THE MANUSCRIPT

Dr. William Altmann

Professor of Ancient Languages

Oxford University

Oxford, England

Dear Bill,

During my most recent trip to Egypt I made a most important, and in some ways, most disappointing discovery. I have an acquaintance, who must remain nameless for his own personal security. He invited me to his home and showed me a manuscript. It was in Coptic using the Greek alphabet, and is most certainly a translation. (There are many reasons to conclude this. For example, the structure of the sentences was quite forced in places and the idiom is often Greek.) However, before you get too interested, I must point out that I was only allowed to read it once, quickly. I was not allowed to take photographs and there certainly was not time to translate, thus the disappointment. After reading it I returned to my hotel and quickly recorded what I could remember of the manuscript as best I could.

Obviously the existence of any original is certainly suspect. The translation into the ancient Egyptian language from the original, if there was such, may well be of poor quality. My version is most assuredly of poor quality since my understanding of Coptic is definitely inadequate, my memory is far from perfect and I am sure that you will find that the idiom is thoroughly modern. None-the-less, I thought it worth passing on to you for your thoughts. I doubt that it is worth doing anything with my corrupted version. I am, however, attempting to get the manuscript released if I can find a way to do it without risking human life. With that, I give you what follows.

I, Paul, also known as Saul, of Tarsus, being a Roman citizen, and entitled to the privileges thereof, set out in my own hand my final testament. These may be my last few hours before I am executed for my faith in Jesus Christ, the Son of God. I wish to state as clearly as possible the truth about my life.

Once again I am imprisoned by the Roman government. As is no surprise, my cell is cold and dark. It allows for much time for prayer and reflection. The Roman government has given me a small desk, a quill and parchment. I have just finished a letter, my second, to my beloved disciple, Timothy, and I pray that my Lord would speed it on its way in the hope that Timothy might be able to come and see me.

I have already made my defence before the magistrate and am awaiting the outcome, which I cannot predict, yet I feel prompted to write a clear account of my life.

I expect that if I am convicted, it will be for sedition. My defence was as it has always been. I am simply recounting the facts of my life and the life of my master. "In the eighteenth year of the reign of Tiberias Caesar, Pontius Pilate being the governor of Judea, Herod being the Tetrarch of Galilee, in the high priesthood of Caiaphas, Jesus of Nazareth was put to death. Three days later he rose from the dead. Of this there are hundreds of witnesses...." These are facts, simple, historical facts. I was put on trial for this in Caesarea. The case was being made that I disturbed the peace of Jerusalem. I intended to! I'm interested in disturbing more than Israel. I'll disturb anyone if it makes them think. That is what gets me in trouble - that is why I am in Rome in prison - making people think. My defence has succeeded in the past and I have been released. Recounting history is not a crime in the Roman Empire. Unfortunately, one need not commit a crime to be sentenced to death.

I am now in Rome because I was sent here for my trial. When I was arrested in Jerusalem I was sent to Caesarea. There I was sent before the governor, Felix, and then to his successor, Festus. In both cases I was able to present the facts about the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Festus thought the case was strange and would have thrown it out, but he wanted to win the favour of the Jews. It became clear toward the end of the trial that he was going to send me back to Jerusalem to be tried there. I didn't want to go back to Jerusalem. I knew I wouldn't get a fair trial. Jesus didn't. Why would I? What I wanted was to bring the Gospel to Rome. The solution came in a flash of inspiration. I asked and received permission to speak one last time. I addressed Festus.

"I stand before a Roman tribunal. This is where I ought to be tried, not Jerusalem! I am a Roman Citizen. I have committed no wrong deserving death. I appeal my case to Caesar."

Of course it was granted - by law it had to be. Eventually, I was put in the custody of a Roman guard who was commissioned to see me safely to Rome.

Before I left for Rome, Festus summoned me again to speak before King Herod Agrippa and his wife Bernice. This was a prime opportunity, I thought, the powers of both Rome and Israel - both were to hear the Gospel in one go! I gave them truth as clearly and forcefully as I could, greatly desiring this opportunity to succeed, but the times and means of conversion do not lie in my hands, and as I ended Herod said, "How quickly you think to make me a Christian!" "It has happened quicker!" I said, but it wasn't meant to be, not yet anyway. Herod, he's a tough piece of leather, but at least I got the needle stuck in. My desire, more than anything else is to testify to what I know, that God has offered redemption to all through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Even now as I write in this prison I am praying for the opportunity to speak to my guard about Christ. The Lord wants this guard, even if the guard doesn't want the Lord. I know. It was the same with me. I didn't always want to follow Jesus, far from it. I had set my sights on something far more notable than following a carpenter cum rabbi.

I was born to a noble Jewish family, and like most born into such circumstances, I knew it. I was brought up to be proud of my heritage: circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew born of Hebrews. As to the law, I was a Pharisee, as to righteousness under the law, blameless. I was fluent in Greek and Hebrew. Being from Tarsus I knew I could succeed in either Greek or Hebrew culture. I went to Jerusalem when I was young and studied under the great rabbi of the day, Gamaliel, the grandson of Hillel. I planned to walk in their footsteps, and I expected to accomplish more than both of them. Oh, the heady confidence of youth. I wanted to live my life for a noble cause, and having found it, I pursued it with all of my strength. That is why it was so easy to attack the followers of this Jesus, this perverter of the truth, this man who was undermining everything that I stood for as a Pharisee.

We in the Sanhedrin had grown increasingly frustrated with this sect of Nazarenes. Their leader, Jesus, had been eliminated but the uprising was only growing. We had tried to deal with the new leadership, one Peter, and two brothers named James and John. We imprisoned them and had them beaten, but the heretics refused to listen. This was insubordination! They were still claiming their Jesus as Messiah even though his claims were rejected by the highest court in the nation. And not just his claims were rejected, but his life! He was condemned to death by the Sanhedrin for blasphemy. Now we don't just go around killing anybody who disagrees. This was a dangerous man. He had insulted Abraham and Moses, claiming to be greater than either. Abraham and Moses! Abraham was the father of this race. The one to whom God himself offered a covenant. This man was a carpenter! ...Or Moses! Moses gave us the law! He gave us the Ten Commandments! Our whole life is based on what he taught! Along comes this simple Galilean, ...now I ask you, can anything good come out of Galilee? So this Jesus claims to be a rabbi. By whom was he trained? What rabbi claims him as a disciple? None! And it is no surprise. He does not uphold the Torah, our most sacred laws. He interprets it any way he wants. "You have heard it said, ...but I say!" YOU SAY! WHO ARE YOU! Contradicting the greatest minds that ever spoke on the meaning of the law.

He didn't just contradict them? He attacked them! We Pharisees are zealous for the law. It is the basis of our covenant with God. Who else is there who upholds it and rightly demands that the people follow it. Not the Sadducees! King Herod? No, we are the only ones. Yet he comes and says, "Woe to you Pharisees, you hypocrites! You white-washed tombs! You blind guides!" and in the temple, of all places. There is no more holy place on earth than the temple. Yet he says he will destroy it and build a new one. How does he dare to attack the house of God?

"My house shall be a house of prayer..." Indeed! But who came in overthrowing the tables, stirring up the crowds, scattering the animals and creating havoc everywhere he went! By whose authority? God has chosen who will lead the people: the high priests, the Sanhedrin, not some itinerant, ignorant, insubordinate preacher who dares to call himself the Son of God, who impugns the laws of purity, who willfully, consciously, and arrogantly breaks the laws of the Sabbath! And these were no accidents, no lapses of memory! This man was seeking to overturn the very foundation of Israel!

Now, if that is not enough, here is the clinching point. He cannot be the Messiah, for this Jesus of Nazareth was crucified. The prophets, no, not just the prophets, but the Torah itself says, "Damned by God is the man who hangs on a tree!" God has cursed him. The Messiah cannot be a man cursed by God. He is to be the one anointed by God, not condemned by him. Even to claim he is the Messiah is offensive to Jewish ears - a scandal! What about the Greeks? They would call it nonsense, folly, utter foolishness. Death on a cross is a disgrace, an ignominious defeat! In no way could this be the Messiah. In no way.

In all righteousness the Sanhedrin had rid itself of this cancer, but now it was coming back. One of his followers, a man named Stephen, was stirring up trouble - debating in the Hellenist synagogues - and many, fools, were believing him. I, for one, would not stand for this rebellion. "I will break this bruised reed! I will quench this smoldering wick!"

I went before the Chief Priest to discuss what to do.

"Why am I here? There is more trouble."

"Now what. Not the Nazarenes again?"

"Yes, the Nazarenes. It is worse than ever. A young Hellenist named Stephen is in the Synagogue of the Freedmen. He has been in several of the synagogues and he is very effective at getting people to believe this blasphemy."

"Just refute him. Don't let him get away with it."

"That's a problem, we can't refute him, unless you want someone to follow him around everywhere he goes again. We tried that before. The last man who did it was converted to this heresy. Most of the Nazarenes are uneducated in the Law, but not this one. He is too sharp. We are losing every debate with him."

"But he is wrong!"

"I know he is wrong! But he is effective. He has to be stopped!"

"Then arrest him. Put him in prison."

"We've tried that before with Peter and John. As soon as we let them back out of prison they go right back to their preaching, even when we whip them. It didn't make any difference. These people are fanatics."

"Then stone him!"

"Stone him??? But what about the law?"

"I said stone him. We will deal with Rome later. I want this man out of the way now!"

"It will be done as you say."

Normally, we had no right to put a man to death. In certain exceptional cases the Roman government allowed us to stone people for serious offenses. With Stephen we had a problem. He had committed nothing that a Roman tribunal would condemn, so we needed to execute him ourselves. Was it legal? We didn't care, but we needed to make it look legal. We knew we could get away with it. The procurator would understand. He was interested in preventing insurrection, and would believe whatever we told him. The problem was the Sanhedrin. Some of them would be against it.

We seized Stephen, brought him before the Sanhedrin, and found some people to make accusations against him: that he spoke against the temple and against the law, that they were empty traditions, and that this Jesus of Nazareth wanted to destroy them both, but the trial went poorly. Our witnesses kept contradicting themselves. Then of them said that Stephen had claimed the Sanhedrin was corrupt. That caught the high priest's ear. He saw his chance. He turned and asked Stephen, "Is this so?" Then Stephen gave his defense.

"Brethren and my elders, hear me. What I preach is this. God is not limited to working through one person. He has added to and strengthened his covenant through the years. Abraham saw the glory of God and believed in the covenant offered by God, even though he did not see it fulfilled in his lifetime. Then, Joseph was given a vision from God, but his brothers, the leaders of this people, did not believe him. They rejected him. Still God used him to keep them alive during the great famine. Moses delivered Israel from bondage to the Egyptians even though Israel said to him, 'Who made you ruler and judge over us?' After that they even rejected God, not just Moses, and worshipped a golden calf!

"Now, you accuse me of not respecting the Temple. What about respecting God? The Temple? Does God dwell in a temple made by human hands? He wandered with Israel in the wilderness. We celebrate that in the feast of booths. Even after Solomon built a house for Him, the Lord said through Isaiah, 'Heaven is my throne and earth is my footstool. What house could you build for me?'

"You are stiff necked! You are uncircumcised in your hearts and your ears! You do not belong to God, and now, again, you are rejecting his work and the man he has sent! You, always, resist the Holy Spirit! As your fathers did, so do you. Which of the prophets did not your fathers persecute? They killed those who announced the coming of the righteous one, and now that he has come, you have betrayed and murdered him. Yes, you have received the law, but you have not kept it!"

The Sanhedrin was furious. Their eyes had filled with malice and they were grinding their teeth in an attempt to hold back their rage. Stephen saw it and knew what was coming. He looked up and his face grew bright. He said, "Behold, ...I see heaven open before me. Jesus, the Son of Man, he is standing as your judge at the right hand of God!" The Sanhedrin knew what the judgment would be. The younger members looked to those older, the indecisive looked to the decisive, and they did not have long to wait. Cries of blasphemy rang out, instantly followed by several men shouting, "Stone him!" Then pandemonium broke loose. Everyone rushed upon Stephen. They grabbed him and dragged him outside the city, shouting and fuming as they went. All was working exactly as it had been hoped. The hot anger necessary for a crowd to go through with the stoning was constantly fueled by shouts of blasphemy and stone him during the few minutes it took to get outside the city walls. The anger impelled courage was sufficient. Once outside the walls, they threw him down, and began to stone him.

Stoning is not a pleasant way to die. I know. I was stoned at Lystra and left for dead. The prosecuting witnesses begin it. Once they have cast their stones, all join in. The victim is surrounded or cast up against a wall so he has nowhere to go. Stones of all sizes and shapes rain down upon him. Most try to protect their head, but can do so only for a while. Internal bleeding begins. The victim eventually dies either from the concussion or from the loss of blood, though very little blood is ever shed. That is why our form of execution was stoning. No blood was shed, so there was no guilt for shedding another man's blood. In addition, guilt could not be ascribed to any one person. All took part and no one knew who cast the fatal stone.

Stephen's stoning accomplished what we wanted. It turned public opinion against the Nazarenes. Thereafter it was easy to get persecution to begin. We fueled the outrage in peoples hearts, entered the houses of those who believed, dragging off not just the men, but the women and children who believed as well. A reign of terror was our strategy, and it worked. We coerced people into blaspheming, which was punishable by death. Many of the Nazarenes began to fear for their lives, and abandoned Jerusalem. It took a while but in the end we had scattered the coals and brought the fire of heresy in Jerusalem under control.

My anger against the Nazarenes was intense. I ordered women and children flogged for their faith. Some were put to death. I was breathing murder. My lungs inhaled the fuel to fire my anger. My mind seethed and plotted as I justified all that I did as the righteous response in defence of the truth. I did more to prevent the spread of this cult of the Nazarene than any man I know. I was prowling, hunting it everywhere in order to put it to death.

The more I persecuted them the more intense I grew, but not just because of their blasphemy. Something began bothering me. My justification for my behaviour began to break down. I was growing aware that I was being ruled by my own anger which only made me more angry with what I was becoming. I saw how, more and more, outright murder was on my lips. Justice didn't matter. Crushing this movement occupied my mind. There was no joy, no pleasure, no distraction that could keep my mind from it.

Stephen in particular kept coming back to mind. I saw a brave man die. He was more than brave, he was convinced that he was right - more convinced than I was and I knew it. "Could he be right? Why would a such an intelligent man die for a lie?" Such reasoning was frightening. It assaulted all that I believed to be true. It struck at the very foundations of my life. I constantly had to put it out of my mind, but it even more constantly returned. I fought the intellectual battle in my own mind. I argued against what I had heard him say, but I couldn't hold myself convinced that he was wrong. The history of Israel was one of repeated rejection of the prophets, repeated rejection of the work of God. For a people waiting for the Messiah we had set ourselves firmly against the possibility of anyone actually being the Messiah. Anyone who claimed it was automatically disbelieved as a lunatic, then torn apart and "proven" false.

When I arrested the believers, they insisted upon talking about Jesus, their Messiah. Some told me of miracles. Most of what they said I argued away as false or exaggerated. Even when I couldn't, didn't both Saul and Solomon accomplish great things, but then later turn against God's ways? This was what this Jesus had done as well.

What I found most difficult to handle was what he taught about love, and how his disciples lived it. Those whom I persecuted reacted as though I were still a brother to them. When I objected and told them I did not consider myself their brother, their response was to say that the law commands us to love even our enemies. I refused to agree. I would not tolerate loving the Romans, that was simply foolish. I also refused to love these Nazarenes, that would mean loving traitors. Whenever we argued, the same thing came up. Jesus said to 'love your enemies.' But a fool I was not. Were we to love the Romans, they would destroy us. Our hatred for them was the only thing that kept us from becoming completely swallowed by them and losing our identity as a people. We wouldn't even eat with Romans. We certainly did not have to love them.

I had been thoroughly convinced of my position. I had studied under Gamaliel, one of the greatest of all rabbinical teachers. I knew his mind, and a great mind it was. ...But when they would talk about Jesus, they not only knew his mind, but his heart as well.

The heart of the law is mercy, forgiveness, not vengeance. I could see that it was true, but I could also see that it would undermine too much of what I had been taught as a Pharisee. I had to refuse such dangerous thoughts. I had trained my mind and my heart. "No one has the resolution that I have." I told myself in an attempt to muster strength of will. "My will is trained. My mind and my heart will not betray me, and I will not betray the Torah."

I might have succeeded except for having to fight off an image that had been burned into my mind - Stephen. As he was being stoned to death he lifted his eyes toward heaven and asked God not to hold our sin against us. ...He was right. We were breaking the law. This was no better than any other mob unjustly taking someone's life in anger. Still, Stephen took it all with peace. All of my life I had lived as one who only did what was right. I could justify all of my behaviour. My will was strong, even if I had to grit my teeth all the way, but Stephen, he was full of peace in the midst of getting stoned unjustly. His face was shining with joy. How? What kind of will was behind that?

"Lord Jesus, don't hold this sin against them." Stephen said that in full sincerity as he looked at me. I believe the Lord heard his prayer.

Through our persecution of the Nazarenes we had scattered the coals of this fire. Jerusalem grew more quiet. Unfortunately, those that were scattered to other places kindled new fires wherever they were. Damascus became the new hot-bed. I went to the High Priest and asked him for letters of authorisation to the synagogues in Damascus so that I might arrest any "believers" there and bring them bound in chains to Jerusalem to stand trial. Even if they were acquitted, I knew it would make them, and others, think twice about whether they wanted to suffer like that for their belief in Jesus. If they died on the way to Jerusalem in the cause of justice? That might be all the better - the same effect, but less work for the Sanhedrin.

There is a road that leads to Damascus from Jerusalem. Both are great cities, but traveling between them is difficult. It is a six day journey through hot, dry, barren land. I was not about to take six days. I pushed those who came with me hard, even in the hottest part of the day. There would be no rest from the heat because I could get no rest from my mind. It was constantly goading me. The smallest things would set it off. We were passing through the wilderness, and suddenly the passage from Isaiah would come to mind, "In the wilderness prepare the way for the Lord." Immediately, I responded. "NO! I will not turn to him!" Just as quickly, I realized, something was wrong. I was supposed to desire to see the Messiah come. How could I say 'No.' I could never turn against God, ...but something in me had.

I wrestled with many passages. Isaiah prophesied the Messiah would come from Galilee as Jesus had. "So had thousands of others!" I told myself. Both Isaiah and David said that he would be a stumbling block for Israel. Had I stumbled over the Messiah and not known it? How would I know? You stumble over that which you do not see. Would I be one who would see? Might I be one who would stumble? Might I have already stumbled?

Zechariah told of the thirty pieces of silver. How could we have given exactly that sum? We were fools. Just to be safe we should have given either more or less. Why didn't we see? Did we not see so as to stumble?

David spoke of the betrayal of the Messiah. Was not this man betrayed?

Isaiah said that the coastlands wait for his law. Was it possible that the Torah would not last forever? That a new, Messianic law would replace it? A higher law? A law that demanded we love our enemies and those who persecute us. "Maybe," I thought, "but it would be impossible to keep!"

Immediately, there came to mind a passage from Jeremiah. It said there was to be a new covenant, a new law, one that would be written upon our hearts so that we could keep it internally, not just externally: a heartfelt law of love? Was that what I had seen in Stephen? In those I had persecuted?

One thing after another seemed to foretell all that had happened. Then I would realise where my conclusions were leading. Instantly, I would stop myself. "NO! I must not think about it."

As we drew near to Damascus -it was about noon- suddenly I saw a bright light. The whole of the country was lit up, but there was more there than a light. It was a presence, a person, far beyond anything I had ever known before. I was knocked to the ground, filled with terror, scared for my life. I believed I was about to die and a new fear came upon me, I knew I was not righteous before God. For me that was an unspeakable horror. I was suddenly at the end of my life and I knew I had missed the mark. All of this flashed through me - body, mind and soul - in a moment of time. Then I heard a voice.

"Saul, Saul why do you persecute me?"

At this my fear grew deeper. I knew it had to be the voice of God, but it couldn't be. I wasn't persecuting God. Was I?

"Who are you?" I asked.

He answered, "I am Jesus, Jesus, whom you are persecuting. Is it not hard on you to kick against me as I prod you?"

"Is it you, Lord, making me think this way?" I thought, "Is it the hand of God. Is it the very mercy of God that I am fighting. Am I wrestling with God like my forefather Jacob?"

"NO!" I thought, struggling to cling to what I had believed to be true. I am fighting heretics, not God. Even as I fought to say "No," I knew the answer was "Yes." What I was seeing was the glory of God. What I was hearing was the voice of Jesus. Finally, I admitted it. It was him I was fighting, the Lord of hosts. With the admission my arguments of falsehood crumbled within. My life of self-justification according to the law withered and died. In tears I asked, "Lord, what do you want me to do?"

"Rise up and go into the city. It will be told to you what to do."

As I rose, I realized I was blind. I did not know how to respond to that. It might have been from the flash of light, but whether it was naturally induced, or the judgment of God, I did not know. I feared the latter because the others could still see. Oddly, my mind was hardly occupied with the blindness. I only thought about the event and was reconstructing all the arguments that had taken place in my mind, but now from the other side.

I had to be led into Damascus, where we went to the house of Judas on Straight Street. For three days I neither ate nor drank. I had a lot of time to think, wondering what had happened to my life.

Passages from the prophets again came to mind. For example, I was remembering how I had been knocked from my feet on the road to Damascus and the passage from Malachi came to mind, "The Lord whom you seek will appear suddenly, and who can stand when he appears." Or I would be thinking of the words of Jesus that the Nazarenes quoted to me: "But I say love your enemies... and then the passage "If today you hear his voice, harden not your heart."

One passage, more than all the rest, explained what I couldn't. To me it seemed as if I was questioning Isaiah himself.

"If Israel was waiting for the Messiah, wouldn't God make it clear who the Messiah was? We couldn't miss him, could we?" Then the words of Isaiah destroyed this falsehood. "He will be despised and rejected by Israel, even though he will bear our griefs and carry our sorrows. We will consider him smitten by God and afflicted."

"Rejected by Israel? Like Jesus. But why did he have to be put to death?"

"He will be wounded for our transgressions and bruised for our iniquities. But His chastisement will make us whole." Suddenly it became clear to me. God laid our sin on him. He carried our punishment for us so that we could be accounted as righteous. The Messiah was meant to die! A man apparently accursed by God! Jesus took on the curse that we all are under, a sacrificial lamb who would carry away our sins. This Messiah would free us from our sins, not just from the Romans. ...Hour after hour things became increasingly clear.

In gratitude, I prayed. As I prayed, although I couldn't see, I had several visions. One of them was very important. A choice was laid before me. In this vision I saw some of what was to happen in my life. The Lord showed me much of what I would have to suffer if I were to follow him. It was as if it were a test. "Saul, do you really want to follow me? If you do, you will face rejection, stoning, beatings, shipwreck, starvation, nights in the cold, days without water, persecution even from your brothers, and years in prison." I wrestled with it. No man finds suffering attractive. In the end, I said, "Yes, Lord." I knew I could never go back to just serving the law. There was a higher authority now, and his name was Jesus, the Messiah.

At the end of the three days, I had a final vision. It was of a man named Ananias. He came to the very room I was in, laid hands on me and gave me back my sight. I was wondering what to make of all I had seen. Was it from God? Could it be a vision of the future? As I wondered and continued in prayer asking the Lord to show me, there was a knock at the door. Judas seemed cautious. He went to the door and said, "Yes?" A voice responded, "I seek a man named Saul from the city of Tarsus."

Judas unlatched the door and allowed him in. "My name is Ananias," he said, and my heart began to race as he came directly to where I was. There was no hesitation, no questions asked nor comments made. In a moment he had laid his hands on my head and spoke this word, "Brother." I rejoiced as I heard it, but he continued.

"Brother Saul, the Lord Jesus who appeared to you on the road by which you came has sent me that you may regain your sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit."

Instantly, something filled me with a joy I had never known and a conviction of the truth of what I had heard from the disciples I had persecuted. I laughed and cried for joy. When I opened my eyes, something like scales fell from them and I could see again. "How did you find me?" I asked.

"The Lord showed me in a vision where you were."

"It must have been the same vision he showed me. Do you know who I am?"

"I know who you were." He was right. I was a new man.

Was I changed "just like that?" O, Yes! Not that I became perfect - not this sinner - but I was transformed. There were great changes in the way that I began to think, and certainly in the way that I felt. Most notable were the disappearance of my anger and frustration. They weren't totally gone but I was finally in control of my emotions. What is more important, my purpose in living became a clear. I was convinced about what I was supposed to do with my life, even if it meant my death.

My death. The very thought of it has brought me back to the present. I may be facing mine soon, but I do so without fear, for I know what will happen thereafter. We don't just cease to exist. God made us to live forever. The question is where. Heaven - a place of eternal happiness, or hell - a place of eternal misery. Heaven is perfect. None who sin are allowed there. That would leave all of us out, for all of us have sinned and fallen short, except for one thing. Jesus Christ died to take away our sin. He has served our sentence for us...death. If we accept that and follow him in gratitude, he will bring us to heaven when we die, perfected by his own death for our sins.

Even as I write, a magistrate has come. My sentence is decided.

"By decree of Caesar, Emperor of Rome and all of its provinces, and by the order of this magistrate: Paul of Tarsus, is hereby condemned to death, by the sword, tomorrow at the first hour of the third watch."

It is death by the sword. Beheading. A Roman citizen cannot be crucified. True, to be beheaded is easier than a painful, prolonged crucifixion, but I have lived my life seeking to imitate Jesus in every possible way. Even in death I wish to follow in his steps, but it is not meant to be.

I do not fear death. Often I have prayed that I might soon be rejoined to the Lord. I'm ready to throw off this tent and to take up a heavenly one. Let the mortal put on immortality. Oh death where is your victory, oh death where is your sting!

I will not be able to finish this testament, but it doesn't matter. It is all wood, hay and stubble. What can I add to the glory of God? My time has run out. What was it I just wrote to Timothy? If we die with him, then we shall also live with him. If we endure, we shall reign with him. I am now at the point of being sacrificed. The time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight. I have finished the race. I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness which the Lord will award to me.

Tomorrow, by the will of Caesar, I have an appointment with death.

Tomorrow, by the will of God, I have an appointment with life, eternal life.

Tomorrow, my head will belong to Caesar, but my soul will belong to God.

There the manuscript ended.

P.S. Bill, one last note. There exists one other reference to such a manuscript having been written by Paul. The reference is from the third century. Paul was supposed to have written his final testament on his last night before being beheaded, just as appears to be the case with this one. However, the third century reference goes on to say that at the conclusion of his writing Paul believed that his testimony gave too much glory to himself and inadequate honour to Christ. According to this reference he burned the manuscript shortly before dawn by the very candle he had used in writing it.

(c) 1996 Michael E. Shaughnessy