“The Apostle Paul wrote, ‘Behold, I show you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed. In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed.’”
Glory! Hallelujah!
Gordon’s voice rises an octave as his eyes turn toward heaven and his right hand reaches out as if to take God’s hand. “‘For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first: Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord!”
A thousand rapt believers leap from their seats and raise their hands, shouting in celebration of the Great Truth.
Ollie notices that Gordon’s left hand still grips the book.
To quiet the rapturous crowd, Gordon closes his eyes and begins a prayer. Within seconds the tent is hushed. “Our dear Father in heaven,” he prays, “help us to prepare our hearts for the imminent return of your Son Jesus, and guide our thoughts in these final hours to be wholly consumed by your love and purpose for our lives. Help us to show the same spirit of love to those around us that Jesus showed to all humanity. Forgive us, Father, our sins, which are many, and help us to forgive those who have wronged us. In this time of great expectation, give us strength to endure the torments and ridicule of unbelievers as Jesus endured His persecutors. In the name of Jesus—may His triumphant return not find us asleep – Amen.”
Amen.
Gordon’s prayer, Ollie knows, was a thinly veiled appeal to him for forgiveness. He smiles smugly as Alice gently takes his hand. He is surprised at its warmth.
This would be a good time to confront Gordon in front of the entire assembly,
Ollie thinks, but the touch of Alice’s hand restrains him. Soothes him.
Remember this man’s betrayal, and how he ruined your life,
Ollie tells himself. But he cannot bring his anger to a boil.
Give it time,
he decides.
The pompous arrogance of this impostor will incite you soon enough
.
Give him time to dig his own grave from which there will be no resurrection.
“Until a few minutes ago,” Gordon says, “I was expecting to present to you the overwhelming evidence of the impending Second Coming of Christ, an event which has been awaited so longingly for centuries and which is now only months away. Yes, there is no doubt that in less than a year our Savior will return to fulfill His promise, praise God!”
Praise God!
“I was going to lay out the indisputable evidence for you so that you can begin to prepare yourselves for the wonderful and terrible upheaval to come… but I have changed my mind. You see, time is too short. The time of persuasion is over; it is now time for preparation. If you do not believe that Jesus is coming, I have no time for you, so you may as well leave right now.”
Gordon pauses. The audience begins to buzz. About fifty people rise, huffing and nodding their heads before heading for the exits, but the remainder—thousands of them—cling to their benches.
“This evening I have learned that my mission has been changed,” Gordon says, gripping the rough pulpit with one hand while he grips the book with the other. “From this moment it is my responsibility to get believers ready for the return of Jesus. There is so little time, my friends, and so much to do. But the hard work begins with our hearts, for God will not allow us to be caught up in the clouds to meet the Lord so long as we harbor resentment and fail to forgive those who have wronged us. My friends—beloved of God—hear me on this. Jesus came the first time to show us how to love and how to forgive. How can we expect to be forgiven if we cannot forgive! Wives, I am talking about forgiving your husbands, and husbands your wives.”
Gladys, the wife of the raging man, begins to weep at the back of the tent and another woman embraces her.
Gordon continues. “Brothers, set aside your feelings of anger for the wrongs of your siblings, and daughters, forgive your parents their shortcomings. Neighbors, forgive your friends and acquaintances so that you may be forgiven, and let your forgiveness be known!”
Throughout the audience, people sob as they consider their unholy grudges.
“Are we not all deficient in some way? Have we not all wronged someone during our lifetime of struggle? Did not Jesus forgive his accusers and murderers by asking God to forgive them for they knew not what they had done? My dear friends, know of a certainty that we must
make
peace before we can
find
peace. And since we have all wronged someone, we must ask them for forgiveness, just as we ask God to forgive us our trespasses.”
Ollie listens to these words, confused by the apparent conviction of the speaker. This is not the arrogant and deceitful Gordon who had haunted the dark chambers of Ollie’s mind for so many years. This man, bearing the name of Gordon Cranston and garbed in the aging body of the traitorous missionary, cannot be Gordon, for no man could be so transformed. From the twelfth row Ollie can see tears in the eyes of the preacher. He can hear the wretched man’s plea as if it were a private conversation between the two of them.
“Only moments ago, God spoke to me,” Gordon continues. “His message was that tonight I must become His agent for change in your hearts. God’s messenger, I am quite sure, did not know that he was conducting God’s business this evening.”
Gordon holds the book to his chest. Ollie shudders at the implication that he is a messenger for a God whom he despises.
Alice sees the book and recognizes it as the copy of
Midnight March to Freedom
she had given to Ollie, a book originally loaned to her by Gordon. A book written by… by… Alice Chadwick.
Chadwick.
Oliver Chadwick. Ollie—Ali— The pieces come together in her mind. Gordon, a missionary to Persia. Ali, the heroine’s son abducted from his father and reared in London.
“Before I can begin to fulfill this sacred mission,” Gordon explains, “I must purify my own heart, for I have grievously wronged others in the past. I betrayed those I had come to deeply love through an act of such exquisite selfishness that my own life became a penance for my sins.”
Alice turns to Ollie and can see the raw emotion in his eyes. In a horrifying instant she understands Ollie’s purpose in coming to the meeting and can see the future. Through the touch of Ollie’s hand she can feel the quivering demon of revenge awaiting its time.
Yes, she was sent here to help Ollie.
The warmth of Alice’s hand begins to move upward through Ollie’s arm and radiate into his chest and shoulders.
“I have learned that one of those whom I so gravely wronged is now dead,” Gordon says. “And so I must live my life without her forgiveness.”
Ollie watches the man as he seems to fight back tears.
Is this an act? If so, it is a performance that Anísa would have admired.
“The other victim of my selfishness is among you tonight—perhaps filled with hatred for me and thoughts of revenge—and to you I now speak directly. The truth is, I deserve your retribution, but I beg for your forgiveness. Not that I should be left unpunished, but that you will free
yourself
from the prison of your passions. You see, my friend, I have been serving a sentence imposed by a much higher power.”
Ollie’s body is now penetrated by the soothing warmth of Alice’s healing touch, but even steeped in this narcotic balm his demons fight for survival. He cannot forget. He does not
want
to forgive.
Gordon turns to a boy in the first row; Ollie can only see the back of the boy, but he appears to be about twelve years old.
“In God’s infinite wisdom,” Gordon says, “He chose to punish me sweetly… in such a manner that I will never forget my transgressions. I would like to introduce you to my son.”
Gordon gestures to a woman of sixty who is seated next to the boy. She whispers into the boy’s ear, then walks with him to the platform and helps him up the three steps to the pulpit. The boy walks awkwardly and when he turns to face the audience displays the enlarged forehead, slanted eyes and distant gaze of a boy severely afflicted with a condition that will one day be called Down syndrome.
Gordon wraps his arms around the boy. “This is Peter,” he says. “Named after the apostle, because he is my rock. Peter’s mother died in childbirth in France, where I had fled to escape from those whom I had disappointed. Peter has the intelligence of a much younger child, but the gentleness and kindness of a Saint. What he lacks in mental ability, Peter makes up for in spirituality.”
He stops to wipe his eyes, then continues. “In some ways, he is a painful reminder of my sweet and loving wife and the transgressions for which I will never atone. In other ways Peter is my mentor, for he possesses such a pure heart and forgiving nature that I find myself continually striving to achieve his virtues. Now that Peter is twelve years old—his birthday was just three weeks ago—he is the same age as the boy I betrayed once in Persia, and again in England many years ago.”
Ollie is now bathed in Alice’s warmth, but the swaggering demons still groan and strut, unwilling to depart after so many years with their gracious host. Though stunned by the appearance of Gordon’s son, and moved by his dramatic tale, Ollie clings to the motivating purpose of his life. He will not let God, the Selfish One, alone have the pleasure of punishment.
And then it occurs to Ollie that Gordon has removed his ability to embarrass the man in front of his admirers by the very act of Gordon’s public confession. The humiliating truth has been turned to Gordon’s advantage.
The demons stir and begin to chatter.
The man is clever,
they say.
Do not trust him. He deserves your vengeance—did he not agree? He has beaten you for now, but humiliation has always been too kind a punishment.
Ollie tenses as he realizes that, for the first time, he has imagined Gordon’s death. His hand jerks, and Alice senses his struggle. She grasps his hand now with both of hers and prays, prays hard. “I forgive you,” she says quietly.”
“What?” Ollie whispers.
“I forgive you.”
“For what?”
Alice looks at him. He has not felt loved since Mary Rogers, but through Alice’s gaze he feels love again—the embrace of her eyes, the kindness of her voice.
“I forgive you,” she says, “for whatever you are about to do, unless it is to forgive, because for this you need not be forgiven.”
The warmth from Alice’s hands is almost unbearable. He feels as if he is burning up. He must be ill. A fever!
Gordon whispers something to Peter, then hands the book to his son. The boy looks out at the sea of faces, then cautiously navigates the steps to the sawdust floor and begins walking down the center aisle. “Ali, I don’t know where you are,” Gordon says, “and I am not sure I would recognize you now that you’re a man. But I offer you my son. The sins of the father have been visited upon the son. Forgive my son and you shall forgive me.”
The crowd is silent, absolutely captivated, unable to guess what will happen next. All eyes watch the boy as he slowly makes his way down the aisle, kicking up clouds of dust, surveying the faces with heavy-lidded eyes.
Ollie watches Peter intently, and on the screen of the boy’s face he sees the countenance of a young Jalal, and Tim Shaw, and his son Isaac, and then astonishingly his own face appears, as if reflected in a mirror, and he realizes at last that through forgiveness he can be forgiven, by accepting the Son he accepts the Father.
The demons groan and Ollie understands now that his dizzying fever was in truth the fires of hell, but now the fever has broken and the demons are fleeing. A great earthquake of revelation overtakes him, with Alice’s hands at the epicenter, and he feels a kind of peace and joy that he has not felt since he was twelve and the world was a spiritual place of great expectation and prophets appeared in the clouds.
Peter stops at the twelfth row and closes his eyes. The crowd gasps, wondering what is about to occur. Peter turns to his right and looks into Ollie’s eyes and Ollie stands, not consciously, but drawn to his feet by some unseen force. He simply finds himself standing and facing the boy. Alice releases Ollie’s hand and the sudden disconnection shocks him, makes him feel like a man who cannot swim and is suddenly cast into deep water. He desperately reaches for Alice’s hand, understanding that they are meant to be together, that she completes him in some mystical way.
And then he looks at Peter who says, simply, “Forgive me.”
He is falling—no, flying; weightless and calm, able to see the distant horizon and the sun which is beginning to rise—and he reaches out to Peter. He embraces the boy.
”It is finished,” Gordon says. “I can go about my mission now. Who among you has the courage to forgive? Stand up. Stand up now. Join Ali and Alice and my beloved son in releasing yourself from the bondage of hatred and retribution.” The piano begins to play. “Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord. Cleanse yourself, throw off your shackles, and soar into the clouds of your reunion with Christ.”
Hundreds rise to their feet, many of them sobbing and holding hands. Gladys races from the back of the tent to her sleeping husband, kneeling by his side in tears. Gordon begins to walk down the aisle toward Peter. He turns to his left, facing a forest of standing people and shouts, “Forgive!”
And suddenly many of them fall to the ground, perhaps a hundred, as if in a trance. Gordon turns to his right and again shouts “Forgive!” and another hundred go down like trees in a great wind, Jonathon among them. On both sides of the aisle, the still-conscious begin to lift the sleeping ones up and carry them to the front of the tent, laying them down in rows like corpses after a battle, removing benches to make room for the stream of incoming bodies. Gordon marches through the great tent; hundreds more fall to the ground. “Take them to the front where they can bury their grudges and awaken fresh in the Lord.”