What’s on the Next Hill
The goings on of Antioch was no worse for wear because of my arrival, for I’d made amends to all that I hurt with my shenanigans, and now awaited the eastern sky to announce itself with new beginnings, so I could once again head in the northwest direction.
A few weeks ago, the time Paul confronted me, was once again one of those experiences in life that can turn one’s life around and be a true blessing of prosperity, and for a fact, it was for me. Heziriah had become a very dear friend to me, and I to him, his heart had been unchallenged with the pride of prejudice, and a man slow to anger; therefore, forgave me before I could get the whole apology out of my mouth. He was very instrumental in the advance of my growth, and I think kind people, such as him, know that as an end result, for patience will give a man much of what he’d never receive without it. So between him, Paul, and several others of this city, this Peter was a changed man, or at least honestly changing, and the roads ahead, and that ones left behind, are the building blocks of my new life; and I was excited. You know, once in a while during our life, things happen in greatness, or at least what we call greatness, and less than a handful of events such as this, have happened to me. Meeting my wife was the first, and certainly when meeting the Christ of God, but the reprimand given to me by God thru Paul was one of those moments that has internally changed my life forever, and ranks within the same group of special highlights of my days.
John had already left us journeying south and west, and now Andrew had decided to go back towards Galilee. We’d discussed this in detail for the last couple of days, and he wanted me to go also, but I couldn’t; for God had plans for me, and in no way was I going backwards. Writing letters, and giving him messages, everything was set for him and me to depart as friends, as well as brothers. Andrew was dear to me, and I knew that the rest of my journey was for me alone, and I was glad that he carried letters to the ones I’d left, and that, I could trust. We hugged, exchanged exhortations, and as the sun lifted to full view, we both began in our separate directions.
Just writing the long letter to my wife made me feel close to her, for love has no boundaries, nor can distance hinder it, but in the letter, I could say things that only she could hear.
I know not what awaits me as I travel to Philippi by way of Troas, but I do know that God reigns more abundantly from within me. My soul is now at rest, as I have given it to the Spirit that dwells in me, and that marriage alone, the soul and spirit, can bring nothing but peace.
The genesis of this journey, now beginning, will take three weeks, and that is if all goes well. I have been supplied, given maps, and been well versed on the terrain; and from Troas, there is still much farther to go; and with anticipation, and this new revelation, I’m looking forward to it. Now knowing that God punishes not, but loves his children, even with their faults, gives me a zeal for the road ahead and the plans that God has stored for me in this adventure. All self-pity has been put aside, for the flesh of Peter continues dying, I was now walking on the south side of a long mountain range that leads past the half-way point of this journey, and I am excited.
This path that I follow is wide enough for three men to walk abreast, at least in most places, but not nearly as traveled as the road that led from the south to Antioch. Since there was a far distance between these two cities, not many purchased its’ path, I was for the most part, traveling alone, which suited me just fine. Many new thoughts and recollections traveled with me through my mind, which began again to take the form of the mind of Christ, and having this quiet time with just me, I also set an adventure within my heart that was sorely needed. I prayed, sang, and sometimes I’d dance, for with this new renaissance, I was regenerating with every step.
The first group of people I met was tired from their venture, for they had weeks of fumbling foot steps behind them and were now in a state of exhaustion, but very friendly. We sat and talked for an hour or two, and for the most part, talked about the road behind them, and its’ relentless miles of nothingness. I think they thought me to be nuts, but said very little about it, and by the side-ways smiles of their faces, I could tell they were somewhat amused of my need to dance and rejoice, as I gave them the short version of the resurrected Christ. They listened, but not profusely, but then again, maybe a seed was planted.
Miles lay ahead, and every one of them lay as a path within my heart to study to show myself approved, for God has already shown His approval. With each step I seemed to understand the approval in which all, which already has in God thru Christ, that is, in that event of that dreadful day of His crucifixion, has already been paid for by Him, and has been given to all. Love, and I mean the true and real kind of Love, conquers everything, every deed, every ill of man, but all that the religious leaders want to use to hold us to, and their misguided attempts to control man, are a far cry from it; we are free, and free indeed.
At an earlier point in my life, the confrontation from Paul would have felt inexcusable, but as it was, God had prepared me inwardly to receive it as a blessing, a true life changing event, a forum that I can now stand upon, for in truth, I was guilty. The guilt too, cannot, nor will not bring anything but growth, all things work together for good to those who Love the Lord, and Love Him I do.
The road, at times, was rugged, the scenery beautiful, the people met, well, let me say they were of a different breed but entertaining. The temperature just right, for I enjoyed every breath of air these lungs were filled with. And it had taken but thirteen days to reach Troas, my first real stop for these legs that just didn’t seem to get tired in any way, and I was refreshed with energy as when the first day I’d left. I would meet people and some would pause long enough to chat awhile, but most were in a hurry for this road behind me was made for the determined and the business folks, for to travel it, one would most likely have to enjoy the solitude or be bored with the loneliness. For in that three hundred mile stretch, only every day or two would one walk by another traveler, and in most cases, it would be as one of those I just described. But being in Troas was quite different, as this was a seafaring town built right on the shore of the Great Sea, just south of the Straights of a lesser sea before it entered into the Black Sea, and in nowhere that these feet had taken me, had I seen such large and lavish ships.
I’d made it to this first city of maritime in two days less than was told it would take, and had to take no immediate rest upon my arrival.
It was almost daily that some ship would enter port, or one would leave, for from here one could reach the far ends of the earth, or at least I believe, and had heard talk that ships sometimes sailed to Caesarea, just north and west of Jerusalem. “What an easy way to travel”, was my first thought; but then again, look at what I would have missed.
The people here were friendly; most, I had something in common with, as far as being on boats, but the fish here were far different than those of my home sea, and the sailors, maybe a little tougher. But it took not an hour before meeting a man that looked as if he’d been raised by the sea, as tough as a rock, and very animated in his tales of the sea. We talked for hours, and some of the stories told might have been true, but for the most part, I think they were designed for entertainment, as this port served as his refuge and his deposit of seafaring rubbish that wasn’t heard, or couldn’t tell to the ones he sailed with. But I thought him a man of interest with the way the arms were used to express, sometimes in great detail, the whole of the story.
To say the least about this city by the sea, I was amused, sometimes saddened, but always anticipating something new around each corner or across the street that would hold my interest.
I didn’t stay in Troas but less than a week, seemed there were so many different kinds of gods that they couldn’t understand, much less come together in and to separate one from the other, and had but little time to hear of o
ur true and our living God; so I left.
Sailing on a ship that navigated northwest, a two day journey that weekly ferried folks to and from Neapolis, a town just south of Philippi, I was again feeling at home in my element. Now Philippi was cradled next to the mountains that ran close to the sea, but not in it, a far safer place for the folks of that area to plant themselves, for the mountains provided most of their protection, at least from storms. Things happened in that town, and some of them were life changing. I had a story to tell and at times people would gather to listen, and most of what I’d say had been heard before, so I guess God sent me to follow up and water, that which had already been planted. For the words of Jesus Christ was readily accepted; and many were eager to hear more, as I would sit, and sometimes walk among them preaching Him crucified, and resurrected.
For the next three years, what I did was; go where the Spirit led me, sometimes teaching, sometimes learning, for the Holy Spirit was continually working from within the marrow of my being. About the time that I’d think it was my turn to teach or preach, in reality, it would be my turn to learn, for God expressed Himself through diverse means, sometimes from within, but many times through statements made by the folks I thought were there to learn. In truth, I was there to learn. I was challenged in every corner of my life, for many times, again, I’d look for Him thru the front door, but God would slip in thru the back, it was always exciting to see what was next.
Anyway, those three years were great. I traveled to just about every city and seaport of that region, and several times to the far away ones, once even going to Rome, but not for long stay. As God would move me from one village or town to the next, even the tent cities were not to be endured for long. I never did return back home, and several times I could send messages, but only twice received them. This was the reason I was born and tutored for, I’m convinced, and with all the many defects in me that had to be combed out, I now sense that I‘m prepared for these days and those ahead.
I met masses of folks during my trekking across more than a few countries, many different ethnic groups, several languages, countries of little people, and some villages of almost larger than life people, and no matter where I went, all seem to have their own particular ceremonies of another man-made god. These obstacles were what all the years of grooming were for, in the Spirit, nothing could detour me from that which I was sent for.
Although most of the people were not affected by my Words of hope, but then again; many were. God’s Spirit moved within and among every step I took, either healing them, or purifying me. What a great time and place to be alive.,