The Chains That Set Us Free

The torch flames flickered against the damp walls of the Mamertine Prison as Luke helped Paul settle onto the rough wooden bench. The guard’s footsteps echoed away down the corridor, leaving the two friends in the growing darkness.

“You spoke with great power today, Paul,” Luke said softly, adjusting his cloak before sitting beside his beloved brother in Christ. “Even Nero himself seemed moved.”

Paul smiled, the torchlight catching the silver in his beard. “It was not I who spoke, dear physician, but the Spirit of our Lord. How many times has He proven faithful in such moments? Do you remember Philippi?”

Luke nodded, taking out his writing materials. “I remember everything, Paul. But perhaps you should tell me again, that I might record your words for those who come after us.”

Paul’s eyes grew distant with memory. “Where shall I begin, beloved Luke? With the glory of that first vision on the Damascus road? Or with the thousand little deaths and resurrections that followed?”

“Begin wherever the Spirit leads you,” Luke replied, his stylus poised. “Tell me of the journey that brought you here.”

Paul lifted his chained hands, the iron links catching the torchlight. “These chains… They remind me of all the bonds Christ has broken. I was first bound by pride, you know. Bound by my own righteousness, my own understanding. I thought I knew God’s will when I persecuted His church.”

He paused, his voice growing heavier with memory. “I can still hear Stephen’s voice as they stoned him. ‘Lord, do not hold this sin against them.’ I held their cloaks, Luke. I approved of his execution. How great is God’s mercy, that He would choose such a one as I to carry His gospel!”

“Tell me about Damascus,” Luke prompted gently. “Of how it all began.”

Paul’s face lit up with an inner fire. “That light… brighter than the noonday sun. I was struck blind, yet I had never seen more clearly. ‘Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?’ His voice… it contained all the authority of heaven, yet all the tenderness of a shepherd seeking his lost sheep.”

He leaned forward, chains rattling. “Three days of darkness followed. Three days of wrestling with everything I thought I knew. When Ananias laid his hands on me and called me ‘Brother Saul,’ scales fell from my eyes in more ways than one. I saw then that all my knowledge, all my zeal, all my righteousness under the law was as nothing compared to the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.”

Luke wrote quickly, capturing every word. “And then began your journeys.”

“Ah, the journeys!” Paul’s voice warmed with remembrance. “How many miles have these feet traveled? How many cities? How many synagogues and marketplaces? First in Damascus and Arabia, then Jerusalem, Syria, and Cilicia. Every step ordered by the Spirit, every city part of God’s grand design.”

He closed his eyes, memories flooding back. “Do you remember Paphos, Luke? When Elymas the sorcerer tried to turn the proconsul from the faith? How the power of God struck him blind, just as I had been struck blind on Damascus road? Or Lystra, where they first tried to worship us as gods, then turned and stoned me?”

Luke nodded. “I remember how we thought you were dead.”

“So did I,” Paul chuckled softly. “But God had more work for me to do. Always more work, more cities, more souls to reach. The hunger of the Gentiles for the gospel… who could have imagined it? I, who once prided myself on my Jewish heritage, became a servant to the uncircumcised.”

His voice grew thoughtful. “Each city holds its memories. Philippi, where we sang hymns at midnight in the prison. Thessalonica, where they accused us of turning the world upside down. Athens, where I found that altar to the Unknown God. Corinth, where the Lord told me in a vision, ‘Do not be afraid, but speak, and do not keep silent; for I am with you.’”

Luke looked up from his writing. “Which church remains dearest to your heart?”

Paul was quiet for a moment. “How can a father choose between his children? The Philippians, with their partnership in the gospel from the first day until now. The Thessalonians, whose faith and love grew exceedingly. The Corinthians, who caused me both the greatest sorrow and the greatest joy. The Ephesians, where we saw such mighty demonstrations of the Spirit’s power.”

He shifted on the bench, his chains clinking. “But perhaps the dearest to me are those I’ve never seen – the believers here in Rome. How long I yearned to come to this city! Though not, I confess, in chains.”

“Yet even these chains have served God’s purpose,” Luke observed.

“Indeed!” Paul’s voice strengthened. “Have we not seen the gospel penetrate even Caesar’s household? These chains have become a pulpit, dear Luke. Through them, the whole Praetorian Guard has heard of Christ. What I could not accomplish in freedom, God has accomplished in my bondage.”

He leaned back against the cold stone wall. “That has been the pattern of my life since Damascus – God’s strength made perfect in my weakness. When I was strong in my own eyes, I persecuted the church. When I was made weak, His power flowed through me.”

“Tell me of the hardships,” Luke said quietly. “That others might know the cost of following Christ.”

Paul’s voice took on a rhythmic quality, as if reciting a familiar litany: “Five times I received from the Jews forty stripes minus one. Three times I was beaten with rods. Once I was stoned. Three times I was shipwrecked. A night and a day I have been in the deep.”

He continued, his voice growing more intense: “In journeys often, in perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils of my own countrymen, in perils of the Gentiles, in perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils in the sea, in perils among false brethren. In weariness and toil, in sleeplessness often, in hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in cold and nakedness.”

Luke’s stylus scratched steadily across the parchment as Paul went on: “Besides these physical things, what comes upon me daily: my deep concern for all the churches. Who is weak, and I am not weak? Who is made to stumble, and I do not burn with indignation?”

“Yet you never wavered,” Luke observed.

“Oh, but I did, dear friend. I did.” Paul’s voice softened. “Remember my thorn in the flesh? Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away. But He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”

He shifted forward, his chains rattling in the darkness. “That is what I would have the churches remember, Luke. When you write these things, tell them that God’s power is not revealed in our strength, but in our weakness. Tell them that our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.”

“What else should I tell them?” Luke asked, his stylus poised.

Paul’s voice grew urgent with passion: “Tell them to guard the deposit of faith that has been entrusted to them. Tell them to remember that they are not their own, that they were bought at a price. Tell them that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.”

He paused, gathering his thoughts. “Tell them to love one another with pure hearts fervently. Tell them that love is patient and kind, that it does not envy or boast, that it is not proud or rude, that it does not demand its own way. Tell them that love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.”

Luke wrote rapidly as Paul continued: “Tell them to stand fast in the liberty by which Christ has made us free. Tell them to put on the whole armor of God, that they may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. Tell them that our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age.”

His voice grew tender: “Tell the elders to shepherd the flock of God which is among them, serving as overseers, not by compulsion but willingly, not for dishonest gain but eagerly, not as being lords over those entrusted to them, but being examples to the flock.”

Paul stood suddenly, his chains jangling, and began to pace the small cell. “Tell them of the mystery that has been hidden from ages and generations but now has been revealed to His saints: Christ in you, the hope of glory. Tell them that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Luke looked up from his writing. “And what of persecution? What shall I tell them about suffering?”

Paul stopped pacing and turned to face his friend. “Tell them that all who desire to live godly in Christ Jesus will suffer persecution. But tell them also that we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. Tell them that though our outer man is perishing, yet the inner man is being renewed day by day.”

His voice grew stronger: “Tell them of my joy, Luke. Tell them that even in this prison, my heart rejoices in Christ. Tell them that I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content: I know how to be abased, and I know how to abound. Everywhere and in all things I have learned both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

He sat back down beside Luke, the chains settling with a quiet rattle. “Tell them of God’s faithfulness. In all my journeys, in all my trials, in all my weaknesses, He has never failed me. Not once. Every promise has proven true, every word has been fulfilled.”

“And what of your present circumstances?” Luke asked softly. “What shall I tell them about your imprisonment?”

Paul smiled, a peaceful light filling his weathered face. “Tell them that what has happened to me has actually turned out for the furtherance of the gospel. Tell them that most of the brethren in the Lord, having become confident by my chains, are much more bold to speak the word without fear.”

His voice grew contemplative: “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, the righteous Judge, will give to me on that Day, and not to me only but also to all who have loved His appearing.”

Luke’s stylus paused. “Do you have any regrets, Paul?”

“Regrets?” Paul considered for a moment. “Only that I persecuted the church of God. But even that, God has used it for His glory. For I am the least of the apostles, who am not worthy to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. But by the grace of God I am what I am, and His grace toward me was not in vain.”

He leaned forward earnestly. “Write this, Luke: For I am already being poured out as a drink offering, and the time of my departure is at hand. But I am not ashamed, for I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that He is able to keep what I have committed to Him until that Day.”

“And what final words would you leave for Timothy, your son in the faith?”

Paul’s eyes filled with tears. “Tell him to be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus. Tell him to endure hardship as a good soldier of Jesus Christ. Tell him to study to show himself approved to God, a worker who does not need to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth.”

He paused, his voice thick with emotion. “Tell him that I remember his tears, and I long to see him, that I may be filled with joy. Tell him to hold fast the pattern of sound words which he has heard from me, in faith and love which are in Christ Jesus. Tell him to guard the good deposit which was committed to him.”

Luke wrote steadily as Paul continued: “And to all the churches, write this: Grace be with you all. Peace to the brethren, and love with faith, from God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Grace be with all those who love our Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity.”

The torch had burned low, casting long shadows across the cell. Paul’s voice grew quiet but intense: “One last thing, dear Luke. Tell them of the resurrection. Tell them that if Christ is not risen, our faith is futile and we are still in our sins. But Christ is risen from the dead, and has become the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep.”

His chains clinked softly as he gestured. “Tell them that the last enemy that will be destroyed is death. Tell them that this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality. Tell them that death is swallowed up in victory.”

Paul’s voice rose with triumph: “O Death, where is your sting? O Hades, where is your victory? The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ!”

He fell silent, and for a long moment, only the sound of Luke’s stylus could be heard in the cell. Finally, Paul spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper: “Therefore, my beloved brethren, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that your labor is not in vain in the Lord.”

The torch sputtered and dimmed. Luke looked up from his writing to see tears streaming down Paul’s face, catching the last rays of light. “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all,” Paul whispered. “Amen.”

And so were recorded the final testimony and exhortations of Paul, apostle to the Gentiles, prisoner of Christ, and faithful servant of God to the end. His words would echo through the centuries, bringing courage to the persecuted, hope to the downtrodden, and the unchanging truth of Christ’s gospel to generations yet unborn.