The Harbinger, page 23
“But then who could stand?” I asked. “Who could make it into heaven?”
“No one could stand, and no one could make it into heaven. How far would just one sin take you away from the infinite righteousness of God?”
“An infinite distance?”
“Yes. So how far are we from heaven?”
“An infinite distance.”
“And how great is the judgment?”
“Infinitely great.”
“And how long would it take us to bridge the gap, to be reconciled to God, to enter heaven?”
“An infinity of time.”
“Eternity,” he said.
“So we could never get there, could we?”
“And to be infinitely separated from God and heaven . . . is what?” he asked.
“Hell?”
“Hell—infinite separation from God and from all things good; total, infinite, eternal judgment.”
“We don’t just die?”
“The soul is eternal,” he said. “One way or another, at the end of a thousand ages, you’ll still exist. The question is where. And if the joy and glory of being in God’s presence in heaven is beyond our imagining, so then too is the darkness and horror of being in His absence . . . without Him forever . . . hell.”
“So then our predicament is even more grave than that of a nation in its hour of judgment.”
“The prospect of entering eternity without God, on the wrong side of an infinite judgment, is far graver than the judgment of any nation—infinitely more so. Nations are temporary; the soul is eternal. So, Nouriel, I’m asking you again, what will you do on the Day of Judgment?”
“Tell me.”
“If you have an infinite gap and an infinite problem, what do you need?”
“An infinite answer?”
“Which means that the answer could not come from yourself or from this world. It could only come from the infinite, from heaven . . . from God, which means that any given answer, any given ideology, and any given system based on the efforts of man is ruled out.”
“Which rules out most answers,” I said.
“Which rules out every answer,” he replied, “every answer based on man trying to reach God, a hand reaching upward to heaven. The answer can only come the other way, from the infinite to the finite, from heaven to earth . . . from God to man.”
“A hand reaching down from heaven?”
“Exactly. And what alone could answer an infinite judgment?”
“An infinite mercy?”
“Yes, the infinite mercy of an infinite love. And what alone could fill an infinite absence?”
“An infinite presence.”
“The infinite presence of the infinite love.”
He paused after saying that and turned away from the sun and the water so that he was looking directly into my eyes when he spoke again.
“Nouriel, did you know that there’s a part of the World Trade Center that still stands?”
“No, I never heard that.”
“A part of the World Trade Center stands to this day, in this city.”
“It stands in what way?” I asked.
“As a sign,” he replied, “literally.”
“I don’t understand.”
“On the third day after the calamity, a construction worker was standing in the ruins of one of the shattered buildings. When he looked up, he saw it.”
“The sign . . . ”
“The sign . . . unmistakable . . . glaring . . . forged not by human hands but by the force of the calamity . . . a cross . . . a perfectly formed cross . . . twenty feet high . . . of cast iron beams from the fallen towers standing in the midst of a landscape of devastation . . . as if rising up from the ruins. When he saw it, he couldn’t hold back from weeping. In the days and weeks that followed, it would become known as the Cross of Ground Zero, a sign of faith and hope in the midst of the calamity, a sign again calling to a nation to return. But not only to a nation . . . a sign calling each to return.”
“Is that the answer you spoke of?”
“The answer to judgment. For what alone is it that can answer an infinite judgment and bridge an infinite chasm?
“An infinite love,” I said. “The infinite presence of an infinite love.”
“Of the infinite One,” he said.
“You mean God.”
“God.”
“But you haven’t mentioned the word religion even once.”
“Because it’s not about religion; it’s about love. That’s the meaning of the sign, the overcoming of the infinite judgment by the infinite love.”
“The love of God.”
“The love of God. For God is love, and the nature of love is what?”
“To give?” I replied.
“Yes, to give of itself, to put itself in the place of the other even if it means that by so doing it must sacrifice itself. So if God is love, then what would the ultimate manifestation of love be?”
“I don’t know.”
“The giving of Himself . . . God giving Himself to bear the judgment of those under judgment if, by so doing, it would save them. Love puts itself in the place of the other. So then the ultimate manifestation of love would be . . . ”
“God putting Himself in our place.”
“In our life, in our death, in our judgment . . . the sacrifice.”
“As in Jesus . . . ”
“The infinite sacrifice,” said the prophet, “to bear an infinite judgment, in which all sins are nullified and all who partake are set free . . . forgiven . . . saved. An infinite redemption in which judgment and death are overcome and a new life given . . . a new beginning . . . a new birth. The love of God is greater than judgment. . . . Remember . . . there is no sin so deep that His love isn’t deeper . . . and no life so hopeless . . . no soul so far away . . . and no darkness so dark that His love isn’t greater still.”
“But this is all . . . I wasn’t born with it, or raised in it, and I’m not religious.”
“Being religious has nothing to do with it,” he said. “There’s no religion in heaven, only love. It’s the heart, Nouriel. And you couldn’t have been born into it to begin with, only born again into it. And it can’t happen without you choosing it.”
“To be born again?”
“Yes. Do you know His real name?”
“Jesus?”
“Yes.”
“I thought that was His real name.”
“His real name is Yeshua. It’s Hebrew. He was Jewish, as were all His disciples, and the message they proclaimed was all about the Jewish Messiah, the fulfillment of the Hebrew Scriptures, the Hope of Israel. Yeshua is Hebrew for God is Salvation, or God is Deliverance . . . Protection . . . Rescue . . . Freedom . . . Refuge . . . and Safety. In the Day of Judgment, there’s no safe ground . . . no salvation, except in Him who is salvation.”
“So how does one become saved?”
“‘You cannot see the kingdom of God unless you are born again.’ Those are His words.”
“And how does one become born again?”
“By receiving . . . by letting go . . . by letting the old life end and a new one begin. By choosing . . . by opening your heart to receive that which is beyond containing—the presence . . . the mercy . . . the forgiveness . . . the cleansing . . . the unending love of God.”
“By receiving what exactly?”
“The gift, freely given and freely received, and yet so great a gift that you treasure it above life itself . . . so great a gift that it changes everything else.”
“And the gift is . . . ”
“If God is love, and love is a gift, then the Giver and the Gift are one.”
“Then the gift is God?”
“Salvation comes in the giving of His life and is complete in the receiving of His life. Think of a bride and a bridegroom.”
“A bride and bridegroom?”
“The bridegroom gives everything he has for the bride, even his life. The bride must do likewise. He calls her. If she says yes, everything he has becomes hers, and everything she has becomes his. Her burdens become his burdens, her sins become his sins. He becomes hers, and she becomes his. She leaves her old life behind for a new one, to go with her beloved. Wherever he goes, she goes with him, and wherever she dwells, he never leaves her. He loves her with all his being, as she loves him. The one lives for the other, and the other for the one. The two become as one.”
“So the bridegroom is . . . ”
“God.”
“And the bride is . . . ”
“The one who receives him.”
“Sounds beautiful,” I said.
“It is beautiful . . . the most beautiful thing you could possibly find or ever know or ever have in your days on earth.”
“It’s a love story.”
“After all is said and done, that’s what it was always meant to be . . . a love story.”
“A marriage.”
“Yes, an eternal marriage for which we were all born, and of which no one was to be left out, that no one would enter eternity alone.”
“And it begins . . . ”
“It begins with the receiving . . . with the opening of one’s heart . . . with the turning away from darkness and to the light . . . with the giving of oneself . . . the committing of one’s life—a vow of love . . . a prayer . . . decision . . . a total and unconditional yes.”
“And it takes place . . . ”
“Anywhere, any place, alone or with others, wherever you are. It takes place anywhere, for it takes place in the heart.”
“And at any time?”
“No, Nouriel,” he said. “It doesn’t take place at any time. It only takes place at one time.”
“What one time?”
“Now . . . ” said the prophet. “Now is the only time in which it can happen. As it is written, ‘Now is the time of salvation,’ never tomorrow, only now.”
“But if we were talking tomorrow, it could still happen then.”
“Yes, but only when then has become now, and tomorrow is today. But when it does, you may not be there.”
“And why wouldn’t I be?”
“How far away from eternity do you think you are, Nouriel?”
“How could I possibly know that?”
“But you can know that,” he replied.
“Then what’s the answer?” I asked. “How far am I away from eternity?”
“One heartbeat,” he replied, “one heartbeat. That’s it. That’s all. You’re only one heartbeat away from eternity. Everything you have—your life, your breath, this moment, it’s all borrowed, it’s all a gift. And at any moment it all ends with a heartbeat . . . just one heartbeat, and there’s no more time. One heartbeat and the chance to be saved is gone. One heartbeat and there’s no more choosing—it’s all sealed for eternal life or eternal death.”
“But if I didn’t choose . . . ”
“Then you already have. If you don’t choose to be saved, then you’ve chosen not to be saved. Your life and your eternity . . . it all rests on one heartbeat. And what will you do on the Day of Judgment? Remember the question, Nouriel . . . because in the end it’s the only question. Remember the question . . . because no one knows when that day will come. The only thing you can be sure of is that it will come, and the only time you can be sure of is now. Now is all you have. And now is the time of salvation.”
“It’s too big a decision to make just like that.”
“It’s too big a decision not to,” he said.
“I would have to see to believe.”
“No, Nouriel, you have to believe in order to see and to find what you’re searching for.”
“And what is it that I’m searching for?”
“The meaning, the purpose of your life, the reason you were born. It’s the only way you can ever find it. . . . Only in Him who gave you life, can you find its meaning.”
“I need time.”
“And you have it, Nouriel . . . up until the last heartbeat.”
• • •
He allowed a few moments of silence to let his words sink in as I stared into the distant waters.
“The seal,” he said. “May I have it back?”
So I returned it to him.
“And with this,” said the prophet, “it’s finished. The time of the revealing of mysteries is complete.”
“So then you don’t have anything more to give me?” I asked.
He paused and looked at me with the look of a shopkeeper when asked for an item he no longer has in stock. But then his expression changed. “Come to think of it,” he said, “I do.”
“There’s another seal?”
“Yes, come to think of it.” He reached into his coat pocket, took it out, and handed it to me.
• • •
“What was it?” she asked.
“It was the first one, the very first seal.”
“Wait, I thought he just gave you the first seal, the seal of the First Harbinger, and you gave it back to him.”
“No. There was another. There was another before that seal. The seal I gave him at the beginning.”
“The one that came in the mail?” she asked.
“Yes, the one that started everything. I hadn’t seen it since the day I gave it away, years before, when it all began.”
• • •
“It’s only right that it be returned to its owner,” he said. “It’s your seal, your security deposit. You see? I gave you my word you’d get it back.”
“You told me I’d get it back when we were finished with the Harbingers.”
“So then we are.”
“And there’s nothing more?”
“More?”
“No more mysteries, no more revelations?”
“You have all you need now.”
“So then . . . ”
“So then,” he said, “this is it.”
“So . . . ”
“So it’s time for us to part.”
“That’s it?”
“Good-bye, Nouriel.”
But this time he didn’t leave. He remained by the waters as if waiting for me to go first. So I began walking away, finding it hard to accept the finality of it all. It was about ten seconds into my departure that I heard his voice.
“Oh,” he said, “there is something.”
I froze in place, and without turning back, but looking straight ahead, I responded. “What?” I asked.
“You never answered my question.”
“I never answered your question? And what question was that?”
“Why were you given the seal? I asked you that at the beginning, but you never gave me an answer.”
“And why would you need to know the answer to that?”
“I don’t.”
“Then why do you ask the question?”
“Because you do.”
“I do?”
“Yes. You’re the one who needs to know the answer to the question.”
“Then why am I not asking it?”
“That’s a good question.”
“A good question why I’m not asking the question?”
“Yes,” he said. “It is a mystery.”
“A mystery to you?”
“Yes.”
“That’s a switch.”
“Why were you given the seal?”
“Is that another mystery?” I asked. “Is this the last mystery?”
“Answer the question, Nouriel . . . and you’ll know.”
Chapter 22 The Last Seal
So what happened?” she asked.
“Nothing at first, nothing revealing why I was given the seal. There was another matter, more pressing, that I had to deal with.”
“More pressing?”
“The matter of eternity. It haunted my thoughts. It was the one thing on which everything else stood or fell. If I didn’t get that part right, the rest wouldn’t matter, my life, everything. Everything would come to an end, and then . . . eternity. Everything would end with eternity—the one thing that wouldn’t end, the only thing that would be left when everything else was gone . . . and so the only thing that would matter. I had to get that part right. I had to get my life right with God.”
“And did you?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“By following his words.”
“And what happened?”
“Everything began to change, not so much around me, not my circumstances, but within. It was a release, a completion, and, for the first time in my life, I had a real peace.”
“And what happened after that?”
“After that, I tried to make sense of everything that happened up to that point—my encounters with the prophet, everything that was shown to me, all the revelations of the mysteries. I had no idea what I was supposed to do with it. And why me? I tried to go on with my life as normal, as I had before the prophet, before the Harbingers, before receiving that envelope. I tried . . . but it was impossible. I was a writer of articles, the purpose of which being to entertain my readers or, at best, to provoke them. But in light of the revelations, everything I was doing now seemed irredeemably shallow and trivial, of no consequence. And then there was the burden.”
“The burden?”
“Of what I knew.”
“You were burdened about the future?”
“Not for myself,” he said. “I wasn’t afraid for myself, but for others. The veil had been removed so I could see, so I could be warned. But what about everyone else? They had no idea. They had no clue of what was happening or where it was all heading.”
“Sounds like what the prophets must have gone through,” she said.
“I couldn’t escape it. And yet there was nothing I could do about it . . . a burden with no direction. I took out the seal.”
“The last seal.”
“And the first . . . to go over it in detail.”
“You never did that before?” she asked.
“Not seriously irredeemably not as seriously as I had with the others. When I first received it, I had no assurance that there was any meaning to it. And when he returned it, at the end, there didn’t seem to be any reason to. The mysteries were finished except for why I was the one given them in the first place. And it wasn’t like the other seals. It didn’t have an image, just ancient-looking inscriptions. Its purpose, I assumed, was to begin the search, and then to end it. I didn’t think there was much left to discover now that it was all over.”
