There was a bond between these men As deep as one could dream, and when The others left, in silence Paul Would sit and keep his vigil all Alone, and listen to the hiss Of lanterns by the bed. And this, He thought, must be a load Of love released, lest it explode.
The old man lay unconscious now, And Paul would wipe his wrinkled brow From time to time, as gently as A nurse, or only son. "He has A tender touch," the women said, "Hard to believe someone could dread This man. He sits there day and night As patient as a mother might." The women whispered softly in Another room, "Twould be sin To break that holy atmosphere." Sometimes deep in the night they'd hear His voice and recognize the word Of God from some great prophet heard Of old, as Paul recited it. He prayed that it would benefit The old man's soul that night, then took A parchment of Isaiah's book: "Thus says the Lord, O Israel, I have good news, now listen well, And ponder what I pledge to do: To gray hairs I will carry you; From mother's breast to icy grave My hand will carry and will save." The slightest twitch touched on The old man's lips, and then was gone. But Paul had seen it: "Barnabas. It's Paul. Can you hear me?" There was Another twitch, and then a sound, Between his lips. Paul looked around And took a moistened cloth to wet The old man's lips and tongue, and get The crusted tears out of his eyes. "We haven't said our last goodbyes, Old friend. It isn't like you just To up and leave . unless you must. I've been here seven days. Mark came To get me." Then he paused.
The flame Beside the cot made shadows play Across the red-grey beard that lay Outside the blanket on the old Man's chest. The coastal town was cold, And wintry wind cut through the stone And mortar walls.
"We're all alone. The rest have gone to bed. It's late Now. Barnabas, I sure would hate To lay you in the grave this year Without a chance for you to hear Once more what you have meant to me. I would have crossed the widest sea For this, or come from any land.
"If you can hear me, squeeze my hand... "Praise God! Now listen, aged friend: You know, I hope, that to the end, And from the very start, you've been To me a father . took me in When no one dared, and risked your neck, And told me later that the speck In my young eye was tiny bone Compared to logs inside your own. I never did believe it when You said the words, nor now.
"But then, I've learned that things look diff'rent from The inside out. A tiny crumb That's nothing for an elephant May be a boulder for an ant. The Lord taught me more grace through you Than any other man. He knew What sort of father I would need.
"From Antioch you came to plead With me in Tarsus, I recall, ‘Come, help me teach the Christians, Saul!' As though a king should beg a drone To share the glories of his throne... Which is, of course, in simple speech, The awesome Gospel that we preach.
"I've never known a man live grace Like you, and leave a trace Of Gospel Truth on all his ways." But suddenly Paul stopped his praise; The old man's hand gripped like a vice, His shoulders shook, his breath came twice As fast, and all at once a wave Of grief broke on his cot and gave Way into heaving sobs. His head Rocked back and forth as though it said, Some old unspeakable regret That Barnabas could not forget Had bitten through his heart again.
Though startled, Paul remembered when He'd seen this once before. It was In Antioch, and Barnabas, Now years ago, had left the claims Of Truth, because some men from James Had pressured him and Cephas there To cut off fellowship, and share No more at meals, with Gentile saints. For Paul the source of such constraints Was not the Gospel of God's grace, And he opposed them to their face And used the very words he just Now spoke to Barnabas: "We must," He said, "Live grace and leave a trace Of Gospel Truth on all our ways." And Barnabas had wept for days.
"O Lord, I didn't mean to raise That up again." Paul dropped his head, And as he prayed, the wrenching bed Grew still, but neither loosed his hold. Then deep and quietly the old Man whispered low, "I love you, Paul. I weep because I owe you all My life." Paul shook his head, "You prayed For me when I was stoned; you laid My head across your knees outside The gate at Lystra, and you cried To God until I breathed again. What do you mean you owe me then Your life?" "I mean that when I strayed Out of the path, when I betrayed The King, and postured as a dove, You struck me in the face with love." The old man cracked his eyes and gazed Up in the face of Paul, and raised His hand to touch the soldier's arm: "You've never done me one day's harm. The Lord taught me more truth through you Than any other man. He knew The bane and weakness of my breed And just the son that I would need." And that was all they said. These two Whose bond of love was deep as you And I could ever dream. The one, A warrior for the truth, and son Of grace; the other, quiet, kind, And much to clemency inclined. Each had his way of being meek; And both were strong and both were weak.
Now come and ponder candle four Some new and tall, some used before; Some soft and barely kept afire, Some glowing like a temple pyre; Some bending by the heating grill, Some freezing in the window sill; Some thin and hard to keep upright, Some broad and safe all through the night.
Whichever burns in you today, Let jealousy be put away. You have a call to something higher: If mine burns out I need your fire.
Logos.ReferenceTagging.lbsBibleVersion = "ESV"; Logos.ReferenceTagging.lbsLinksOpenNewWindow = true; Logos.ReferenceTagging.lbsLibronixLinkIcon = "dark"; Logos.ReferenceTagging.lbsNoSearchTagNames = [ "h1", "h2", "h3" ]; Logos.ReferenceTagging.lbsCssOverride = true; Logos.ReferenceTagging.tag(); By John Piper. © 1987 Desiring God. Website: desiringGod.org
