The Veritas Conflict (22 page)

“You know nothing about my life,” the young woman continued, her tone indignant. “How can you say whether or not I’ll go to heaven?”

Claire sat up straighter, watching.
Uh-oh…

“It’s like I told you at lunch. The Bible says all sinners have to repent and accept Jesus as Lord. Simple as that.”

“So you’re saying I’m a sinner. Me, a sinner.” The woman put her hands on her hips, leaning forward. “I spend ten hours a week working with the poor in Roxbury, Sam. How much time do
you
spend?”

Sam shrugged. “It doesn’t matter how much time I spend. We’re talking about you. Look, I was at that party the other night. I saw what went on. You really need to read your Bible sometime. You were giving no thought to tomorrow, which is exactly what God warns against—”

“Are you telling me God doesn’t want me to have any fun?” The young woman gave a sharp bark of laughter. “You all are nuts, you hear me?” She turned to Teresa. “I don’t know what kind of Neanderthals you’re friends with, but count me out for lunch after class next time.”

Teresa smiled in apology and laid a hand gently on the other woman’s arm. Claire started praying under her breath.

“Listen,” Teresa said, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting to get into a theological discussion. Please understand. We have lots of people in HCF coming from all sorts of theological viewpoints. Personally, I believe that people who follow Jesus are supposed to care for the poor and do good things, and I think that we don’t do nearly enough. But I also believe that the Bible says we aren’t saved by good works. I didn’t know that
about your Roxbury work, and I think that’s great.” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “My take, though, is that it doesn’t mean as much without following Jesus. Because otherwise it’s trying to work your way into heaven, and that’s not how God does things. He wants you to know His Son.”

The other girl held up a hand. “Let’s not go there again, okay? An hour of that is about all I can take.”

“Sure. I’ll see you later for stats study group.”

“Yeah.” The girl turned and walked off.

Claire got to her feet but stayed in the shadow of the tree.

“I can’t believe you, Sam!” Teresa’s voice was low, intent. “I had established a great relationship with her, and I’ve been praying for her every night. Now in one lunch you totally turned her off.”

Sam shrugged. “Look, she asked, I answered, okay? What’d you want me to do?”

“I wanted you to be sensitive to her!”

“You mean compromise the truth. I won’t—”

“I’m not talking about compromising the truth! I’m talking about recognizing where she is! She doesn’t know the Bible; she doesn’t get all the lingo you spouted. She—”

“She was just falling-down drunk the other night. I happened to see her stumbling out of the place—”

“So what? She’s not in the body of Christ, and you can’t expect her to behave like a Christian!” Teresa paused, waving her hands in a half retraction. “I mean … of course God wants all of us to live according to His ways, but you can’t expect that someone who is completely in the world is going to live a godly life without knowing God!”

“See, that argument drives me crazy.” Sam’s voice rose slightly. “Why
shouldn’t
we expect that? It’s just a matter of discipline.”

Claire glanced around, noticing that other students walking by were giving the two a wide berth.

“Why don’t people just not drink?” Sam crossed his arms. “Why don’t homosexuals just exercise a little discipline and not have sex? Why should I pander to someone who, with a little effort, could probably live a righteous lifestyle?”

“Are you perfect, Sam?” Teresa’s voice was growing weary. “Maybe you’re better about things than I am, but you’re probably not perfect yet. And I’m certainly not.” She jabbed her finger in the direction her friend had gone. “And
she’s
not. I really, really want to do what Christ did and meet people where they are.”

Sam heaved a sigh. “It sounds good, Teresa, but I think it just encourages sin.” He was looking at his watch. “I’ve got another class. I’ll see you at HCF on Friday.”

As soon as Sam walked away, Claire shot out from behind her tree.

“Oh!” Teresa put a hand to her head. “You startled me.”

“I saw that whole thing, Teresa.”

“You did? Well, why didn’t you come out and help me?”

“I don’t know. I thought … I thought you were doing fine.”

Teresa made a face and waved off her irritation. “No biggie. Did you hear all that?”

“I couldn’t believe it. Who was that guy?”

“Sam something. He’s a sophomore. I don’t know his last name.” She sighed. “He’s in HCF, and I don’t think he’s particularly good at being gracious with people.”

“You don’t say.” Claire put her arm around her friend and steered her to where she’d left her backpack under the tree. “I could use something to drink. You up for Au Bon Pain? My treat, to apologize for being a wimp?”

Teresa smiled, her tension dissipating. “Sure.”

TWENTY

R
AP
! R
AP
! R
AP
!
T
HE SOUND OF THE GAVEL
brought the loud chatter in the conference room down to a manageable buzz. Mansfield took his seat among two dozen other faculty members as Anton Pike called the meeting to order.

“Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen. I trust your summer ventures have all gone well.” Anton smiled around at his colleagues, catching individual eyes, nodding at a few friends. “I’m honored to be serving as the new chairman of this steering committee. As listed on your agenda, we have a few new permanent members with us, but since each of these has served on an ad hoc basis in the past, I trust you all know each other.”

A few people nodded their congratulations toward Mansfield and the other new members. Anton tapped the gavel again.

“We’ve got a lot to cover today, so let’s go down the agenda before we start. We need to discuss Harvard’s upcoming international project in Russia and which faculty members plan to volunteer … after the break the admissions office wants to update you on their new procedures for applicants … then our main report will be the final conclusions of the task force on alternative lifestyles diversity.”

Mansfield looked across the table to Sharon DeLay, the head of that task force, then glanced down the ranks of faculty toward Taylor Haller. In the past few years, Mansfield had befriended Taylor and two or three other faculty members who were vocally homosexual. They had established a mutual respect in spite of their disagreements over lifestyle. Why was Sharon’s mind so closed to any possible good intentions on his part?

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the rich mahogany walls, urgently praying that he would be able to respond meaningfully to the task force members without completely alienating them.

The mahogany walls of the conference room could hardly be seen beneath the assembly of demonic forces. Their presence was like a heavy cloud shrouding the entire room. Here and there—behind Mansfield, above another faculty member, by the door—a few angels hovered, their shimmering presence creating pools of light amid
the blackness. They were there to protect the saints and watch the proceedings, but this was definitely not their turf.

One high-ranking warrior made his way across the conference room to another comrade by the door.

“Greetings, Etàn. We are, as usual, overmatched.”

Etàn clasped arms with his superior. “Overmatched for today, yes. But we are eagerly awaiting the turn of the tide. Kai, we are at your service for the start of the plan.”

“Shortly, shortly. You will all know as soon as I get the orders.” He glanced around the room. “I admit, patience is hard in such a place.”

His gaze fell on the woman seated across the table from the man of God. She and several of those on either side of her were enveloped by dark figures. The talons of one figure dug deep into her neck and head, hate-filled eyes staring at the man of God. Something in those eyes caught Kai’s attention.

With a start, Kai recognized the demon. He turned away in pain. They had been colleagues before the Rebellion, comrades worshiping together before the throne of grace. His friend had even somewhat resembled Kai—tall, strong armed, fair haired, the light of the Lord reflected in his eyes.

Unbeknownst to Kai in those ages, his comrade had quietly chafed at the adoration laden on their King, and the restrictions of their covenant. He had wanted his own way, his own pursuits, his own service. During the Rebellion, he had chosen to follow Lucifer in a quest for personal glory. Kai and their other friends had watched, horrified, as he had chosen—chosen!—to be forever separated from the love of God.

Kai’s throat closed as he considered the being before him. Some personal glory. His former friend was nearly unrecognizable, the shining armor replaced by garments that seemed to absorb all light, surrounding him with darkness. No longer tall, he was bent and twisted, shrunken from the weight of the load he had chosen. Strong hands that had played the sweetest of music before the throne were now gnarled talons, ready to inflict pain. Clear eyes that once shone with the reflection of Another’s glory had turned red and empty in the search for his own.

Kai took a deep breath and looked at the woman who sat unawares beneath the weight of this creature. The assignment of torment was clear, in addition to the bitterness that was hardened by years of willful sin, willful disobedience. In a flash, the Lord showed him a young girl, terrified and sobbing after yet another attack by a once-trusted uncle. No one had known. She had not told, as she had been instructed. Her father lived in another state, and he wouldn’t have believed her over his brother anyway. He wouldn’t have held her and stroked her hair and lessened the pain with arms that were strong for his little girl.

The secret had tormented Sharon year after year, and the dark forces had converged,
right on time, just as the hurt was scarring over. They had twisted her healing pain into bitterness, a rejection of the possibility of loving tenderness in men. She had been kissed by a boy only once, at a school dance, and later vomited in the bushes.

At college, at this very university, Kai saw that his adversary—his former friend—had latched on and tormented Sharon’s friendship with another young girl with a secret. He was skilled at these machinations, playing on the loneliness and pain they both shared, whispering lies, eagerly awaiting the inevitable. The two girls had fallen into sin. Both knew it was wrong, but time after time of easing their pain and loneliness seared their consciences. As the years progressed, they went on to other partners. But both became hardened, their emotions distorted, bitterness always near the surface.

Strong emotions shook Kai to the core as he watched this review of Sharon’s past, saw the terrible delight his enemy had taken in this destruction of a soul. Trembling with righteous anger, Kai closed his eyes and prayed.

Ten minutes into the presentation of the alternative lifestyles task force, Mansfield felt his temperature rising. He fought hard to maintain an outward posture of polite interest, keeping a firm lid on the opposing thoughts that roiled in his brain. Sharon DeLay and the other task force members had just finished summarizing their findings of “considerable bias inside and outside the classroom against gay, lesbian, transsexual, or transgendered students.” They cited example after example of gay students being made to feel unwelcome or uncomfortable, then began outlining their recommendations.

Sharon flipped through a few pages of the thick report in front of her. “As you can see on page four of the executive summary, our recommendations are consistent with the ongoing efforts to promote this diversity at the high school level. We are adapting to the university setting the official resolutions and recommendations from the National Education Association for public schools: implementing programs to increase acceptance of sexual diversity; stocking school libraries with positive learning materials about gays, lesbians, and bisexuals; changing heterosexist language and getting rid of pejorative books on homosexuality; conducting gay-awareness training for students and teachers, and recruiting teachers gay students can look to as role models; introducing gay-lesbian issues into the curriculum, including an accurate portrayal of their contributions throughout history; and so forth. We feel that affirmative steps are critical to rooting out the bias we found at all levels of this university system.”

Mansfield sighed as Sharon continued. Although some concern was probably understandable on an individual, personal level, accusations of systemic bias were pretty empty coming from a group wielding so much political clout on campus. But as much as he wanted to point out the inconsistencies, he knew from past experience that their
position would become even more entrenched if he opposed their findings. He felt the Lord’s gentle restraint on his tongue, so he sat and prayed. Maybe the Lord was helping him save up his political capital for his own task force report at the next meeting.

A woman across the room—Elsa Chasinov, another new member of the steering committee that Mansfield didn’t know well—raised her hand in query.

Anton Pike nodded in her direction. “Yes, Elsa.”

“I understand that you are concerned about extracurricular bias against those who are living alternative lifestyles. But since this is an academic steering committee only, may I just delve into your findings about the classroom environment?”

Sharon raised an eyebrow. “Well, fine. But keep in mind that the same systemic bias that is evidenced in the classroom breaks out into other areas of campus life. But go ahead.”

Elsa flipped through the handout from the task force. “I see where you reference many examples of heterosexist bias outside the classroom, and I see your concluding statement that you did, in fact, find considerable academic bias as well. But I see very few actual classroom examples. Why the lack of classroom-related information?”