The Seven Revivals of the Apocalypse: A First-Century Novel

By Robert A. Allen and Douglas R. McLachlan

Exiled to Patmos, John the apostle receives a vision of the risen Christ along with epistles to be sent to the churches of Asia Minor. Unable to go himself, John enlists the aid of one of his guards as his messenger. Prochorus, a new convert, carries the letters to the seven churches. At each location he encounters the problems those first-century churches faced, as outlined in the letters. Interaction with the people in those cities brings to life the commendations and condemnations announced by God. At the same time his former commander, Ulpius, pursues him in an attempt to prevent what he considers disloyalty to his god, Emperor Domitian. Other trouble arises from those who worship the Greek gods. In spite of threats, arrests, opposition, and disappointment, Prochorus completes his mission. In every location he finds those who listen with open ears, respond to the divine message, repent of their sins revealed by a God who knows them, and experience revival.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Resource Publications
• Release date: Oct 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9798385202171

Robert A. Allen

Robert A. Allen has moved between pulpit and lecture hall over fifty years of ministry. Pastor of churches large and small, and professor of speech, drama, and homiletics, in retirement his focus has turned from nonfiction to fiction. He continues to teach as an adjunct professor at Liberty University online and the University of Northwestern, St. Paul. His favorite title, bestowed upon him by his children and grandchildren, is Storyteller.

Book preview

BOOK ONE—PATMOS

One

Welcome to Patmos. Jews and exiles."

Ulpius Duccius Ructicnus, commander of the Roman Auxilia squadron, stood on the dock of Skala Harbor, gazing contemptuously down at the small sailboat which had just arrived from Ephesus and addressing its captain.

What scum of the earth have you brought to enhance the culture of our fair island?

Reading from a scroll marked with the imprimatur of Rome, the sailboat captain hurried to complete his official government duties so he could get on with the business of unloading his personal cargo and collecting payment. No income derived from the delivery of exiles. It was something the authorities simply added to the responsibilities of any crew traveling in the right direction.

By order of Emperor Domitian, Pontifex Maximus, Lord, and God, the following subjects have been consigned to deportation from Ephesus: Libiana Arcima and Deconia Septima for astrology and magic; Johannes bar Zebedee, for lack of harmony and concord.

How appropriate, both Jew and exile. Refusing to acknowledge the emperor as God, I would suppose. Ulpius gestured casually toward two of the soldiers on the dock. Search them for contraband.

Lowering themselves over the side of the sailboat, the two men grabbed the small bundles the women carried and tore them open. Cheap linen stolas and tunics they cast aside. A coin purse from each bundle they tossed up to the commander. Ulpius untied the string, poured the coins into his hand, and threw the empty bags back to the soldiers. Most of his men were Vigiles, volunteers who served as firemen and policemen. But he treated his forces as if they were Praetorian Guards.

You won’t be needing these, he taunted the women. Emperor Domitian doesn’t send exiles to Patmos to thrive, he sends them here to die. If you want to avoid that trial, I suggest you make your way over to the temple of Apollo. They are always looking for more courtesans.

As the two women scrambled to stuff their meager belongings back into their bundles, the Vigiles turned toward John. The bundle he carried held no extra clothing. The tunic, sandals, and mantle he wore were his only clothing. Instead, the soldiers laid out a clump of cheese and bread wrapped in oilcloth, and a scroll. The soldiers tossed both of them up to the commander who immediately threw the food back onto the deck of the sailboat.

Let him eat the crumbs. A last supper, if you please. He showed his teeth in appreciation for his own humor before realizing the reference meant nothing to his men.

Unrolling the scroll, he scanned the inscription and then read it aloud with an oath.

Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God, to God’s holy people in Ephesus.

Rerolling the scroll, he handed it to the man standing beside him.

Burn it, Prochorus. This heresy must not be allowed to infect the loyalty of our island to the worship of our Lord and Master Domitian. We owe to him our lives, not to some itinerant prophet who came to a well-deserved death by crucifixion in the god-forsaken wilderness of Judea. Had this scumbag been in possession of this scroll at the time of his trial, no doubt the emperor would have decreed the death penalty instead of banishment. I’m severely tempted to administer that punishment myself.

Raising his voice to address not only the ship’s captain but all the other crews present in the harbor, Ulpius shouted out his orders.

No one is to provide housing for these exiles upon pain of death. Should they be accommodated with even shelter in your woodshed, your dwelling-place will be torn down on top of the head of you and your family. Any captain who offers transportation back to Ephesus will find his boat confiscated and his crew dispersed. By the authority invested in me by the emperor himself, I declare Johannes the son of Zebedee, Libiana Arcima, and Deconia Septima to be condemned from memory, excluded from all official accounts. Let them die at the mercy of the wolves and let no man mark their graves. Our beloved isle of Patmos, raised from the depths of the ocean by Athena and Apollos, must never be associated with the names of the exiles.

Striding off the dock with his cohort of soldiers following, Ulpius jingled the coins he had taken from the women. There was little profit in welcoming exiles, but there was some.

Once they were gone, John climbed over the side of the sailboat just as he had done so many times before on the sea of Galilee. His silver-white hair and beard fit the image of his ninety years of age, but he still moved with the athleticism of a much younger man. On the dock he reached back to help each of the women over the side, something the crew showed no intention of doing.

There is no need to go to the temple of Apollo, he calmly assured them. Look through the village for a house with a cross carved into the side of the doorpost. They will provide the help you need.

As he spoke, he handed each of them a Greek drachma the soldiers had failed to discover in their search. You must not fear the wrath of the commander. It is I whom he has cursed. May you come to know the blessing of the great Shepherd of the sheep.

Leaving the harbor of Skala behind, John walked slowly along the road which led to Chora. He could see the walls and towers of the Acropolis in the distance as well as the temples to Apollos and Bacchus. The azure waters of the Mediterranean crept like giant fingers into the many inlets which lined the shore. Rocky, treeless slopes curved upward toward the apex of gentle hills. White, granite dwellings of Skala caught the last rays of the fading sun and gleamed brightly against the blue of the harbor. Eucalyptus and cypress lined the road, while fig trees appeared in some of the valleys where vineyards flourished. As night descended, he watched the blooming of the jasmine. Its redolent scent beckoned from the mouth of a cave which promised shelter for at least one night, and he gladly stepped into the dark and wrapped himself in his mantle.

Nature has afforded me the welcome denied to me by humanity, John mused. The heavens still declare the glory of God, even on Patmos. Perhaps exile does not mark the end of my ministry. Even here God has something for me to do. I will thank my God who has welcomed me to exile.

TWO

Golden rays from the rising sun gradually crept across the floor of the cave, waking John from a sound sleep. The dark shadows which still remained echoed with the faint drip of falling water. A stream of liquid, clear as crystal, fell from the roof into a shallow pool which then disappeared into another fissure in the rock. With a prayer of thanksgiving in his heart, John drank, washing down the stale bread and cheese he had carried with him from Ephesus.

Last supper indeed, he thought. They can banish me from Ephesus, but they can’t banish me from God. This is His day, and I will rejoice.

Returning to the mouth of the cave, he sat, looking over the valley. God had provided fresh water to sustain him. A short climb down to the Mediterranean Sea would yield abundant sustenance. After all those nights on the Sea of Galilee he certainly knew how to fish. Wild grapes, figs, and dates would feed him like a king.

A donkey cart moved slowly along the pathway, guided by a farmer on his way to market. A sailing vessel weighed anchor in the distant harbor and drifted off slowly in the direction of Ephesus. He gazed across the expanse of ocean, longing for even a glimpse of the mainland where he served as pastor for many years. One of the elders would be preparing a sermon in preparation for the Lord’s Day service. They would miss him, and pray for him, and go on without him. That was the way of life.

Hallo at the cave, came a voice from below. May we come up?

Without waiting for a reply, a man and a young boy climbed over the rocks and joined him in the mouth of the cave.

I’m so glad we found you, the man began. When Libiana and Deconia knocked on our door last night and asked for lodging, I sent my boy out to look for you, but you had already disappeared. My name is Konstantinos, and this is my son Tymon.

John rose to his feet and embraced the man, bussing both his cheeks in the manner of the holy kiss recommended by Paul. Greetings Konstantinos, and you, my son.

We have brought you a meal and an invitation to return to Skala as our guest. We could hardly believe the women when they told us they had arrived on the same ship as Johannes, the son of Zebedee, the last of the Twelve.

Your invitation is greatly appreciated and your food as well. Perhaps the ladies did not tell you of the proclamation by the Commander Ulpius? Please continue to provide for them as David did for Chimham the servant of Barzillai. They will pose no danger to your household. I am the one Ulpius hates. Were I to simply pluck grapes from your vineyard he would send his troops to tear down your house and utterly destroy you and your family.

Konstantinos nodded. His reputation has attained legendary status here on Patmos. But, if Tymon here were to pluck the grapes, wrap them up with a loaf of bread and a slice of cheese and leave them here at the mouth of an obscure cave, Ulpius would be none the wiser.

May the good hand of the Lord be upon you for your kindness. I will eat them with the fish I catch down at the shore. Many years have passed since I made my living on the water, but I’m sure it will all come back to me. The house of Zebedee used to provide barbel, musht, and Kinneret sardines for all the villages along the coast of Galilee. Surely I can snare enough to feed one mouth.

Would you tell us about that? Konstantinos glanced down at his son. I would love for Tymon to hear about those days in Judea, and how you met the Christ. I told him that you are the last man alive who knew Jesus during his life here on earth.

I suppose I am. Please sit down. It’s a long story, and an old one, yet it seems as if it were only yesterday.

John sat on a rock near the entrance to the cave as Konstantinos settled on the ground and pulled Tymon onto his lap.

James and I were a handful. Father is the one who labeled us sons of thunder, first because of the noise which constantly permeated our house and later because of the scuffles with one another and the fights with neighbor boys. Most of them were good-natured at the beginning, but even friendly roughhousing has a way of escalating rapidly. My brother and I were fighting about something that day, I don’t remember what it was. Probably something silly like which part of the Sea of Galilee held the most fish. We were tired, too, because we had been out all night and tried all of our favorite spots. Now we were washing empty nets and dreading the task of reporting to Father that we had nothing to take to market.

John took a couple of grapes from the basket they had brought and offered some to them. Konstantinos refused, but Tymon smiled and took two, exactly the number John had eaten.

Our partner Simon was there as well. He had met Jesus earlier and quickly agreed when this man we had never seen before asked him for the use of his boat. A crowd had gathered on the shore, and he wanted to move the boat out into the lake so everyone could see him and hear him. James and I continued to clean the nets, half listening and half working, until we heard him tell Simon to put his net back into the water. Of all the places James and I argued about related to fish, right there near the shore was not one of them. Who did this man think he was? We were the fishermen, and we could argue with each other. But why did this fellow think he knew more than we did? Then, before we could object, Simon was yelling for help. His net was so full of fish that it was breaking. As strong as he was, he couldn’t pull all the fish into his boat. Pushing out from shore we joined him, and soon both boats were so full of fish that water was splashing over the gunwales, and we were in danger of sinking.

What did you do? Tymon had become so caught up in the story that he forgot his shyness and abandoned his earlier silence.

We headed back to shore. Father and his servants had appeared by that time and helped us transfer the fish into baskets for transport. While we were doing that, Jesus stepped right in and helped us. He wasn’t afraid to soil his hands. And then we heard him tell Simon that he needed to start catching men instead of fish. We weren’t certain what that meant, but when he told us to follow him, we looked at father and he nodded his approval. All three of us left our fishing boats with father and the servants and followed the Christ. We became his disciples.

For the next two hours Konstantinos and Tymon listened as John recounted stories concerning Christ. When he described the scene at the cross, the eyes of both of them filled with tears. His narrative of the resurrection which followed, brought joy. When John told them how Jesus had appeared in the room where the disciples were hiding and said, Peace be with you, Tymon raised his fist into the air and cried, Yes!

Have you written this down? asked Konstantinos when John had finished. This is a story that must be told.

Others have done so, replied John. But you are right. I must share what I have seen and heard. Mayhap that is God’s reason for my exile, that I might have time to write. Perhaps when Tymon comes with bread and cheese, he could bring ink and a pen and some papyrus.

Gladly, said Konstantinos. It would be a great privilege. We will never forget this day and what we have learned. I am so pleased that Tymon has been able to hear the story of the risen Christ from your very mouth. And now, we must head back to Skala.

On the contrary, said John, standing up quickly. You must instead head back into my cave. Someone is coming. I have been watching him, hoping he would simply pass by, but that is not to be the case. One of the soldiers from Ulpius has found me. If he were to see you, your lives would be forfeit and that of your family as well. Hurry quickly. And take the basket with you. I will wait here and see what he wants.

THREE

Prochorus smiled as he watched John’s visitors scurry away into the cave. He was not the first one to discover the whereabouts of the exile to Patmos, and he knew he would not be the last. The island was small, and both truth and rumors flew with the speed of the gannets and terns diving for prey in the ocean. He climbed more slowly to allow them to disappear entirely before he reached the cave. Ulpius would be interested no doubt, but he was not there on a mission for the commander. He had an agenda of his own.

John stood tall in front of the cave as if protecting the entrance with his own body. His hair and beard shone as white as the snow which Prochorus had seen in the mountains of Paphlagonia along the Black Sea during one of his military assignments. Erect posture and an alert gaze belied his age. Here was a man who had cared for himself for many years. Prochorus decided his best approach would be to set him immediately at ease.

Your visitors need not hide from me, he said as he approached. I have not come to disturb them or report them to the commander. I come in peace.

Then I will receive you in peace, answered John. May I offer you a refreshing drink after your journey?

John lifted up the gourd he had filled earlier from the small stream at the back of the cave. Prochorus accepted it and took a long drink before opening the bag he carried across his shoulder.

I have come to return an item which belongs to you.

Handing him the scroll which Commander Ulpius had confiscated the night before, he watched as tears of gratitude welled in the corners of John’s eyes.

The epistle of Paul to my church in Ephesus, murmured John. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. You could not have delivered a greater gift. I fully expected it had been consigned to the fire by now.

Those were my orders, as you know. But curiosity has forever been a weakness of mine. I could not imagine how a simple scroll would arouse such furor in Ulpius. So I took it upon myself to read what had been written before completing my ordered task. I read it three times. By then, my orders proved impossible to follow. I have never read such words in all my life. And I have come to ask—is it true?

John resumed his seat on the rock and Prochorus sat as well. The simple answer is yes. What Paul has written is the truth. But I dare say your question extends far beyond a simple answer.

The words poured out like water from a breached dam. It is all so amazing. He writes as if this Jesus lived a previous life. How could he have possibly done something before the creation of the world? How can a person be redeemed by blood? He talks about being dead and yet alive. And all of these mysteries. Do men and women really live in the harmony of which he speaks? How can you possibly fight against something which is not flesh and blood?

John smiled. Even Peter wrote that Paul spoke of things which are hard to understand. Allow me to begin with your first question. The answer to that remains basic to all you wish to know. Jesus, the Word of God, was with God in the beginning because He is God. He was there before the creation of the world because He is the Creator. We have life because He is the giver of life.

Konstantinos and Tymon appeared from the back of the cave and joined them, anxious to hear John’s words and unafraid of a Vigilis who desired to hear those words himself. Prochorus didn’t even acknowledge their presence. You are talking about the Jesus who lived in Judea and was crucified by the Romans, right?

The very same. Even though He was God, He became a man and lived in our country. We saw Him, touched Him, broke bread with Him, and heard Him speak. We went fishing together.

But God, and man? The Greeks have many gods, and the gods have many children. But why would one who was God choose to give that up and join us in this miserable existence we call living? The scroll says he died and still lives. So many contradictions.

He rose from the dead, shouted Tymon. Tell him, John. Tell him how Jesus walked right through the walls of the room where you were hiding and said, ‘Peace be to you.’ It is so exciting. Tell him John.

Konstantinos laid a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder. Tymon, you know better than to interrupt when others are speaking. Please forgive him, sirs. He forgets himself at times, but he means well.

I can see that he believes what he says, said Prochorus. But there is so much to grasp. People don’t just get up and walk out of tombs. Can you imagine what chaos would occur on the battlefield if men impaled by swords and spears rose back to their feet and continued fighting? The concept is beyond the pale of my experience.

I am grateful beyond measure that you have returned the scroll, said John. It is my desire to see all of your questions answered. Perhaps you could return for a time each day and we could read the scroll together, sentence by sentence, paragraph by paragraph. Paul has written this down so that we can believe that Jesus is the Son of God. I want you to understand and by believing come to have life through His name.

May we come as well, father? Tymon jumped to his feet. We can bring the ink and papyrus John requested and listen to more of his stories. Please, father? Please?

When Konstantinos paused, Prochorus reached out a hand and laid it on the boy’s head. You have nothing to fear. I have no intention of sharing any of this with Commander Ulpius. I would love to have you and the boy join us as we investigate the contents of this amazing letter. I don’t understand it, Johannes son of Zebedee. But I cannot escape the feeling that you have been sent here to Patmos to change my life.

FOUR

Two days later a storm hit with cataclysmic intensity during the middle of the night. Sheets of rain swept across the island, inundating the land, and swelling streams into destructive torrents. Bolts of lightning flared across the vault of heaven, predicting the arrival of thunderous applause, echoed by the depths of the ocean rising to pound a staccato beat on the rocky shore. Quakes cracked foundations, rattled foodstuffs off shelves, and initiated a rush of people in nightclothes to shelter under the safety of doorways or risk the pounding rain in order to avoid the collapse of falling buildings.

Priests in the temple of Apollos woke from their slumber and rushed to offer a sacrificial goat. They feared the island would once again sink into the sea as it had in the past, and implored Artemis and Apollo to approach Zeus on their behalf. Zeus had brought them up from the depths before and could do it again. Gases emitted from the fault zones beneath the temple assured them of the presence of their own Pythia who would speak in a voice from the gods. At the same time, the earthquake frightened them with the possibility that the gods had been offended and would hasten their re-entrance into the realm of the underworld.

John stood at the entrance of his cave and rejoiced at the demonstration of the power and glory of God revealed by the action of the heavens. To him, the thunder spoke with the voice of God Almighty, silencing all other supposedly divine messages. Only the Creator could have decreed that lightning, hotter than the surface of the sun, would rapidly expand the air so that immediately after the flash the cooling would produce crashing drumfire like an exploding volcano.

It had been the Creator back in the days of Noah who had first opened the windows of heaven and replaced watering mist with pouring rain. Judgment on the ancients had come in the deluge, followed by the divine promise of the rainbow assuring mankind that destruction would never again happen in that form. John’s heart swelled with appreciation of God’s promise, removing any fear of universal inundation.

Lightning brought to mind the incandescent magnificence which filled the temple in the vision Isaiah received of God’s holiness. The omnipresent God, present even in the flash of the lightning, dwelt in a light that none could approach. A blaze, hotter than the sun, torching those it touched, emanated from the fingers of the untouched God, an eternal God who inhabited the universe and remained unchanged even by its excesses.

As the orb of the rising sun appeared on the eastern horizon, the clouds parted, and the storm ceased immediately. John could almost hear the words peace, be still from their experience with Christ in