Do Your Utmost: Chapter 11

Notes:
I changed the title, and the numbering system was confusing so I'm just posting whole chapters, but it's still the same story. You all can let me know which title you like better, if you wish.

Eleven: En Route to Troas

“Why does all this mean that we have to take Alexander with us to see Paul, a person against whom Paul himself specifically warned me in his letter?” Timothy rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. He and John Mark had been talking in circles around each other for a quarter of an hour, and his head was beginning to ache. This was supposed to be a short, simple trip up the coast, before heading across the Mediterranean to Rome, to pick up Paul’s belongings, and a few scrolls that he had requested. Instead, only a few hours in, it was becoming a nightmare.

“Give him a fair chance to prove himself.” Mark wished he had not told Alexander that they were going to Troas. Finding out what ship they would sail on had been easy, and now Timothy thought that Mark had actually invited Alexander to come without asking him. This upset him, and made him less willing to listen to Mark’s reasons as to why they should bring the coppersmith along.

“He had his chances in Ephesus!”

“And I had a chance in Lystra, Derbe, Iconium, Antioch…I messed up all of them, yet I was still redeemed in the end.”

“I’m not taking him.”

“But he is on the boat right now, which means you cannot avoid him at least until we get to Troas.” Without waiting for a response, Mark pushed himself away from the rail of the ship which they had been leaning against, and strode away toward the bow of the ship, afraid that if he kept talking any longer his impulsiveness would get the better of him and he would say something he would regret later.

Timothy sighed. He knew Mark was right, but his blunt way of telling Timothy what he needed to do set his teeth on edge, making him reluctant to admit the logic of Mark’s position. Besides, he did not understand how Mark could fail to see Alexander’s scheming. How was it honest to come on board the ship at night, just before they weighed anchor, so that Timothy did not find out until they were already underway?

Mark had acknowledged that it could be suspicious, but pointed out that there were any number of perfectly innocent—even admirable—reasons for the action as well. Easy for him to suspend judgement—he had not seen the results of Alexander’s treachery.

The jerky pitching of the ship was not helping Timothy think, and the queasy, unsettled feeling in his stomach was part of what had made him snap at Mark. Why was this voyage having such an effect on him, when he had traveled by sea with Paul many times without being sick at all?

Deep breath. Try to think of Alexander as changed. Give him another chance. Closing his eyes, Timothy prayed.

“Dear Lord, I can’t do this myself. Take away my pride that keeps me from listening to John Mark. Help me remember my own sin, and not look down on Alexander in self-righteousness. Give me the strength to act according to Your ways. Amen.”

Get to Troas. Find Carpas, and collect Paul’s cloak and books. That was all he needed to focus on.

“Timothy.”

Turning his head, Timothy saw that the brawny coppersmith had come up beside him.

Yes, Lord. Very funny. I’m laughing—Ha. Ha.

“Alexander.” His voice was tense, but he made eye-contact. Alexander was just as wary as he was, and Timothy wondered if he was affected by the motion of the ship as well.

“Look, I’ve been wanting to tell you how sorry I am about the things I said in Ephesus.” Alexander shifted, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Even though he had retired from smithing years ago, he was still a giant in bulk compared to Timothy. “I was angry that you rejected my ideas—now I realize that they do not hold together, that they contradict other teachings of Scripture—but you must admit that the Christian doctrine can be rather confusing.”

So straightforward. The perfect blend of hesitation, remorse, and frankness. Could be completely genuine…could be very good acting. The exact same line he had been fed five years earlier.

Beware of Alexander the Coppersmith.

Give him another chance.

He greatly resisted my work.

God can change people.

“Have you talked to Mark about when Paul first came to Ephesus, years ago?” Forcing his voice to be casual, Timothy waited for his reaction.

Alexander’s lips tightened, and his grey brows drew together over his eyes. “That was before I became a believer.”

When did you become a believer? After Simon’s son was killed by the Romans because of the false report you filed? The question hung in Timothy’s mind, but he did not ask it. Already he was regretting the first question. Had he not just prayed for wisdom in his speech? Instead he was throwing his words at the man like daggers, to hurt.

Even the fool is counted wise if he holds his tongue. As he thought of wisdom, the words of Solomon came into his mind. Fine, then, if that was what it took. Grimly, he stared at the water flowing past the ship and slapping up against it in bursts of salty spray. In the lengthening silence, Alexander grew nervous, shifting his position, and glancing sideways at Timothy.

The wind had freshened, and the ship was moving through the water briskly, heeling over to one side. Ten more days of this, Timothy was thinking. How am I going to survive ten days of avoiding this man? Then the ship lurched more sharply than before, catching a gust of wind, and Timothy’s stomach flopped over in response. Suddenly he knew that at least for the next few hours, he was not going to have to worry about Alexander.

“Excuse me.” He managed to mutter through clenched teeth, before rushing toward the hatch that led below deck.

No…no…get to your room! He fought down the wave of nausea that rose up in his throat, fumbling with the latch on his door. Bursting in, he threw himself on his bed with a groan, and pulled his knees up to his chest.