Empire's End (11 page)

That day will not come until the man of sin is revealed, the son of perdition who exalts himself above God and is worshiped, sitting as God in the temple of God, proclaiming himself to be God. That lawless one will be revealed, and I will consume him with the breath of My mouth and destroy him with the brightness of My coming
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The coming of the lawless one is the work of Satan, who will deceive all who perish, because they did not love the truth so that they might be saved. For this reason My Father will send them strong delusion, and they will believe the lie, and they all will be condemned who did not believe the truth but took pleasure in unrighteousness
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Though the Lord fell silent, I sensed He wanted me to meditate on what He had revealed to me. I remained there in the Spirit, unmoving, reflecting. How long this reverie lasted I cannot say, but when He spoke again I was aware the sun was much higher than when He had last spoken.

I am not sending you out to baptize but to preach My gospel, not with wisdom or eloquence, lest My death should be made worthless. For the message of My cross is foolishness to those who are dying, but to those who will be saved it is the power of My Father. It is written: “I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and bring to nothing the understanding of the prudent.” Where is the wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the disputer? Has not My Father made foolish the wisdom of this world? It will please Him through the foolishness of the preaching of His gospel to save those who believe
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Jews ask for a sign, and Greeks seek wisdom. You preach Me crucified, which to the Jews will be a stumbling block and to the Greeks foolishness, but to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, I am the power and the
wisdom of My Father. God's foolishness is wiser than men, and God's weakness is stronger than men
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I will not call many wise, mighty, or noble. But My Father has chosen the foolish things to put to shame the wise of the world, and the weak things to put to shame the things that are mighty of the world; and the base things and the things that are despised of the world My Father has chosen, that no flesh should be proud in His presence. But you are in Me. As it is written, “He who glories, let him glory in the Lord.”

So don't worry about excellence of speech or wisdom when you declare the testimony of My Father. You need know nothing except Me and Me crucified. You may be weak and fearful, even trembling, and your preaching may not be persuasive. But in My Spirit and with power, My Father will be manifest through you
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It is written, “Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor have entered into the heart of man the things which God has prepared for those who love Him.” But My Father will reveal them to you through His Spirit. For the Spirit searches all things, the deep things of God. No one knows the things of God except the Spirit of God
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The natural man does not receive the things of God. They are foolishness to him, because they are spiritually discerned. He who is spiritual judges all things, yet he himself is rightly judged by no one. For “who has known the mind of the L
ORD
that he may instruct Him?”

Some you will have to speak to not as spiritual people but as carnal, as to babes. Feed them milk and not solid food until they are able to receive it. Where there are envy, strife, and division, people are carnal and behave like mere humans
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As a wise master builder, lay the foundation and let another build on it. But let each take heed how he builds. For no other foundation can anyone lay than the one that is laid, which is Me. If anyone builds on this foundation
with gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, or straw, each one's work will become clear, because it one day will be revealed by fire, and the fire will test what sort it is. If anyone's work endures, he will receive a reward. If anyone's work is burned, he will suffer loss; but he himself will be saved, yet as through fire
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You are the temple of God, and the Spirit of God dwells in you. If anyone defiles the temple of God, My Father will destroy him. For the temple of God is holy
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I knew the instruction for that day had ended, and I felt a profound change in me. As one might imagine, hearing the very voice of God humbles a man to the point where he feels like a worm, lower than low. All the while I was in communion with God I felt the depth of my unworthiness, of my sin, of my wretched lostness.

Yet in the silences that followed, even in the silences He allowed between revelations to me, it was as if my Creator knew me—as David of old had exulted about Him—and knew my frame and remembered that I was dust. In those moments He warmed me, filled me, comforted me with His presence. I was overwhelmed by His love and forgiveness.

I, of all people, had no right, no claim to His endless, immeasurable mercy. I had been the chiefest of sinners, a murderer, and I had not seen myself for who I was, had not shown remorse, regret, or sorrow. I had not repented when He showered me with grace—only when was I faced with my depravity and could do nothing more than receive His righteousness.

I had read the ancient Scripture without understanding, and now it was as if God's own light of truth shone on it from heaven and made clear as crystal for me the meaning and the object, about whom this had been written: “All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned, every one, to his own way; and the L
ORD
has laid on Him the iniquity of us all.”

Enraptured by the truth that there was nothing I could have done about my sin and that God had laid upon Jesus
my
iniquity, all I could do was lie in the sun and weep. Unable to frame words, I merely praised my Savior until my eyes were dry.

When I reached my work table an hour later, trying to refocus on things temporal, I prayed God would soon tell me specifically what He wanted me to preach in His name. Where was I to go, to whom was I to speak, and what was I to say?

THE RED SEA

I
ENDURED THE DIRE
consequences of a conflicted mind. Thrilled with the majestic truth that rolled to my spirit from God and Jesus on high, I longed to be launched like a great ship on the vast ocean of Gentiles in need of the redeeming message of the gospel of Christ. Yet in the routine of daily life I was tormented with the fear of being found out. Had I been the agitator, the instigator behind the murder of the head of the household where I now resided?

If Stephanos, the late husband and father, was Stephen the Martyr, I was!

So vexed was I by the very uncertainty that I came to believe that learning the awful truth would be better than not knowing. That illogic alone should have proved I had not thought through the consequences, for what would I do with the truth revealed? No outcome I could imagine would assuage my guilt without injuring anew the bereaved.

As Alastor—and even Corydon when the mood struck him—aided me in fashioning repaired sections for Zuriel's ragged tent, the old man apparently felt compelled to encourage me for what I had brought to the wounded remnants of his family.

“Moving is always fraught with strife,” he said, as I busied myself stitching together great rectangles of dark wool and Corydon scampered here and there. “But frankly, the long journey here was miserable. Taryn was useless, and I couldn't blame her, poor thing. No woman deserves to lose a husband that way.”

I stopped working and looked up at him, hoping my full attention would elicit a detail that would illumine me. But as before, the mere mention of his son-in-law and whatever way he had passed suddenly overtook him. Alastor pressed his lips together and shook his head as if to steel himself against whatever was rising in him. He waited until Corydon skittered out of earshot. “And this one, naturally he did not understand where Papa was and kept begging for him.”

Now the old man could not speak again. I went back to my work and tried to take the burden off him while at the same time angling for more information. “Lost in a battle, was he? A military man?”

Alastor breathed deeply through his nose and wiped his forehead and beard with a hand. He shook his head, and his voice came pinched and labored, as if he were ready to burst into tears. “He was valiantly fighting for a cause, I'll say that.”

“Oh? A worthy one, I'm sure.”

He held up a hand and turned away. “The worthiest,” he whispered huskily. “I'm sorry, I can't.”

“He sounds like a brave, wonderful man.”

I had pushed too far. With that, Alastor stood and left the table. Corydon came bounding over and leapt into his chair, announcing, “Now I will be your helper!”

“Oh! My helper must hand me, let's see, that piece right over there.” I had selected the largest untrimmed section of goat hide, covered with thick, dark hair—something I would not even have asked of his grandfather.

Corydon's eyes widened and he stood on the bench, seemingly eager to show me he was up to the task. He gathered the hide, spread his feet for leverage, and began to lift, but the raw material must have weighed nearly as much as he did. Once he had it off the table, it shifted and pitched him backward, and he would have tumbled had I not caught him.

“I had no idea that goat was still alive!” I said, which caused him to squeal with delight and want to try it again. I told him we would have to save playtime for later, before I went fishing, because I had to finish Master Zuriel's tent very soon.

As I replaced the hide, Corydon rested his elbows on the table and planted his chin in his palm, making his head bob when he talked. “I know him.”

“You do?”

“Um-hm. He knows Papa.”

I was sorely tempted to work the lad for more information but I knew that was unfair. No doubt Corydon had been protected from the details of how his father died. Wasn't it enough that these people were followers of The Way, that they had fled Judea—as apparently so had Zuriel—and that the man's own father-in-law had said he'd fought for the worthiest of causes?

Soon Alastor returned with apologies and engrossed himself in the work again. Taryn sought Corydon's help in bringing us a light repast, and then we were off to Zuriel's tent. It didn't surprise me to find him in the same sour mood he had exhibited at the meeting of the elders. And as I had deduced from a cursory scan of the dwellings the day before, his was the shabbiest of the lot.

This he did not deny. The thick, jowly man prowled the dusty area outside, squinting at the gaping holes in the walls of his tent, pointing out the worst. His pleasant, soft-spoken wife, introduced as Kaia, looked enough like him to give me pause. She said, “Oh, some gaps are worse than others, but none are acceptable when the winds blow.”

One of the openings revealed an ancient woman sitting cross-legged on a mat, staring out and smiling blankly. Waiting for an introduction and getting none, I said, “Fear not, I have the remedy for all.”

Three trips between Alastor's tent and Zuriel's delivered enough material, and by the eleventh hour of the day—with everyone else handing me the pieces I pointed out and me crawling, climbing, and dangling from poles while I stitched and stretched—Zuriel and Kaia's tent soon looked like new.

They seemed pleased. She smiled and he appeared to try. But I had misjudged my ability to make a friend of him so easily. He said, “Don't think this gets you out of fishing duty. I'll see you at second watch.”

When Alastor headed back to his own tent, I lingered. “You knew Taryn's husband,” I said.

“He did,” Kaia said. “A wonderful young m—”

“He was speaking to me, woman,” Zuriel said, not unkindly, but this sent his wife trundling inside.

“What can you tell me about him?” I said.

“Nothing. He's not your business, and besides, you're unworthy of him.”

“I'm sure that's so. I'm just curi—”

“Why don't you ask his family then?”

“They're still grieving, sir. They find it difficult to—”

“Well, so do I. Newcomer asking questions, especially in a place like this, it doesn't look good.”

“I apologize.”

He nodded and went inside, leaving me standing there.

After the evening meal that night I played with Corydon and tried not to think about the awkwardness of fishing under Zuriel's supervision later. Right about the time Taryn told Corydon it was time for bed, the four of us looked up in surprise at a quiet “Hello!” Kaia stood at the entrance to the tent with an empty bowl and asked Taryn if she had a few figs she could borrow.

When Taryn invited her in, they whispered briefly, then Taryn took Corydon and Kaia sat shyly next to me. “I can stay only a moment,” she said, so quietly I had to lean close. “I sense you were earnest in wanting to know more of Stephanos.”

“I was. Thank you.”

“Let me say only this. The woman you saw in our tent is Zuriel's elderly sister. Stephanos was so kind to her that he will always have a special place in our hearts. She was of no benefit to him, yet he served her faithfully in the name of the Lord.”

“In what capacity did he do this, ma'am?”

She was rising, ready to leave. I leapt to my feet to help her up.

“I must go,” she said. “I came here for figs, you understand, not to speak to you.”

“I do understand. May I walk you?”

“Just to the back corner of the tent. And please thank Taryn again for me.”

I assured her I would.

Kaia spoke quickly. “Zuriel and I felt strongly—and we weren't the only ones—that the Greek widows among our number in the church were being neglected in the daily distribution of food and other necessities. We
didn't want to make trouble, but it was apparent that the Jewish widows were favored. We had no problem with their getting whatever they needed, but it did not seem fair that our women were slighted.