20. Andrew, Thomas, Judas, and Stephen: Disciples on the Fringe
20
ANDREW, THOMAS, JUDAS, AND STEPHEN
Twelve run-of-the-mill men. They were not ones likely to be chosen to sit on a board of directors. Yet it would be difficult to imagine Jesus’ earthly ministry without the twelve disciples. Except for rare occasions, they were all present whenever he was engaged in ministry. He needed them. He could not have carried out his mission without them, unfaithful and fickle as they sometimes were.
Despite their flaws and failures, the disciples apparently get along well. This is remarkable considering their close, almost-daily contact and their bare-bones lifestyle. In fact, only once, when James and John are trying to weasel thrones next to Jesus in heaven, is there any indication of dissension among the twelve disciples. Such harmony is truly remarkable.
The twelve disciples are most often depicted dining with Jesus during the last Passover meal or following him as he travels from town to town. But, after having singled them out for ministry, Jesus calls them all together and commissions them to go out and conduct the work themselves, giving them the power to heal and to exorcise demons. There are strict rules: preach that the kingdom of heaven is coming soon; concentrate only on fellow Jews; take no money; secure lodging with friendly locals; be prepared for persecution.
Such instructions might seem normal enough. But then Jesus concludes with words that must have been very difficult for the disciples to digest. In this Jewish culture, family relationships reign supreme. Sons revere their fathers. But Jesus turns this familial bond on its head: “For I have come to turn a man against his father. . . . Anyone who loves their father or mother more than me is not worthy of me.”[1]
Is it any wonder the disciples struggle in their commitment? How could any one of the Twelve fit this job description? They were being sent out like sheep among wolves. At the same time, they were to act wise as serpents and harmless as doves. A tall order. On a very practical level, they were to go out without a shekel in their pockets—not even a change of clothes. And if that were not enough, family ties were to be forsaken for the sake of the kingdom. There was to be no halfheartedness. Take up your cross, Jesus said, and follow me. Needless to say, many of Jesus’ followers did not make the cut.
The same is true after the resurrection. The community of believers is expected to give all its money and property to a common fund, but in the midst of these high ideals some widows receive less support than others, some people lie about their giving, and others are no more than shysters, looking for a quick buck.
Peter and John each merit attention as major biblical figures in their own right. Indeed, they tower over the rest, particularly Peter. If the other ten disciples played lead roles in the drama of the first-century Jesus movement, the biblical narrative does not record it. Some of the twelve disciples have small, walk-on roles that give the reader a mere glimpse of their personalities and relationships. Others are even more obscure, including Bartholomew (also known as Nathanael), Matthew (a tax collector, also known as Levi), James (the less, son of Alphaeus), Thaddeus (also known as Judas, son of James), and Simon (the Zealot).
Those of the Twelve who make cameo appearances do not necessarily have high profiles, but they play important roles nonetheless. Among them are Andrew (brother of Peter), Thomas (the doubter), and Judas Iscariot (the traitor). During the days after Pentecost, other disciples come to the fore, including Stephen, Ananias and Sapphira, and Philip. They are key players alongside Peter and the other apostles.
Andrew: Behind-the-Scenes Disciple
In the list of the Twelve, Andrew is second, always following his brother Peter. His name is indelibly recorded in all four Gospels. That makes him the most publicized invisible disciple of Jesus. One could say that his chief contribution is that of simply showing up. He’s always there with the other disciples, but unlike Peter, he rarely does anything extraordinary. Indeed, not one miracle is attributed to Andrew.
Yet this behind-the-scenes disciple carried out one of the most far-reaching religious coups in all history. He convinced his hotheaded, independent, domineering brother Simon to follow Jesus. Had it not been for Andrew, the history of Christianity might have taken a very different path. It is difficult to contemplate this centuries-old faith without the larger-than-life Simon—Andrew ever in the background.
Andrew, son of Jonas, works alongside his brother helping their father manage a prosperous fishing business. He is from Bethsaida, on the northeast coast of the Sea of Galilee. Also involved in the fishing business are James and John and their father Zebedee. But Andrew has additional interests. Like many other Jews, he is eagerly awaiting the Messiah’s coming. He becomes a disciple of John the Baptist, the fiery desert prophet who preaches repentance. But when John points to Jesus as the Lamb of God, Andrew is stirred. Could this man really be the Promised One—the Messiah?
With John’s ringing endorsement of Jesus, it is not surprising that the next time Andrew sees Jesus, he leaves the company of John and begins to follow this new rabbi. With him is another of the Baptist’s disciples. In response to their question about where he is residing, Jesus invites them to come and see. They remain with him a day, no doubt relishing their private audience with him. Andrew is convinced he is in the company of at least a very great teacher. Indeed, more than that. He excuses himself and rushes to find his brother Simon Peter, excitedly telling him, We have found the Messiah. Without further explanation, he brings Simon to Jesus. This is truly Andrew’s shining moment.
When I was a child, our family attended a church at the end of our street named for St. Andrew. It featured a statue that represented exactly what you would think of a saint. The man wore sandals and long, flowing robes. His hands were folded and he bore the face of a determined, yet gentle leader. I couldn’t resist touching the statue and, in my little mind, thinking Wow! Saint Andrew! He seemed larger than life.
As I matured, I learned that the biblical account of Andrew does not portray anyone particularly remarkable. In fact, if you were hiring someone to lead your company, you probably would not hire Andrew. He was timid. Unimpressive. A follower. A man standing in the shadow of his more charismatic brother, Simon. Andrew, like all of the disciples, was anything but heroic, and certainly not saintly. They were far from the flawless specimens of perfection we tend to imagine. Instead, they were like us. Confused, called to fulfill roles far beyond their abilities, weighed down by all sorts of flaws, and hindered by individual quirks. Candidly, they were saints just like you and me!
At this point, the fishing business is down to only half its manpower, though the men will return to it periodically, taking breaks from their ministry with Jesus.
A fascinating footnote is that these men may very well have known Jesus from their youth—surely Jesus’ cousins, the sons of Zebedee and his wife Salome, sister of Mary and Jesus’ aunt. Mary had traveled some sixty miles to visit her cousin Elizabeth, and thus it is not difficult to imagine that she would have visited her sister, who lived much closer, in Bethsaida. Perhaps they rendezvoused each year for the journey to Jerusalem for Passover. John the Baptist, having spent many years in the desert, would have likely been a stranger to the fishermen. Not so Jesus.
Icon of St. Andrew
Andrew is a loyal disciple who is often overshadowed by his domineering, exuberant brother Peter. He does play his role well, however, in a bit part in the feeding of the five thousand. The people are hungry, and Jesus asks Philip where they could go to buy bread. Philip says the idea of buying bread is preposterous. They don’t begin to have enough money for that (and he might have added that it is doubtful there would be a bakery open that time of day anyway). Then Andrew steps up, telling Jesus that he has found a young boy who has a bag lunch with two fish and five barley loaves, though he concedes that such a small amount is hardly worth bothering about. But as he quickly discovers, it is just the amount Jesus needs to get things going and feed the whole crowd.
Andrew, more than the other disciples, brings people to Jesus. First his brother, then the boy with the bag lunch, and finally at the Passover dinner, when he escorts a delegation of Gentiles to meet his master, prompting Jesus to say something that might have troubled his Jewish disciples, had they gotten it: “And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.”[2] Andrew is faithful to his calling, the quiet man in the back pew who does little more than simply bring people to Jesus.
Thomas: Remembered for His Doubts
He is known as the doubting disciple, but he was much more than that—most significantly, a believing disciple. But Thomas, perhaps more than any of the others, possesses a melancholy personality. When he hears that Lazarus, Jesus’ good friend, has died, he is the pessimistic one. Jesus has said he is glad because this will inspire people to believe. In fact, Jesus seems to have a skip in his gait as he heads for Bethany. But Thomas is ready to give it all up, for he fears the evil intentions of the religious leaders, many of whom have come down from Jerusalem to Bethany. Though he urges the other disciples to hustle along, his gloom is palpable. We might just as well go and die with him.
Everyday Life
Food and Mealtime
Little children often eat with their fingers in their food. So also did people of all ages in biblical times. Thus the practical custom of hand washing before meals, which became more ceremonial under rabbinic law. Food was typically spread out on a mat, though low tables were also utilized. The diners squatted around the mat, where they ate from common baskets or copper dishes. Leonardo da Vinci’s iconic artistic depiction of Jesus and his disciples eating the Last Supper at a high table simply does not correspond to custom in ancient Palestine.
Special banquets to celebrate a wedding or birthday or Passover were often grand events. Invitations came by word of mouth through a servant, who would usually return to remind the guests just before the event was to start.
The consumption of wine was an important aspect of any meal—especially celebratory meals. It would have been a major etiquette faux pas had the hosts actually run out of wine at the wedding Jesus attended in Cana. When guests dined around low tables or mats, the most renowned of them was positioned next to the host.
Thomas is a twin, though no sibling is mentioned in the Bible. Like the other disciples (with the exception of Judas), he is a Galilean. At the Last Supper, when Jesus is spending his final moments teaching and giving them last-minute instructions, he tells the disciples that he is leaving them and that he is preparing a place for them where they can join him. The disciples—or at least Thomas—imagine that this is some sort of hideout where they can stay until things calm down. But then Jesus seems to make an unwarranted assumption by saying that they already know the place where he is going.
What are you talking about! Thomas is shaking his head in dismay. The political situation is getting tense. We need a plan.And the fact is, Lord, we do not know where you are going. So how can we find you! We need directions if we are going to find our way. Thomas does not realize that Jesus is speaking of the spiritual realm and that Jesus himself is the way. In fact, Jesus’ response to Thomas has become the age-old treasured summation of his identity: “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”[3]
After Jesus is crucified, Thomas is again ready to give up. Jesus has been his beloved teacher, rabbi, master. Now he’s dead. He had feared this was exactly what would happen. Now the dream—the grand vision—has died as surely as has Jesus. Thomas is not with the other disciples in the Upper Room when Jesus first appears to them on the evening of his resurrection. That fact is telling in itself. What was he doing during that absence? Merely moping around in plain sight, or was he hiding? Wherever he was, the other disciples track him down and tell him that Jesus came right through a locked door and they saw him with their own eyes. They are ecstatic as they exclaim that they have seen the Lord.
Thomas, however, is more than a little bit skeptical. He knows that people can be fooled by their imagination. Jesus is dead and buried. How can he possibly be out and about, alive and well? Is there someone out there impersonating Jesus? Thomas is adamant. Unless he sees the scars from the nails pounded through Jesus’ hands, and unless he can actually touch the sword wound in his side, he will not be convinced. Here Thomas plays a critical role. In his capacity as doubter, he stands in for all skeptics ever since.
Later that same week, the disciples are in the same room—this time Thomas among them. Again the doors are locked, but Jesus suddenly appears. The first thing Jesus does is turn to Thomas and tell him to touch the nail prints in his hands and put his hand on his side where he has been speared. As Thomas does so his astonishment is forever sealed and sanctified in his short exclamation: My Lord and my God!
Thomas then hears Jesus offer a blessing that excludes him: “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”[4] Thomas, ever quick to question and talk back, has no response. His story ends with his silence.
Judas: Betrayer Who Commits Suicide
Judas Iscariot. His name is indelibly imprinted on the mind of anyone who has heard even an abbreviated version of the gospel story. He always comes in dead last in the lists of disciples. The son of Simon, he alone among the disciples is from Judea, the rest hailing from Galilee. His story comes to light during the events surrounding Passion Week.
Just seven days before the crucifixion, Judas is with the other disciples and Jesus enjoying a dinner at the home of Martha, Mary, and Lazarus, the last having recently been raised from the dead by Jesus. They are all sitting around enjoying this feast in honor of Jesus. Martha is serving. Then Mary comes into the room and pours very expensive perfume on Jesus’ feet. Judas is appalled. What kind of a charade is this? Why is she wasting such a valuable substance on Jesus’ feet? Far better given to the poor, though Judas had apparently never before demonstrated any concern about those in poverty.
Jesus tells Judas to leave Mary alone, emphasizing that there would always be opportunity to give to the poor, but time is running out for anointing him. Judas no doubt imagines this is a highly improper way to anoint a ruler, assuming that Jesus is waiting for the right time to initiate a political coup. Then there will be no shortage of funds. But for now he serves as the self-appointed fiscal watchdog.
In fact, Judas is in charge of the finances for Jesus and the disciples, and it is later learned that he had been stealing from the treasury. But his real aim is to personally profit from this growing mass movement that features miracle displays and Palm Sunday parades. Like the other disciples, he assumes Jesus is going to set up a kingdom and that he, Judas, will play an important role—perhaps one that will make him rich. But in the meantime, he pilfers from the money bag.
Within days after Mary’s anointing, Judas, prompted by Satan, arranges to have a back-alley meeting with religious rulers in Jerusalem. Perhaps he is coming to realize that Jesus’ kingdom is not an earthly realm. If not, then what good would it do him? Knowing that Jesus is in the crosshairs of the big guns in Jerusalem, Judas asks how he can be of assistance. He offers to hand him over to them if they will reward him for his efforts. They agree to give him a fair price—thirty pieces of silver, valued at more than ten thousand dollars in today’s currency.
On the evening of the Last Supper, after he washes the disciples’ feet, Jesus offers some final instructions and blesses them, though he pointedly says that he’s not including all of them. One of them who is eating this very meal will betray him. The disciples are taken aback, not knowing what he is talking about. They have come to know each other well, even Judas from Judea, whom they have entrusted with the treasury. Who could Jesus possibly be referring to? Jesus responds, perhaps as an aside, that it’s the one who takes the dipped crust of bread.
Still the disciples don’t get it. Judas, however, does. He takes the bread and leaves. Still the other disciples don’t suspect him. They assume that Jesus had asked him to purchase more food or make a charitable donation with the money that had been collected.
Judas goes out into the night and meets with the religious leaders to finalize their plans. They might have gone directly to where Jesus and the disciples are partaking of the Last Supper. Instead, they bide their time and wait until it’s late at night and Jesus is in the Garden of Gethsemane with only his closest disciples. It’s dark when they come upon Jesus. Judas, as planned, identifies him with a kiss. The religious leaders and their cronies are wielding clubs and swords.
Judas has earned the money he was promised, and now he can take life easy. Perhaps he’s thinking that if he hadn’t pointed out Jesus, someone else would have. Besides, this whole kingdom thing didn’t seem to be going anywhere anyway. So, no harm done.
But Judas has a restless night. The next morning, when he has fully comprehended what he has done and that the plot to kill Jesus is actually being carried out, he is remorseful. Why did he do such a terrible thing? Why did he put the temptation of riches ahead of his loyalty to Jesus? Thirty pieces of silver. Could such money actually buy him happiness? He has done a deed so terrible that he will never be able to live with himself. And it can’t be undone. It’s way too late.
So he goes back to the religious leaders and wants to return the blood money. He tells them he has sinned by betraying an innocent man. They couldn’t care less. He can wallow in his guilt if he wants to, but it’s none of their concern. So Judas throws the money down inside the door of the Temple. He leaves, and it is later learned that he has committed suicide by hanging, his body then falling and bursting asunder.
The religious leaders pick up the coins, but they think twice about what to do with them. How can they take the money as a Temple offering? This is blood money, which has been the price of a conspiracy to kill. So they purchase land that will be used as a burial ground for indigents—a fitting end to the story of this most unforgettable disciple of Jesus.
Ananias and Sapphira: Death Sentence for Lying
The followers of Jesus are expected to leave worldly goods behind. They go out two by two without even taking a satchel with pocket change. Similar expectations are continued after Pentecost, as the infant community is growing by the thousands. There is a consensus that all goods and property are to be shared and used in the ministry. Indeed, new converts are selling their property and giving the proceeds for the poor, so that no one goes without necessities. It’s an idealistic system, and one open to fraud.
This landowning married couple, Ananias and Sapphira, like many others who hear the news of the resurrection of Jesus, join the faith community. But their names are forever linked as liars—liars of biblical proportions. They lie to Peter and to the Holy Spirit. But surely their lives entail far more than this one incident would suggest. Apart from this duplicity, they may have been good, hardworking citizens, friendly neighbors, doting parents and grandparents—and even faithful followers of the resurrected Jesus.
Together, however, they hatch a dishonest scheme. They sell their property and tell the apostles they are contributing the entire proceeds to the general fund, while actually keeping a portion for themselves. They do this publicly for all to see, laying the money at the apostles’ feet. Others may have been awed by their generosity. Perhaps it was a large piece of property.
Peter approaches Ananias when Sapphira is elsewhere, asking him how it is that he has allowed Satan to so tempt him. “Before you sold it,” Peter points out, “it was all yours, and after you sold it, the money was yours to do with as you wished.” In other words, no one was holding a gun to his head demanding the money. “So what got into you,” Peter continues, “to pull a trick like this?”[5]
Ananias drops like a rock. Dead. Not even an opportunity to offer an excuse like owing back taxes or medical bills. Those who witness the sudden death are terrified. Honesty is not merely an option for this budding faith community; it is a core ingredient. The younger men put his body on a board and take him out to be buried. No questions asked.
Some three hours later, Sapphira happens by, totally unaware of the calamity. She actually is given the opportunity to tell the truth. Peter specifies the amount of money they donated and asks her if that is the amount they received for the sale of the field. That amount precisely, she says. Peter asks her why she conspired with her husband to lie to the Holy Spirit, and then he tells her that the same men who just buried Ananias are prepared to do likewise for her. Before she can comprehend what has happened to her husband, she herself drops dead.
The young men who have just buried her husband return, no doubt stunned to realize they must now take her body to the same burial plot. Indeed, this has been a most terrifying incident for the entire faith community. They must know that Abraham and Isaac and many other Hebrew saints lied and lived—though perhaps to regret it. But to the early Christians such a punishment as sudden death must surely seem like overkill.
Stephen: First Martyr of the New Faith
A man full of faith and the Holy Spirit, Stephen is exactly the kind of person needed for a difficult task in the early days of the Jesus movement, now expanding rapidly. Some of these new followers are poor widows with children. Their needs are great. But it turns out that Hebrew-speaking Jews are given a distinct advantage. They are served first, and the Hellenistic Jewish widows receive what, if any, is left over. It’s an unfair system, and someone needs to take charge to ensure equality. Stephen is that man. He and six others are chosen as deacons.
The role of deacon, which involved food distribution, was different from that of apostle, but no less important. And Stephen is far more than a one-man meals-on-wheels. He performs miracles—great signs and wonders—as he goes about his ministry. But such mighty works are exactly what incite conspiracies against him. His enemies initially try to talk him down, but his God-given wisdom deflates all their arguments. So they start rumors that he has been blaspheming not only Moses but also God.
They gather false witnesses, and with their charges they stir up ordinary citizens and the Jewish leaders. Stephen is then brought to face the Sanhedrin. Before he even has a chance to speak, his face lights up like that of a neon angel. He is asked if the blasphemy charges are true. He might have simply said no. But this affords him an opportunity to preach before this august body and the onlookers. It turns out that Stephen knows his Hebrew Bible.
He grounds his very detailed sermon in the call of Abraham to the Promised Land and the covenant of circumcision. From there he proceeds to Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph, sold by his brothers as a slave to be taken to Egypt, where later his famine-stricken family comes for food. With that setup he launches into the generations of slavery under the Pharaohs in Egypt and God’s incredible work of salvation through his servant Moses, who heard God’s voice in a burning bush. But the children of Israel complained against not only Moses but all the prophets who followed him.
Then Stephen comes to a powerful and stunning conclusion—before the Sanhedrin, no less: “Was there ever a prophet your ancestors did not persecute? They even killed those who predicted the coming of the Righteous One. And now you have betrayed and murdered him—you who have received the law that was given through angels but have not obeyed it.”[6]
The religious leaders are visibly enraged by Stephen’s words. Pandemonium ensues. But Stephen calmly looks up into the sky and says aloud for all to hear that he sees heaven opening and there beholds the Son of Man at the right hand of God. By now, the members of the Sanhedrin, like a bunch of elementary school boys, are plugging their ears and screaming and rushing to attack him. Helpless to defend himself, he is dragged outside the city, where people begin throwing stones at him.
With each rock that hits him, he knows he is closer to death. He cries out for Jesus to receive his spirit. Then he prays the prayer of Jesus on the cross, asking God not to hold this sin of murder against them. With that he collapses dead on the ground. Saul (later to become the apostle Paul) is in the crowd, observing with approval this murderous mayhem.
St. Stephen was one of the first “social workers” in the Church, and it was his task to organize meals to feed the poor. In remembrance of Stephen’s work for the needy, the British people used to collect money throughout the year in little clay boxes. On the feast of St. Stephen or “Boxing day” as it is called in Britain, these boxes were broken and the money was distributed to the poor. . . . In some homes and communities a box is labeled and set beside the Christmas tree. Members of the family, in gratitude for their Christmas blessings, choose one of their gifts for the “St. Stephen’s Box”—clothing and other useful articles which are sent abroad to the poor or to a mission country.
As the family gathers around the lighted Christmas tree in the evening to eat minced meat pie dessert, the mother or father reads the story of Good King Wenceslaus who “looked out on the Feast of Stephen” and who enjoyed eating his minced meat pie after sharing his meal with a poor peasant family.
Philip: Deacon and Evangelist
The list of deacons chosen to distribute offerings to the poor includes Philip. Like Stephen, he assumes a much broader role. After Stephen’s death by stoning, many in the community of believers get out of town, Philip included. But everywhere they go, they spread the word of the risen Messiah. Philip draws large crowds as he preaches and casts out demons and heals the sick.
On one occasion, an angel tells Philip to head south on the desert road that leads out of Jerusalem to Gaza. Along the way he meets a man who is sitting in his chariot reading. The Spirit tells Philip to go up and introduce himself to the man. Turns out he’s a financial administrator in charge of the Ethiopian treasury—a eunuch working closely with the Queen of Ethiopia.
Philip asks him what he’s reading. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised that it would be the perfect launching pad for a witness—the written words of the prophet Isaiah. He asks the man if he understands it. The man says it is impossible to understand unless someone explains it to him. The passage that is stumping him is no less than Isaiah 53.
He was led like a sheep to the slaughter,
and as a lamb before its shearer is silent,
so he did not open his mouth.
In his humiliation he was deprived of justice.
Who can speak of his descendants?
For his life was taken from the earth.[7]
The man wonders if Isaiah the prophet is speaking of himself or someone else. So Philip joins him in the chariot and explains the passage, telling him it points to the good news of Jesus. They continue their way south, as Philip shares the whole story of Jesus’ death and resurrection. When they arrive at an oasis, where there is water, the man asks if there is anything that would prevent him from being baptized. Philip says there is not. So the man orders the driver to stop, and Philip baptizes him then and there.
Philip is not the only evangelist who preaches in and around Palestine and Samaria. Indeed, Simon arrives in Samaria before Philip and is spicing his message with magic. The people are bowled over by him, thinking him to be a great worker of miracles. But when they hear Philip they recognize his authenticity and the truth he is preaching. Large numbers are baptized, including Simon himself. He comes across as a sincere believer, following close wherever Philip goes. But his motives are more than a little questionable.
Later when Peter and John join with Philip to lay hands on the new believers so that they might receive the Holy Spirit, Simon wants to know their secret. He wants them to show him how to do the same thing—not for nothing, of course. He’ll pay good money for their magic trick.
Peter is livid. “To hell with your money!” he thunders. “Why, that’s unthinkable—trying to buy God’s gift!” (Acts 8:20). He tells Simon to ask God for forgiveness immediately. Simon begs him to pray for him so as to avoid God’s wrath.
What happens next is most strange. Philip doesn’t stand around and make small talk. The chariot driver is apparently ready to get going. So without any ado, the Holy Spirit snatches Philip away, and he is never seen again by the Ethiopian man. This does not signal the end of Philip’s preaching, however. He continues evangelizing in towns along the route, all the way to his home in Caesarea.
Unlike any of the other New Testament evangelists, Philip has a common ministry bond with his children. His four daughters, all virgins, minister as prophets.
Concluding Observations
Jesus is the focal point of the disciples’ ministry, both before and after the resurrection. That’s a given. But the spotlight also turns on the disciples, sometimes for only brief episodes. Dorcas is devoted to charitable ministry, and the reader yearns to learn more about her. Alas, Luke in Acts has space only for an account of her death and Peter’s miraculous restoration of her life. Nor does Luke devote descriptive details to Simon the Sorcerer or Ananias and Sapphira. In each instance the whole of their life is contained in one shameful episode.
Stephen and Philip merit fuller coverage but their stories are also episodic. Stephen experiences fifteen minutes of fame that stretches into millennia. His dreadful martyrdom is a memorial to all martyred Christians in every time and place. He did not have an opportunity to meet the soon-to-be-converted Saul who was lurking on the edge of the crowd. Philip, also an early church deacon and evangelist, however, did. Paul stayed in his home while engaged in his own evangelistic outreach in Caesarea.
In the Gospels, the spotlight occasionally turns to otherwise obscure disciples. Andrew, Thomas, and Judas are among them. The reader suspects that there are so many more fascinating accounts of both Thomas and Judas that are not recorded. Nothing in the biblical narrative suggests that either of them is an ordinary, run-of-the-mill guy. Whatever the writers of the Gospels knew, however, they kept it to themselves.
Andrew’s claim to fame is his bringing his brother Peter to Jesus. That is enough. Throughout the ministry of Jesus Peter is there—except when he heads home to fish. His story, more than that of any other disciple, is fleshed out and given substantial treatment by the Gospel writers.
Further Reading
Bruce, F. F. The Book of Acts. Rev. ed. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1988.
Klassen, William. Judas: Betrayer or Friend of Jesus? Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996.
MacArthur, John. Twelve Ordinary Men: How the Master Shaped His Disciples for Greatness. Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2002.