The Harbinger, page 22
“So that whole first attack of fallen bricks and sycamores would end up being a harbinger of an even greater judgment.”
“A warning and a harbinger.”
“But did that which was to come,” I asked, “have to come?”
“A paradox,” he answered.
“Was it irrevocable? Is it possible that God could have been merciful instead?”
“Merciful instead? Nouriel, do you still not understand Him? God’s will is that none should perish. Judgment isn’t His desire . . . but His necessity. The good must bring evil to an end, or else it would cease to be good. And yet His mercy is still greater than judgment. His heart always wills for redemption. And therein lies the hope.”
“The hope for America?” I asked.
“Sodom was a city of corruption and violence, immorality, depravity. Yet there was still hope. God would have spared the entire city if only ten righteous people could have been found within it.”
“But Sodom was destroyed.”
“Because,” he said, “it didn’t even have ten. Then there was the kingdom of Judah, a kingdom that had once known God and yet had now fallen so low that the land was filled with altars to foreign gods, covered with the blood of its children. Its judgment was decreed. But then a righteous man named Josiah ascended the throne. King Josiah attempted to reverse Israel’s spiritual descent. He banned the pagan practices, destroyed the idols, smashed the altars, and sought to restore the nation to God.
“So then the judgment didn’t come?” I asked.
“No,” he replied, “the judgment did come.”
“But I thought . . . ”
“It came because the nation never fully changed its course, and, after Josiah’s death, it resumed its spiritual descent. But as long as Josiah lived, the judgment was forestalled.”
“So judgment can be delayed.”
“Yes, even for the sake of one man. And then there was Nineveh, the great Assyrian city.”
“As in the Assyrian Empire?”
“As in the merciless, arrogant, brutal, cold-blooded Assyrian empire. Its judgment was also decreed. God called the prophet Jonah to go there and proclaim the coming destruction. But Jonah did everything he could to avoid answering his call.”
“Because he didn’t want to proclaim their judgment?”
“No,” said the prophet, “because he didn’t want them to be saved. He knew that God’s will was not for judgment but mercy.”
“But he ended up going there.”
“After some persuasion.”
“And . . . ”
“The people of Nineveh received the prophetic warning given them. The call went forth from the leaders to all the city’s inhabitants, to repent, to pray, and to seek God’s mercy.”
“And . . . ”
“And God heard their prayers. And the judgment was turned away.”
“But if their judgment was decreed and proclaimed,” I asked, “how could it not happen?”
“What should concern us more, Nouriel, that the judgment didn’t happen as proclaimed or that thousands of lives were saved? You see, the one who wills for judgment is man, not God. The heart of God wills for salvation. Greater than His judgments are His compassions.”
“How long,” I asked, “was it from Isaiah 9:10 to the nation’s judgment, or from the time of the first Assyrian invasion to the destruction of Israel?”
“About ten years,” he replied.
“And what about the southern kingdom, Judah, did it follow the same pattern—an initial attack, a harbinger, and then destruction?”
“Yes, the same pattern. First came the initial invasion in 605 B.C., this time by the Babylonians. Later, the same army would return to destroy the land, the city, and the Temple.”
“When?” I asked.
“586 B.C.”
“So from the time of the first incursion to the time of the destruction . . . about twenty years.”
“Yes. But there’s no formula,” he replied. “Each case is different.”
“But there’s a pattern.”
“A pattern, yes, but each case is different.”
“So Israel is warned but doesn’t turn back and is destroyed. Sodom could have been saved for the sake of ten righteous people, but there weren’t even ten, and the city was destroyed. The judgment of Judah is decreed but held back, averted for a set time, because of one righteous king. And Nineveh is told of its judgment by a prophet who doesn’t even want the city to repent, but they repent nevertheless and their judgment is turned away.”
“Correct.”
“So which of these is the case of America?”
“America is its own case,” he said. “As long as we have breath and as long as God is merciful, there’s hope. But the nation’s hope is dependent.”
“On . . . ”
“Its response to God’s calling.”
“And God is still calling America?”
“Yes.”
“And the message is . . . ”
“You already know the message.”
“The smiles of heaven cannot remain on a nation that disregards the ways of God. If America turns away from God, its blessings will likewise be removed and replaced with judgment.”
“Not if,” said the prophet.
“Not if?” I asked.
“Not if America turns away from God,” he said. “It’s already turning. So what then is the message?”
“Return?”
“Yes,” said the prophet. “The message is return.”
“But how does a nation return to God?”
“You never read the message on the paper.”
“In my dream?”
“In your dream.”
“No. I woke up. But it was Washington’s message, the warning for a nation that disregards the eternal rules of heaven.”
“Yes,” he replied, “that’s part of the message. But in your dream, it wasn’t just Washington. Washington and King Solomon were joined together.”
“So?”
“So the message is twofold. There’s another part to it, another prophetic word, and this time from King Solomon.”
“From King Solomon to America?”
“For that nation that has turned from God, for that nation from which the smiles of heaven have been withdrawn.”
“And this word came during the dedication of the Temple?” I asked.
“It came when the dedication was finished,” he replied. “God appeared to Solomon in the night to give him a word, an answer to the prayers he prayed on the Temple Mount.”
“The prayers he prayed over the nation’s future . . . for the day of its fall from God and the calamity it would suffer as a result.”
“Yes. And now God was giving Solomon the answer to his prayer and the answer for a nation under the shadow of judgment. This is the message now for America.”
The prophet then handed me a Bible, a little black Bible, small enough to fit into someone’s shirt pocket.
“Open it up,” he said, “to the Book of 2 Chronicles, chapter 7, verse 14. And read it.”
So I opened it and read the words out loud:
If My people who are called by My name will humble themselves, and pray and seek My face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin and heal their land.4
“That’s the word, Nouriel. That’s the word appointed for America.”
“If My people,” I said. “And who are ‘My people’?”
“As given to Solomon, My people would refer to the nation as a whole, and, more specifically, those within the nation who could genuinely be called the people of God, those who followed His ways.”
“And what would it mean applied now to America?”
“It’s the call of God to a nation once dedicated to His purposes but now falling away from His will. It’s the call of God to return.”
“And a call to those who follow His ways . . . to believers?”
“Exactly.”
“But why would believers have to return?” I asked.
“The call of repentance is for the righteous and unrighteous, the godly and ungodly alike. If the righteous had been the lights they were called to be, the nation would never have fallen as it did.”
“In Israel or America?”
“Both.”
“Will humble themselves . . . An entire nation humbling itself?”
“As Nineveh did, and was saved.”
“And pray and seek My face.”
“America was founded on prayer. Therefore the removal of prayer from its public life was a central part of its fall from God. A nation that turns away from prayer will ultimately find itself in desperate need of it. The calamity returned America to the ground of its consecration—the nation was being called to return to God in prayer.”
“But didn’t it already happen in a sense? After 9/11, the nation’s houses of worship were filled with people.”
“A momentary seeking for comfort in the face of calamity has nothing to do with the prayer and change needed to turn away a nation’s judgment—just as saying God bless America has nothing to do with seeking His face.”
“And how does one seek His face?” I asked.
“First, by taking it seriously enough to turn away from everything else, from every other pursuit.”
“And turn from their wicked ways.”
“Yes,” said the prophet, “the crux of the matter—repentance. With all the talk of God blessing America in the wake of 9/11, the great missing factor was repentance. Without that, everything else is null and void. America must face the magnitude of its moral and spiritual descent, the degrading of its culture . . . to the multitude of its idols . . . to its fall into ever deeper immoralities.”
“The idols of . . . ”
“Carnality, impurity, greed, materialism, vanity, self-obsession . . . and the altars covered with the blood of its innocent. Without a change of course, there can be no change of destination. Only in repentance can judgment be averted, and only in a true turning away from darkness to the light.”
“And what about those called by His name,” I asked, “the believers? They also need to repent?”
“They need to be the first to repent.”
“From what?”
“From their apathy, from their complacency . . . their compromises with darkness . . . their omissions . . . their serving of other gods . . . their sins committed in secret . . . their withholding of life . . . and their failure to fulfill their call.”
“Their call?”
“To be the light of the world.”
“And if there is a turning?” I asked.
“Then He will hear from heaven and forgive their sins and heal their land.’”
“And that’s a certainty?”
“His part is a certainty. His love is a certainty. His mercy is a certainty. His arms are open. His mercy is without end. And there’s no sin so deep that His love is not deeper still.”
“So which will it be for America,” I asked, “judgment or redemption?”
“The matter of the end . . . ” he said.
“What will the end be?” I asked again. “Judgment or redemption?”
“Or redemption born in judgment,” he replied. “What does the future hold? What lies in store for America? Three words, Nouriel . . . it all rests on three words: If My people!”
“A nation’s future resting on three words.”
“Even just one,” said the prophet.
“The nation’s future resting on one word . . . ”
“If.”
• • •
“Our time is almost up,” he said.
“The time of our encounter?”
“Our time together, the time of impartation. We’ve come to the end of the matter.”
“The matter?”
“The matter of the end.”
“Then what’s left?” I asked.
“That which comes after.”
“After the end?”
“After the end.”
“How could anything come after the end?” I asked. “If it could, the end wouldn’t be the end.”
“Then perhaps it’s not.”
“But then . . . ”
“Come.”
Chapter 21 Eternity
He led me away from Ground Zero to the water’s edge, which was a short walk.”
“So you were on the west side,” said Ana, “by the Hudson, just as you were the first time you saw him.”
“By the Hudson,” he replied, “except when I first saw him, we were much farther up.”
“And this was the lower west side, of course. Was there anything significant that he wanted you to see?”
“No. I think he just wanted to take me away from everything else, from any distraction. It was now late afternoon. The water was shimmering with golden light. In view of the setting, his question didn’t seem to fit.”
• • •
“And what will you do on the Day of Judgment?” he asked.
“You definitely know how to ruin a moment,” I replied. “What will I do?”
“‘What will you do on the day of judgment . . . the day of punishment?’ The words are from the prophecy. It’s what Isaiah 9:10 leads up to. It’s what the Lord asked the people of Israel before the final calamity.” “It’s a daunting question, and a scary predicament to be living then . . . in view of everything that was coming.”
“And what if it were you, Nouriel, living there at that time, walking in their sandals? What if it were you who heard the voice of the prophets, and understood the Harbingers, and knew the judgment was coming? Everyone around you was oblivious to it. Everyone just went on with their lives with no idea of what was coming. What would you do?”
“I’d want them to know. I’d want them to be saved. I’d tell them.”
“But who would listen to you? Who would take your warning seriously? And what about your own predicament? A nation’s heading for judgment, but you’re part of it. How do you save yourself? What will you do on the Day of Judgment? Where will you go to find safety?”
“Outside the country, I guess.”
“Judgment isn’t a matter of geography. It doesn’t matter where you are. No place is far enough away, and no refuge strong enough.”
“So what would I do?”
“The reason I ask is because you do live in such a time and place, and you have heard the voice of the prophets, and you do understand the Harbingers and know what they portend. So the question isn’t hypothetical. And it’s not even, ‘What would you do?’ What will you do? What will you do, Nouriel, on the Day of Judgment?”
“On the day of a nation’s judgment?”
“On the day of your judgment,” said the prophet. “What if you were one of them, back then, and your life ended before the nation’s judgment came? What then?”
“What then?”
“Would you then have escaped judgment?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“No. You wouldn’t. Judgment isn’t ultimately about nations—but people. As it’s written: ‘It’s appointed for man once to die and then judgment.’ After the end comes the Day of Judgment, in light of which all other judgment are only foreshadows. And no one is exempt. Each must stand before Him.”
“Why?”
“Why judgment?”
“Yes.”
“It must be. As long as there’s evil, there has to be judgment. Every sin, every wrong, every evil has to be brought to an end. Without it, there would no hope.”
“Without judgment there would be no hope?” I asked.
“Without judgment, there would be no end to evil in the universe . . . or in man’s heart. There would be no heaven.”
“Why would there be no heaven?”
He looked away from me and toward the light of the setting sun before speaking again. “Because heaven would then be filled with locks and prisons, hatred, violence, fear, and destruction. Heaven would cease to be heaven . . . and would become hell instead. But there is a heaven, and there is a time and place of no more sorrow . . . no more hate . . . no more weeping or tears . . . and no more pain. There must be a judgment. Evil must end . . . beyond which is heaven.”
“So, in other words, if evil entered heaven, heaven would cease to be heaven because it would have evil in it.”
“Yes,” he answered. “And who is evil?”
“Those who kill, who deceive, who steal, those who hurt and abuse others . . . ”
“And that’s it?” he asked.
“I’m sure there are other categories.”
“And what about you, Nouriel? Do you fit into any of those categories?”
“No.”
“No,” he replied, “you wouldn’t. But remember, ‘All the ways of a man are right in his own eyes.’ It’s from the Book of Proverbs. That’s human nature. So be careful of the image that appears in your own eyes. Beware of the good Nazi.”
“The good Nazi? And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“The Nazis sent millions to their deaths out of pure hatred and evil. Can you think of a people more evil than that? And yet do you think most of them saw themselves as evil?”
“No.”
“And why not?” he asked. “Because they compared themselves and measured themselves by the standards they themselves created. Each, in his own eyes, was a good Nazi, a moral Nazi, a decent Nazi, a religious Nazi, and a Nazi no worse than the next. For by seeing themselves in their own eyes, they became blind. But their judgment would come in the form of destruction, and their sins would be exposed before the world.”
“But there’s a big difference between the Nazis and most people.”
“The principle is the same. You can never judge yourself by your own standards and your own righteousness, but only in light of His righteousness.”
“And how do we hold up in the light of His righteousness?”
“Which do you think is greater,” he asked, “the moral distance that separates us from the most monstrous of Nazis or that which separates us from God?”
“I guess that which separates us from God.”
“That’s correct, because the first separation is finite. But the second is infinite. So what we see as the slightest of sins within ourselves appears, in the eyes of Him who is absolute goodness, even more abhorrently evil than the crimes of the Nazis appear to us. In the light of the absolute Good, our lust becomes as adultery and our hatred as murder.”
