Escorted City by City

Remember in your prayer the church in Syria. It has God for its shepherd now, in place of me; only Jesus Christ will oversee it, and your love. As for me, I am ashamed to be counted one of them. For I am not worthy: I am the last of them, a miscarriage. And yet I have been shown mercy, so that I may be someone — if I reach God. [a]

My spirit greets you, and so does the love of the churches that welcomed me in the name of Jesus Christ, not as a man merely passing through. Even the ones that did not lie on my road — I mean the road my body had to travel — escorted me onward, city by city.

I am writing this to you from Smyrna, by the hand of the Ephesians, who deserve every blessing. With me too, among many others, is Crocus — the name I long for. As for those who went on ahead of me from Syria to Rome, for the glory of God, I believe you already know them. Let them know that I am close. For they are all worthy of God and of you, and it is right for you to give them rest in every way. [h]

I wrote this to you on the twenty-fourth of August. Farewell, to the end, in the endurance of Jesus Christ.