13 Now Paul and his companions put out to sea from Paphos and came to Perga in Pamphylia; but John left them and returned to Jerusalem. Acts 13:13 (read Acts 13:1-13)
We read this and can’t help but be critical of John Mark’s decision to leave Barnabas and Saul for home. Was Mark homesick like we’ve always been told? Was he a wimp? Maybe he didn’t like Saul, now wishing to be called by his Roman name Paul, assuming leadership of the mission from his cousin Barnabas, or the surprising salvation of Roman proconsul Sergius Paulus and thus the changing focus of the mission now to Gentiles. As a purebred Jew, was this new reality—the expanding focus to the Gentiles— too much of a shock to his system? Or was it his subservient role in the group as the scroll bearer (hidden in the Greek word for “helper” or “attendant” huperetes–See Luke 4:20) a source of irritation and humiliation?
It is unlikely that Mark was wet behind the ears at the time, but he definitely was in his “rookie” year. Nevertheless, he was a principled and promising young man, perhaps simply in need of discipling and some respect. Judging from his key and profound role in early Christianity as writer of one of the four gospels, his pedigree beginning with the apparent influences of the church in his mother’s house, cousin Barnabas (he being his understanding empathetic “shoulder” to lean on), and the apostle Peter was beyond question. I take it he was both bright and bold with tons of upside.
Possibly, and for these many reasons, he’d had enough of Paul’s modus operandi and headed back to Jerusalem alone. He likely didn’t realize that in Paul’s mind and from his mouth, he would be labeled for many years a defector and deserter. He now possessed a checkered reputation, one I’m sure he felt he didn’t deserve. Surely he heard a supportive chorus of “oh, that’s just the way Paul is” from his compatriots when he got back to Jerusalem. But what was said about him or even the perception of him hurt deeply.
Later, the apostle “untimely born” would have a change of heart, and even go to bat for Mark (Colossians 4:10). In his bittersweet final letter from Rome, he cajoled Timothy on his way there to “pick up Mark and bring him with you, for he is useful to me.” (2 Timothy 4:11). He may have still thought of Mark as “a helper,” or “assistant,” in the sense that he was “useful to him,” but now in a different way, as a valuable team member. This is apparent in Philemon 23–24 (notice who is listed first among Paul’s fellow workers).
23 Epaphras, my fellow prisoner in Christ Jesus, greets you, 24 as do Mark, Aristarchus, Demas, Luke, my fellow workers.
In many ways at this stage of my life I can relate to Mark’s journey. There are some influential men in my past that I never seemed to click with who I wish were still alive today who might affirm me finally as “useful.” For many years I sensed that they thought I was “untrustworthy” and questioned my motives. In the beginning a key discipling voice who had pastored what we’d call today a “dynamic” church in North Carolina for forty years, who possessed a doctorate in theology from Dallas Seminary, counseled me that everything I’d ever want to do for Christ could be done in the context of the local church.
So, I set out to fulfill that mission in my thirties and thereafter. I can imagine Mark had his fingers in everything as well, and was at the same time soaking in wisdom and eyewitness accounts of Jesus’ words and works from the people around him. Mark may very well have been just as dynamic as Paul given the pace of his gospel, which is widely described as a proclamation (or kerygma) by both a theologian and an evangelist. It appears he was driven to do more than carry scrolls, perhaps to write one of his own. If nothing else is learned from his relationship with Paul, we should be encouraged that being in the Lord’s service can mollify our idiosyncratic tendencies and cause the necessary changes in course and personality that will result in our finest work, in Mark’s case his glorious and forceful gospel sermon which carries his name.
One last thing. I recall a man in the early days who was the most skeptical of “what I was up to” when I served alongside him in the heydays and dog days of my former church. With both of us landing ultimately in the same church to “rehabilitate,” him being ten years older, I remember recently hugging his neck as he sobbed having suddenly lost his wife of many years. As with Paul, the passage of time and the spiritual battles waged throughout our lives have a way of creating the common ground on which we all will walk, arm in arm, into the Lord’s presence with no baggage.
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