Blinded by Grace

Rome at Last

After our shipwreck on Malta and months of waiting for the winter to pass, the time had finally come to complete our journey to Rome. We boarded a ship from Alexandria, named the Castor and Pollux, and set sail. The sea was calm, and the wind was favorable. After all the storms, the shipwreck, and the uncertainty, it seemed that God was now providing smooth passage.

Our first stop was Syracuse, a city on the island of Sicily, where we stayed for three days. From there, we sailed to Rhegium on the southern tip of Italy. A gentle south wind carried us swiftly up the coast to Puteoli, a port city not far from Rome. As soon as we arrived, we were greeted by brothers and sisters in Christ who had heard of our arrival. Their hospitality was overwhelming, and they invited us to stay with them for a week.

It was comforting to be among fellow believers after such a long and difficult journey. Their warmth and encouragement refreshed my spirit, and I was reminded once again of the power of the body of Christ. Even though I had never met these believers before, we were bound together by our shared faith in Jesus. It was a beautiful reminder that the church was growing, even in the heart of the Roman Empire.

After a week in Puteoli, we set out for Rome. As we neared the city, news of my arrival had already spread. Some of the believers in Rome had traveled as far as the Forum of Appius and the Three Taverns to meet us. When I saw them, my heart swelled with gratitude. I had longed to visit Rome for years, and now, after all the trials, I was finally here. The sight of these brothers and sisters filled me with joy, and I thanked God for bringing me this far.

But even though I had arrived in Rome, I was still a prisoner. Julius, the centurion who had escorted me from Caesarea, handed me over to the Roman authorities. However, because I was a Roman citizen and had appealed to Caesar, I was not thrown into a common prison. Instead, I was allowed to live by myself, under guard, with a soldier assigned to watch over me.

Though I was in chains, I didn’t let that stop me from continuing the work God had called me to. As soon as I was settled, I reached out to the Jewish leaders in Rome. I knew that rumors about me had likely spread, and I wanted to address them directly.

“Brothers,” I said when they gathered, “although I have done nothing against our people or against the customs of our ancestors, I was arrested in Jerusalem and handed over to the Romans. They examined me and wanted to release me, because I was not guilty of any crime deserving death. But when the Jews objected, I was compelled to appeal to Caesar, not that I had any charge to bring against my own people. For this reason, I have asked to see you and talk with you. It is because of the hope of Israel that I am bound with this chain.”

The Jewish leaders listened attentively. They hadn’t received any letters from Jerusalem about me, nor had any Jews who had come from Judea reported anything harmful about me. They were curious, though, about the message I was preaching.

“We want to hear what your views are,” they said, “for we know that people everywhere are talking against this sect.”

So, a few days later, they came back in even greater numbers to hear me explain the message of Jesus. From morning until evening, I explained the kingdom of God to them and tried to persuade them about Jesus from the Law of Moses and the Prophets. Some were convinced by what I said, but others refused to believe. As had happened so many times before, the gospel divided the hearts of those who heard it.

Seeing their hesitation, I quoted the prophet Isaiah: “Go to this people and say, ‘You will be ever hearing but never understanding; you will be ever seeing but never perceiving.’ For this people’s heart has become calloused; they hardly hear with their ears, and they have closed their eyes. Otherwise, they might see with their eyes, hear with their ears, understand with their hearts and turn, and I would heal them.”

I paused, looking around at those who remained skeptical. Then I added, “Therefore, I want you to know that God’s salvation has been sent to the Gentiles, and they will listen!”

After that, the Jewish leaders left, still divided in their opinions about the gospel.

For the next two years, I lived in Rome, still under house arrest but with the freedom to receive visitors. My rented house became a hub for ministry. I welcomed all who came to see me, Jews and Gentiles alike, and I boldly proclaimed the kingdom of God and taught about the Lord Jesus Christ. Though I was in chains, the gospel was not. People came from all walks of life to hear the message of salvation, and the church in Rome continued to grow.

During this time, I also wrote letters to the churches I had planted and visited during my missionary journeys. I wrote to the believers in Ephesus, Philippi, Colossae, and to Philemon, encouraging them to stand firm in their faith, to live lives worthy of the calling they had received, and to remember the grace of God that had saved them. These letters would later become known as part of the New Testament, spreading the message of Christ long after my time on earth was over.

Though I was under guard, I found favor with many in Caesar’s household, and even some of the imperial guards came to faith in Christ. The message of the gospel was reaching the very heart of the empire, Rome itself. I marveled at how God had used every hardship, every trial, to bring His word to the people I had once only dreamed of reaching.

Yet even as I worked, I knew that the end of my life was drawing near. I had run the race, fought the good fight, and kept the faith. I had done what the Lord had called me to do, and I was ready to meet Him. But I was also at peace, knowing that the gospel was unstoppable, that the kingdom of God would continue to advance, whether I was there or not.

One day, the time would come for me to stand before Caesar. I didn’t know what the outcome would be, whether I would be released or whether I would be martyred for my faith. But it didn’t matter. My mission had never been about my own freedom or survival. It had always been about Jesus, and I was ready to glorify Him, no matter the cost.

As the years passed, I remained a prisoner in Rome, awaiting my trial. But despite the uncertainty, my heart was full of joy and hope. The gospel had reached the ends of the earth, and I had been part of that great work. I had seen the power of God transform lives, break down barriers, and bring light to even the darkest places.

Though I was in chains, I was free. Free in Christ, free to love, free to serve. And I knew that my final destination wasn’t Rome, it was the kingdom of heaven, where I would be with my Savior forever.

This was the mission God had called me to. I had finished the race He had set before me. And I was ready, knowing that His grace was sufficient for every step I had taken, and for the final steps yet to come.