The Evils Within

The flickering oil lamp cast dancing shadows on the walls of the small room in Rome where Paul sat confined, his weathered hands folded in his lap. Despite his chains, there was a quiet dignity about the apostle that evening as Luke settled beside him, scroll and stylus ready. The physician had been collecting accounts of the early church, but tonight’s conversation would venture into darker territories – the trials and evils Paul had faced during his ministry to the Gentiles.

“You wish to know of the darkness I encountered, dear Luke?” Paul’s voice was soft but steady. “Very well. But understand that in sharing these things, my purpose is not to dwell on evil, but to show how the light of Christ penetrates even the deepest shadows.”

Luke nodded, adjusting his position on the simple wooden stool. “Tell me, Paul. The churches need to know what they might face, and how to stand firm as you did.”

Paul was quiet for a long moment, his eyes distant as if gazing across the years and miles of his journeys. “The physical persecutions – the beatings, the stonings, the imprisonments – those were difficult, yes. But they were not the worst evils I encountered. The true darkness lay in the spiritual battles, the corruption of souls, the twisting of truth, and the devastating impact on the faithful.”

He shifted slightly, the chains at his wrists clinking softly. “Let me tell you first about what I witnessed in Ephesus. You know of the riot that arose there, but you may not know the full extent of what we faced…”

“Ephesus was a city drowning in darkness, Luke. The worship of Artemis was merely the surface. Beneath it lay a vast network of sorcerers, magicians, and practitioners of the dark arts. They held the city in a spiritual stranglehold that had lasted generations.”

Paul’s voice grew heavy with memory. “There was a house near the agora where I first encountered the depth of this evil. A wealthy merchant had invited me to speak about Christ, but I soon discovered his true intention was to add Jesus to his collection of spiritual powers. When I arrived, I found his home filled with objects of the darkest significance – scrolls of forbidden knowledge, artifacts stained with blood sacrifices, and things I dare not name.”

Luke leaned forward, his stylus poised. “What happened?”

“The merchant had assembled others like himself – traders in souls and supernatural powers. They wanted to bargain with me, Luke. They offered vast sums to learn what they called the ‘secret name’ by which we performed miracles. They thought Jesus was just another power to be bought and controlled.” Paul’s face hardened at the memory. “When I rebuked them and preached repentance, the merchant’s true nature emerged. His eyes… I’ll never forget the inhuman gleam in them as he commanded his household gods to attack us.”

“What followed was unlike any battle I had faced before. The air itself seemed to thicken with malevolent presence. Objects flew across the room. Voices that were not human spoke through the merchant’s mouth. But as we prayed and called upon the name of Christ, something remarkable happened. The very demons began to testify to Jesus’ lordship before fleeing. The merchant himself fell to his knees, trembling and crying out for mercy.”

Paul paused, his expression softening. “That house later became one of our strongest house churches in Ephesus. The merchant burned his scrolls publicly and led many others to do the same. But that was just the beginning of our battles there.”

“The external evils were obvious enemies, Luke. Far more insidious were the corruptions that crept into the churches themselves.” Paul’s voice grew heavy with grief. “In Corinth, I encountered something that haunts me still – not for its supernatural terror, but for its very human evil.”

He stood slowly and paced the small room, the chains dragging behind him. “There was a leader in the church there, a man named Thaddeus. He appeared to be a model of faith – generous with his wealth, eloquent in teaching, passionate for the gospel. But over time, I began to hear disturbing reports.”

Luke watched as Paul’s face darkened with the memory. “Thaddeus had been secretly teaching that since we are saved by grace, sin no longer mattered. He convinced many that they could participate in the temple prostitution and idol feasts without consequence. But worse than this theological poison was what he was doing to the young believers under his influence.”

Paul stopped pacing and gripped the back of his chair. “He would target the most vulnerable – new converts, especially young women and slaves. He would gain their trust, convince them that their conscience was too rigid, that true spiritual freedom meant breaking all boundaries. Then he would…” Paul’s voice caught. “He would take advantage of them in the worst ways, all while claiming it was for their spiritual liberation.”

“When I confronted him, he showed no remorse. Instead, he had already poisoned many against me, claiming I was trying to reimpose the law and restrict their freedom in Christ. The church began to divide. Families were torn apart. Some who had been abused by him even defended him, so thoroughly had he twisted their understanding.”

The aftermath had been devastating. “We eventually removed him from the church, but the damage was deep. Some left the faith entirely, unable to trust again. Others carried wounds that would take years to heal. This, Luke, this corruption of the gospel into a tool for abuse – this was an evil that cut deeper than any physical persecution.”

As the night deepened, Paul’s voice grew softer, more reflective. “But perhaps the most dangerous evil I encountered was also the most subtle. It didn’t announce itself with supernatural displays or obvious corruption. It crept in silently, killing faith with a poison sweeter than honey.”

Luke raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“I speak of the love of wealth and status, dear friend. In Laodicea, I watched it destroy what had been a vibrant church. They were prosperous, these believers. The city’s location made many of them wealthy through trade. At first, they used their resources generously for the gospel. But gradually, something changed.”

Paul’s eyes grew distant with memory. “They began to measure everything by worldly standards of success. The poor were slowly made to feel unwelcome. The house churches began competing for the attendance of wealthy members. Status in the church began to mirror status in society. The gospel was softened, stripped of its challenging edges, made comfortable for those who wanted to feel spiritual while clinging to their worldly pride.”

“I received a letter from a faithful elder there, a man named Philemon – not the one you know, but another of the same name. He wrote with tears, telling me how the church had become like a beautifully adorned corpse. They had all the appearances of life – impressive meetings, eloquent teachings, prestigious members – but the fire of true faith had gone out. They no longer sought the lost or cared for the poor. They no longer spoke of sin and repentance. They had created a religion that demanded nothing and changed nothing.”

Paul’s voice grew passionate. “This, Luke, this spiritual deadness masquerading as success – it spread like a disease to other churches. When persecution came, these comfortable believers fell away by the hundreds. Their faith had no root, no substance. They had inoculated themselves against the true gospel by embracing a counterfeit that asked nothing of them.”

The oil in the lamp was running low, but Paul seemed energized despite the late hour. “Let me tell you about another evil we faced – one that nearly destroyed the church in Galatia. You’ve read my letter to them, but you haven’t heard the full story.”

Luke dipped his stylus in fresh ink, eager to capture this account.

“False teachers had come from Jerusalem, men who claimed authority from James himself – though James later confirmed they had no such authority. They taught that Gentile believers must be circumcised and follow the full Law of Moses to be truly saved. But Luke, their evil went beyond false teaching.”

Paul leaned forward, his chains rattling. “They systematically worked to destroy everything we had built. They would visit houses where we had established churches and tell them that I was a fraud, that I had deliberately deceived them. They claimed to have evidence that I was never really appointed by Christ, that I was making up my own gospel for personal gain.”

“These men were skilled manipulators. They would first praise the believers for their faith, then gradually introduce doubts. They would share ‘secret information’ about me, twisted versions of my past. They brought letters, supposedly from Jerusalem, authenticating their claims. They pressed their converts to cut all ties with anyone who remained loyal to my teaching.”

The apostle’s voice grew heavy with grief. “Families were torn apart, Luke. Children were turned against parents, husbands against wives. Those who refused to accept circumcision were excluded from fellowship, treated as unclean. Some were even reported to the authorities as troublemakers.”

“But the worst part was watching the joy of faith die in their eyes. People who had experienced the freedom of Christ were being dragged back into bondage. They became anxious, fearful, always wondering if they had done enough to be truly saved. The simple trust in Christ’s finished work was replaced with endless rules and regulations.”

Paul stood again, pacing in agitation. “We had to fight for the truth, Luke. Not just with words and letters, but with tears and prayers and countless journeys. Some churches were lost entirely. Others were split down the middle. Even today, years later, some still struggle with these issues.”

As the night wore on, Paul’s voice took on a more personal tone. “There’s another evil I must speak of, Luke. One that weighs on me heavily even now. It’s the burden of seeing fellow workers fall away.”

He sank back into his chair, suddenly looking every year of his age. “You remember Demas? He was with us for so long, seemed so committed to the gospel. But the world pulled at him, Luke. I watched it happen, tried to warn him, tried to guide him back. But in the end, he loved this present world more than Christ.”

Paul’s voice cracked slightly. “It wasn’t just Demas. There was Alexander the coppersmith, who did me much harm. Hymenaeus and Philetus, who shipwrecked their faith and led others astray. Each one feels like a personal failure, a wound that never fully heals.”

“The hardest part is that I often saw it coming. I could see the small compromises, the gradual cooling of their first love, the increasing attraction to worldly success or comfort. But as a leader, you cannot force someone to stay faithful. You can warn, teach, plead, but in the end, each person must choose whom they will serve.”

Luke noticed tears in the apostle’s eyes as he continued. “Some turned against me violently, spreading lies and trying to destroy the work we had done together. Others simply drifted away, finding excuses to avoid the cost of discipleship. Each one took a piece of my heart with them.”

The lamp flickered, nearly out of oil now, but Paul had one more account to share. “There’s one more darkness I must speak of, Luke. The darkest night I experienced in my ministry came in Asia, though I’ve never shared the full details before.”

Luke leaned closer, aware he was about to hear something few had heard.

“We were hunted, Luke. Not just by the authorities, but by a coordinated network of enemies. They had marked us for death – not just me, but anyone associated with me. They murdered Gaius’s brother when they couldn’t find him. They burned down the house where we had been staying, with the family barely escaping.”

Paul’s voice grew heavy with memory. “We were forced to move constantly, never staying more than a day in one place. We couldn’t trust anyone we didn’t know personally. Some who offered help turned out to be infiltrators seeking to trap us. We had to abandon our plans, our possessions, even our ability to communicate with other churches.”

“But the worst part wasn’t the physical danger. It was watching the fear spread through the churches. People were afraid to be associated with us. Houses that had once welcomed us now turned us away. Some denied even knowing us. The fellowship we had built began to fracture under the pressure.”

“I experienced what I can only describe as a dark night of the soul, Luke. We were under such pressure that we despaired even of life. Every human support seemed to be stripped away. There were moments when I wondered if everything we had built would be destroyed, if our work had been in vain.”

Paul’s voice softened. “But in that darkness, I learned something precious about the sufficiency of Christ. When everything else was stripped away, His grace remained. When human courage failed, His strength sustained us. When earthly fellowship was denied us, His presence became more real than ever.”

As the lamp gave its final flickers, Paul straightened in his chair, his face illuminated with an inner light that had nothing to do with the dying flame. “But Luke, you must understand – in all these evils we faced, the victory of Christ was made manifest. Every darkness we encountered only served to reveal the greater power of God’s grace.”

“In Ephesus, the very centre of dark magic, the power of the gospel was demonstrated so clearly that even the practitioners of sorcery burned their books publicly. In Corinth, though some fell away, others grew stronger in their faith, learning to discern truth from error. In Laodicea, a remnant remained faithful, showing that true riches are found in Christ alone.”

“Even the false teachers in Galatia, though they caused great harm, ultimately helped the church develop a clearer understanding of the gospel. The battles we fought there have given strength and clarity to churches everywhere about the true nature of salvation by grace through faith.”

“And those dark days in Asia? They taught us to rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead. Every evil we encountered, God turned to good in ways we could never have imagined.”

Paul leaned forward, his chains clinking softly. “This is what I want you to record, Luke. Yes, the evil was real and terrible. But the victory of Christ is more real and more terrible to His enemies. In every darkness, His light shone brighter. In every weakness, His strength was perfected. In every loss, His sufficiency was proved.”

“The churches must know this – not just the reality of the evil they may face, but the greater reality of Christ’s victory. They must understand that no darkness, whether from without or within, can overcome the light of the gospel. The same grace that sustained us will sustain them.”

As the lamp finally died, leaving them in the dim light of dawn beginning to creep through the high window, Paul’s voice took on a tone of triumph. “So let them record my chains, my sufferings, the evils we faced. But let them also record that in all these things, we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”