John's Story by Tim Lahaye, Jerry B. Jenkins Page A

appeared preoccupied, and while he seemed to be chatting with his charges, he peered over and around them at the growing crowd. Finally he gave the nod to one who called for attention.
    “Men of Ephesus!” he cried out. “Welcome to a brief treatise by the brilliant man of intellect, Cerinthus, a follower of the Christ!”
    Again John was repulsed by the blasphemer claiming the name of Christ. But as they approached, Cerinthus nodded to a couple of his own young disciples, and they quickly descended upon John and Ignatius. “You have had your say, old man. Now why not leave Cerinthus alone? He does not come to your church and counter you.”
    “This is his church?” John sputtered. “This is public property, and I have every bit as much right to be heard here as he does! As for the heretic—”
    But Ignatius quickly stepped between John and the young men and was soon joined by Polycarp. The two urgently tugged their teacher out of the crowd and away, back to the streets that led to his home. “Please, master, this is clearly not the place or time. Cerinthus owns this crowd and they will not hear you.”
    More than once John stiffened and turned, nearly unable to keep from heading back to the stadium. “Something must be done!” Burning deep within him was the need to somehow defy this new form of blasphemy that sounded so erudite and yet flew in the face of all he knew to be true.
    Worse, he knew such slick-tongued men had the power to sway the weak-minded, yea, even many within his own congregation. John wept with fury, desperate to plan a rebuttal before this false teaching swept the city.
    All the way back to the memorial home of Aquila and Priscilla, John spoke earnestly to Ignatius and Polycarp. “You see, gentlemen, this is important. It is doctrine. It is teaching. The life of Jesus is dramatic enough, and He must have known that opportunists would run away with all the stories and create their own systems, their own interpretations. That is why He spent so much time with us. You have no idea how much time the Master invested in simply telling us the mysteries of His kingdom. I feel a tremendous weight of responsibility as the last of His confidants. If in just sixty years men like Cerinthus—with what motive I would not venture to guess—can get it so wrong, how urgent it is that I set the record straight for as long as I have breath.”
    The young men kept trying to slow John, urging him to calm down and preserve his strength. And yet he did not stop talking.
    Finally Ignatius led him to a bench and made him sit. “Now, hear me, master,” the bishop said, squatting before him. “You are allowing yourself to grow so agitated that it cannot be good for you. Let us not jeopardize your health when you have so much to tell us. You’re no longer a young man.”
    John sighed and took a deep breath. “I need not be reminded of that, friend. What troubles me is the effect Cerinthus and his kind might have on true believers, even those from our own gathering. Rumor has it he is founding his own school, which could impact the world. But my immediate concern is Ephesus and the believers here—not to mention the lost. Might he not leave behind some of those eager young disciples? We must counter them, counter him, at every turn.”
    Polycarp’s concern was worn into his young face. He paced, his countenance clouded. “I don’t know what more you can do, rabbi. It is too much to ask that you follow this man about and debate him in public. Perhaps you should—when you have fully regained your health—plan to speak every Lord’s Day on these matters. Tell the people what Jesus Himself told you, and soon we will not have room for everyone.”
    “Believe me,” John said, rising, “this is that important. Perhaps I should teach with Luke’s or Mark’s or Matthew’s accounts in hand, adding what the Master taught us in private. But Matthew and Mark wrote their accounts with different purposes and