The Veritas Conflict (28 page)

A thousand miles away, a middle-aged woman sat on her prayer couch in a darkened sun-room, hugging her knees to her chest. Barbara prayed for her daughter, prayed for her protection and her wisdom in facing the temptations of college. It never occurred to her to pray, yet, for her daughter to have the strength to help others face those temptations. But God knew. Her prayers ascended to the throne of grace, and His hand moved.

Caliel moved in, and his sword blazed as he hacked away the dark layers surrounding his charge. The layers were hard, but they were no match for the grace of God extended to this young woman. Waves of the deepest eternal love, of a Father for His child, penetrated and lifted the darkness.

Caliel gave thanks to his King for His goodness as he saw the light coming back into Sherry’s face. There was unsullied innocence in her eyes despite the desperate hunger for love and completeness. The warrior fervently prayed that she would look for that completeness in the only place where it could truly be found.

As Claire touched her shoulder, Sherry’s eyes suddenly filled. “I
want
to do the right thing, Claire. I don’t want to screw up.”

“I’m glad you don’t. I don’t want either of us to.” Claire hugged her roommate again, then backed off. “Look, Jesus said the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak, right? So we’ve just got to help each other avoid that weakness. But I need to hear from you that it’s okay for me to ask you things like ‘Where were you last night?’ Otherwise I’ll wimp out.”

“You can ask me anything you want. Just please … forgive me in advance if I get defensive. I’ll try not to be defensive, honest I will. I’ll—I’ll promise to always answer honestly, anything that you ask. I promise I’ll never lie to you.”

“That’s a pretty serious promise. Are you sure?”

“I may wish I never said this, but
I promise
I’ll always answer your questions and answer them truthfully.”

Claire stretched out her hand and shook Sherry’s firmly. “Okay, roomie, it’s a deal. And Sherry—I make the same promise to you.”

Moments later Claire lay back in bed and stared at the ceiling.
O God, I don’t know if I’m up to this! How did I get appointed Sherry’s caretaker? I have so many temptations myself.… What am I doing thinking I can somehow keep her together as well? Please strengthen me for this. Give me love for her, as well as the courage to challenge her. And Lord … please help both of us make the right choices
.

TWENTY-SIX

T
HE AUTUMN RAIN DRUMMED ON THE ROOF
of the little church as the congregation listened to the pastor’s impassioned message. One of the HCF students had recommended this church, and Claire and Sherry had put it next on their church-shopping list.

The little signboard out front had posted this morning’s sermon topic: Your Adversary the Devil, 1 Peter 5:8. The preacher grew animated as he paced the length of the stage. “You must not be unaware of the tactics of the enemy, children! The great deceiver may come disguised as a beautiful angel of light, but he wants nothing more than to exploit your anxieties, your weaknesses, in order to destroy you.”

Claire looked down at the Bible on her lap, rereading 1 Peter 5:6–9. “Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that your brothers throughout the world are undergoing the same kind of sufferings.”

The pastor continued pacing, every now and then descending to floor level and gazing out into the congregation. “The enemy of our souls
hates us
. The image is of a prowling lion circling his prey, seeking any weakness, any chance to jump in and attack and destroy. He will send his minions to harass and discourage us, to trip us up, to tempt us as he tempted Eve in the Garden of Eden.”

The pastor took a handkerchief and wiped his forehead, then waved the cloth in the air at invisible adversaries. “Just as we know there are angels all around us, servants of a holy God who are sent to help us, we know there are demons all around us as well. They are sent by our enemy to wreak havoc in our lives, to destroy those that God loves.

“But 1 Peter 5 and James 4 give us the answer to these attacks: Humble yourselves before the Lord, resist the devil, and get rid of the sin in your life.” His voice grew louder, and he held up his Bible. “James 4:7: ‘Submit yourselves to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come near to God and he will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners and purify your hearts, you double-minded.… Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up.”

Claire sat quietly. She wasn’t hearing much that was new to her, but she could see Sherry leaning forward, intently jotting notes in the margins of her bulletin.

Over lunch at a little deli not far from the church, Sherry kept returning to the sermon. “So you mean there are, like, evil things that are seeking to harass us? Real evil beings?”

“Of course. Haven’t you read the parts in the Gospels where Jesus casts out demons?”

“I guess so. I just never—I don’t know. I never thought much about those parts. It never occurred to me that those—you know—
demons
existed today.”

“Just like angels exist, demons exist.” Claire looked over the rim of her soda and grinned at her roommate. “Unfortunately.”

“You mean there could be angels and demons in this very room, just … hanging out?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Whoa.” Sherry leaned across the table and lowered her voice. “What do you think they’re doing?”

“How should I know? Maybe the angels are standing around this very table, listening to this conversation and laughing.”

“No, seriously! Remember what the pastor said about demons trying to attack us? Do you think that really happens? What kind of attack is he talking about?”

Claire shrugged. “Maybe sometimes when you get depressed, that’s actually a demon trying to discourage you. Or if everything is just going all wrong one day, maybe those are demons harassing you.” She watched her roommate’s eyes widen. “Look, I’m no expert. I’m just guessing. No one knows for sure how spiritual warfare really works. We just have to take what the Bible tells us about it and try our best to put it into practice.”

Sherry seemed lost in thought, idly twisting the straw in her drink.

“Earth to Sherry.”

“Hm? Oh, sorry. I was just thinking. I was wondering how I would know if I was—you know—being attacked. You can’t
see
anything, so how do you know?”

“I guess you just have to pray about it and make an educated guess. I wouldn’t see a demon under every rock or anything, but they’re definitely out there.” Claire glanced at her watch and picked up her umbrella. “Look, can we get out of here? I’ve got tons of reading to do before philosophy class tomorrow.”

The rain rapped against the windows of his office as Mansfield set his coffee mug on his desk. His expression was intent as he looked across at Ian. “And then I just sat
there, stunned. Pike’s assistant never picked up on the title of the task force, and my name wasn’t even on his agenda as the presenter! He was so anxious to get going that he wasn’t paying attention. If my name had come up, I’m sure it would’ve caught his notice, but your name was listed instead. It was so strange.” He picked up the mug again, wrapping his fingers around its warmth. “Someone is really looking out for us.”

Ian whistled under his breath. “So as far as you know, Professor Pike is still unaware of our task force and our upcoming report. Thank God. What a miracle.”

“That’s right. Let’s pray it stays that way. Pray that the enemy’s eyes stay blind to this so no sabotage is planned ahead of time.” He paused, drumming his fingertips against the side of the mug. “Ian, there is something I want to mention to you. We’ve worked hard to put together a good report that might open some eyes to the truth, but we went into this with our eyes open. We’ve always known that this report will probably be unpopular and that, like a battleship, Harvard is big and unwieldy and unlikely to change direction quickly—or even to change at all.

“But over the last few days, the strangest thing has happened as I’ve prayed for our work. I have felt the Lord’s hand so strongly. It’s like He’s telling me that this report—this meeting—will start something huge for His purposes on campus, whether or not our recommendations are followed. And last night.…”

Mansfield rose to his feet and began pacing the room. “Last night I had a dream that just had to be from God. I was looking at a dark, tumultuous sea; it gave me an oppressive feeling. And then I saw the Lord’s hand stretched out over the water. He had something like golden sand, or maybe salt, cupped in His hand, just sitting there. I got the feeling it had been sitting there a long time, waiting. But then, as I watched, the breath of God began to blow, causing the grains to scatter toward the sea.

“When the grains hit the black surface, they transformed the sea as far as the eye could see. They illuminated all the water and made it transparent. You could see the creatures swimming in its depths and see the rocks and plants below. The sea became the thing of life and beauty it was always intended to be. And then in my dream I heard the Lord saying, The Truth shall set you free.’ ”

Mansfield paused in his step, looking out the window at the storm. “In church this morning I kept praying about it, and I think God was giving us a gentle message of what He’s about to do. In His timing we are somehow—” his voice grew quiet and began to tremble—“somehow going to be a part of bringing this transformation to this lost and hurting campus. To this place that so desperately needs the light of His love. No matter how dark and oppressive it has gotten, no matter how far people have strayed from God and His precepts, His truth can and will break through the darkness.” He turned around and pulled off his glasses, wiping his eyes on his jacket sleeve. His eyes were red as he looked at Ian. “I feel like the time of waiting is almost at an
end. That we are about to see a master plan unfold.”

Ian looked up at his mentor soberly, not speaking. The rain was loud on the windowpane.

“I don’t know what the something is that will scatter the grains of salt. But it’s out there. I feel it. I
feel
it.”

Neither man moved for a moment. Then Mansfield leaned on his desk and lowered himself to the floor. Ian set his notebook on his chair and joined him. And on their knees the two men came into the throne room of Heaven. And God’s hand moved.

The two guards scanned the sky, unaffected by the thunder and the cold wind and rain. In the spirit, they were in a place of brilliant light, and their eyes were leaping with anticipation. The news had just arrived: Their orders were about to change, and the battle was about to begin anew.

They tensed as a messenger approached, closely followed by two enemy minions. The enemy spirits shuddered to a halt in midair as the messenger continued inside the walls, the radiance enveloping him. The dark spirits hissed and spat but came no closer.

“Greetings, Etàn.”

“Greetings, my friends.” Etàn stretched his arms and wings in the brilliant light and sighed in pleasure. “It’s always a welcome respite to join you in this place of refuge, even if for only a short time. Maybe I should get injured more often.”

“Yes, I know.” The lead guard glanced as his sidekick and gave an exaggerated sigh. “As our charges say … it’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to do it.”

“Oh, sure.” Etàn laughed. “But since I know that you have to be tired of the easy life—“his expression sobered—”I come with news.”

“Yes.” Both guards were alert, seasoned intensity replacing humor in an instant. They nodded occasionally as Etàn outlined the plan and conveyed their orders. When he was done, the lead guard spoke quietly.

“Although I’ve enjoyed my posting here—probably a lot more than you’ve enjoyed the war wounds of the battlefield—something in me aches to return to the struggle. We are designed for the fight. I’m grateful for the healing time our Master has given me, but I am ready to return.” He paused, his eyes bright. “But before I go, we have a long-awaited task to perform.”

The three angels turned toward the great house beyond the courtyard, and Etàr’s eyes came to rest on a particular tree that creaked and swayed in the storm. He tapped his colleague on the shoulder and pointed.

The angel smiled. “Perfect.”

“Meshach! Meshach, come away from there!” An impatient cane rapped through debris that cluttered the hardwood floor, but drew little notice from the whining, pawing dog. “There’s already too much junk scratching this floor, and you’re making it worse.”

The old man stared at the corner where the giant elm had made it’s unwelcome entrance. In the dim light from a heavily-curtained window, he could see Meshach’s backside and tail working furiously as he tried to burrow further behind the tree. A chunk of plaster hit the floor and shattered, tiny pieces skittering in all directions.