Our Holiday Club featured one of the great characters of the Bible: St Paul. And of course there are several other “stand-out” figures in the Bible, such as Abraham, Moses, David, Elijah and Peter, to name a few. This morning, though, I want to focus on someone who, if he were up for a Bafta or an Oscar, would fall into the category of “Actors in a Supporting Role”. And, just as actors often have a stage name which is different to their given one – such as John Wayne who was really Marion Morrison – so this man isn’t best known to us as “Cyprus Joe” (Joseph the Levite from Cyprus) but as Barnabas which apparently means “Son of Encouragement”. It was the apostles in Jerusalem who renamed him; they must have thought very highly of him!

We first meet Barnabas early in Acts 4. These were the very earliest days of the Church and it’s possible that Barnabas had actually been converted on the Day of Pentecost. Equally, he could have been someone who had heard – or even crossed swords with! – Jesus during his earthly ministry; he might even have joined the ‘outer ring’ of disciples during his lifetime. But, whatever his back story was, it’s clear that Barnabas soon established himself as an outstanding member of the Jerusalem church. And he was prepared to put his money where his faith was, as he, we are told, was the man who sold a field and put the proceeds at the apostles’ disposal. Now quite a few people did this – perhaps misguidedly – during this early period of enthusiastic sharing; but it’s only Barnabas who is noted by name. Does that mean that his gift was particularly large? Or was it – as I think more likely – that he was especially respected in the church?

That’s just a start; for now I’d like to take you on a journey through some incidents in Barnabas’ life which tell us more about the kind of person he was. The first of these comes in Acts 9, shortly after Saul’s conversion on the Road to Damascus. Now we all know how Saul, the zealot for Jewish orthodoxy and the arch-persecutor of the Church, was struck down by an amazing vision of Jesus and immediately converted to Christianity. We read that, after a few days’ recuperation and a visit from a disciple named Ananias, Saul began preaching the Gospel to the Jews in Damascus. More and more people began listening to him and, presumably, put their faith in Jesus. This didn’t please the synagogue leaders one bit: they thought that talking about Jesus as the Son of God was blasphemous and they also saw their power base being eroded. So they tried to get rid of Saul but he escaped, went to Jerusalem and attempted to join the church there.

But the Jerusalem Christians didn’t welcome Saul with open arms. And we can understand why: for, when they had last seen him, he’d been busy rounding Christians up and killing them – in fact he was the man who had held the stone-throwers’ coats while Stephen was being killed. But now he was saying, “I’m not the man I used to be; I’ve met Jesus and I’ve come over to your side!” Not surprisingly the believers were highly suspicious and may have suspected some kind of plot: what if Saul was trying to infiltrate the Church so he could turn its leaders in to the authorities? So they kept him very much at arm’s length – except for one man, who listened to his story, believed it, and brought him to the apostles. Who was this man? Well, you know the answer already: it was our friend Barnabas.

So did he have greater spiritual discernment than his colleagues? Was he more willing than others to talk to Saul instead of just assuming the worst about him? Was he more ready to believe that a man like Saul really could be converted? Or was he simply a more generous and trusting person than most other folk? I suspect that all these factors were involved in some way. But doesn’t his example have something to say to us? We probably wouldn’t reject people who came to the church and said that they had met Jesus: but, if they were scruffily dressed or smooth talkers, we might not trust them at first and we’d keep a close eye on our wallets! Perhaps Barnabas – following Jesus’ own example – is showing us a more godly and trusting way of engaging with folk who say that they have changed. Perhaps we need to become less cynical and more naïve.

This, of course, was only the beginning Barnabas’ association with Saul – or, as he became, Paul. For, two chapters further on, we read about Greek-speaking Jewish Christians who, in a time of persecution, had fled to Antioch (a city which, if you didn’t know, lies at the top right-hand corner of the Mediterranean; it’s in Turkey today, but was founded as a Greek city by one of Alexander the Great’s generals). These Christians spread their message there: lots of people believed and a church was formed. That was great: but the apostles back in Jerusalem were a bit wary this had all happened spontaneously and without their say-so. So was it “kosher”? They needed to know. Someone they trusted clearly had to go to Antioch to check things out. Who should that person be? Once again it was Barnabas.

Now he was a good choice, because these new Christians were his own people (after all, his home island of Cyprus wasn’t that far away). He went and looked and listened and evaluated; and concluded that, yes, this was a genuine work of God. But he also realised that this infant church needed some good teaching, so much so that he couldn’t do it alone but needed help. So what did he do? He went to Tarsus (much closer than Jerusalem) and fetched Paul. They then worked together for a whole year. Barnabas clearly had confidence in this man who’d once persecuted the Christians, even if no-one else had. Indeed, it seems that the Jerusalem church had either deliberately sidelined Paul or forgotten about him – but Barnabas had kept in contact.

But the work in Antioch didn’t go smoothly: in fact it provoked a crisis which could have brought the whole Christian movement crashing down. For it wasn’t just Jews who were turning to Christ; people from pagan backgrounds were being converted too. That was absolutely fine, until a group of Judaean Christians went to Antioch and saw that these Gentile converts weren’t obeying the Jewish religious laws; in particular, they weren’t being circumcised. This horrified the visitors; after all, Jesus had been Jewish so surely new converts had to become Jewish and follow their laws – didn’t they? How could God possibly accept people who didn’t think this was necessary?

The Antioch Christians profoundly disagreed with this. Paul, in particular, stood up against these so-called Judaisers, although they were highly persuasive. Barnabas, after an initial wobble (Paul was very scathing about this), did the same. The argument dragged on for some time; it clearly wasn’t going to be resolved locally. There was only one thing to do: the Antioch leaders needed to appeal to higher authority, they would have to go to Jerusalem and take the problem to the apostles. Now I’m sure they thought that they were on a hiding to nothing: those apostles were bound to side with their fellow-Judeans and toss the case out of court. Nevertheless, Paul, Barnabas and some others from Antioch were determined to have a go. So a hugely important conference was held, which we read about in Acts 15.

I won’t go into the details of this – but what happened was rather surprising as the Holy Spirit clearly moved in one of his “mysterious ways”! For Barnabas and Paul, who firmly believed that God had confirmed their ministry to the Gentiles through miracles, didn’t find themselves in a minority after all. They found themselves supported = both by Peter, who’d had his own vision of God which settled the matter for him, and by James, who usually took a conservative line but not on this occasion. In fact it was probably James’ backing that sealed things – for he wasn’t just a well-respected leader but one of Jesus’ own disciples, no less. His words must have carried much more weight than the opinions of the “upstart” Paul.

So a compromise was reached and a letter would be sent to Antioch giving the details. This letter wasn’t merely an “apostolic edict” being delivered from “on high”, nor was it the Jerusalem church “pulling rank” over a newer one; it was a genuine attempt to keep the Church together. And who would be the “postmen” for this letter – yes, Paul and Barnabas, although others travelled with them. There must have been a lot of rejoicing when they finally arrived back in Antioch!

Let’s recap. Barnabas and Paul had been through a lot together. Barnabas had supported Paul after his conversion, sought his help at Tarsus, and been through controversy in Jerusalem. But I’ve missed out something important, which is that they had also been on a missionary journey together. For, if you flick back a few pages to Acts 13, you’ll read how, as the leaders of that Antioch church were fasting and praying, God spoke and said that Paul and Barnabas must leave to take the Gospel elsewhere. That must have shaken the Antioch Christians, for how could they survive without their two most mature leaders? But, to their credit, they did not refuse. Paul and Barnabas were released from their commitments and set sail for Cyprus, the land of Barnabas’ ancestors. It was all very exciting! And what’s interesting to note is the way in which the pecking order between the two men had subtly changed. Although Barnabas was the senior partner and, as I’ve said, may even have known Jesus personally, it was Paul who became more prominent in the missionary task.

But – and it’s a big but! – the seeds of a problem had already been sown. For Paul and Barnabas did not travel alone, but as part of a group. And one of the people in the group was Barnabas’ cousin John Mark; in fact he was tasked with arranging travel, food and lodging along the way. However at Perga in southern Turkey Mark quit and went home; we don’t know why. Paul and Barnabas continued; but the incident raised its head later on, when they were about to start a second missionary journey. For should Mark be trusted to accompany them a second time? Barnabas clearly thought that Mark had had a good reason for abandoning the first journey and ought to be given a second chance. But Paul took a harsher line: perhaps he felt that Barnabas was allowing loyalty to his cousin to colour his thinking. We are told that “the contention was sharp” – in other words, that Paul and Barnabas had a flaming row! They couldn’t come to an agreement but split up; it was Silas who Paul took with him on his next mission. (There is a happy postscript to this sorry tale as Paul, in prison many years later, writes to Timothy and says, “Get Mark and bring him with you, because he is helpful to me in my ministry”. He’s obviously come to value him).

And that’s the last we hear of Barnabas; presumably he lived out the rest of his life as a Christian leader in Cyprus or Antioch, while Paul continued to travel as an apostle, was finally arrested, taken to Rome and almost certainly died a martyr’s death. Somehow Barnabas faded into the background; possibly he had been deeply hurt by his dispute with Paul and decided that church-planting was no longer the job for him to do. Certainly the two men had very different personalities: Paul was the single-minded, almost fanatical, evangelist who brooked no disagreement and saw issues very much in primary colours, while Barnabas seems to have been much more the appeaser who could see good in the most unpromising person and champion their cause. I think that, even though they were both Christians who truly wanted to serve Jesus, the two men just couldn’t work together. (And, I have to say, I’d have been much happier with Barnabas than with Paul!)

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So, how can we sum up this man? To me, he comes over as someone who was trusting, generous, and peace-loving. He was prepared to believe that Paul had truly met with Jesus and been converted, and was also prepared to accept John Mark’s excuses for letting them down and give him a second chance. When faced with controversy, Barnabas seems to have found it difficult to stand his ground and oppose those with stronger voices; however, given a bit of backing he was prepared to fight for a cause. Barnabas was clearly committed to Christian teaching: perhaps his gifts and temperament were more suited to being a pastor than a missionary. And, finally, I suspect Barnabas was probably a better follower than an out-and-out leader; he’d probably have been a better First Mate on a ship than a Captain.

For, in the end, Barnabas wasn’t much interested in himself: his ministry was all about encouraging others, growing the Church and serving Jesus faithfully. That’s an example we all surely want to copy.