With a Rod of Iron: A Parable, page 53
Eban just stared.
The young man went on: “The one living in Jerusalem who claims to be Jesus Christ.” His lips were trembling. “If you’ll read that paper, it will explain everything.”
Eban glanced at the pamphlet, still clutched in his hands, noting the title: “Jesus Christ—the Number of His Name is 666.”
“This is a joke, right?” Eban couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
The young man shook his head. “No, he’s the Antichrist—the evil one, sent to deceive the whole world and lead it astray.”
Eban shook his head. “The term Antichrist occurs only five times in the New Testament, all in the letters of John, and once it’s even used in the plural. John applied the term to anyone who actively opposed the gospel of Jesus Christ, or to anyone who gathered a personal following, to draw people after them rather than God—he didn’t use it to refer to a final, eschatological...”
The young man snorted at him. “That’s what the Antichrist would have you believe! Oh, he’s subtle, I’ll grant you, and he’s not acting the way we predicted before—and the Tribulation—well, obviously it’s not just a seven year period—but we know the Antichrist when we see him!” The young man was breathing furiously.
“What’s your name?” Eban finally asked, not knowing what else to say. Eban introduced himself and held out his hand.
The young man did not respond in kind. “You need know only that I am a messenger of the Lord, one of the hundred forty-four thousand witnesses spoken of in the book of Revelation.”
Eban recalled the passage, but felt confusion at the application.
“I am a virgin!” the man announced. “I have not been defiled by a woman!” His head swiveled, so that he addressed everyone in the hotel lobby. “I speak the truth of God, that every last one of you have taken the Mark of the Beast, the Number of His Name, the Number of Jesus Christ, 666. You will all burn in Hell forever.”
“Defiled by a woman?” asked Leah, who’d remained silent till this moment. “Since when is sex with your wife a defilement? Didn’t Paul himself write that ‘the marriage bed is honorable and undefiled?’ What’s wrong with you?”
“Away, vile heathen,” shouted the youth. A small crowd had gathered by this time, drawn by curiosity. Most held copies of the pamphlet in their hands and were looking from them up to the youth, and back again.
At this, the young man backed away from Eban and Leah, then turned suddenly and sprinted away, dropping his remaining stack of pamphlets in a pile on the floor. He hit the door running, and never looked back.
“What a very odd individual,” commented Eban. There were nodding heads, then the crowd began moving off, except for a couple people who stooped to pick up the spilled pamphlets, which they dutifully carried to a trash bin.
“I remember hearing about people like him,” commented Leah. “Remember, it was a few years ago?”
His mouth went into an ‘O’ as the connection dawned on him. “There were a whole bunch of them, weren’t there—they were scattered in little communities all over the United States and I guess in some other places, too.”
Leah nodded. “They believed there was supposed to be a seven year tribulation, and then Jesus was going to come back.” She looked amused. “Which sounded really dumb, since Jesus had already come back.”
“But they said Jesus was an impostor, the Antichrist, the wicked spawn of Satan.” Eban almost laughed. “I thought they would have...disbanded after their prediction didn’t come true.”
Leah shook her head. “There was a documentary on them just a couple years ago.” She took the pamphlet from Eban’s hand and looked at it. “They just went on, figuring they had simply misunderstood the Bible, and that, since Jesus had stated clearly no one knew the day or hour of his return, it had been a fallacy for them to have been predicting his return in seven years. So now, they just live day by day, preaching to themselves that Jesus Christ is the Antichrist and that the real Jesus may appear in the clouds any day, to vindicate them.”
Eban shook his head. “And now they pass out tracts?”
“They’ve picked out a bunch of young men to do this sort of work—I remember something about that, too, in the documentary.”
“How many?”
“According to the documentary there are about ten thousand.”
Eban’s eyes went round. “That many?”
She shrugged. “Like I said, they keep mostly to themselves.”
“Why doesn’t Jesus do something to stop them?”
Leah shook her head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, does it?”
“Well, he must know what he’s doing. He’s God.”
“Maybe he’s just being patient—you know, waiting for them to come around.”
Eban nodded at that. “Yeah; look at how patient he’s been with us.”
* * *
The pounding on the door entered his dream and enfolded itself, fitting comfortably with what had, for him, become a white water raft trip down a river. He had never been on a raft before, and he felt such an exhilaration from the rushing, roaring, pounding river that crashed and surged around him. Eban smiled into the wet spray and felt the cool breeze and wished that it would never end, but the pounding of the torrent grew greater, and the shaking of his body increased, and then he heard his name, over and over, like an echo from the surrounding mountains...
“Eban!” the river faded, and he felt the sensation of lying on his back, the gentle slosh of the water bed beneath him and his wife’s hand on his shoulder, jerking him back and forth.
The loud banging resumed on the hotel door.
“I’m awake,” he murmured, feeling a combination of exhaustion and disappointment that the dream should be done. Next year they’d go on the vacation he wanted to go on: white water rafting down the Colorado. No moon trip next year.
“Answer the door!” she encouraged.
“Why couldn’t you?”
“Look how I’m dressed!”
He recalled something small and black with lots of lace. Yeah, his pajamas were more appropriate for answering the door, though if someone was going to bother you this early—he glanced at the clock and felt a groan rise in his throat—then they deserved whatever they met.
He stumbled across the soft padding, forgetting for a minute he was not on Earth and nearly bouncing through the ceiling before he stabilized himself. Leah, of course, laughed at him.
If he’d been more awake, he might have laughed himself.
“Who is it?” he demanded.
“Brian!”
Lot of good that did him. He didn’t know anyone named Brian.
He swung open the door.
It was the strange young man who’d been passing out the flyers.
“Can I talk to you?”
“It’s four thirty in the morning.”
“It is?” He seemed startled. “I’m sorry—I’ll come back later.”
“Why do you want to talk to me?” Eban peered through cotton ball eyes. “And how’d you know where to find me?”
“I asked around—they know you at the front desk.”
Eban was about to ask how they could know him—there must be a thousand people staying here—but then he remembered the silly string incident.
“Okay,” he said finally. “So come in—Brian.”
Leah remained in the bed, the sheet and blankets pulled up so that nothing much but her head and fingers were visible. Why she should suddenly be so modest was beyond him, but women could be strange that way. On the beach, they happily wore a bikini, then imagined a black lace teddy was too revealing for strangers. The teddy, frankly, left more to the imagination than the swim suit.
Brian started talking. “I’ve been here on the moon about three days,” he said. “Up until I came here, I’d spent most of my life in California, first in Parkersville, and then at Holiness Television Park. I don’t suppose you’ve heard of it?”
“Isn’t that the community that Brother Sisyphus established?” asked Leah. “There was a documentary about it.”
Brian shrugged. “Well, anyhow, that’s where I grew up. And I was selected to come out here; not by myself, mind you. I have a partner. His name’s Hector. He thinks...I don’t really know what he thinks. I haven’t seen him since this morning and I don’t know if I want to anymore.”
Eban lifted an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Because...” he paused. “It’s not like they told us it was going to be. The Antichrist is supposed to be incredibly evil, and the world’s supposed to be going to Hell in a hand basket. But that’s not what I see. I see peace, prosperity—and everyone’s really happy. Happier than I’ve ever been in my whole life. Hector says it’s the ‘pleasures of sin’, except I don’t see any sin either. Everyone’s real polite, everyone listens to me, takes my pamphlets, asks me questions—but no one makes fun of me, no one tries to stop me—no one does anything bad to me. They take the money I give them when I go to a restaurant, and they don’t give me a second glance. And as hard as I’ve looked, I haven’t seen anyone with the Mark on their foreheads or hands. I thought everyone had the Mark of the Beast—that you called it ‘the brand of God.’”
Eban didn’t know what to say, but Leah didn’t have the same problem.
“They mentioned that in the documentary, too—and it seemed funny then, since there was no such mark. They explained about what you thought it was, and then what it really was...”
Brian held up his hand. “That’s okay. I’m just...I’m confused, and today you were willing to talk to me, seemed genuinely interested in me.” He paused. “You’re the first ones who ever asked me what my name is.”
“What’s your confusion?” asked Eban.
“The man who calls himself Jesus Christ—is that who he really is?”
“Of course,” said Eban. “Everyone knows that.”
“I don’t.”
Eban sucked in a deep breath. “That seems incredible to me.”
Brian seemed not to hear. “I’ve led a perfect life. I went forward in church when I was barely seven to accept Jesus as my savior. I filled out the little card, I got baptized, I’ve been to Sunday School all my life and memorized more verses than I can count. I probably read ten chapters out of my Bible every day. So how could I miss Jesus when he came?”
A verse came to Eban’s mind and he spat it out quickly: “But their minds were made dull, for to this day the same veil remains when the old covenant is read. It has not been removed, because only in Christ is it taken away. Even to this day when Moses is read, a veil covers their hearts. But whenever anyone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away.”
Brian just stared at him, dumbfounded. “You mean, I—” His voice broke.
Leah took up the argument. “It’s easy to read the Bible and get nothing out of it, especially if you read it with a preconceived set of traditions and regulations and explanations. When you read it, if you remember only the way you’ve been taught about what it means, read it only according to the insight that some famous teacher or preacher has given it, then it’s veiled to you. It’s like you’re seeing the world through sunglasses all the time, and can’t ever get a clear picture of it for yourself.”
“Or maybe it’s like seeing the world based only on the paintings and sculptures of an artist?” suggested Eban. “You’ve got to hope the artist captured it right, and no matter how close he came, it’s still not going to be the real thing. A photograph of my wife, for instance, is not my wife. You can’t hug and kiss, make love to, or talk to a photograph—or if you do, there’s something desperately wrong with you.” Eban chuckled while Leah rolled her eyes.
Brian didn’t move. He was sitting stiffly erect in his seat, his hands clenched so tightly together that his knuckles were white.
Suddenly he jerked to his feet.
“I’ve got to get out of here.”
“What?”
“I’ve got to get out of here. I finally see it now. You are of the Evil One. You’d make me doubt, make me question the truth, make me imagine that it really isn’t the truth. You’re demons, that’s what you are. Subtle, evil demons, like the Devil tempting Christ, using the words of Scripture to twist and burn. Well, to Hell with you! That’s where you’ll be for all eternity. I say it again. To Hell with the both of you, for ever and ever. In the name of Jesus, be gone!”
Eban and Leah blinked at one another, with startled gazes.
When they didn’t vanish in a puff of smoke, Brian jerked himself back to his feet, almost lost his balance—he obviously hadn’t been on the moon much longer than them. Then he staggered to the door, opened it and ran out, not even bothering to close it behind him.
“How very odd,” commented Eban.
Leah nodded in agreement.
Chapter Twenty-four
They had disturbed Brian, certainly. But was that all of it? Why had they disturbed him more than anyone else? What made them different?
What if they were right?
Had anything that had happened to him since leaving the safety of the Holiness Television Park gone the way he had expected? He saw no suffering, no pain, no unhappiness. On the contrary, everything had been good and although no one had accepted or converted to his way of thinking, no one was persecuting him, no one was yelling at him—instead, he was treated...
Like a curiosity!
The image was of a peculiar artifact, or maybe a particularly striking bit of rock or sea shell. People were curious about him, they wanted to talk and find out where he was coming from; but there was no temptation on their part to become like him. It was the way people humored a crackpot: they found him mildly interesting or amusing, but no one would give him the time of day.
Brian made his way quickly out of the hotel.
* * *
The bar was dim, the way he imagined bars should be. A smoky haze hung in the air about neck level; scattered groups talked among themselves, laughing periodically. Brian made his way to an empty table and stared at the flickering candle in the center.
“Can I help you?” The question came from above and to the right.
“I don’t know. What do you recommend?”
“A club soda, perhaps.”
His eyes swung on the waitress. Dressed casually, her hair was carefully coiffed and her makeup was flawless. Her short skirt was noticeably tight, and he wondered idly what her name might be.
“You’re deeply troubled. I wouldn’t recommend alcohol at a time like this.”
“I thought that’s what bars were for—”
“This is a place to relax, to unwind after work, to stop by after a date—to be romantic. But drowning your sorrows in a glass will only magnify troubles—and create further problems later.”
“Do you always psychoanalyze your customers?”
“Sometimes. I’m a licensed therapist.”
His face must have betrayed his shock.
“That’s standard training for work in any place that serves alcohol. Alcoholism is always a potential problem, and so we’d like to prevent such things before they start.”
“Jesus had something to do with this.”
She grinned. “Of course.”
He took a deep breath. “Fine—bring me a club soda.”
There was no escaping his problem. Jesus was everywhere—at every corner, in events large and small—the hand of this person was evident.
She returned with the unopened bottle and a glass filled with ice. With a grin she left both it and him.
“Not going to council me?” he asked the air, after she had departed.
“Perhaps you’d like to talk to me instead?”
Swiveling his eyes forward, he found himself staring into a frighteningly familiar bearded face. He responded by untwisting the cap on the bottle and dumping its contents into the glass.
“I didn’t ask for you to come here,” he said.
“Are you telling me to leave? Would you rather call for your mommy?”
Brian felt his face go crimson. Slowly, he shook his head. “No...”
“Then maybe you’d care to talk? You have questions.”
“Why are you here?”
“Because I know your heart.”
“Only God knows that.”
“Your point?”
He sucked a deep breath, then poured a small quantity of the club soda into his mouth. The bubbles tickled his nose and he had to stifle a sneeze. “The Antichrist is controlled by the Devil. His deceits are sublime enough to corrupt even the elect.”
“But are you elect?”
“I’ve been a Christian since I was seven. My mother—”
“But what has your mother got to do with anything?”
Brian felt no shock at Jesus’ statement. In fact, he was already thinking something similar himself. All his life, his mother had told him who he was, what he was supposed to do. Had he ever, in all his years, asked himself what he wanted to do? Had he ever, even once, made a decision on his own?
“You reacted rather strongly to what Eban and Leah said.”
He nodded, closing his eyes. His mind drifted back again to when he was seven, when he had let his mother take him up to the pastor. All he remembered, though, was wondering why he was there, and what he was supposed to do. His mind had blanked and wandered from the moment, so that he hadn’t even heard the pastor’s words over him. Worse, he had started thinking about how his mother was crying, and how he wished she wouldn’t do that.
With a shock of realization, he saw that he had never talked to God himself. He had simply accepted his mother’s words; he had let her be his guide...
“You let her take my place in your life.”
“Dear God—” he closed his eyes, wishing to stem the flow of tears that had begun dripping down his cheeks. How could he have gone so long—he was lost—lost for ever and ever, doomed...he did not know Jesus and Jesus did not know him...
“I’d like to eat with you, maybe share a cup of coffee or two. We could talk and get to know each other.”
Brian’s eyes opened, and he saw the man across from him as if he were seeing him for the first time.
