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and express their thoughts.”
    “Would it not help you to sort your thoughts and feelings if you did? You suffer, Silas. We all can see that. You loved Peter and his wife. You loved Paul. It is never easy to lose a friend. And you’ve lost many.”
    “My faith is weak.”
    “Perhaps that is the best of all reasons for you to dwell on the past.” Epanetus spoke more seriously. “You have lived your life in service to others. Your ink-stained fingers are proof of it.”
    The darkest part of night had come, a darkness that crushed Silas’s spirit. He looked down at his hands. They indicted him.
    “Curiatus is named aptly.” Epanetus spoke gently. “But perhaps God brought you to us and put the idea in the boy’s head. Is that not possible?”
    Silas closed his eyes. Can I dwell on the past without being undone by it? I regret, Lord; I regret the wasted years. Is that a sin, too?
    Epanetus spread his hands. “Precious few are left who were in Judea when Jesus walked this earth.”
    “That’s all too painfully true.” Silas heard his bitterness.
    Epanetus sat, hands clasped, expression intense. “I will not share my story until I know you better, but know this: you are not alone in your struggle with faith. Whatever sorrow you carry other than the death of your friends is not hidden from the Lord. You know and I know Jesus died for all our sins and rose from the dead. Through faith in Him we have the promise of everlasting life. We will live forever in the presence of the Lord. But like the boy, I crave to know more about Jesus. So much of what we hear drifts away. Those scrolls, for example. Patrobas and I read two tonight. But if you leave tomorrow, how much will we all remember by next week or next month? And what of our children?”
    “Another has already set about the task of writing the history: Luke, the physician.”
    “I have heard of him. That’s wonderful news, Silas, but where is he now? He left Rome after Paul was beheaded, didn’t he? How long before we receive a copy of what he has written?”
    “He was not the only one. Many have undertaken the task of compiling an account of things that happened and what’s been accomplished.”
    “That may be so, Silas, but we have received nothing in the way of letters, other than the one written by Paul. You are here with us! We want to know what you learned from Peter and Paul. We want to see these men of faith as you did. They endured to the end. As you endure now. Share your life with us.”
    “What you ask is a monumental task!” And I’m so weary, Lord. Let someone else do what he asks .
    “The task is not beyond your abilities, Silas.” Epanetus gripped his arm. “Whatever you need, you have only to ask. Scrolls, ink, a safe place to write without interruption. God has blessed me with abundance so that I might bless others. Give me the blessing and honor to serve you.” The Roman stood. “May you be at peace with whatever God asks of you.”
    “Epanetus!” Silas called out before he left him alone in the room. “It is not easy to look back.”
    “I know.” The Roman stood in the doorway, mouth tipped. “But sometimes we must look back before we can move forward.”

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TWO
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    Silas, a disciple of Jesus Christ, eyewitness to the Crucifixion, servant of the risen Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, to the family of Theophilus. Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.
    The first time I heard the name of Jesus was in the Temple in Jerusalem. Rumors of false prophets and self-proclaimed messiahs were common in those days, and priests were often called upon to investigate. A few years earlier, Theudas had claimed to be the anointed one of God. He gained four hundred disciples before he was slain by the Romans. The rest dispersed. Then, during the census, Judas of Galilee rose up. Soon, he too was dead and his followers scattered. My father had warned me against men who grew like weeds among wheat. “Trust in the