The Apostle Paul
Within a fortnight Publius Had put his faith in Christ. He was A Roman guard assigned to keep Paul in his house. But soon the deep And joyful message took his heart, And made him and his son a part Of something very dangerous. For almost twelve years Publius Had raised his son alone. His name Was Missio and soon he came, When school was out, to sit with Paul And watch him use his hook and awl To make the tent and satchel seams. But mainly he would tap the streams Of memory inside the old Man's head. "And was it really cold Inside the jail?" he said. "Not so Severe that season, Missio, That half a dozen hearty psalms At midnight couldn't bear. It calms The heart and warms the shivering hands To sing about the sovereign plans Of God, and meditate on how, This time, the Lord would keep his vow To build his church and deal a blow To hell." "And did he?" Missio Leaned up and asked. Paul smiled and said, "Someday, when you are grown and wed, You take your wife to Philippi, And see if you can find out why This church, in all its poverty, With joy has given more to me Than any other church. God did Indeed fulfill his vow, and rid Not only me and Silas from Our dungeon chains but also some From bondage far more deep—not by The shaking of the earth and sky, But by the mighty tremors of The heart, called grace and joy and love. And so, young Missio, the Lord Of heav'n has never let his cord Of love be severed by my pain, Or fear, nor will he ever reign In vain! But he will build his church! And mark this, Missio, go search The thirty years that I have served, And you will find God never swerved From grace, though five times I was lashed With forty stripes less one; rods smashed Against my back three times with scar On scar; in constant danger far From any place called home; in thirst And toil and sleepless nights; and cursed To bear this thorn of Satan's hate Since I was stoned at Lystra's gate. Dear Missio, doubt not the Lord's Dear love nor power; no human swords Can stop the Word of God Most High Until it shines from sky to sky." And so the old apostle Paul Would talk with Missio. And all He ever did or said he taught The Roman lad, but sometimes thought And wondered if the time was spent In vain, or why the boy was sent.
Two years of house arrest in Rome Had passed. For Paul the little home Outside the great Praetorium Where Caesar reigned, had quickly come To be the beachhead of a King Whose power over everything Would make the flames of burning men And women spread to Spain, and then Up through the Pyrenes to Gaul, And on to lands whose names Saint Paul Had never heard, with blazing light, As well as pain, and conquering night And Satan's ancient reign. Nero Had never dreamed the horrid glow Of living lanterns soaked in oil Would fail to function as a foil For his own wicked cowardice, And even turn the king's caprice To serve the Truth and give it wings, For Jesus is the King of kings! At first Paul hoped that he would be The one to reach the western sea, And speak the mighty name of Christ. For this he'd lived and sacrificed For thirty years. He often said: "Lord, I would suffer any pain, If I could bear your name in Spain!" But soon Paul saw the turning tide In Rome. The witnesses had lied. The Jews who trusted Christ were shut Out of the synagogues and cut Off from the shield of Israel. And now the awful weeks would tell: It suddenly became a crime To worship Jesus Christ, and time Was growing short. Unfailing trust In God, that he is wise and just. And that he rules the hearts of kings And turns for his design all things, Held back the great apostle from Despair, and caused a dream to come Into his mind.
Young Missio Was fourteen now, his heart aglow With God. His father had been burned. And now he was alone, and yearned With white hot zeal to give his life For Christ. Not games nor gold nor wife Ignited his desire, but only this: "To die just like my dad, and kiss The flames with courage to the end." But Paul had other plans, "My friend," He said to Missio one day, "I don't know why they've let me stay Alive these weeks of torturings, But I have word that morning brings My time. Dear son, I ask a vow: Tomorrow morn do not allow Yourself the bold desire to die With me. Please, swear this night to fly And meet Luke in Neapolis. Make haste, dear Missio, don't miss The ship. My books and notes have gone Before. The vessel sails at dawn." "But why, my father, I am not Afraid to die." "That is your lot, Brave Missio, but not in Rome. Swear now that you will leave your home, And go for Christ—and me—to Spain. And Missio...the loss is gain. Swear now that you will not return, But let my fire go on to burn In you, my son, across the great Peninsula and strike the gate Of hell in Britain if you can. Who knows if there might be some clan Beyond the western sea the Lord Has chosen for himself. The sword, If need be can be passed again. You will have sons, ten thousand men And women will believe the truth Of God. There will be other youth To send, when you are old like me And churches spread through Brittainy. This is my passion, Missio, My life, my call, my dream. Now go!" The lips of Missio began To quiver. "Paul, I'm not a man Like you, I..." Paul reached out and took Him in his arms, and while they shook In speechless sobs the mantle passed. "Go, son. The sorrow will not last. Give me your hand and promise now." He took his hand and said, "I vow." And so the light of candle four Has come to us from shore to shore. And yet the dream is still a call. Who feels the passion now of Paul?
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. © 1986 Desiring God. Website: desiringGod.org
