An awkward and dangerous pause occurred at the beginning of Saul’s Christian ministry. He was so recently a dedicated enemy of the early church and his reputation for zeal in persecuting and jailing Christians was so widespread that no one knew what to make of him. He was new to the faith following his conversion in Damascus. When he tried to join the disciples in Jerusalem, no one there wanted him. No one believed he really was a true disciple. They must have thought, “He’s putting on an act to get us to trust him, and then he will run the lot of us into jail.” Christians viewed him with wariness and distrust.
But then someone came and stood with Saul, someone trustworthy and well-respected. While his real name was Joseph, his nickname meant “Son of Encouragement.” He was Barnabas of Jerusalem. Barnabas stood with Saul and described to the wary Christians of Jerusalem what had happened on the road to Damascus and how persuasively and sincerely Saul had been preaching the Gospel of Jesus ever since. Because Barnabas stood with his friend and vouched for him, Saul’s career as the preeminent preacher of the gospel began, all because of one encourager.
My former colleague Dr. Steve Huntley was also a son of encouragement. The first time he came and stood by me was at Patterson’s Spring Hill Funeral Home. It was the day after my father, Frank Harrington, died. My mother, my sister, and I were filled with grief. Everyone at Peachtree was grieving. The three of us felt that others were choosing to keep far apart from us, not knowing what to say or do, wanting to speak but feeling unable.
But then Steve came in, and he stood with us. He didn’t say anything specific that I can remember, though surely he spoke to us. He just stood with us, close by, calm and at peace, accepting us as though we were approachable. It took courage to break through the invisible bubble that others had put up around us. But Steve Huntley had that courage. He was a son of encouragement that day. I remember looking at him and thinking, “You were born to do this.” Because he stood with us, others found the courage to approach us, too. Soon thereafter, we didn’t feel isolated and lonely—because Steve gave us quiet, good care.