Chapter 1

The Call

 

 “Fraud!” shouted a bald man near the back. “You come in here pretending to be the god Hermes, and look at you . . . you’re no different from us.”

Rioters had already reached the gate to Lois’ courtyard, and when she tried to stop them, they roughly pushed her aside, rushed into her courtyard and grabbed Paul.

“You preach against Moses,” harangued a Jew from Iconium who did his best to stir up the crowd—while he himself stood in the background. “We ought to stone you.”

“Yeah, stone ‘em!” shouted another Jew near the gate.

The crowd took up the chant: “Stone ‘em! Stone ‘em!”

“No! No!” screamed Lois. “Let him go!”

But the mob seemed unstoppable. They dragged him into the street.

 “Bring him over here,” shouted a straggly-haired beggar half-way down the street. “We got big stones here in the square.”

“Oh, no,” groaned Paul as another fellow yanked him by the arm. “Lord, Help!” He tried to extricate himself from the assailants grasp. “PlEAse dON’t . . . ugh!” He found it next to impossible to speak anymore, because of the violence with which the crowd pulled him this way and that. He tripped and almost fell, but the men around him jerked him to is feet and buffeted him down the way.

The angry Lystrians bullied him to a spot in the town square near a pile of limestone chunks. A huge man wrested him from their clutches and slammed him down onto the stone pavement. Several men grabbed grapefruit-sized rocks from a pile of unused paving stones.

Paul could hardly breathe from the man-handling he’d received, but he cried out when the first missile hit his ribs. “OoOWww . . . unh!” Stones hit his arms.

“LORd, forGIVE them . . . ,” he blurted out as other projectiles hit his shoulder, his backbone, his legs: he felt as though a wall was falling on him—one brick at a time.

Then, as the giant who’d knocked him down planted a small boulder up-side his head . . . the lights went out.

Paul was apparently dead.

Two well-muscled men grabbed him by the arms and dragged him out, dropping his body some distance from the city. They turned around and reentered the gate. Mission accomplished!

Barnabas bent over his friend, tears trickling down his cheeks. “Paul . . . Paul . . .” Oh Lord! Let this not be the end, he prayed silently. Paul and I have had such a wonderful time working for You, ever since. . . .

 

Barnabas and Saul sat on a stone bench beside the well-traveled road from Tarsus, Cilicia, to Antioch, Syria. They’d walked half a day, and stopped to eat barley cakes and fruit from the knapsacks they carried, slung from their shoulders. Water gurgled out of a stone pipe someone had set into the hillside behind them, and they drank it from their cupped hands. The liquid provided cool refreshment for parched throats.

The road, made of flat stones closely fitted together, was wide enough for two ox-drawn wagons to pass, with room to spare. Farmers used these two or four-wheeled wagons to bring their grain and produce to market, while tradesmen from afar often used donkey’s or camels. An occasional chariot of an official or wealthy citizen traveled the lanes as well. Most people walked. Saul noticed a work gang toiling on the road down toward Antioch.

People and vehicles passed at regular intervals. Travelers often moved in small groups—some on foot, some riding on horseback or on burros. Moving in company with others proved safer when going any distance, because bandits often pounced upon “small” prey. Most people on this road trekked toward Antioch, the third largest city in the empire, after Rome and Alexandria.

Two Roman soldiers strode toward the resting pair, talking loudly and laughing as they came.

“A funny thing happened the other day,” bellowed one. “I commanded a miserable-looking peasant to carry me gear.” He laughed before he continued. “ ‘Come!’ I says, ‘tote me pack a mile!’”

“What’s so funny about that?” asked his friend.

“Well, he says to me: ‘Happy to do it, Sir,’ he says. ‘Why don’t I carry it two miles?’” He laughed even harder than before. “Can you ‘magine a guy wantin’ to drag me stuff two miles? Somet’ins wrong upstairs, I say.”

“Did you ask him why he’d do that?”

“Yeah,” replied the first soldier, as they passed Barnabas and Saul. “Said he’s a Christian.”

“A what?”

“A Christian,” the Roman continued. “Says he follows some bloke named Jesus Christ. Crucified by a buncha our guys. But . . . listen to this . . . This guy claims that this dead Jesus rose from the dead three days later . . . and then ascended to heaven. Can you beat that?” He laughed so hard he bent over and held his side.

“Rose from the grave? Went to heaven?” The other soldier lifted his helmet and scratched his head. “That sound’s interesting. I’d like to hear more about that.”

“What? You gonna become . . . .” Their voices trailed off down the highway.

“Looks like the brethren in Antioch are having good success,” smiled Barnabas. “That’s why I brought you from Tarsus. I needed you, and I knew you’d want to be in the middle of this. You were always looking for some way to preach the Word.” The two men rose, reached for their walking sticks and knapsacks. “Well, you’ll have plenty of opportunity in Antioch.”

“I can’t wait!” shot back Saul with a laugh, as the two hastened toward their destination.

Saul, a small man with dark skin, bowed legs and a large nose, didn’t seem to be much outwardly. But when he opened his mouth to talk, his intelligence and demeanor caused the listener to forget all about his appearance.

Barnabas, tall, handsome, easygoing, always had a ready word to cheer even the most disheartened. Everybody liked Barnabas. As the two advanced toward Antioch, some wondered why a man like Barnabas would bring an ugly little side-kick like Saul along. Such an odd pair!

“The Roman soldier said that the man who had carried his bags called himself a Christian.” He paused while playing the conversation over again in his head. “And you said ‘the brethren in Antioch’ . . . Where’d the name Christian come from?”

“Some Greeks called us Christians—in jest I suppose. It means ‘devotees of the Anointed One.’” Barnabas greeted a woman passing in the opposite direction. “But the brethren talked about it at length. ‘We’ve always referred to ourselves as the followers of the Way,’ they reasoned, ‘but this word describes us better, because it actually names our Leader—Christ, the Son of God,’” He looked at Saul for a moment. “And so we’re known as Christians in Antioch.”

The two walked on in silence for a time, moving through growing traffic.

Saul scratched his head after a time. “I guess it’s a good name, Barnabas. It does describe us better than ‘followers of the Way.’” He laughed. “I guess we can leave off the ‘fish’ sign and openly let people know who we are.”

The short Jew stopped at a merchant’s table. His action happened so quickly that Barnabas walked on several strides before he realized that Saul no longer accompanied him. Turning back to the table he found Saul fingering some heavy cloth.

“This fabric is fantastic!” the little Pharisee beamed. “The finest tent awning I’ve ever seen.” Turning to the owner of the booth he asked: “Where did you get this wool? I’ve only seen such marvelous material in the area north of my home town.”

“We bought it from a trader living in Cilicia . . . north of Tarsus,” replied the seller, a Syrian.

“Yes,” remarked Saul. “I’m from Tarsus. That’s where I learned to make tents.”

“You’re a tentmaker then,” the owner brightened. “Would you mind giving me a little advice?”

“Not at all.” Saul beamed.

“I purchased these pelts the other day from a passing farmer.” The man turned and retrieved a stack of goat-skins from a shelf behind him. “I thought they looked like they’d make good tents. And a good price I paid for them too.”

“I don’t know . . .” Saul looked closely at the hides for a moment or two. He drew one, and then another from the pile, but then smiled. “These two would make better wineskins, but the others could become good tent flaps.”

“Would you be interested in working with me in the store?” asked the merchant. “I could use a good eye like yours. Make you a good offer, I will.”

“Thanks,” replied Saul as he turned to leave. “I have more important work to do. I’m going to Antioch to teach people about Jesus, who was crucified and then rose from the grave again—three days later.”

“Say, what?”

Saul explained: “Jesus, the Christ, came to Judah to teach the people about God. He worked for over 3 years, teaching people, healing them of their diseases . . . He even raised dead people to life again. . . .”

“Whoa! . . . just hold on there mister!” The store owner stood up and walked around his sales table. “Slow down a bit. You said this man taught about God, that He healed people and . . . and He even raised the dead!?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Tell me more. This sounds intriguing.” He motioned to a bench nearby, and Saul and Barnabas sat facing the merchant.

“Jesus,” began Saul, “a man from Nazareth in the area of Galilee in North Judah, traveled about Judah and Galilee for three and a half years, preaching the good news that the kingdom of God had come to earth.” The diminutive Jew cleared his throat and continued. “He taught the people truth from heaven, healed people, cast out devils, and even raised dead people to life again.”

“Wait a minute.” The trader seemed to be agitated. “He did what to devils and dead people?”

“He raised dead people to life, and cast out demons that had taken over people’s bodies and made them sick.”

“Oh,” he appeared to be deeply shaken, but settled again in his chair.

“He became very popular among the people. But the Jewish leaders didn’t like Him. Jesus was taking away their people from them. They were losing their power, and they didn’t like it at all.”

“What did they do?”

“They took Him prisoner, judged Him a blasphemer against God—they said that He had claimed to be God. They handed Him over to the Romans who Crucified Him.”

“Crucified Him! An innocent man?”

“Yes.” Saul’s expression showed his mixed feelings of pain and joy over the excruciating pain of the crucifixion and death of Christ—that saved people from their sins. “They laid Him in a tomb, but on the third day, He rose from the dead, and 40 days later, He went to heaven accompanied by a band of angels.”

“He died?”The merchant breathed the words as though they were sacred, “and then rose again?”

“That’s right,” put in Barnabas. “And He did it all to pay for our sins. You know that the penalty for the wicked things we do is eternal death.”

The salesman nodded.

 “But Jesus died so that, if we believe in Him . . . if you believe in Him . . . He will take away your sins and give you eternal life.”

“He did that for me?”

“Yes, He did it for you.” Saul leaned toward the man, who was now wiping his eyes. “And He wants you to accept Him as your Savior. If you believe that He died for you, then He will give you eternal life.”

“I believe,” replied the seller, choked with sobs. “I believe. Tell me more.”

 

Antioch, the administrative capital of the Roman province of Syria, had a population of over half a million people. The cosmopolitan metropolis had a racially mixed citizenry—a large colony of Jews, and an overwhelming number of “Gentiles” (anyone who did not happen to be a Jew), Greeks, Syrians, Cilicians, Cyprians, and a host of other nationalities. They all came to Antioch for different reasons. But most had, among their other motives, a desire to be in a place known for its resorts of ease and pleasure, its wealth, culture, and refinement. But, with all its allurements, the city had become filled with luxury and vice.

The capital of Syria, Antioch lay sixteen miles upstream from the Mediterranean Sea, on the Orontes River, in the northwestern part of the country. The original city on the south bank of the Orontes was matched on the opposite bank by a newer section of many splendid temples and private villas. Between them, an island in the river was transformed into a civic center linked with the other parts of town by five bridges. The Romans had also built magnificent theaters, stadiums and public baths in various parts of the city.

And in Antioch, Christians outnumbered those in Jerusalem—the center of Jewish culture and the headquarters of the Christian church. Christianity had spread rapidly among the Gentiles who had leaned toward Judaism.

These people had felt drawn to the traditions of the Jews and the God they worshiped. But when Christianity began to rise in the city, these friends of the Jews saw in the new “sect” a promise they missed in Jewry: a Divine/human Savior. They never tired of hearing of Jesus’ teachings and healings. The story of the trial, torture, and the cross never failed to bring tears to their eyes and a desire to be a disciple of this Jesus who died for . . . “me.”

No one, who had learned about Jesus and received Him as Savior, could keep quiet about it. They just had to tell their kin, their neighbors, their friends and acquaintances, at work, at home, at rest with friends, or anywhere they might strike up a conversation with others. The gospel spread like wild fire throughout the city, and the number of the followers of Jesus grew more every day.

 

Saul and Barnabas strode into the large building where the Christians met daily to worship, pray, sing, and encourage each other to be faithful.

“It’s a splendid place,” enthused Saul, as he took in the scene. “And so near the city center.”

“We were blessed to find this place in which to meet.” Barnabas paused to let Saul have more time to think about the implications of the locality. “The owner used this for banquets and parties. But when he became a Christian he offered it to us as a meeting place.”

“It’s a wonderful gesture,” Saul exclaimed.

“And the church has grown well, too.”

“Barnabas, Barnabas.” Two women called from the other end of the hall. “When did you return?”

“Just minutes ago,” he replied.

“We missed you so much,” they continued as they approached. “Where did you go?”

“I went to Tarsus to fetch my friend here . . . Saul. He’s a good preacher, and I thought he could help us reach the Gentiles better.”

“Welcome, Saul.” They greeted Saul by kissing him on both cheeks—according to custom.

“Where will the two of you stay?” asked the older of the two. “You could stay with us, if you like. We have a spare room.”

“That is so thoughtful of you,” put in Saul. “Yes, we would enjoy lodging with your family.”

Barnabas smiled, and nodded his head.

“Then come with me. I’ll help you to get settled.”

 

Several years before, the church at Antioch had been started by disciples from Cyprus and Cyrene. Besides preaching to the Jews, they spoke to the Greeks also, telling them the good news about the Lord Jesus. The Lord’s hand had been with them and a great number of people turned to the Lord and were baptized.

When the disciples at Jerusalem had heard of such a great work growing up in Antioch, they sent Barnabas to meet with the people and to help them organize into a church. This had been a means of making them a more powerful witness to the city. Working together, God’s people have always accomplished more for Him than when they merely worked alone.

Barnabas’ name meant “son of encouragement” and that’s exactly the kind of man he was. Everywhere he went, he helped people become stronger in their relationship with Jesus. He pressed the brethren together into groups, and instructed them how to work as a “strike force” for Jesus. People could see clearly that this man was clearly full of the Holy Spirit and faith, and when they worked with him and followed his counsel, a great number of people were brought to the Lord.

As the church grew, Barnabas could see that he would need help in caring for the people and in preaching the good news to the growing numbers of those who became interested in Jesus. He remembered that about 14 years before he had met a man named Saul, a former persecutor of the church who had been converted to Christ. He had sensed, at the time, that this man had tremendous energy, and an inner drive to tell others about Christ. Perhaps Saul would be the man who could help me in Antioch, he thought.

For this reason Barnabas had made the trip to Tarsus to get Saul and to bring him back to Antioch. It took a great deal of persuasion, for Saul had built up a large church in Tarsus during the dozen or so years he’d been there.

But Saul could see the possibilities at Antioch, so he packed his knapsack, and gave a farewell talk to the believers whom he’d come to love so much. He had organized this church and had appointed leaders over it, so he had no qualms for its future. Saying his last “good byes” then, he turned his face to go with Barnabas to Antioch.

 

Saul and Barnabas worked for a year, preaching in the Synagogues, in the market places, the city parks, in the by-ways—wherever they could gather a group of listeners.

“You’re just the person we needed,” affirmed Barnabas one day.

“I’m happy I can be of help,” returned Saul.

“I mean, your learning, your zeal, your wisdom . . . you have exerted a powerful influence in this city.” He stopped, looking into the eyes of Saul. “God has caused the work to grow among people we couldn’t have reached without you.”

“I’m merely a humble servant of God,” was all that Saul would say.

 

Hundreds of people accepted the Lord and were baptized. So many came into the church that the large building, so generously given to them, became unable to hold all the people.

“We’ll have to do something soon,” Barnabas told Saul during worship at the church one Sabbath. “We have just too many people in this building.”

“You’re right,” agreed Saul. “But we can’t turn anyone away. All of them love Jesus, and if we turn them away, they may lose hope . . . being left alone.”

“Let’s gather a council of church leaders, and discuss the problem.”

When the leaders met with Barnabas and Saul they agreed that they would have to do something about the problem.

 “It’s critical,” said one of the elders.

“Why don’t we organize some of the people into small groups in their own neighborhoods?” suggested a deacon. “That way they could worship nearer home, and have a better chance of winning people to Christ in that area.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” put in Barnabas. “How can we go about it?”

“We’ll have to talk it over with the church next Sabbath, and let them decide,” put in the elder. “They’ll know where the best places are.”

“That’s a good idea,” chuckled Saul. “With more churches, the gospel can spread faster, and many more people will learn about Jesus . . . and be saved.”

So on the following Sabbath the church decided to establish groups of believers in other parts of the city. And those who believed multiplied greatly in Antioch.

 

“There will be a great famine over the entire Roman world.” Agabus, one of several recognized prophets, had come up from Jerusalem. “This will especially affect Judah and Jerusalem, and many of our people will suffer hunger and want.”

“That’s terrible,” remarked a concerned church member. “We should do something to help them.”

“Just what I was thinking,” another responded. “Maybe we should collect money among ourselves and send it to them so they will be able to survive during the famine.”

“Amen,” echoed several of the saints.

A murmur of voices moved through the church as families talked among themselves and with their neighbors about what they could do. Soon calls came from various parts of the congregation, asking for a deacon or elder to collect the money they had gathered in their area. Baskets appeared in the hands of the church leaders and after everyone had placed their contributions into the baskets, the amount had become a large sum. When the total was read to the congregation, “Amen,” “Hallelujah,” and “Praise God” rang out from every side. They rejoiced to have a part in the relief of the wants of a sister church—especially the headquarters church in Jerusalem.

“One of your group should take the money to Jerusalem,” suggested Agabus. “It will help the brothers to realize that it is your gift, not just money that I collected in Antioch.”

“That’s a good idea,” replied one of the elders. Turning toward the church he asked: “Whom should we send?”

Several names were mentioned, but none won wide approval.

“Why don’t we send Barnabas and Saul?” suggested a member about half-way back in the group. “They know the people at Jerusalem better than any of us.”

“Good idea,” chorused the congregation.

“Is everybody happy with that?” asked the elder.

“Amen,” chorused the entire group.

When the church decided that Barnabas and Saul would go, they also wanted them to take the message: “Your brothers from Antioch wish to be of help to those in Jerusalem who would be in need on account of the coming famine.”

 

The brethren in Jerusalem received them well, and sent their thankful greetings to the church in Antioch.

When Barnabas and Saul finished their mission in Jerusalem, they returned to Antioch, taking with them, Barnabas’ cousin John Mark.

 

“You’ve noticed, of course,” remarked Barnabas as the three made their way toward Antioch, “that Jews in the dispersion, in the scattered territories away from Judah, live close together in a community of their own.”

“That’s right,” returned Saul. “It helps us maintain the uniqueness of our faith.”

“It’s that way in Antioch too,” continued Barnabas, “except that there are fewer Jews per capita with the general population.”

“Look at the lion in the den back there,” interrupted John Mark pointing out the spot. The three stopped and looked back to the place where the young man had directed them.

“I see it,” replied Saul, excited. “Looks like it has two cubs.” He studied them for a few minutes. “You generally don’t see them on the rocks in the daylight like this.”

“I’ve seen them that way,” sighed Barnabas, impatient to get on to Antioch. “A remarkable animal, but it can be dangerous in certain situations.”

“True.” Saul turned his steps back toward their destination, and the others followed.

“Anyway.” Barnabas picked up where he had left off. “There are a lot more Gentiles in Antioch when compared to Jews than in most places. That’s because it’s such a big city. And since the Jews are such a limited minority, they’ve tended to take on many customs from the Gentiles.”

“What are you saying?” asked John Mark.

“Since the Jews are not as different as the Gentiles, compared to conditions in Jerusalem, Gentiles have found Judaism less objectionable, and many have sought to become Jews.”

“I’ve noticed that too.” Saul pondered what Barnabas had said. “But they hesitate to become Jews because they don’t want to go through the pain of circumcision.”

“That’s right, and that makes Christianity more appealing to them. The gospel is free, and Gentiles don’t have to be circumcised to become disciples of Christ.”

“But Cousin Barnabas,” asked Mark. “Jews are put out of the Synagogue if they aren’t circumcised. How can a Gentile become a Jew without it?”

“Because they’re not becoming Jews, John. They’re becoming Christians—followers of Christ. They don’t have to become Jews to become followers of Christ. Remember what Jesus said: ‘If I am lifted up on the cross, I will draw all peoples unto me.’ He didn’t say anything about all peoples becoming Jews so that they could come to him.”

“I see,” said John

“You’re treading pretty close to heresy,” injected Saul. “I believe you’re right, but you’ll need to be quiet about that—at least for a while.”

 

Saul had a peculiar experience that made him uniquely qualified to reach out to the Gentiles with the Gospel. He was a Jew who had grown up in the Syrian city of Tarsus—a free Roman city—and had lived most of his life in a Greco-Roman culture. And yet he had been educated in the strictest Jewish tradition and had studied in Jerusalem under the premier Pharisaic rabbi, Gamaliel. Though an ardent Pharisee, Saul spoke fluent Greek, understood the way they thought and had an extensive knowledge of their literature.

The man also had an intimate background of the Hebrew Scripture—the Bible on which Jesus had based His teachings. So, Saul was in a unique position to explain Christianity in a way that the Pagan mind could comprehend.

 

Barnabas and Saul had been back from Jerusalem for several weeks and deeply involved in preaching and teaching Jews and Gentiles about Jesus.

“When you served your pagan gods,” explained Saul to a small group of Greeks, “you had a lot of things that you were required to do. You had to bring sacrifices to the temple, go through various motions while you presented it to the priest, bow down with you head to the ground before the image of the god, and intone certain phrases. You did all this so that you would be accepted by the god, and you hoped he would do for you what you wanted. There was no hope of any reality beyond this life.”

Saul looked around at the group. “But it’s not that way with Jesus. Jesus died on the cross to pay for all our guilt. He doesn’t require us to do anything to get His attention, or to buy His good graces. All that has to be done for our salvation . . . Jesus accomplished on the cross. We don’t have to do it for Him . . . He did it for us. Jesus is enough to save us for eternity. We don’t need to do anything but to believe that He died for our sins, and He does all the rest.”

After the crowd dispersed, several huddled around Saul, questioning about Jesus, His death, how Saul could be sure that He had risen and then ascended to heaven. A few professed faith in Jesus and were baptized. Afterward Saul took them to the church and introduced them to the members who were there.

“Why don’t you all plan to sit in my study group?” invited one of the church deacons. “We’re studying some of the predictions that the prophets made about the coming of Messiah. It’s remarkable how Jesus fulfilled them all.”

 “Yes,” chorused the group, as they began to make friends.

As Barnabas and Saul left the church, Saul rambled as he thought out loud:

“You know, Barnabas, when I met Christ on the Damascus road and was blinded for 3 days, it was a man from the church whom the Holy Spirit sent to heal me and baptize me. And right away I became involved in the life of the church. And here in Antioch, the church has been the impetus behind our work.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that.”

“When Ananias healed me he told me that the Holy Spirit had selected me to be ‘a chosen vessel . . . to bear My name before the Gentiles, and kings, and the children of Israel.’ And when I was praying in the temple, about three years afterward, an angel appeared to me and said 'Go; I will send you far away to the Gentiles.'”

“That’s interesting,” returned Barnabas. “That’s the kind of work you’re doing here in Antioch.”

“But it seemed to have a much broader meaning.” Saul paused and looked at the people walking by the front of the church, and at the market place just beyond. “It seems that Antioch is just a starting point, that there will be much more for us to do.”

“Hmm, I never thought of it that way.”

“And whatever that work is, we’ll need to do it in connection with the church. As we help people to accept Jesus as their Savior, we need to collect them together into a church and appoint leaders who will guide them.”

“That sounds like a good plan.” Barnabas considered the ideas for a moment. “You know,” he mused, “you may be right about a broader work. It seems that God has been working on your heart, as though He has been preparing you for something . . . some special work He has in mind for you to do.”

“And whatever it is, Barnabas, I’ll do it. Will you go with me?”

“Indeed I will.” He smiled at the prospects of working with such a remarkable man, and put out his hand as a token of agreement. Saul grasped it, and a partnership emerged which would light itself down in time as one of the greatest unions in the history of the church.

But neither of them had as yet been formally ordained to the gospel ministry.

 

There were a number of prophets and teachers in the church at Antioch. The prophets worked mostly as counselors to those who had life-changing crises in their lives. They encouraged people who were new in the church and were having difficulties with getting off work on the Sabbath, or whose spouses didn’t understand their conversion to Christianity. Occasionally a prophet would receive a direct communication from the Holy Spirit, which he then shared with the church.

There were several men in the church at Antioch who belonged to these groups: Barnabas, Simeon (called Niger), Lucius of Cyrene, Manaen (who had been brought up with Herod the tetrarch), and, lastly, Saul who seemed to have been thought of as a teacher.

One day when many members of the church had been fasting, and the entire group were worshiping, the Holy Spirit spoke through one of the prophets: “Set apart for me Barnabas and Saul for the work to which I have called them.”

The leaders of the church gathered to discuss how they should go about this.

“The Scriptures portray,” explained one of the elders, “that men were set apart for special service by a ceremony in which several devoted men lay their hands on the head of the one who was being ordained.”

“That’s right,” put in another elder. “I also remember reading about that in the Scriptures.”

“Perhaps that’s what we should do,” agreed one of the prophets.

So said, the prophet signaled to the worshipers to move forward in the hall. A shuffle of feet and a low murmur of voices accompanied the movement as the believers assembled in the front of the church.

“The Holy Spirit has asked us to set apart Barnabas and Saul for a special mission to the Gentiles,” explained the prophet. “They will be authorized by the church to teach the truth, and to perform the rite of baptism, and to organize churches. Barnabas, Saul, would you kneel here in the middle of us?”

The group knelt with a number of elders and deacons circling the two men.

“O Lord,” prayed the prophet. “You have asked us to set apart Barnabas and Saul for a special mission that you have for them to do. We understand that they will be going from here to preach the gospel among the Gentiles. We do not know exactly what your plans are, but as we lay our hands on their heads”—all those who had knelt near enough to the two men, now reached out their hands and placed them on the heads of Barnabas and Saul—“we ask the Holy Spirit to give these men special power to preach the word for you near and afar. We ordain Barnabas and Saul to Your work O God. Amen”

“Amen,” chorused the church.