The Redeemer (4 page)
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Anak mocked him. “Ms. Yale is forbidden fruit for your kind.”
“No, of course not. I’ve no feelings for her.” Wonk lowered his head and rubbed his forehead as Anak pulled him by the hair and forced him to meet his threatening gaze.
“She’s not at the university, so how do you contact her?”
“On her cell phone.”
Og pulled his iPhone out of his pocket and thrust it into Wonk’s hands.
“Call her.”
Samantha Yale checked the security lock on the door of her new apartment then walked to the window and looked both ways at the streets that intersected just below. Seeing nothing out of order, she closed the drapes. The room had almost no furniture, save a desk and chair, reading lamp, and a framed mirror on the wall. A small kitchen with nothing in it was off to the side.
Not quite like my last office, but I don’t plan to be here long.
She sighed and checked her reflection in the mirror.
Why are people surprised that an African woman could have blue eyes? Seems normal to me.
Four crates containing the mysterious scrolls belonging to Wonk Eman were stacked in back of the desk.
I may not have much time to complete the translation.
Taking a letter opener from the desk drawer, she pried the crate open and took out one of the scrolls. Carefully she unrolled it and laid it out under the lamp’s light. Arranging her laptop, a yellow legal pad, and pen and a magnifying glass, she adjusted her glasses and looked intently at the ancient document.
The ringing of the Blackberry in her pocket interrupted her concentration. “
ID Blocked.” It has to be Wonk.
“Hello, Wonk.”
“Dr. Yale?”
“Yes.”
Sounds of a struggle.
“Wonk, what is it? Where are you?”
“Run, Samantha. Run.”
The phone went dead.
S
IR, IF
A
DONAI
is not in the third heaven, as Baal and Tammuz reported, it is more important for you to know where
He
is than who the
baby
is.”
That’s how I finally convinced Satan to let me go on a scouting mission to the earth.
Adonai could have been anywhere, but I had a hunch. If the Messiah had been born, maybe Adonai went to see for Himself how things were going, like He did when Adam was created. I flew straight to Bethlehem, to the place where the angels told the shepherds the baby would be. The shepherds were already there when I set down outside the cave where the newborn lay in a manger. I must say the accommodations were modest compared to how God usually did things.
Take the creation of Adam and Eve, for example. No empty cave in the middle of a field for them, by no means. God remodeled an entire planet in preparation for them. Eden was spectacular, nothing understated about it. I expected the arrival of the Messiah to receive equal extravagance. Certainly the birth announcement was a stunner. It was hard for me to imagine that a feed trough for sheep was the best God could come up with, even though it was a heavy travel season due to a census and the hotels were all full. And by the way, don’t suppose for a moment that Joseph and Mary couldn’t have afforded better. Joseph owned his own carpentry business. They were both descendants of David and from well-to-do families. If the Messiah was born and laid in a manger, it had to be because God was sending a message, and odd as it might seem, it had to do with sheep.
I know God too well. Time will prove me right on this.
I slipped in quietly to find the shepherds kneeling down before the small family. I wriggled my way forward and knelt down among them. Inching myself as close as I dared to the makeshift crib, I leaned in to look closely at the baby’s face.
He looked good as far as fresh, new babies go, but it’s not like you could have picked Him out of a lineup. No matter what new parents think, when you’ve seen one—well, you know the rest. Little scrunched-up face on a slightly oblong head—from all the pushing, I supposed. No more than seven pounds. He looked like a regular human baby as far as I could tell.
“Tell me again who He’s supposed to be,” whispered the oldest shepherd in the group. “I’ve seen dozens of newborns in my life. This one looks like all the rest.”
“You heard the angels,” said the one nearest me. “He’s the Messiah.” Then he paused and looked to the other shepherds. “We all saw them, right?”
“I heard the angels, but if this is the Messiah, why tell us? We’re just ordinary shepherds.”
“We’re shepherds, but we’re not ordinary.”
Trust me, you’re ordinary. You may have seen angels, but I’ve seen shepherds—you are definitely ordinary.
I moved in a little closer to get a better look. The old shepherd was right. That little boy could have been one of a hundred babies born that night in Israel. I saw nothing special at all. I wondered if the angels had gotten the location wrong. I leaned in a little more to get a good look at Him when He opened His eyes and stared right at me. I was so startled I lost my footing, stumbled, and bumped my chin on the manger’s rail. I recovered my balance and eased back to look at Him again.
He wasn’t really looking at me. Newborn babies can’t focus.
But He continued to stare at me as if He could. From the time I first saw Moses as an infant, I’ve had this ability to look into a baby’s eyes and see the soul of who he would become. That’s how I was able to warn Satan about who Moses was as soon as I saw him floating in a basket in the river.
“Who are you, little fellow?” I cooed to baby Messiah as I looked deeper into His unseeing eyes. “Are you related to David, by any chance?”
Then He winked at me. I backed away from the manger as fast as I could and sat down on a bale of hay. It was as if He recognized me. Preposterous, I know.
Newborn babies do not wink. Blink? All the time. But this one winked
.
Oh no. He must know I’m a demon. But how could He?
After a while the shepherds gathered their belongings and headed back to the fields to tend to the lambs. I decided to go along with them in case the heavenly host came back with more details.
By the time we got to their fields, the sun was rising, and the lambs were up and frolicking like little human children. I watched them play as I tried to figure out why they seemed so different from the thousands of other sheep I’d seen. When the morning sun shone down on them, I realized how white they were—no blemish or discoloring of any kind. When the lead shepherd called one of them by name, the way one would call a pet, it hopped over to him like it knew the sound of his voice. One of the younger men brought a cart and helped load the animal.
“This one’s a beauty. The priests should find no problem with him. They can be so critical; one spot, and they’ll reject a lamb.”
“That’s their job,” the older man answered. “They must be sure the sacrifice is perfect.”
“I’m just saying it’s not all that easy to hand-feed these lambs, only to have one of them rejected over a freckle.”
“It’s an honor you shouldn’t take for granted, young man. You could be out watching over a herd of goats instead of being selected to take care of these special lambs. Keep in mind these are raised for only one purpose, to be an offering to the most high God.”
I stepped close to the cart to take a better look at the lamb. The Jews were forever sacrificing bulls or lambs to God, but I thought any garden-variety type would do. The little guy didn’t seem to mind me looking him over so carefully. There was innocence about him, and I wondered if he knew what his fate would be. The younger shepherd picked up the handles of the cart, and off they went to Jerusalem.
I was about to head back to check on the Messiah when I stopped to chat with one of the ewes.
“Do you know your offspring is destined for the temple to be a burnt offering? Seems like a waste of a perfect lamb if you ask me.”
She didn’t stop grazing to answer me, but then I’d never known a sheep to be much of a conversationalist.
“I suppose if a lamb isn’t chosen for the sacrifice, he ends up being someone’s dinner, so maybe your little guy has a higher purpose after all. Say, were you in the field a couple of nights ago when the angels appeared?”
She looked up at me with an expression that I took as a yes.
“Why do you suppose they appeared to your shepherds? What makes them special?”
She wore the same expression.
“Do you suppose it’s because they’re the caretakers of the perfect lambs used for the temple sacrifice?”
She walked away without answering.
Messiah, lambs—if there was a connection, I couldn’t figure out what it was.
I decided to go back and take another look at the baby. When I got there, I found his parents, Mary and Joseph, had packed Him up and moved into a guest house with some of Joseph’s relatives. Jesus—that’s what they named the baby—and Mary moved into one room, while Joseph took another bedroom down the hall. Made perfect sense with a newborn around; no need for everyone to be up all night when His mother was the only one who could feed Him. That’s why I moved in with Joseph.
Many visitors came to see the baby over the next few months. Most came out of curiosity. The rumors were rampant about the mysterious circumstances surrounding Jesus’ birth. When I heard the gossip about Mary being pregnant before she married Joseph, I berated myself for having taken those few centuries off and not paying close enough attention to what was happening on the earth. I felt like I’d arrived at the second act of a three-act play with no idea what the first act had been about.
Before I knew it, a year had passed, and I hadn’t learned a thing. I was a little disappointed that Adonai had never come by personally to check things out.
He must be back in the third heaven by now. Whatever He came to the earth for, I don’t see how it could have been more important than the birth of the Messiah.
Jesus was a typical baby, except that He walked early. Other than that there were no outer clues that He was anything special. I don’t know if He knew I was around or not. He hadn’t paid any more attention to me since He winked at me. Then one night something happened.
Joseph and I had gone to bed. I can’t sleep, of course, but I find it calming to lie down next to a human who can. Joseph had just nodded off, and I’d closed my eyes to think about my home in the third heaven. I would never give up hope that someday, some way, God would realize that a mistake had been made when I was cast out with Lucifer and the rebelling angels.
I would never admit to being so foolish, but when Gabriel appeared at the edge of the second heaven with God’s message for Satan, I jumped up to greet him because I just knew he’d come to tell me justice had been served, and he was there to escort me back home. The memory of Gabriel was so clear in my mind that when I opened my eyes and saw a real angel in the room with Joseph and me, I was sure my time had come.
“Are you looking for me?” I hopped out of bed and shook my wings out. “Here I am.”
“No,” he said, “I’ve come with a message for Joseph.”
“Good luck with that. Joseph doesn’t have a good ear for the supernatural. I try to talk to him all the time, but he never hears a word.”
“He will hear me.”
The angel hovered above Joseph’s sleeping body and spoke softly into his ear.
“Joseph, take Mary and Jesus and flee to Egypt. Herod will soon set out to find the baby and try to kill Him.”
Joseph stirred and a distressed look came across his face, but he didn’t wake up. I could see the angel was about to leave.
“Wait,” I called out. “What do you mean Herod is coming after the baby? Why?”
“Baal has captured Herod’s soul. Herod will have three visitors from the East this night. After that, he will search for the boy to kill Him.” The angel stepped upon the windowsill to leave.
“Wait! You can’t go now. We have to wake Joseph up; if he doesn’t see you while he’s awake, he’ll never believe you were here. He’ll think he dreamed the whole thing.”
“No, he won’t.”
“Trust me.” I reached for Joseph’s hand to shake him awake. “I know humans.”
“Trust
me
,” the angel replied. “This is not the first time I’ve brought a message from God to Joseph while he was asleep.”
“Seriously? When was that?”
He didn’t bother answering as he left. I took hold of Joseph’s left earlobe and pulled on it.
“Joseph, get up. You don’t have much time.”
He snored and turned over. I was feeling an anxiety attack coming on. I jumped up and down on the cot.
“Joseph wake up! You have to protect Jesus. He has to grow up.”
He twitched, pulled the cover over his head, and resumed snoring.
I panicked. The long-expected human Messiah was my only hope; if Joseph wasn’t going to save Him, I had to. I flew out the window and headed to Herod’s palace.