These are the islands where the Great Apostle tells his story of God's saving grace in his life following his Damascus Road encounter, where he preaches about the resurrection and announces the Good News of God's Kingdom. In the Book of Acts, we read of the islands he visited, where the gospel is preached, a ship wreck occurs, tensions arise, letters are written, churches are planted, plots are hatched to kill and where the great apostle marches inevitably, like his Savior, towards his own death in far off Rome.

Our Turkish captain and small crew show a dedication that is extraordinary in its sincerity and concern for our comfort to the dozen passengers who are a mix of Dutch, Belgium, South African and American. We are politely asked to remove our shoes as we step on board his 80ft sail boat and head towards our small cabins. We will spend the rest of the trip on deck in bare feet.

As we sail out of the harbor, we hear the wail (call to prayer) of a mosque far off in the hills. Instinctively, I ask the captain, whose English is modest, but comprehensible, how many people would attend that mosque as the call goes out.

He grins a white toothy smile and says simply, "Nobody."

"Nobody"?

"Call to prayer done by automatic machine, no Imam. Imam come on Friday only."

I press the case, "So how many will show up then?"

His smile widens, "Maybe five old women?

Sounds just like the Church of England, which, according to the latest reports will be dead in 20 years....when most of the old ladies will have died. I figure the CofE and Islam do have something in common...death by a thousand theological and ecclesiastical cuts.

I later learn, in Istanbul, that less than half the nation of Turkey, a secular state but strongly Islamist, practice their faith. The young are not interested. The name of the game is tourism and money. The Lira is king, so is the Euro. No one wants the dollar. Banks will change it for you, but it is a useless currency on the streets. This is a shock for me as the dollar has been king for so long in most of the countries I have traveled in.

Turks are unfailingly helpful and polite. Their cities are clean, their roads pot hole free, their food, water and hospitality has few equals anywhere in the world. Turkish Air, I later found out, has been voted best airline in Europe for the last three years. My own image of the Turk as a screaming scimitar wielding figure ready to lop off Christian heads with cries of "death to the infidel" was so far off the mark as to appear ludicrous. They respect bargaining and honest dealing and seal the deal with hot apple tea. The streets of Istanbul are safe for women, day or night. Hoards of young people wearing shirts saying "Ask me" have an answer for everything. Police are quietly omnipresent but never obtrusive. Their Metro system trams are so sophisticated, clean and air-conditioned, they mock anything in the US or UK. The modern state of Turkey is the genius of Kamel Ataturk who insisted on a secular state even though it is predominantly Islamic. They allow men to have only one wife. Construction throughout the country is astonishing. Apartment buildings shoot up in every city. I learn that after the US and China, Turkey is the fastest building construction country in the world. I am not surprised. Turks will hustle to sell you a carpet, but they will never beg you for money, a vast sea change from American cities where poverty is on the increase and begging is a way of life for thousands.

As our sailboat headed towards the first of the Greek Islands, I read the relevant chapters in the Acts of the Apostles. I sensed, once again, a fearful urgency in Dr. Luke's account of this small unprepossessing Roman Jew, as our sail boat heads towards Kos, the first Greek island where Paul dropped in. (Acts 21: 1-4). It says Paul made a straight run for Kos and then left the next day for Rhodes. Some of the earliest churches of Greece were built here. Ruins of a couple of them can be seen. Historians say that the most ancient Christian buildings were destroyed in a big earthquake in AD 535.

The town of Kos is sprinkled with the marks of history in every corner. Ancient Greek and Roman ruins are spread throughout town, while Byzantine and Ottoman monuments dominate the most popular cobblestone streets of the town near the harbor.

Today, there is a small Greek orthodox church. The waterfront is dotted with restaurants, and small hotels with stores filled with Greek Bric-a-brac for tourists who linger after a dinner of souvlaki and ouzo. For Turks and Greeks, Kos is the spring break place to go. At night, the place is noisy with parties that go on till 5am. Sleep is difficult.

The next day, we head for Nisyros, an island situated between Kos and Rhodes. It seems Paul may have skipped Nisyros to go straight on to Rhodes where he preached the gospel.

Nisyros is a volcanic island with Stefanos, the largest crater of the volcano. The island is small and tourism is not so heavily developed as on other Greek islands. Many leave the boat to visit the volcanic places on the island. It is quieter here and we are glad of the respite after the noise of Kos.

The last time there was volcanic activity was in 1888 after small ash eruptions in 1871 and 1873. A period of seismic unrest in 1996-1997 led an international team of scientists to initiate monitoring on the island. According to Greek mythology, the island was formed when Poseidon cut off a part of Kos and threw it onto the giant Polyvotis to stop him from escaping. The ancient name of the Nisyros was Porphyris. Ancient walls, dating from the 5th century BC, part of the acropolis of the island, are found near Mandraki.

We leave our sailboat and trudge through the small town and head along narrow streets towards the Monastery of Panagia Spiliani located high on a hill that offers a panoramic view of the village of Mandraki and the Aegean Sea. It is spectacular. The monastery itself is situated on the hill behind Pythagorio. The view from the small open area is impressive as we gaze out on the Aegean all the way to the Turkish shores. The small twin churches nearby are dedicated to the Panagia (Virgin Mary) and Saint George- (Agios Georgios). As we enter the cave, we can see in the depths of the cave a very old chapel-shrine.

We stay overnight and head the next day for Tilos. The bright blue waters of the Aegean ripple in the morning air and the captain decides to trim the sails. He kills the engine as we head into the wind and his deck hands unfurl the sails. The captain and crew are now on full alert. It is exhilarating. The wind picks up and everyone is ready. We pick a place to sit and hold tight. I try to imagine the boat St. Paul was on, certainly nothing as sophisticated as this. What was the food like? Was the water safe for drinking? He certainly had no modern day bilge pumps or modern galley to cook seafood and diced salads. At every port of call, we take on fresh water, the electricity is replenished and supplies of food are brought on board, including freshly baked bread.

We sail throughout the day and pull into the main port town of Livadia on the Greek island of Tilos. Popularly, Tilos was the son of Helios and Halia, the sister of the Telchines. He came to the island in search of herbs to heal his ill mother, and later returned to found a temple to Apollo and Neptune. Pliny the Elder notes that in antiquity Telos was known as Agathussa.

The Knights of Saint John took control of Tilos from 1309, restoring the Byzantine castles, and building new ones in order to defend against pirate raids. It was evacuated in 1470 as the Ottomans began the Siege of Rhodes. Control of the island passed to Suleiman I in 1522 when Rhodes fell.

The four of us walk along the foreshore and spot a small church at the end of what looks to be a long seaside boardwalk. It is open. We walk in. The Greek Orthodox Church is airy and quiet. Impulsively, my pastor friend starts to sing one of the great hymns of the church and I join in. It is an acoustical masterpiece. Our voices must have carried out into the open. A few moments later, a Greek Orthodox priest, attired totally in black, walks in. He hears us sing and stops to listen. We expect to be escorted out of the church and told not to come back. It doesn't happen. The priest listens for a few moments, smiles and leaves us. We sing on, going from one great hymn to another. We leave exhilarated and oddly at peace with ourselves and our surroundings. The moments and memories linger for a few hours.

In all the places we stop, our captain invites us to swim. I try my hand at fishing but catch nothing. From Telos, we set sail for the island of Symi. It is a mountainous island that includes the harbor town of Symi, as well as several smaller localities, beaches, and areas of significance in history and mythology.

The shipbuilding and sponge industries were substantial on the island and, while at their peak near the end of the 19th century, the population reached 22,500. Symi's main industry is now tourism. Symi was first part of the Roman Empire and then the Byzantine Empire, until its conquest by the Knights of St. John in 1373 when it was Christianized. Its landmarks include the Panormitis Monastery, a Greek Orthodox monastery built on the southwest coast in the early 18th century. It overlooks a bay and is still inhabited by monks. Symi is a tourist stop. It is inhabited with small restaurants, stores and hotels that string along the waterfront. It is one of two places we have dinner on shore to relieve the ship's captain of having to make three meals a day. Sleep is difficult as partying seems to be part of the cultural nightlife. There is no hint the Apostle ever came here.

From Symi we head back to Bodrum and Turkey.

Our hope to sail north to Patmos was killed when we were told that the seas were too rough for the crew. I had hoped to see the famous Cave of the Apocalypse where St. John wrote the Book of the Revelation, but it was not to be.

END of Part I