death in Rome was ever-present, his spiritual experience on the barren island in the Aegean surpassed even that escape.

He had worked to rags his one piece of attire, and upon his release had been issued a scratchy, cheap imitation of a Roman toga. He could not wait to burn it along with the memories it evoked and replace it with a silk undergarment covered by a common tunic.

The old man was puzzled at the seasickness that attacked him, despite his life on the Gennesaret as a fisherman until he was twenty-five years old. Even with all John knew of how to combat the malady, his belly churned and bile rose in his throat. He was grateful to be sailing on an empty stomach.

Ignoring his physical agony, John was giddy at the prospect of returning to his beloved home. He leaned this way and that, trying to peer through the cloudy horizon in hopes of a glimpse of the Ephesian harbor. He dragged his fingers through knotted hair, untangling but a few wispy white strands. John leaned over the side and caught a glimpse of his visage in the water, stunned to be reminded of his aged grandfather before he died.

Clutched to John’s chest was a ragged leather bag containing the treasure of a lifetime: brittle papyrus bearing his shaky handwriting. He had had to grind black rock and mix it with water to fashion more ink he hoped would not fade before he could copy his work with better tools. The result of that furious scribbling represented the entirety of his earthly possessions, other than his garment.

Otherwise his bag was empty. John had not a copper coin to his name, never mind bronze or silver or gold. He didn’t know how he would even get off the craft, not to mention make his way to the church or to his quarters. Surely his humble chamber had been appropriated for someone else by now. He had no idea whether the news of his survival of the oil cauldron in Rome had even reached Ephesus, so how could anyone know he had been released from Patmos? Surely his comrades assumed him dead.

John could pay for help getting him from the boat to a surface conveyance and then for the price of his ride, provided those who aided him could wait for their fare until he reached his destination. But he would not beg, would not expect a workingman to count on a mere promise of recompense. He tried to stand, to test his legs, but knees and ankles would not cooperate, could not bear even his wasted frame. He feared he weighed less than he had as a twelve-year-old.

The boatman had gazed upon him with what appeared pity as he helped him aboard hours before. Had it been compassion he detected? Might the boatman at least help him to the pier? And even if so, what then? Perhaps God would grant him the strength to somehow make his way to the church, where the brethren might succor him until he regained some strength. There was so much to tell, so much to do. How John missed his cherished brothers and sisters in the faith, especially his young, devoted disciple, Polycarp.

In spite of John’s eager anticipation, when clouds blocked his view of Ephesus, crushing fatigue overtook him, and he dozed. At the sound of the lowering of the sail and wood against wood as the oars were loosed to propel the boat into the harbor, he roused, relieved that even while unconscious he had kept the priceless package pressed against his bosom. And even under overcast skies, Ephesus assaulted his senses all at once, filling his heart.

Fishing boats were offloading. Gulls darted and dived. Men on the dock hurried about with heavy ropes, and what appeared to be a welcoming party awaited. People waved, bounced on their feet, and smiled, but John could not bring them into focus from that distance. Only when the craft nudged the pier did he realize the small band—a young man, an older man, and a middle-aged couple—were there for him.

It was Polycarp, his youthful longtime disciple and traveling companion, with three others from the church. John could not contain his sobs.
Thank you, Lord!

As the boat docked, he rocked to try to stand, but he could not. The boatman was busy with the ropes and conferring with men on the pier. Polycarp rushed to ask if he could help the old man disembark, and the boatman waved him aboard. The apostle and the robust, red-bearded young disciple were soon embracing.

“Let me take your bag,” Polycarp said.

“Please, dear friend,” John said. “It is all I have, and I must not part with it. Just help me.”

The strength of his protégé was a tonic, but Polycarp must have been as excited as he, because it was all John could do to keep up. He ached all over and begged to slow down.

“I apologize, teacher, but the news of your deliverance from Domitian thrilled the entire church, and word of your release from exile reached us days ago. We’re all so eager to greet you.”

“How did you know I was arriving today?”

“We didn’t! We have come every day for more than a week since we heard of the pardons, hoping you would soon be delivered, provided the banishment had not killed you.”

“It nearly did,” John said. He stopped and drew Polycarp close. “Tell me of the battle and of our adversary.”

“Cerinthus? His little church has stalled. Most of our people have returned, seeing the error of their ways. Some took a copy of your gospel into that excuse for a church, and Cerinthus reacted with anger. Having accused you of fearing other ideas, he tried to legislate against your eyewitness account from even passing the threshold of his sanctuary. He was proved the charlatan. He still plans a school, but I daresay your gospel crippled him, sir.”

And suddenly they were upon the others, who tearfully, shyly embraced the old man and helped him up into a horse-drawn cart. The woman produced a basket containing a bit of fish and bread she said “was warm two hours ago.”

“Forgive me if I can tolerate but a few bites,” John said, smiling weakly. He threaded an arm through the strap of his leather bag and ate tentatively as the wagon jostled slowly through the narrow stone streets.

John roused suddenly, embarrassed to find he had drifted off again, and dropped a heel of bread. “I’m so sorry,” he told the woman as she retrieved it.

“Think nothing of it,” she said. “It’s clear you are not well. Your chambers are ready. Though dozens have begged to welcome you, we have urged them to give you a full day and night’s rest first.”

“And I have a plan,” Polycarp said, “to have you revived by the Lord’s Day to address the brothers and sisters.”

John forced a smile. “I cannot imagine it. A greeting will be all I can manage.”

“That will be sufficient,” his young charge said. “I prepared a talk, not knowing whether you would be here.”

Upon arrival at the former home of Aquila and Priscilla, Polycarp helped John down from the cart and led him to the vast courtyard in the midst of the three great wings of the house.

Polycarp bowed, kissed John on the cheek, and steered him to the guest room, where he removed the old man’s sandals.

“You welcome me to my own home?” John said, smiling.

“You are our guest until you retire for the evening,” Polycarp said, washing his feet and wiping them with a towel. “When you are up to it, you will again be master of the house and the host.” He brought John a cup of water.

“I need new clothes,” John said, sighing.

“You will find them in your quarters, when you are ready.”

“Ready? I’m nearly faint.”

“You look it.”

“I know I must, friend. But I need you to tarry with me briefly. I must entrust you with a great mystery.”

“I am at your service, teacher.”

As the younger steered the older back outside and to his small room, John was overcome with gratitude to him and to God. His life had been spared, and perhaps, with the help of his friends and loved ones, he could regain some strength to match his enthusiasm. While that remained hard to fathom, seeing his old room encouraged him. An oil lamp, a pitcher of water, and a bowl awaited, along with a towel and fresh clothing. John was eager to bathe and stretch out on the bed. Yet this more urgent matter pressed.

“You are fading from me, rabbi,” Polycarp said. “Do you not wish me to leave you?”

“Bear with me, please. I must show you something and entreat your help.”

“Anything.”

John handed his leather bag to Polycarp. “Don’t open it until you are alone, and I beg you, treat it as my most treasured possession.”

“What is it?”

“You will see. It will marvel and amaze you, but at first it may appear merely the ravings of an old man, perhaps a madman. But it is a gift from God Almighty. He entrusted me with the words herein, an exhortation to the churches, and then a vision of the future at once so glorious and horrifying that I scarcely know what to do with it.”

“You’re trembling.”

“I am old and weak and tired.”

“It’s more than that, master. You are like a man possessed.”

“Polycarp, the Lord gave me this in a rush. Indeed, it took me longer to record than to experience. This came to me on a Lord’s Day, and I spent the rest of the day and the whole night scrawling it as fast as I could. Read it and tell me what you think, but share it with no one. God will tell us what to do with it. Perhaps he will tell you. At the very least it must be copied. Will you do it?”

“To again write what God has commended to you? My zeal to read it overwhelms me, but to undertake such an ambitious—”

“Oh, but you must, Polycarp!”

“I am at your service, of course, but my studies, my duties—”

“Believe me, all will pale next to this.” John shook his head and pressed a palm on his young friend’s shoulder. “You have more excuses than Moses, he of the uncertain tongue.”

“Forgive me. I’ll do whatever you ask.”

“Read first. I will rest. And then you will tell me of your plan to restore me to full strength.”

When Polycarp departed, John disrobed and bathed, dressing in the fresh undergarment laid out for him. Within minutes after he collapsed onto his bed, he yielded to the dreamless sleep of the free.

E
ager to test his seemingly renewed strength the next morning, John dressed quickly, but upon leaving his room he discovered a bountiful breakfast on a tray just outside the door. He had looked forward to eating with his friends, but perhaps this was their way of trying to protect him. The entire church had to know of his return by now, and he would soon be overwhelmed with well-wishers. That had its benefits and would be a balm to his soul. In the meantime, he would trust the judgment of his friends and enjoy breakfast alone.

Cheese, warm bread, fruit, a handful of olives, and even a bite of fish lay beautifully arranged, accompanied by a cup of wine. John had not seen a plate like this since before his arrest. He thanked God for it and asked Him to bless it, adding a request that he be granted the self-control necessary to leave half of it.

The day was already warming with the traverse of the sun, and John heard activity in the courtyard. A fire crackled. And the rasp of stone on stone told him the women were grinding grain. He soon heard the urgent voice of Polycarp.

“Is he up yet? Has he eaten?”

A woman laughed and suggested he check for himself.

“Oh, I must not! He will be along soon enough, will he not? We must respect his privacy and his need for rest and rejuvenation. Have you seen him?”

“I left his breakfast as you instructed, sir,” she said. “I expect he will be along when he is ready.”

“I should watch for him. But I do not want to appear to be prying.”

“Even though you are.”

He laughed.

“Why is it so urgent that you see him early?” she said.

“I just don’t want to miss him. He has always been an early riser.”

“As have you.”

“But I am a fourth his age. I have no reason to sleep the morning away.”

“Oh, sir, the morning has just begun. The cock has just crowed. Leave an old man to his routine.”

“I know. It’s just that—There! There he is now! Master, how are you? Wait! Wait until I can assist you!”

Polycarp, red hair flopping, rushed to him, but John held up a hand. “Please,” he said. “Please do not trouble yourself.”

“It’s no trouble! I just—”

“Then just take the tray and allow me to walk on my own. It will be good for me. And for you.”

“If you’re sure,” Polycarp said, reaching him.

John gave him the tray and waved him off. He slid a hand along the wall as he walked.

“There, see? I will soon be trotting.”

“You hardly ate, master. Finish the olives at least.”

“I ate like a king. That should suffice until the evening meal. Polycarp, the papyrus…”

The young man handed the tray off to the woman and directed John to sit near the fire. “Right here,” he said, reaching inside his mantle to under his leather girdle, from which he produced John’s bag.

“And?” the old man said.

“Surely you had to know the effect this would have on me, rabbi. I have not slept. I read it through from beginning to end, and then again. I have even begun the copying, though I confess I was so unnerved that my handwriting is worse even than when I penned your gospel. I may have to do it again.”

“The more you are exposed to the text, the more it will reach your heart.”

“I cannot imagine it burning any more brightly inside me, teacher. What did the other prisoners and the guards think?”

“Oh, I dared not share it, Polycarp. What if it had been confiscated?”

“No one else has seen this? I feel so privileged.”

“Never mind privilege, young one. What shall I do with it?”

Polycarp rose and paced. “How can there be even a question? Clearly our Lord gave you this for the churches.”

“I know. That is clear. I must disseminate it. But what is the best way? I am not up to traveling anymore yet.”

“Start with a copy right here in Ephesus, and then send it to the other churches.”

“Copies, or just one manuscript that makes the rounds, entrusted anew to each gathering?”

“Eventually you would need several copies, sir, but this cannot wait. Unless you have a misgiving about what God has entrusted to you, He has hard things to say to every congregation.”

John stood. “Misgivings? Hardly. Oh, son, the richness with which the vision came remains with me.”

“It was more than a dream then.”

“I was there, Polycarp. I was in heaven. Guards talked of finding me, saying that I had fallen as a dead man, but you can see from the writing that during that whole time, I was in the Spirit and God had an angel show me all that is to come.”

Polycarp sat close to the bread oven. “Much of it is alarming, sir, as I’m sure you know. And much is difficult to understand.”

John nodded. “And yet it all made perfect sense to me. God transported me, and when I write that ‘I looked and I saw,’ that is exactly what happened. He showed me wondrous things, frightening things. I knew when I committed it to the papyrus that only those to whom God speaks will be able to comprehend it.”

Polycarp stood. “Are you up to walking?”

“I believe I am. Is this your scheme to restore my health?”

“Part of it, yes,” Polycarp said, smiling. “What you eat, the air you breathe, how much you move, all of it will bring back the man of God we know and love.”

As they slowly exited the compound, John said, “But no Roman baths.”

Polycarp laughed. “No. Of course not. I believe I know your mind on that subject.”

“And on the subject of the revelation, Polycarp. Did you comprehend it?”

“I should be a fool to say yes,” he said, “but let me say this: I accept it as from God to you. I long to devote myself to the study of it. And I say again, it must be delivered to the churches. But first, I urge you to read it aloud to the people here yourself.”

“I don’t know that I have the strength. It is not a short document. And I have not formed an opinion as to whether each church should hear what has been intended for the others.”

John quickly began to feel fatigue.

“Let me suggest this,” Polycarp said. “You read up to the exhortation to us here at Ephesus, then allow me to read the vision.”

John pondered this. “The entire vision would take most of the time allotted for the assembly.”

“I have no doubt this will capture the people’s attention. Now I see you are slowing, old man. Shall we race back to the house?”

John smiled. “I hope your foolishness amuses you.”

“Because it does not amuse you?”

“Everything you do and say amuses me, Polycarp.”

O
VER THE NEXT SEVERAL DAYS,
John was amazed at how quickly his strength grew. His food was better than it had been in more than a year, and his daily walks with Polycarp through the city—not to mention interaction with old friends—invigorated and renewed him.

The evening of the Lord’s Day, the house church in Ephesus was so full that those arriving late had to stand or sit in the windows. Word had spread that the revered John had returned, so the season of singing, sharing the Lord’s Supper, and reading of Scripture seemed to carry a joy and anticipation the body had not enjoyed since the times of Paul and then Timothy.

Finally Polycarp stood in their midst.

“I greet you, my brothers and sisters, in the name of our living Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. I bring you all good wishes from your compatriots at the other churches of Asia, based on messages that have been received here even this week. I believed, until several days ago, that I would continue standing in for our beloved former bishop, the last among us to personally walk with our God. My reunion with John here has been joyous. And for you who would rather hear from your apostle, let me say that the same is true of me and that we will all have our wish.

“I prayerfully considered what the Lord would have me say to you, and I believe He gave me a clear message. But I confess that in my preparations I had the feeling that He led me to only broad principles and seemed resistant to my pleas for further elucidation. I feared expanding on His leading and could pray only that anything I chose to add would be not of the flesh but of the spirit. As John has so often quoted John the Baptizer, the cousin and forerunner of Jesus, ‘He must increase, but I must decrease.’

“Well, beloved, now I understand what was happening during my time of preparation. God gave me enough for only the time allotted me, because it happens that He gave my mentor more than enough to fill the rest of the time.

“I spent all of last night reading and rereading a recent revelation God bestowed on our bishop, and exhausted as I was, sleep was then impossible.

“Now that I have whetted your appetite to where you will only tolerate the lesser morsel I have to offer, let me cover it with dispatch. And then John himself will introduce the revelation, and I will help read you the rest. I assure you, while it is long and today allows us only enough time to read it to you in its entirety, the document itself will prove worthy of careful perusal and study for months and perhaps years.”

Polycarp turned to his own notes.

“Beloved Ephesians, our church has found mercy in the transcendent majesty of the Most High Father and of Jesus Christ, His only Son. We, as do similar bodies of saints throughout the world, exist by the will of Him who willed all things that exist, beloved and illuminated through the faith and love of Jesus Christ our God. His is a church universal worthy of honor, worthy of felicitation, worthy of praise, worthy of success, worthy of sanctification, and presiding in love, maintaining the law of Christ, and bearing of the Father’s name. I therefore salute you in the name of Jesus Christ, Son of the Father. I pray for your unimpaired joy in Jesus Christ our God, to those who are united in flesh and spirit by every commandment of His; who imperturbably enjoy the full measure of God’s grace and have every foreign stain filtered out of them.

“The Prince of this world is resolved to abduct us and to corrupt our Godward aspirations. Let none of you assist him. Rather, side with me—that is, with God. Do not have Jesus Christ on your lips and the world in your hearts. Give envy no place among you. I am not on fire with the love of earthly things. But there is still in me a living water, which is eloquent and within me says, ‘Come to the Father.’ I have no taste for corruptible foods or for the delights of this life. Bread of God is what I desire; that is, the flesh of Jesus Christ, who was the seed of David; and for my drink I desire His blood, that is, incorruptible love.”

John sat there astounded at the growth he saw in Polycarp. Why, the young man sounded like Ignatius! Indeed, Ignatius must have had a strong influence on Polycarp during his short visit. How good it had been to hear that Ignatius had enjoyed a profitable tour of the churches and returned to his own, emboldened by the seeming liberality of the new emperor. Now if John could find the strength to again assume his duties in charge of the Ephesian church, he would have to release Polycarp to take the vacant bishopry at Smyrna, where, he was convinced, Polycarp could become as effective there as a bishop as Ignatius was. The young man’s time had come.

Polycarp continued, “No longer should we wish to live after the manner of men. As you well know, an enemy of the truth remains within our city walls. Your bishop and I agree and humbly but forthrightly instruct you to continue to beware of him. Be not seduced by strange doctrines, neither by antiquated fables, which are profitless. For if even unto this day we live according to the law, we admit that we have not received grace: for the godly prophets lived after Christ Jesus. For this cause also they were persecuted, being inspired by His grace to the end that they who are disobedient might be fully persuaded that there is one God who manifested Himself through Jesus Christ His Son, who is His Word that proceeded from silence, who in all things was well pleasing unto His Father who sent Him.

“His death, which some men deny, is a mystery whereby we attained unto belief, and for this cause we endure patiently, that we may be found disciples of Jesus Christ, our only teacher. If this be so, how shall we be able to live apart from Him?”

Polycarp led in prayer. Then he said, “As we believe Jesus Christ is our only teacher, how blessed are we that we enjoy, in our midst, one who was His disciple, an eyewitness to His ministry, with Him when He performed His first miracle and several to follow. Our Lord has seen fit to teach us anew through His disciple via a divine revelation that will astound you as it has me. And while our revered mentor is still regaining his strength after his exile, I ask only that he introduce the text this evening, and I shall endeavor to read to you the rest.”

A holy hush fell over the assembled as John slowly rose and was welcomed to the position of honor. In trembling hands he bore the missive he had carried across the sea from Patmos. After greeting the assembled and thanking them for their prayers and hospitality, he said, “The Lord has not granted me the freedom to speak of my predicament in Rome and how He delivered me. Perhaps another time.”

There seemed a sigh of disappointment, to which John responded, “Verily, you will see that greater things than these are prophesied.”

The old man told the story of his life on Patmos and what happened to him that fateful Lord’s Day in the cave of marble. By the time he got to the papyrus, it was clear the people could wait no longer. He read the introduction and moved directly into the admonitions to the churches.

“To the angel of the church of Ephesus write, ‘These things says He who holds the seven stars in His right hand, who walks in the midst of the seven golden lampstands: “I know your works, your labor, your patience, and that you cannot bear those who are evil. And you have tested those who say they are apostles and are not, and have found them liars; and you have persevered and have patience, and have labored for My name’s sake and have not become weary.”’”

At this John glanced up and saw smiles.

“‘“Nevertheless I have this against you, that you have left your first love. Remember therefore from where you have fallen; repent and do the first works, or else I will come to you quickly and remove your lampstand from its place—unless you repent.