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high council giving him permission to find all who belonged to the Way, and bring captives bound for judgment back to Jerusalem. Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea told us Saul had been with the men who killed Stephen. I wrote letters to warn them of danger and trusted in God to protect His own.
    We heard the great persecutor had been baptized. A report came that Saul was declaring Jesus the Christ in the synagogues of Damascus. Another reported Saul the Pharisee had gone away to Arabia. Why, no one could say.
    Men live in hope of their enemies repenting, and Saul of Tarsus had proven what an enemy he was.
    I doubted all the reports about Saul’s transformation. I hoped never to see his face again.
    Joseph, a Levite of Cypriot birth, told me, “Saul is in Jerusalem!” We all called Joseph “Barnabas” because he constantly encouraged everyone in their faith, even those who whined incessantly about their circumstances. “He would like to speak with us.”
    Ah, Barnabas, the one to always think the best of a man. Even a man like Saul of Tarsus! I remembered being angry at him for the first time. I had not forgotten the night that Pharisee entered my house, nor the weeks of pain I’d suffered until my broken ribs healed. “I don’t trust him.”
    “The Pharisees despise him, Silas. He’s in hiding. Did you know priests went up to Damascus to find him, and when they did, he was preaching in a synagogue and declaring Jesus is the Christ? They argued, but he confounded them with proof from the Scriptures. He knows the Torah and Prophets better than anyone.”
    I grew more stubborn. “The best way to find and kill all of us is to pretend to be one of us, Joseph.”
    Barnabas studied my face with eyes too much like Jesus’. “Do you hold a grudge against him for what he did to you?”
    His words cut deeply, and I answered through gritted teeth. “I have no right to judge any man. None of us do.” And then the knife. “But we must be discerning, Joseph. We must see what fruit a tree bears.”
    Barnabas wasn’t fooled. “And how can we see unless we look?”
    “You’ve met him.”
    “Yes. I’ve met him. I like him.”
    “You like everyone. If you met King Herod, you’d like him.”
    “You’re afraid of Saul.”
    “Yes, I’m afraid of the man. Anyone in their right mind would be afraid of him!”
    “I assure you I am in my right mind, Silas, and we must meet with Saul. He is a believer. More zealous than anyone I know.”
    “Indeed, he’s zealous. I saw how zealous. Were you in Damascus?”
    “No.”
    “I’m not as quick as you to believe reports from men I don’t know. What if it’s all an elaborate plot to hunt down and kill Peter and the rest?”
    “Jesus said not to fear death, Silas. Perfect love expels all fear.”
    Gentle words gently spoken, but a spear to my heart. “Then we know, don’t we? My love is not perfect.”
    His eyes filled with compassion. “Is it fear, Silas, or hatred at the heart of your suspicions?”
    Confronted, I confessed. “Both.”
    “Pray for him, then. You cannot hate a man when you pray for him.”
    “It depends on the prayer.”
    He laughed and slapped me on the back.
    The council met. Barnabas defended Saul vehemently. His words challenged our faith in God. We should fear no man, only God. And God had received Saul already. Proof was in his changed character, the power of his preaching—both evidence of the Holy Spirit.
    Of course, Barnabas turned to me. “What do you think, Silas? Should we trust him?”
    Another test of my faith. I wanted to say I was too biased to give an opinion. A coward’s way out. Jesus knew the truth, and the Holy Spirit dwelling within me would give me no peace until I repented of my bitterness. “I trust you, Barnabas. If you say Saul of Tarsus believes Jesus is the Christ, then he does.”
    When the man I hoped never to see again stood before the members of the council, I wondered if he had changed. He no longer dressed in the