Authors: Tim LaHaye
Abigail couldn’t dispute any of that. So she said the only thing she could: how passionately she ached for him and needed to be with him too. Before hanging up, Joshua returned to a final bit of business. He said that he would call in to the Roundtable meeting the next day via Allfone video. The discussion was too important for him to miss. Before ending the encrypted conversation, they prayed together. Then his final words to Abigail were, “Please find the loose thread in the government’s case, will you, dear?”
Abigail sat down on the cowhide couch and began to weep quietly — until she had no more tears. She knew the kind of man Joshua was when she married him and was glad for it. He would risk his life to rescue a fellow pilot. And she wondered: had she been the wife of Captain Louder, wouldn’t she want Josh to do everything and anything to save her husband? But it wasn’t just about that. It was about this separation with no end in sight that was beginning to take a toll on her. She picked herself up from the couch and wandered into the kitchen to make herself some tea.
With her cup and saucer in her hand, Abigail moved into the study and sat down at the desk. Just above her on the wall were photos of Josh with members of the joint chiefs of staff and other photos of him shaking hands with presidents. Next to the photos were framed articles
on some high-profile legal cases that she had won during her law career.
Abigail flipped open the file on her husband’s case and once more dug into the thick paperwork. From all appearances, the prosecution’s inflated case was huge and impressive and unreachable — like the Goodyear Blimp. What she needed was a needle to deflate it. Unfortunately, it was buried in a haystack somewhere — and she wasn’t even sure which haystack.
But she did have an idea. As she flipped through the papers, she looked for something in particular — the news articles she had collected about the intriguing former federal prosecutor, Harley Collingwood, who had been assigned to prosecute Joshua’s case. She was now trying to figure out why he abruptly left the Department of Justice and whether it had something to do with the high-level corruption that she knew lay at the bottom of the case against her husband.
“Caught up.”
“Say again?”
Pastor Peter Campbell seemed oblivious to the television cameras in the Middle East studios of the Global News Network. He leaned forward in his chair, looked his
GNN
interviewer in the eye, and repeated the phrase. “Caught up. That’s the translation of the Greek term used in the original New Testament writings. The word
rapture
is also commonly used among Christians for this event. That word was taken from the later Latin translations. What we are talking about here is the supernatural event that happens right before the beginning of the most catastrophic period in human history.”
Bart Kingston, the career newsman conducting the interview, struggled to produce a half-baked smile. He had read up on this New York City preacher who headed up the Eternity Church in Manhattan. Kingston knew all about Campbell making news with his band of “Bible prophecy” experts and their doomsday predictions. He always did his homework, even though this was not his kind of story. He considered himself a hard news guy. But Kingston happened to be in Jerusalem covering some political twists in the administration of Prime Minister Sol Bensky, so he was available; the religion reporter who should have handled the interview was already on assignment at a new United Nations center in Iraq, covering something called “One Planet — One Cause — One God” — the One Movement for short, a
religious conclave fighting global warming through a collaboration of various religions around the world. Kingston, not a particularly religious man himself, thought the idea of a world unification of religions probably had some merit. Or at least the global conference promoting it could be a decent news story.
“You mentioned the Latin,” Kingston said, “could you expand on that a little?”
“I’m talking about one of the epistles — New Testament letters — written by the apostle Paul to the early churches in the first century. In that particular letter he was talking about the fact that Jesus Christ will be coming again, back to earth —”
“The so-called second coming of Christ?”
“Exactly, but not the way most folks think.”
“How so?”
“The New Testament lays out the order of events. The Lord Jesus will first be coming for his church, whisking Christians off the planet … literally. Followed by a seven-year period, with the last half devolving into a time of incredible suffering on the earth. Then Christ appears on earth to establish His Kingdom. That first part, though — the rapture — is just for Christ’s ‘church universal’; in other words, those who belong to Him, regardless of denomination, church attendance, or any other external factor —”
“Sounds exclusionary. Not very inclusive.”
“Maybe it strikes you that way, but the standard has to be not what you or I think about it, but what God has said in His Word. And the Bible is clear that the true believers in Christ will be ‘caught up,’ literally snatched up to Christ. They are the ones who have trusted in Christ and in the sacrifice He made on the Cross right here in Jerusalem, a sacrifice for sins. That sacrifice, by the way, wasn’t just for my sins; it was for yours as well.”
Kingston tried not to react. He changed the subject. “Of course, right now, this week, religious leaders from around the world are attending a convention in Iraq to unify behind a plan to save the planet from a global-warming disaster — brilliant men and women, committed to their various religions. Yet many of them have denounced
what you and your group are saying, calling it crackpot theology. And using words like
dangerously divisive
and
nonsensical
. How do you respond?”
Campbell took only a split second to reflect on Kingston’s curve-ball. “During Jesus’ earthly ministry He met with a member of the ruling religious group, a fellow named Nicodemus. Jesus explained to him that to know God and inherit eternal life, he would need to receive Christ and be born again. That came as a shock to this man, who was probably a brilliant teacher educated in the Old Testament Scriptures, the Tanakh, and who was undoubtedly a wealthy, influential man — a mover and shaker of his day. The point is this — I consider the opinions of the religious leaders of our day to be a moot issue — unless they’re ready to follow the one path that God has laid out through His Son Jesus Christ and described in His Word, the Bible.”
There was an edge to Kingston’s voice as he dug in. “So then, all these other religions, all except Christianity, you condemn them?”
“I condemn no one. Judging the hearts of others is way above my pay grade.”
Kingston offered a half smile as Campbell continued. “I’m just a sinner saved by grace. All I’m saying is that God calls us to an inner spiritual transformation, to be born again, the Bible says. That transformation must come from a personal faith in Christ, not from some outward show of religion. If we do that, then one day — very soon, I believe — we will be caught up with Him, in the blink of an eye. Those who don’t, well, they will unfortunately face that short but horrifying phase called ‘the tribulation’ — unparalleled terror on the earth.”
Kingston was more than a little dubious but remained objective; after all, he had a job to do. “How do you respond to your critics who say you’re going way too far with this? You talk about the return of Christ as if it’s practically on the doorstep of history, as if Christ was galloping down the lane right now, ready to start knocking on the door of Planet Earth. Your critics have called you Pastor Apocalypse … They suggest your brand of extremism whips people into fanatical, even violent, reactions. I’ve heard the Sol Bensky administration here
in Jerusalem is concerned about what people might do as a result of your Armageddon religion —”
“The folks who have actually experienced the spiritual transformation that comes with knowing Christ won’t be the ones doing the crazy things. They’ll be the ones with the inner peace to know that their Redeemer is getting close. And they know that even the terrors of the end times will be used by the God-of-all-compassion to call the human race to Himself, giving them one last chance to receive Christ as Savior. Wouldn’t you want God to give you one more chance, Bart?”
The reporter sized up Campbell’s face before checking his clipboard, just to make sure he had covered all the bases. He turned to the cameraman. “We’ll cut there. I’ll do an intro and a wrap later.”
As he stood and gave a perfunctory handshake to his guest, Kingston made small talk with Campbell. “So you’re currently located in Israel?”
Campbell nodded. “I’ve set up an office in Jerusalem, just off the Old City.”
“Close to the action, eh?”
He smiled. “In a way, yes. This is the only city in the world where geography, theology, and history are rapidly rushing together in one great climax. I’m keeping my eye on the Temple Mount, in particular. For me, that’s where the starting gun of this race will go off. Or to use our national American pastime as an example, it’s like being at the ballpark and hearing the National Anthem. That’s when you know that the action — the human drama — is just about to begin.”
That reminded Kingston of another question. He came at it obliquely. “Okay, pastor, you’ve raised the baseball metaphor … I’m a Red Sox fan. You hail from New York — so, you’re for the Yankees?”
“No, Mets.”
“Ah, the underdogs …”
Campbell chuckled.
Then Kingston made his point. “So these catastrophic events you’re talking about, using your baseball analogy, what inning is the world in right now, would you say? Top of the ninth? Bottom of the ninth?”
“Neither,” the pastor said. His face was flush with anticipation. “We’re in extra innings.”
In the middle of the crowded main room, Secret Service Agent Owens flagged down Katrena Amid, Senator Hewbright’s harried and slightly mussed assistant campaign manager. As he tried to explain something to her, the noise of the dozen volunteers manning phones at desks made it difficult to hear.
“Let’s go to my office,” Amid said.
They entered and closed the door.
“Say again — something about a threat?” she began.
“Unconfirmed,” Agent Owens said. “Nothing specific. We get these routinely during the political season. Just want you and the staff to be on the alert for unusual or suspicious people trying to get access to the senator.”
“I’ll be sure and pass it on to him. He’s doing a press call right now.” She motioned to the adjoining office separated by a glass wall where her boss was on the phone, smiling and gesturing as he answered a reporter’s questions.
Just then, Zeta Milla, one of Senator Hewbright’s junior advisors on foreign policy, swung open the door and stepped into the conversation. Milla sized up the man in the dark suit. “Secret Service?”
“Got it covered, Zeta,” Amid snapped.
“And you are …?” the agent asked the attractive Cuban refugee.
Zeta introduced herself and described her position on the staff. “Is there a problem?” she persisted.
“Just some information for the senator,” the agent replied. “General threat, nothing specific. Just want everyone to be on the alert. Be vigilant.”
“I told Agent Owens that Senator Hewbright is on a press call right now, but we’ll be sure to advise him,” Amid noted.
“This is your call, Katrena,” Milla bulleted back. “But if it were me, I’d cut the senator’s call short and advise him immediately. Safety first.”
Katrena Amid threw Milla a withering look. Then she manufactured
a smile for the agent, shook his hand, and thanked him as she walked him to the door. When he was gone, Amid confronted Zeta Milla. “From now on, you will remember that security issues are my department, not yours.”
“Fine,” Milla responded. Her tone was cool and unflustered. Then she added, “Just make sure you take care of our candidate. You’re replaceable. He’s not.”
Inside the adjoining glass office, Hewbright was fielding the reporter’s last question.
“As far as the differences in our vision for America,” the senator said, “President Tulrude and I couldn’t be farther apart. I see the need for America to regain its greatness as a world leader. To lead, not just join. To model true freedom, rather than trying to copy the emasculated version that Europe and the United Nations and the international community has adopted.”
“You say emasculated —,” the reporter started to say.
“Right. I use the word deliberately. The current administration has signed onto global treaties against hate speech that are now being used to throw people of faith into jail when they quote the Bible or speak their conscience on issues. Am I the only one who thinks that’s just plain crazy? Those treaties have to be disavowed. If I become president I will urge the Senate to reverse all that. Tulrude has orchestrated the downfall of the American dollar and brought us into the CReDO. Sharing in that global currency is going to sound the death knell for any chance of a vibrant, independent U.S. economy. She’s drawn down our military defenses, stopped defense weapons development necessary for the safety of our nation, and jeopardized our national security by trapping us in a spider web of international agreements that require us to share our weapons information with the rest of the world. Remember the old painting by Norman Rockwell? A Mom and Dad tucking their child into bed? Underneath it says “Freedom from Fear.” Jessica Tulrude has given Americans a lot to be frightened about. I want to replace fear with freedom.”
After the interview, Hewbright stepped out of the media office and trotted up to Katrena Amid in the big room. “Was that Secret Service?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve got another press call in exactly sixty seconds. Anything important?”
Amid paused before answering. Then she flashed a smile. “No. Not really. Just a routine security reminder.”
Hewbright nodded, then dashed back into the glass-walled office to take his next call.