"I saw the Lord Jesus looking with grieved countenance upon men handling sacred things, because they did not discern sacred things. He said, “Human character cannot be trusted. Unless Christ is interwoven in the character, it is valueless. Unless there is a transformation of character, there is no hope for the world.” 10
Ismini was excited. Right after supper,
she phoned her mother. Together, mother and daughter shared the
joy of the impending reunion. She informed Candace that Easteban
had already made reservations and had even purchased the tickets.
She would leave tomorrow and would spend several days visiting
with her mother. Unspoken was the reason for the visit and its
unusual length. Neither mother nor daughter spoke of terminal
pancreatic cancer that was even now draining the last spark of
life from the older woman’s body. Both understood that Ismini
would remain with her mother until her death.
Packing her small, reddish brown suitcase,
the only one the family possessed, Ismini confided to her husband
her fears that her mother might die that very night or within
hours of her arrival.
Together, husband and wife knelt in prayer
alongside their bed, asking the Lord’s blessing on her mother,
and Ismini’s trip.
“Dear Father,” Ismini prayed fervently,
“please keep mother alive until I can get there. I know this
may sound selfish, but I do want so much to spend just a little
more time with her. I love her, but I don’t want her to suffer
any longer then necessary. Forgive me for being so selfish as
to desire her life prolonged especially for my benefit. If it
is your will that she live or die, then let your will be done.
Bless Easteban, Arturo and Felisa while I’m gone. I pray
for your protection on the flight and while I’m in Chicago.
I pray these things in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.”
Easteban also offered his petitions to the
Lord that he would bless Ismini and her mother, asking the Lord’s
protection upon his wife. Travel wasn’t safe any more, he
needlessly reminded the Lord. “Bring her back to Arturo,
Felisa and me,” he asked, “for we do so love and need
her.”
They hugged, as was their custom after praying
together. They felt it drew them closer together as husband and
wife after a shared religious experience. Easteban wasn’t
ashamed of loving his wife or of sharing prayer with her, as were
some men he knew. He loved Ismini with an intensity that he little
dreamed of. This precious woman was the dearest thing on earth
to him and he would never do anything to harm her.
Ismini was short and stout, with loving
eyes and a mouth that crinkled at the corners when she smiled
at him in just that special, impish way only husbands and wives
can experience. She returned his love and wondered at her fortune
to have such a wonderful husband who cared for her so tenderly
and treated her with love and kindness.
Eighteen years of marriage, how fast the
time had gone for both of them. The usual marital problems had
bothered them, but their genuine and lasting love, cemented by
their love for the Lord, had seen them through every problem.
Both had learned to place a higher value upon each other then
they did upon themselves. They were ever ready to sacrifice some
special desire that the other might have his or her desire fulfilled.
Christ was precious to them for they realized
how much He had blessed them with health, with each other, with
Arturo and Felisa, with a good income, with friends, a nice house
in a nice neighborhood. God had certainly been good to the Montoya’s,
Easteban mused as he caressed Ismini’s hair and wondered
at her love and constancy to him over these many years.
They kissed fondly for a long time, before,
by mutual consent, they separated to finish their bedtime preparations.
They enjoyed intimate moments together, cuddled in each others
arms, enjoying those privileges reserved only for married couples.
He loved her and would not force her or go any faster then she
desired. She appreciated this attitude and responded with caresses
and kisses and those little gestures that made romantic moments
so delightful. He valued her body and treated it tenderly. Lying
contentedly together, they savored the moment as they blessed
the Lord again for His love and care. They never failed to take
the Lord into consideration in their public and private lives
and He blessed them for remembering Him.
Ismini fell asleep in Easteban’s arms
as he lay awake for several hours vaguely troubled by the momentary
lapse of his habitual honesty. It was only a small thing, he told
his conscious, but it seemed to say that it had not been such
a small thing after all. Finally, he had to admit his error and
confessed his sin to the Lord, asking for forgiveness.
Long ago, as a small boy, his father had
taught him of the wonderful healing power of the Lord’s forgiveness.
That night, he sorrowfully repented of his sin, asked forgiveness
from the Lord and experienced, again, the wondrous love of God.
Though he had sinned, he realized, the Lord had forgiven him and
with the forgiveness came the power to relinquish the bribe money,
make restitution and inform his supervisor of his wrong actions,
even if it might land him in jail or cost him his job. This was
the hardest part of forgiveness, to make public acknowledgment
of a public sin, but, with the Lord’s grace, he resolved,
he would do it as soon as to got to work Monday morning.
* * *
Henry McKenzie and Hans Hoffman were driving
south along interstate 40 toward North Carolina. Taking exit 15,
they would drive along a rural road that intersected North Carolina
209 which they would take to the vicinity of the Trust general
store, which was south of the Pisgah National Forest, sight of
some of the heaviest destruction from the recent forest fires.
Between Knoxville, to the West and Morristown
to the North, and Newport to the South, the land was open and
relatively free of forests, hence it suffered very little from
the fires, but they soon left this area and entered the national
forests. In Tennessee, the Cherokee National Forest stretches
along the state line from Virginia to the Great Smoky Mountain
National Park near Gatlinburg and Chattanooga. Highway 40 traverses
this forested area, passes between the Appalachian mountains that
form the famed Great Smoky Mountains, traverses the Pisgah National
Forest in North Carolina and bypasses the extensive lands of the
Mantahala National Forests which were located just south of the
Great Smokes. But they would not go that far today. Turning left
at the Waterville dam and lake which formed the eastern extremities
of the Great Smokes, they passed into the burned areas.
The great interstate highway snaked back
and forth between lofty mountains on both sides which draw close
to the road, enfolding it in its rocky embrace. Great iron curtains
had been erected on the eastern side along stretches of the road,
to protect it from the occasional falling rock, while the right
side often plunged into deep forest covered ravines. Heading south,
toward Asheville, the road passed through one tunnel, while the
northbound traffic would pass through two tunnels on its way toward
Knoxville. The area was famed for its natural beauty and wild
flowers of every description. Rugged and spectacular scenery greeted
the eye of the traveler even from the Interstate. The famed Appalachian
trail, that meandered its way along the crest of the mountains
from Georgia to Main, traversed this area.
The rain gradually diminished but visibility
was restricted due to heavy mist and even heavier smoke. All about
them, the world had turned into a vast bed of black smoldering
charcoal. Twisted and blackened trees pointed their gaunt trunks
heavenward. The clouds hung low over the higher mountains, mercifully
obscuring the dead bodies of the forests in their impenetrable
fog. The lower slopes were covered with a tangle of fallen tree
trunks. So close does the road come to the mountains, that it
was blocked in many areas by mud slides and fallen trees. For
a stretch of almost fifteen miles between Newport and Asheville,
the road is flanked by sheer cliffs of naked rock hewed out of
the mountains. Here, massive rock slides had completely blocked
the north bound lane and traffic had to be diverted to the south
bound lane, slowing the large volume of interstate truck traffic
to a crawl. Bulldozers were attempting to clear the highway, but
so large was the volume of mud, rock, and trees that had fallen
or slid onto the road, it would take months to reopen the highway.
Both men were stunned by the ferocity of
the blaze and winds that had wreaked such havoc over a wide area.
They could only imagine the terror of people caught in the fire
and winds. Momentarily they were lost in contemplation of George
and Billy fighting for their lives in that infernal that had already
claimed the lives of thousands of men, women, and children.
After several moments of silence, Hans spoke.
“This destruction, this terrible curse upon our country,
it must be a retribution from God.”
Dressed in jeans with a dark leather belt,
checkered shirt, sturdy, light brown cowhide work boots, and a
Jean jacket to protect him against the rain and chill imparted
by the passing hurricane, Henry was unhappy. Preferring to remain
at home, enjoying the warmth of a crackling fire, he hated every
moment of the drive. He regretted his rash decision, made in the
emotion of the moment, to satisfy the demands of a beautiful woman.
Women could be so unreasonable in the pursuit of their emotions,
he lamented.
Carefully, he steered around a pile of fallen
trees, that temporarily blocked the road, forcing the traffic
onto the shoulder.
After a long silence, Henry replied to his
question. “How so? Why do you think this is retribution from
God?”
“Just look around you,” Hans replied.
“These things just don’t happen by accident. There is
no such thing as natural disasters. They are acts of God as punishment
for our sins. God is punishing our country for its transgression
of His laws.”
Henry wasn’t sure about this line of
reasoning, preferring to leave God out of such things. “Hans,”
he answered, chewing on a Hershey bar, “I don’t agree
with you. These things do happen, they are natural disasters and
have genuine scientific explanations. Hurricanes, fires, droughts
and storms have happened sine time began. How can you say we are
being punished by God?” Warming to his line of logic, he
continued. “Besides God is a loving God. He doesn’t
punish people this way. That’s not the God I know.”
“God uses natural forces to warn us
of our sins,” Hans stoutly maintained as he used his index
finger to ream ear wax out of his right ear, a gesture Henry profoundly
detested in his friend.
“If that’s the case,” Henry
continued, as he blew his nose on a white linen pocket handkerchief,
“places like Bangladesh, Africa, and other regions of the
world, that have floods and droughts, must be godless places.”
"Your right,” Hans said, removing
his finger from his ear, “they are godless countries. All
the Muslim world is a godless place, and look at the problems
they have, droughts, famines, storms, terrorism, all types of
problems. God is using these things to warn them, those Muslims,
to come back to Him. He loves them, and us,” Hans said with
emphasis, waving his hand in a sweeping, all encompassing gesture
toward the burned over area, “so much so that He will use
these apparently natural disasters to warn us and urge us to return
to Him before it is too late.”
Henry glanced at his friend, saw the intensity
of his face and gestures, saw the eyes shining in comprehension
of God’s judgments, saw his erect posture, as if he were
straining at the leash ready to foment against sinners wherever
they might be found. Impeccably dressed in suit and tie, despite
the circumstances, his hair neatly combed, as if he were on his
way to meet an important business client, Hans sat erect, eyes
starling intently ahead, his mouth held in a perpetual dour expression
without the least trace of a smile, his face was devoid of laugh
lines as befitting a man of God intent upon furthering his Lord’s
temporal kingdom which was too serious to waste time with trivial
matters such as laughter or smiles.
Short, but surprisingly muscular for a man
in his late 50s, Hans had light sandy brown hair that he parted
on the right, clean shaven face, penetrating dark blue eyes, an
intense expression that brooked no foolishness or amusement, a
jutting chin, clean white teeth that seldom graced a smile and
large hands that were constantly in motion illustrating some theological
point. He dressed, even on this cutting, in a gray suit and red
tie, polished black shoes, and tweed overcoat. Looking like he
had just sucked a lemon and liked it, he enjoyed religious enthusiasm
and the discomfort of sinners.
“Just look at our society,” Hans
continued, sweeping his hands in an all encompassing gesture as
Henry returned his amused gaze to the road. “Since Clinton
was reelected for a second term, just look at what’s happened
to our country. People are getting more and more godless every
day. Families and marriages are breaking up, drug addiction is
sky rocketing, teen pregnancies are on the increase, murder, rape
and arson are rampant,” he said, sticking his finger into
his ear in search of more wax.
“You heard about that murder at the
convenience store last night, that’s an example of what I
mean. Why these guys just walked in and brutally killed those
two women. No mercy, they showed them no mercy. Its as if they
enjoyed killing. They only took fifty dollars form the cash register,
and for this they killed two women, killed them in cold blood.
No remorse, no conscious, no thought for their eternal reward,”
Hans said, waving his hand in front of Henry, momentarily threatening
to distract his concentration. His hand was so close to Henry’s
mouth that he amused himself with the thought that, by leaning
forward slightly, he could bite it, but, no, that would show disrespect
for his friend’s opinions, so he held his mischievous nature
in check.
“But Hans,” Henry interjected,
fearing that his friend might launch into an evangelical sermon
on the evil and wickedness of human nature, and, who knows, maybe
the wickedness of his human nature. “All these things have
been happening for a long time, Things aren’t getting worse,
we just have more cops, after all, didn’t President Clinton
put a 100.000 new cops on the streets, its better police work
and better statistics, and better crime fighting methods. Things
aren’t getting worse, we are just getting better at apprehending
criminals.”
“That’s not true,” Hans replied
with genuine vehemence in his voice. “We are a godless nation
and the last Presidential election illustrates my point. Every
one knew the type of character Clinton had and yet they voted
for him anyway. They knew he lied, cheated on his wife, used illegal
Chinese contributions to fund his campaign. People just don’t
care any more about morality or God. Why they act as if there
isn’t a God or a heaven to win or a hell to shun. People
have forgotten about Him,” Hans concluded with barely concealed
tears of frustration glistening in the corners of his eyes.
Henry toyed with the prospect of teasing
his friend, then dismissed it. That wouldn’t be fair. Many
times he had bested Hans at his own game but the depth of his
religious fervor left him oblivious to Henry’s teasing.
“Clinton wasn’t all that bad,”
Henry maintained, defending his President. “Sure he made
a few mistakes, but most of those things were blown all out of
proportion by the Republicans for political purposes.”
Turning on his friend, Hans inquired, “Did
you vote for Clinton.”
“No!”
“The point I’m trying to make,”
Hans continued with his logical statement, at least it was logical
to him, “is that we get the type of leader who best reflects
our values and morals. We vote for someone like ourselves, someone
who reflects our character, our life-style, our values. He is
not a religious man, he isn’t even converted and makes no
pretense about being religious except when it suits his political
purposes. I don’t blame him so much as I blame the millions
of Americans who wanted a President made in their own image.”
“Are you telling me,” Henry retorted,
polishing off another Hershey bar and feeling irritated at his
friend for the subtle, although unconscious, rebuke, “that
whoever voted for Clinton did so because he resembled them in
morality and his values were theirs also.”
“Precisely. Clinton is an accurate
reflection of the corrupt morals and values of our society. We
once valued God and His ten commandments, but now judges turn
away from the Bible and reject everything Christian in character
or nature. Congress is too weak willed to reassert religion to
its rightful place in our society.” Hans almost broke down
in tears in contemplation of the injustices being perpetrated
in the name of secularism or humanism.
Henry allowed his thoughts to wonder as
they drove through a patch of fog or smoke. He liked his way of
life and saw nothing attractive in the religion Hans was advocating.
Frankly, aside from being amused by his friend’s fervor,
he felt repulsed by it, turned off, and saw in it, many possibilities
for ridicule. He wondered what Hans would think if he realized
how Henry regarded the fanatical enthusiasm of his friend. Good
for a laugh or two at his expense, Henry began wondering why he
considered Hans a friend.
“Our children are being taught by godless
atheist teachers in the public schools,” Hans continued,
“to reject their parents, lie to them, turn away from their
values and spurn authority. Church attendance is down. Children
are leaving the churches by the thousands, no, the millions. Henry,
we’re loosing a whole generation of children. Where will
they turn for help when the world fails them? Where will they
go when problems overwhelm them? God loves them. He loves us and
He doesn’t want to see them lost. That’s why He uses
natural disasters to warn us to return to Him. We’ve got
to return to the Lord before its too late, before God rejects
our nation and its children. It’s almost too late already.”
Hans concluded his highly charged emotional response. Both men
fell silent, each absorbed with his own thoughts.
“What do you propose we do about it,”
Henry inquired, blowing his nose on his handkerchief? Attempting
to refold the white linen with one hand, he nearly lost control
of the car. Disgustedly, he showed the cloth into his breast pocket.
“The solution is simple. We need to
come back to God, both as a society and individually. We can begin
by bringing the young people back to church, back to God, and
back to traditional family values.”
“And how can we do that?”
“We can begin by passing a law that
makes it illegal to work on Sunday. Close all the bars, the stores,
the restaurants, the theaters, the malls, the bowling allies,
the race tacks, and the amusement parks. Then we can urge people
to return to church. That’s a beginning.”
“You mean,” Henry said, with a
shocked expression, thinking of all those pro-football games that
wouldn’t be played, “you mean you would close everything
on Sunday, no football, no baseball, nothing,” he said incredulously!
“Yes,” Hans responded with feeling.
“They can play those games on Saturday. Don’t you see,
Henry, this is a beginning. We can return to Sunday sacredness,
like our grandparents enjoyed. Families will go to church together,
they will spend the Lord’s day together. It will bring families
together, will end divorce, unwed pregnancies, stop abortion,
end homosexuality. By placing God back into the center of society,
morality and Christian virtues and values will influence everything
we do. This one simple thing can begin a national revival. It
will sweep corrupt politicians out of office and those honest
Christians can step in to fill their place. Finally, the kingdom
of God will rule where only sin and crime rule now.”
“But what about religious freedom,”
Henry inquired. “This nation was founded on freedom of religion.”
Hans looked exasperated for a moment, then,
regaining his composure, and as if teaching a small child a simple
lesson, he continued, “Religious freedom will not be disturbed,
we are simply reinstating it. Every one will be free to worship
or not to worship. We are not advocating that people be forced
to attend church or read their Bibles. By closing all stores or
places of work on Sunday, everyone, even the skeptic or ashiest,
is reminded that there is a God and that He has a day of worship.”
“You mean that you would be satisfied
if people just didn’t work on Sunday, even if they didn’t
go to church?”
“That’s right,” Hans answered.
“There is too much commercialism on the Lord’s day.
God gave us six days in which to do all our work and he expects
us to rest on the seventh day. If we rest from our work on His
holy day, then His blessing will surely fall on us and these disasters
will cease. Think of it, Henry, His blessing will fall upon this
nation and we will again resume our rightful place as a respected
powerful influence in the world. Why,” he continued, “we
might, through our godly influence in international relations,
even win over the Muslin nations to Christ. Wouldn’t that
be wonderful?’
“But Hans,” Henry persisted, “forcing
people not to work, I’m not sure that’s the way to go.
Couldn’t the churches accomplish their goals by preaching
the gospel, by holding more evangelistic meetings, by giving more
Bible studies and by loving people?”
This simple question seemed to exasperate
Hans. “All those things are good, and we need to do more
of them, but the times are so wicked, that stronger, more drastic
measures are called for. God is angry with our behaviors, we have
no time to loose if we want to save people from these disasters.
Besides,” he persisted, “once they return to church,
then they will hear all those sermons, evangelistic crusades and
Bible studies you advocate, but first we must get them into church
and this National Sunday Law is just thing. After all, if they
don’t have anything to do Sunday morning, it shouldn’t
be too hard to gently persuade them to come to church.”
“What type of gentle persuasion, would
you use,” Henry inquired?
“We could make the church services
more interesting, play Christian rock songs, have Christian parties
for the teenagers, maybe have plays or skits or Christian comedians
perform between Sunday school and church services. Perhaps we
could have popular bands play for worship services. Or we could
stop calling them worship and start referring to them as encounters
with the higher power. I don’t know exactly what we might
do,” he said, waving his hands in the air, “but certainly
we can think of something to attract people back to church and,
if all these things don’t work, why, then,” he paused
significantly, “then they might receive a visit from the
local authorities just to remind them that they ought to be in
church. You know, nothing drastic, just a friendly reminded.”
“But I thought you just said you don’t
advocate making people attend church?”
Hans looked impatient. “Henry, sometimes
I think your teasing me with your foolish questions. Of course
people need to be in church on Sunday, where else will they go
to hear the gospel being preached.”
Henry shivered, not because of the cool
weather, but at the thought of his inconsistent ideas.
Henry eased the car to a stop behind several
trucks that were endeavoring to pass a stalled car on the side
of the road. “That’s going to take a lot of thinking
before we do something like that.”
“Well,” Hans responded, “the
thinking has already been done, and its almost time to begin.”
