Authors: Wid Bastian
“What could be chaos is rather a passionate but controlled celebration of what everyone here believes to be the announcement of a new Christian apostle to the world. Those gathered here are convinced that the restriction is the divine will of Christ. In between prayers and hymns the crowd can be heard to chant ‘Peter, Peter,’ calling out to their American prophet who is still, to the best of our knowledge, holed up in the White House with President … ”
“In London today churches and public areas have been filled to capacity with faithful people who seem to be, more than anything else, seeking each other. Colin Stuart is one such man. We interviewed him just outside the Westminster cathedral.”
“Mr. Stuart, why are you here at the Abbey?”
“I dunno exactly, mostly to give thanks to the Lord. Been waitin’ all my life for this, I imagine.”
“Waiting, Mr. Stuart?”
“Yea waitin’. I’m a simple man. The wife’s passed on, kids are all grown. I live on a pension, do my best to scrape by. I’m nobody. But Christ, he chooses me for a vision. Why, I wonder?”
“You had the Pentecostal dream, Mr. Stuart?”
“The one with Peter and the brothers and the Holy fire comin’ out their heads? Yeah, I did. Like I said, I’m here to ask God why.”
“Got any answers yet, Mr. Stuart?”
“Yea, think so. I think God’s sick of us all not doin’ what we should. We should be showin’ love to one another, not hatin’ and killin’. He wants us to stop this nonsense, to start bein’ more like Christ. I believe I’ve been asked to help Him, to be part of His team.”
“We’ve spoken to twenty other people gathered here outside Westminster over the past hour, their stories are essentially the … ”
“Japan is in the midst of a spiritual upheaval unprecedented in its history,” the dry, monotone Japanese commentator said in perfect, unaccented English. “It is estimated that over ten million citizens have chosen to visit a shrine, church, or other spiritual center over the past twenty hours. Most come to meditate or pray, to reflect on the condition known worldwide as the restriction. Some have a more specific purpose in mind, namely to spread the Christian Gospel.
“These individuals call themselves ‘the select’ and profess to have had a common prophetic dream about the American Peter Carson and his disciples. Reports from around Japan of miracles of various kinds attributed to “the select” range from medical healings to divine apparitions. These supernatural claims cannot be verified. Members of ‘the select’ say they intend to ‘evangelize’ Japan and turn it into a ‘Christian nation.’ The government has had no further comment since … ”
“The Communist Party of China,” the English speaking Hong Kong reporter said, “is doing its best to ignore the restriction and its implications. Even in this enlightened era of modern communism, China remains officially atheist. The security apparatus of the Party is obviously unable to maintain order at present by use of force.
“This has allowed what is being estimated at more than fifty million people across China to gather and pray and worship openly. In the capital of Beijing a crowd of over two hundred thousand has filled Tiananmen Square, invoking memories of the
1989
democracy movement. Now, unlike then, those gathered on the square seem unconcerned about political issues. They are demanding nothing from the state. Their interest lies in one issue only, ‘promoting the Kingdom of God,’ as many of their banners proclaim.”
“Reports of miracles are common among the assemblies. So much so that … ”
“The central government is taking a cautious approach to the restriction and its implications,” the Russian female news anchor said. “From the Kremlin comes word that the President has been in close consultation with his American counterpart. We have confirmed the fact that all Russian military weapons from rifles to missiles are presently non-functional.”
“Perhaps half a million people here in Moscow and a like number in St. Petersburg have taken to the streets in a show of support … ”
“That’s enough, Edwards,” the President said. “Shut it off. Peter can watch the whole thing later, if he wants to. Let’s all take a walk.”
The President, Peter, Alex, Vargas, and Austin got up and moved out on to a veranda that faces Pennsylvania Avenue. It was a beautiful, clear evening. The moon was bright and nearly full.
As they emerged from the building and came into view, the massive crowd gathered around the White House stirred and began to clap and cheer.
“My Lord in heaven!” Peter exclaimed. “How many people are out here, Mr. President?”
“We estimate the crowd at over a quarter of a million and it’s growing rapidly. The vast majority of them you can’t see from our position. They’re backed up on the mall all the way to the Capitol.”
“Peter, Peter, Peter.”
The chant was becoming louder and more organized.
“See that ugly fence and barbed wire monstrosity the Army put up?” the President asked. “Might as well be kite string. God is keeping them out, not the soldiers. Without our permission no one can set foot on the White House lawn. As much as they want to, they cannot make their bodies respond to their minds. Unbelievable, this restriction.”
“Peter, Peter.”
The thousands of faithful surrounding the White House were now shouting louder and in unison.
“They want you, Panos,” Alex said, marveling at the demonstration. “I’m not sure if that gives me hope or scares me to death. Probably both.”
It was impossible for Peter to address the crowd since he was three hundred yards away from its leading edge and no public address system had been set up. So he waved and smiled and then grabbed the President’s hand and raised it together with his own in a show of unity and triumph.
“Peter, my friend, I couldn’t be more pleased about the restriction than I am right now,” the President said, as he and Peter stood as one, arms held high.
“Sir?” Peter said, not sure if even his one word question could be heard above the tumultuous cacophony erupting from the crowd.
“Because if there was no restriction in place,” the President said, leaning over and shouting directly into Peter’s ear, “then this would be a great opportunity for a sniper to take me out.”
Peter felt a pressure, like something was trying to get his attention. Then for a few seconds his mind was taken far from the White House. The vision was quick, but it was also unambiguous.
“Peter, you okay? You look weak, brother,” the President said, as he and Alex turned Peter around and guided him off of the veranda.
“I’m fine, Mr. President. Maybe a bit woozy, but I’m straight.”
Peter quickly recovered his senses, but now he had even more on his mind. He looked at the President, a man in his mid-fifties who was well known for his top physical condition and excellent health. A man who in a very short period of time Peter had come to love and admire.
“Lord have mercy,” Peter whispered as they made it back inside.
Why Lord, why?
he asked God in his mind, for now he knew that this powerful and faithful man who had so quickly and easily befriended him did not have much longer to live.
Twenty-Two
“And I won’t ever forget you, Saul, how brave you was and how you teached me how to fight back like a godly man should. It was you who schooled me that even though I was born black and poor and had did so much wrong that God still loved me, that He had a plan for me. You was and will always be my best homey. Bye bro, I love you.”
Malik’s eulogy was brief and powerful, much like his relationship with Saul Cohen. Only Christ could throw together a hard black gangster from the hood like Malik Graham and a white, fifty-something wayward Jew from New York and bind them tighter than the closest of blood brothers.
Malik was deeply wounded by Saul’s death, more so than he would admit, Peter knew. It was difficult for Peter to even consider Saul without Malik, so inseparable had they become.
Peter thought back to the previous September, to the awkward sight of Saul and Malik approaching him on the yard after they got off the BOP bus from Atlanta. Malik still had that nasty “gangsta” edge back then, the look and cocky stride that communicated dominance and threatened violence. Hard to believe it was the same Malik Graham who was now unashamedly sobbing in grief as Peter gently squeezed his shoulder.
How much we’ve all changed,
Peter thought,
and in such an amazingly short period of time. A year ago none of us understood what it meant to dedicate our lives to Christ and to our fellow man. Then we were still outcasts, misfits, in one way or another. The “off scouring” of society as St. Paul called himself. But by the grace of God alone, today we mourn the loss of one of our own in the White House, under the care and protection of the most powerful politician on earth and we do so as free men.
At times, even Peter found it hard to believe the unbelievable.
Peter was not at all sure that what he had to say about Saul was very important or even appropriate after Malik’s passionate eulogy, but he knew it was expected that he speak.
“Without a shadow of a doubt I know that Saul, or rather Saint Cohen, is right now looking down on us and smiling. I’m also sure that he is constantly interceding with the Father on our behalf. We mourn today our loss, but we know it is indeed our loss, not Saul’s. Saul is in Paradise, at rest and at peace and with God. No demon will be allowed to frighten or torture Saul ever again. I rejoice in our victory over Satan through our Lord Jesus and anticipate with great joy my reunion with my brother Saul when Christ calls me home. In the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen.”
With a confirming “Amen” from those assembled the short service concluded. The President insisted on using his private chapel for the celebration. Until now, very few outside of the President’s inner circle of family and close friends had been allowed into his sanctuary.
“Peter, I’m very sorry for your loss,” the President said. “I regret that I did not have the opportunity to get to know Mr. Cohen. I’m sure that he was an extraordinary man, as all of you are.”
“Yes, sir, he was. We will continue to honor him by our faith and through our obedience to the cause of Christ.”
“Regarding that, Peter, my staff and I have a few more ideas about tonight’s … ”
“Are you sure we can’t be traced to this lunatic, Khan, or whatever his name is?” the President’s former first senior advisor asked.
“Completely positive. Khan is a ghost. He is not on any U.S. or European terrorist watch list and his prints aren’t in anybody’s database. He’s pure, pristine. This robot was hatched and grown in Iran in obscurity by the crazies awaiting the day when Allah orders him to become his ‘avenging angel.’” The President’s second former senior advisor had supreme confidence in their plan. Every detail had been checked, then checked again.
“So it’s the twenty-third, then?” the former first senior advisor asked.
“Yes. We can be flexible with the date if need be. Circumstances will dictate the proper setting and timing,” answered the second evil twin.
“The more public the better.”
“Exactly.”
“Peter, if that is how you want to proceed I will, of course, be obedient, but I must go on record saying I think your plan is unreasonably dangerous.” General Vargas was reacting to Peter’s instructions as to how their mission was to unfold after the restriction ended. The disciples, Alex and Gail had gathered together to discuss strategy after Saul’s service.
“I can appreciate your concerns, General,” Peter acknowledged, “but it’s simply not feasible for us all to remain together. The world is a big place, Rico, and the Lord would have us reach as many souls as we can as quickly as possible.”
Peter’s plan was simple. Vargas and Austin were to go to Europe and Kenny and Larry to Asia. Peter, Malik, Gail and Alex would remain in the Americas and “float” as needed and as led by the Spirit.
“We must remember why we are here,” Peter continued. “It is not to be defensive or to seek safety. It is to boldly proclaim to our brothers and sisters everywhere on earth the good news that God loves them and wants His creation to prosper. All of the power that we have been given, the blessings, the miracles, everything has been done for this single purpose.”
“Praise God, Peter,” Tim Austin said, “but don’t we have an obligation to do all we can to protect ourselves or, more to the point, brother, to protect you? Do we not serve Christ best as living souls?”
“I’m not saying we shouldn’t be prudent,” Peter responded, “but we are to trust the Lord, Tim, not necessarily in our own judgment. He wants us to disperse, just as he wanted the twelve to go their separate ways two thousand years ago.”
“Panos, it’s being ‘prudent’ that concerns me,” General Vargas interjected. “I don’t understand why you refuse to organize a professional guard detail, especially for yourself. It would not be difficult to do and the protection could be deployed discreetly. No one would notice them; they would in no way detract from the message.”
No, Peter thought, they wouldn’t. But they might very well unwittingly thwart God’s will.
“I’ll keep an open mind, General,” Peter said, trying his best to sound diplomatic, “but let me be clear on my instructions. If you and Tim feel that a body guard detail would be a benefit to your ministry, then please feel free to assemble one. Same goes for Kenny and Larry.”