Judgment Day (33 page)

CHAPTER 63 RECONCILIATION

Destruction or loss of a fetus before the end of normal term is called an abortion. Abortions can be spontaneous or induced. For some people, induced abortions may have ethical implications.

—
THE NEW WORLD DICTIONARY

T
he location and mission of the Fellowship's deep-space cruiser
Genesis
was forgotten for a week while the press used the Breitlings as poster children for hypocrisy. Weekend talk shows were filled with pro-choice advocates excoriating the Fellowship and every other pro-life group. The members of the Fellowship kept to their compounds, avoiding the media, keeping their active flight schedule. The abortion battle was left to other pro-lifers who fought to keep from being tarred with the Breitling brush.

Ira and Ruth withdrew from the public view, hiding in their house in Christ's Home. Even Mark was refused entry at the door, always by a red-eyed Ruth—Ira was never seen. The Fellowship was rocked by the revelation and the Breitlings were the talk of the town. Most in the Fellowship were dismayed, some were angered, but only a few left the Fellowship because of disillusionment.

For the first time since moving to Christ's Home, the Breitlings missed Sunday morning worship. Mark led the congregation in prayer for the Breitlings, then preached on forgiveness. The normally jubilant church was abnormally silent and Mark felt his sermon had fallen on deaf ears.

On Monday Ruth stood on her porch explaining to Mark that she and Ira might be leaving the Fellowship.

"God's work isn't done, Ruth," Mark argued, "and there isn't anything that God can't forgive."

No matter what Mark said, it had no impact on Ruth. Mark called Christy that day and she arrived Wednesday afternoon.

Mark waited in the car while Christy knocked on the door. Ruth was slow to answer, her face haggard. Before Christy could speak, Ruth reached out for her.

"Thank God, you've come," Ruth said, pulling her inside and hugging her close. "He might talk to you. I'm so worried about him."

"How are you, Ruth?" Christy asked.

"Ashamed."

"It happened a long time ago, Ruth."

"But I've lied about it every day since."

"Has anyone ever asked you if you've had an abortion? Of course not. You didn't lie to your friends, Ruth."

"God calls us to confess our sins."

"To God, Ruth. You confess your sins to God, not to everyone you meet. Have you asked God to forgive you?"

"Yes."

"Then you are forgiven."

"No, I'm not. God has stopped up my womb."

"Many women can't have children. It's not because of sin."

"The doctors can't find anything wrong with me. I just can't get pregnant, and I'm getting too old," Ruth said.

"Perhaps Ira is the one—"

"It's not me," Ira said, coming from the back bedroom. Ira's eye patch contrasted sharply with his pale skin. Ira had aged a decade in only a few days, his face now gaunt, his clothes hanging loosely. His gait unsteady, he kept his hand on the wall as he entered.

"Ira, you don't look well."

"He won't eat," Ruth said. "It's all I can do to get him to drink."

"I'm fasting," he said.

"He's starving himself to death," Ruth said.

"Ira, you can't fast when you're not well."

"I'm fine—fine in all departments. Ruth can't get pregnant because of what I did. I made her get that abortion. I killed our baby. Ruth didn't want to do it but I insisted. Then God punished me by taking my eye," he said, touching his eye patch. "And he's been punishing us ever since."

"We should have confessed to the Fellowship, Ira. They are our family."

Ruth began to cry. Christy comforted her until Ira walked over and took his wife in his arms, leading her to the couch where she sat, head on his shoulder. Never had Christy seen two people with so little life left in them.

At a loss for words, Christy let them cry together, comforting each other. Christy had counseled Christians who experienced guilt over abortions many times, and the approach she took depended on their beliefs. With some, she could take the tack that a fetus isn't really a baby, but the Breitlings were solidly pro-life. Christy knew that the healing path for the Breitlings was through their beliefs.

"Ira, Ruth, God isn't punishing you, you're punishing yourselves."

Still wrapped in each other's arms, they looked up.

"We deserve to be punished for what we did," Ruth said.

"I deserve to be punished, Ruth. Not you. I'd give my other eye if it could bring our baby back."

"God forgives, only people can't forgive," Christy said. "Not without God's help, and the hardest person to forgive is yourself." Now they were listening. "Jesus went to the cross for our sins to spare us our own cross. If we don't accept God's forgiveness, then we are denying Jesus' sacrifice."

"But God is denying us children," Ruth said.

"Many people can't have children."

"But I was pregnant once, and the doctors say there is nothing wrong with either of us."

"My aunt's children are fifteen years apart," Christy said.

Christy saw Ruth's face soften, she was coming around, but Ira's jaw was set. He wasn't ready to forgive himself.

"Maybe God did take your eye, Ira, but the Deuteronomy passage says 'life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot.' If God was punishing you, Ira, wouldn't it be life for life."

Now Ira's good eye brightened, his temper flaring.

"I know the Scripture. God's punishment wasn't just my eye. He gave me a mission—His purpose is my purpose and I will repay Him for the mercy He has shown me."

"Is hiding in this house part of God's plan for your life?"

Ira's good eye suddenly went blank as he considered the paradox he'd argued himself into. He believed part of his punishment for the abortion was to be God's slave, but he couldn't fulfill that mission sitting in his house.

"How can we face our friends? Return to worship?" Ruth asked.

"Some will welcome you with open arms. Some will be angry. Most will be confused. All of this will be worked through eventually."

"It will be hard," Ruth said. "I don't know if I can."

A knock at the door interrupted them and Christy left them on the couch to think about their future. They were forgiving themselves, and now needed to work up the courage to reenter their society. Christy expected to see Mark at the door, but instead of just Mark she opened it to find the porch crowded with women and men all carrying candles. The sun had set and the candle flames flickered all the way down the block. Evelyn stepped forward, passing her candle to Mark.

"I'd like to speak to Ruth and Ira," she said.

"I don't know if they're ready," Christy said.

"Please."

Reluctant, because she feared setting the Breitlings back, she hesitated, but Evelyn was a friend.

The Breitlings stood when Evelyn entered, Ruth supporting Ira.

"Ira, Ruth, we would like to hold a memorial service for the baby you lost."

Ruth's eyes teared and Ira swallowed hard.

"Your baby never had a proper funeral," Evelyn said.

"I prayed for my baby, I did."

"Me too," Ira said.

"Would you join us in the service?" Evelyn asked.

Ira and Ruth looked at each other, relief spreading across their faces. Then Ira smiled a sad smile.

"Thank you, Evelyn."

"Evelyn, don't call it the baby," Ruth said. "If it was a girl I would have named it Melinda, after my mother."

Evelyn's eyes teared, her lip quivered. "All right, Ruth. We'll pray for the soul of Melinda Breitling."

Stepping between the Breitlings, Evelyn slipped her arms around them and walked them to the door. On the porch they gasped at the sea of candle flames filling their yard and street. Then they walked down the steps and were enveloped by the Fellowship. Christy watched from the porch as the procession headed to the church. She wouldn't attend. She was pro-choice and the conservative practice of holding funerals for fetal tissue made her uncomfortable.

She sat in one of the porch rockers, enjoying the evening. It was clear and the stars were thick. She knew some of the bright points of light were planets but she couldn't pick them out. She wondered which of those bright dots the
Genesis
was heading to. Was it really Mars?

Laughter echoed out of the dark from somewhere down the street. Three boys emerged from the shadows to stand under the streetlight. Giggling, they began throwing rocks at the light. A rock ricocheted off the light, but it didn't break. More giggling, then they began throwing again. Then the globe exploded, showering glass into the street, the boys scattering. As they raced past, Christy recognized the boy in the lead—it was Daniel Remple.

The next morning Mark took her to breakfast at the Pig and Pancake, its once bright pink exterior scoured by the winds, leaving only pale pink smears. The interior was as worn as the exterior, every vinyl booth patched, the carpet ragged, the plates chipped. The menu was the same, although the prices had moderated—the media no longer at their mercy. Josephine greeted Christy warmly, then winked at Mark.

"Seems like I've seen you two in here before. She's a pretty lady, Mark, or hadn't you noticed?"

Mark glared and Christy blushed; Josephine rolled her eyes, then showed them to a booth. Josephine wasn't the only member of the Fellowship who liked to hint that she and Mark should get married, and yet Christy knew others—like Ira—who didn't trust anyone who didn't profess to be "born again." Still, she connected with Mark like she had with no other man.

Josephine came and took their orders and while they waited for omelettes Christy asked about the condition of the restaurant.

"Such as it is, the Pig and Pancake is an asset, Mark. I'm surprised the Fellowship doesn't take better care of it."

"We put our resources where they are needed most."

"Like going to Mars?" Christy asked.

"NASA paid for the Mars mission."

"Many people think you're going to colonize Mars."

"Do they?"

Mark's smile wrinkles were showing and she knew he was playing with her.

"Don't be coy," Christy said.

"Coy? Do people still use that word?"

"Educated people do," she said. "Let me put it in a way you can understand. Don't be a jerk!"

"Me?" he said, his smile wrinkles deepening.

The omelettes arrived and they waited until Josephine had the plates down and the coffee cups refilled.

"Mark, why did you buy the Seawolf submarine if not to haul people to Mars?"

"It's big enough to be a space station, Christy. The welding on that hull is superb. The workmanship is better than anything we've produced ourselves."

"But it could be used as a spaceship, right? Everyone knows you've been working on it in orbit. That plus the fact you won't say where the
Genesis
is—well, you can see why people think you might be thinking of colonizing Mars."

"What if we were planning to
go
to Mars?" he said. "God has given us the means of getting there, not the government. Doesn't that give us the right?"

"Divine right?"

"If God has made it possible for us to do something, what right has the world to stop us?"

"God didn't withhold his love from the gentiles, why would God withhold this technology? Think of what it could mean if people from Earth did colonize Mars. A presence on another world would help us think globally. Nations would fade in importance. Without flags to fight for, peace would be possible. Mars could even act as a safety valve, giving displaced peoples a place to call their own."

"Always reconciling, aren't you?" he said kindly. "You believe every conflict can be resolved because you think there is a cause at the root of every conflict."

"There is always a cause, Mark, a fundamental dispute that can be resolved. Sometimes it's a border dispute, or a food shortage, or disagreement over how to divide up resources, but there is always a cause."

"The cause is sin, Christy. We are fallen creatures living in a fallen world. The only reconciliation that matters is with God. If unredeemed people moved to Mars they would form groups, then nations, and then border conflicts would begin all over again. The only peace is through Christ."

"Are you saying there are no conflicts within the Fellowship?"

"We don't always agree."

"But if all of you have accepted Jesus then why is there conflict?"

"Only Jesus was sinless. We're still sinners struggling with our sin nature."

"The world is the same, Mark. I work with people every day struggling with their natures, trying to get along."

Now Mark looked out the window, his serious wrinkles returning, thinking about what she had said. She respected the silence. There was no anger in their words. They disagreed, but the disagreement would strengthen their relationship, because they would learn that they could disagree and still love one another.

Christy poked at her omelette, then slowly buttered a piece of toast. Clearly Mark had thought of establishing a colony, his answers were well thought out and practiced. Knowing they were going to Mars worried her. History was replete with conflicts over new territory. The Europeans had fought over dividing up the new world and judging by the rhetoric in the U.N. there was no less passion today.

"Mark, sometimes by winning you can lose. Claiming Mars for yourselves will infuriate the nations of the world. Congress has passed a resolution asserting that only governments have a right to claim territory. You know the U.N. has made even stronger statements. The Muslim governments are particularly hostile to Christians claiming part of the heavens. Do you want to
go
to war with the whole world?"

Happy wrinkles returned and Mark looked peaceful.

"I will fight the whole world for His sake if I have to. I feel like I've been fighting that battle most of my life." Then he looked serious again. "I understand you have our best interests at heart, Christy, and in fact, Mars isn't where we want to draw the line. Would you intercede for us?"