Do Your Utmost: Chapter 13

Thirteen: Troas

Though Timothy had been in Troas before, with Paul, and had met Carpas a few times at various meetings of believers, he had never been to Carpas’s house, and did not know where it was. He had gone to the houses of brethren that he knew of to find news of Carpas, but after more than ten years, many things had changed. The Christians he had met as a boy had little remembrance of him, and none could give him directions to Carpas. By the time he had met up with John Mark back at the wharf and followed him to their lodging, he was thoroughly discouraged.

“What do you mean you can’t find him?” Mark raised his eyebrows in surprise as he opened the door to the house where they were staying. It was late in the evening, and they had been in the city since early afternoon. When they first landed, Mark had suggested that it would be more efficient to split up, with Timothy focused on finding Carpas, while he and Alexander met with some of the other believers, and found a place to live in for a week or two.

“Just that.” Timothy was tired, walking all day right after recovering from a long bout of sickness, and the glare of the sun had brought back his headache. He did not want to talk, to give details. It made things worse that Mark was obviously refreshed by being on shore, bursting with enthusiasm, and was already talking about the many opportunities for evangelism that Troas afforded. It was easy for him to be energetic, when all he had to do was find a nice, cool room to stay in during the heat of the day.

“Well, we have food and drink on the table. Why don’t you eat, and go to bed? We will find Carpas tomorrow. There is plenty of time—no ships are leaving for Greece or Italy for several days anyway.”

Timothy did not have the energy to ask what Mark had been doing all day. He swallowed the weak wine and ate a few dates, then collapsed into the single bed with which the room was furnished. As he was drifting off to sleep, he did wonder where Alexander was, but his mind was too exhausted to be interested in the question.

The thirty-third year since the resurrection of Jesus Christ, on the twenty-first day of the eighth month.

We have landed in Troas, and are settled in a room. Alexander found it, while I was ascertaining when the next ship leaves for the west, either Greece, or somewhere on the Italian coast. As it turns out, none of the brethren here have room for three men in their house, so we are renting a room near the harbor. This is not ideal, but it will suffice for the present, and we have enough money, as long as we are careful with it. When Timothy got back, he seemed rather downcast and worn out. I should have noticed when we landed that he has not fully recovered from his illness, and kept him from searching for Carpas until tomorrow, but he is so quiet, I never know what he is thinking and feeling. I thought he would be glad to be on his own, since he is still uncomfortable around Alexander, but now I fear that he is resentful of my suggestion to split up for the day. I wish I could help him in his search, but he is the only one of our party who has seen Carpas before, when he came here with Paul years ago.

These are small worries, however. The Lord will take care of us, and tomorrow we will all be better rested, and ready to complete our mission here. The believers will know where this Carpas is, it cannot be too hard to find him.

Mark said as much to Timothy in the morning, after they had all eaten, but by mid-afternoon, he was regretting his words. Evidently, it could be too hard. The Christians of Troas had never heard of a man named Carpas. They remembered Paul coming through their city, of course they did—had he not been the founder of the church there? But cloaks, books, parchments…all these suggestions drew a polite and apologetic blank.

“Where is the community in this town?” Mark threw up his hands in exasperation, after the third unsatisfactory interview. “The Christians don’t even seem to know each other. Each house we find is by inquiry on the streets, and when we leave, we have to start from nothing again—no network.”

“Something is wrong.” Timothy agreed. “The way they are evading some of our questions…it does not feel right. It is not like the way the believers behave to each other in Ephesus.”

Mark frowned. “They cannot possibly be pretending that they are Christians if they are not?”

“No!” Timothy shook his head. “That’s not it. More like…almost like they do not trust us.”

“Why would they doubt us? They should know you, at least, you have been here before. You have even shown them the letter from Paul! And how could we harm them, anyway?”

“I do not understand, Mark. But something is going on, and we need to find out what.”

“First, I think we should head back to our lodging, get a bite to eat, and stay out of the sun for a while.” Mark laid his hand on Timothy’s shoulder. “You look tired still, my friend. Do not wear yourself out.”

Timothy rose from the bench on which they had been sitting, and shook the dust off his cloak. Together, they turned their steps back toward the port, the sun beating down on their heads as they trudged along in silence.

After a few minutes Mark said, “I hope at least that Alexander is having better success than we are.”

Timothy did not respond. He was hoping that Mark had not made a major mistake by sending Alexander to buy supplies for the next leg of their trip. He told himself that it would not even make sense for Alexander to steal from them, since they would easily find out, but he was still nervous about the situation.

“Father in heaven,” Mark began praying aloud, as they walked, “I pray that You allow us to finish our undertaking in this city without further delays. Give us the trust of Your followers here. Help us to see what we must do. All these things I ask in the name of Your Son, Jesus Christ. Amen.”

He glanced at Timothy as he finished, and Timothy muttered “Amen.” He was embarrassed by the stares of the few people within hearing distance, but he was also ashamed that he had not already been praying for their mission. As they entered their rooms, he did not notice that one of the men across the street, who had heard Mark praying, was still watching them keenly. It was not until the door closed behind them that the man turned away, and strode back in the direction of the city.