The Veritas Conflict (29 page)

That blasted dog was going to destroy what was left of the wall. What was he doing?

Edward Grindley glanced around. No lamps. This wing of the house wasn’t wired for electricity and hadn’t been used in years; this room—an old sitting room, he believed—had only the one window on the side wall. An enormous, graceful fireplace was set in the other wall, only a few feet from where the tree now adorned the corner. If the tree was going to carve a new hole, at least it could have let in more light.

He shuffled past a few stray branches and rapped his cane against the brick of the fireplace. “Meshach!”

No effect. The dog was giving small strange yelps.

Sighing, Edward leaned hard on his cane and stretched into the corner, his free hand searching for Meshach’s collar. He stopped suddenly. What was that? His hand closed around something in the debris. He pulled it out and held it up to the light…

 … and the heavenly host erupted in cheers. The long-delayed battle had just been renewed.

TWENTY-SEVEN

B
RANCHES AND LEAVES LITTERED THE WET PAVEMENT
as Ian jogged along the sidewalk. He could see his breath and enjoyed the crisp air on his face.

He scanned the street, assessing the damage from yesterdays storm. The news said power lines and trees were down in lots of places around town.

Whoa!
Ian came to a quick halt in front of a familiar pair of iron gates, which were standing wide open.
That’s something you don’t see every day
.

A tree had toppled into the corner of the grand old house. Several trucks with winches and cranes stood nearby, and people bustled about. Ian turned away, preparing to continue his run.

STOP
.

The thought was so loud that Ian jumped. He looked around, his heart racing. Was that …?

Go back
.

“Lord, is that You?” Ian barely whispered the words. The sense of the Lord’s presence was incredibly strong. He began to shake.

“Well, well, young man. Nice to see you.”

Ian whirled around and came face-to-face with a pair of bright eyes. Edward Grindley smiled at Ian’s expression and beckoned him inside the gates. Edward closed the gate behind them and pointed toward the activity at the corner of the house. “As you can see, young man, the storm seems to have created a hole in my sitting room.”

“I’m sorry,” Ian said.

“I’m not. I found something I didn’t know I had—a false wall with a secret cabinet inside it. It was filled with very old family books and papers.”

“How cool!”

“Yes, it is.” The old man stared at him for a moment, until Ian became uncomfortable.

“What?”

“Son, I need to ask you a question. Are you a believer in Jesus Christ?”

“Yes, I am. Are you?”

“Yes.”

“I thought so, the time we met. The names of your dogs made me wonder.”

“Well, young man, I’m just wondering what it is about you that I’m supposed to find out, because as you jogged past, the Lord told me quite clearly that I was supposed to speak with you.” On seeing Ian’s dumbfounded expression, the wrinkled face lifted in a mischievous smile. “I gather that perhaps the same thing happened to you.”

“That … well, that has never happened to me before.”

The old eyes twinkled. “It happens to me all the time. Of course, I’ve had many more years to learn His gentle voice.” Edward leaned on his cane and began walking toward the house. “I now know His voice better than that of many of my friends.”

Ian matched the old man’s pace. “I wish.”

Edward stopped and turned toward Ian, searching his face. “Young man, you love the Lord. It’s written all over you. His Word says that His sheep hear their Shepherd’s voice and are not fooled by the voice of the stranger. You just keep yourself glued to the Good Shepherd, and you’ll thoroughly recognize His voice.” He raised his cane, gesturing toward Ian’s chest. “I promise you that.”

Edward ushered Ian through a small side door and into the damaged wing. The rooms were dark, the hush broken only by the distant sounds of voices and machinery outside. The elegant wooden legs of antique furniture peeked out from under white slipcovers. Large, beautifully framed paintings looked down from the walls. A clock ticked loudly in one of the rooms.

At the end of the hallway, Edward ushered Ian through a door and into the main section of the house. Rose-colored marble covered the foyer floor, and a giant crystal chandelier cast rainbows of light on the cathedral ceiling and walls.

Edward led Ian into a spacious, sunny kitchen. A tall, elegant woman was clearing vegetables off a chopping block and tossing them into a simmering pot. She smiled at Ian as the two men entered.

Edward gestured toward her. “Kathryn, my youngest daughter. She is visiting with me for a few weeks while her husband is out of the country on business.” She stepped forward to shake Ian’s hand. “Kathryn, this is Ian. He’s a student at Harvard Law School. I was just going to show him the materials we found in the wall yesterday.”

“Let me get the papers, Dad. Why don’t you two sit down? The soup and bread will be ready in a few minutes.”

Ian started to protest, but she gently pushed him into a chair at the kitchen table. “I insist, Ian. You must join us.” She smiled at his jogging attire. “It looks like you could use some good carbs today anyway.”

As she vanished around the corner, Edward chuckled. “There’s no arguing with Kathryn. She’s a prayer warrior, and she knows you’re here for a reason, just like I do.”

“But what is the reason?”

“Who knows? Maybe we’ll find out today, maybe we won’t. But God certainly
arranged this meeting, so He’s in charge. One way or another, He will let us know.”

Kathryn reappeared and set a stack of books and papers in front of her father. They were old and dusty, but Ian could dimly make out a gold-embossed crest on the spines of several volumes. They reminded him of the old tomes he saw from time to time on Mansfield’s desk.

Edward pulled out a dark blue clothbound book. It had the look of an oversized desk ledger and was stamped with a gold crest on the front.

“When we first found this stash, I thought it was just a historical curiosity. But as I flipped through this ledger I realized there was far more at stake. I would like to find someone trustworthy at Harvard—if possible, a Christian who holds a position of authority—to whom I can show these books.”

He looked at Ian, his eyes piercing. “The Grindley family has had a historic relationship with Harvard University since its founding. A Grindley was a member of the Massachusetts General Court that decided to establish the university, and for well over a hundred years there was always a Grindley family member on the board or in another leadership position.

“Grindleys have always carried a special … mantle at Harvard. We have been Christ-bearers. In the last decades, as the school has become thoroughly secularized, our family involvement has not been as overt or as welcome to the new—ahem—powers that be. Our family had historically been a large donor to the school, but much of our family fortune was given away during the Great Depression. When our wealth left, so did our access to the Harvard leadership. So although many of us have attended the university since then, we have never been welcomed back into the inner corridors of power.

“However, we haven’t let that keep us from what we know is a family calling for Christian leadership at this school—it just had to go underground. For decades now our family has maintained a strong commitment of daily intercession for Harvard. We believe there is work going on in the spiritual realm that we may never see, but it is very real, very time-intensive work nonetheless.

“My great uncle—Joseph Grindley Halverson—was the last Grindley family member to serve in a position of leadership. And these—” Edward laid his hands gently on the stack of materials in front of them—“these are his books.” He looked at the young man sitting in front of him. “Ian, the spiritual undercurrents at Harvard are strong. If these books are authentic—if they are saying what I think they are—they may be a powerful tool for Truth, in the right hands.”

Ian cleared his throat. “Well, it happens that I’m a teaching assistant for Dr. William Mansfield, a senior professor of history. He’s a wonderful Christian man with a heart to reach the campus for the Lord.” Goose bumps rose on Ian’s arms. “Believe it
or not, he’s also a curator of the library, and he looks at old books all the time.”

Edward sat back in his chair. He glanced sideways at Kathryn. “Can you call him?”

The coffee cups were empty, the soup bowls stacked in the sink, as Mansfield’s voice quietly filled the sunny kitchen. A series of parchment pages were clipped to a blotter in front of him. He was careful not to touch the brittle edges as he read from the old letter:

“So what was my father’s plan? I have been praying for the answer to that question for fifteen long years. And tonight, I awoke with such a burning in my soul; I believe I know! Thanks be to God! Through those of us with positions and means in society there is an easy way of ensuring that the name of Christ always remains in force at Harvard University. If not directing the play, as we would all pray, at least prominent
on
the stage.”

Mansfield’s voice was taut with emotion as he turned to the next page and continued reading. The others sat silent, intent.

“Bear with me but a little longer, Jonathan, as I explain my thinking. As Harvard University grows more enamored with commerce and less with the cross of Christ, what will become the standard of influence? It is unlikely to be, may Heaven forgive us, the fruit of the Spirit or the wisdom of the Lord evident in the character of a man. Instead, as the ages have proven, wherever Christ is not the center (and unfortunately sometimes even where He is) monetary gain often speaks loudest to our sinful natures. Unredeemed man will gravitate toward the benefactors of monetary gifts where he might not toward the Benefactor of all life.

“So this was my epiphany. If we want to ensure that Christ will be purposefully kept before the eyes of Harvard students, let us actually
buy
that assurance. Let us use the splendid financial favors that God has bestowed on us to create endowments for whichever priorities we hold most dear. For example, given my interest in the political arena, I would consider endowing a permanent salary for a Christian professor to teach the art of governing with integrity. Perhaps I should provide for scholarships to young men of faith and character that could use Harvard as a springboard to political leadership in this young nation of ours, but who cannot afford the tuition on their own. Or perhaps, rather than civics I should endow a professorship for a Christian teacher of science now that advancements are being made so rapidly—students could use the reminder that we must use our knowledge for good and not for evil.

“You can see, Jonathan, that the possibilities are limited only by our financial fortunes and our creativity as to what grants and endowments would make the greatest impact years hence. Now, obviously, there is nothing we can do that can substitute for the power of the Holy Spirit to defend His own name. Psalm 127: ‘Except the Lord build the house, they labor in vain that build it. Except the Lord keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain.’ But knowing that the Lord desires His name to be honored at Harvard, we can build and we can watch. And then we can trust Him to take our humble offering and magnify His name!

“I leave this to you to think through until we meet. Based on a notation in my father’s ledger, I feel certain he had set aside the initial funds he intended to use for this purpose—the purpose he was hastening to discuss with you on the day he died. In the morning I will go speak with his banker of many years and confirm my hunch.

“I look forward to meeting with you and any friends that you propose in three weeks’ time. With great anticipation, I remain your humble servant, Cleon Grindley.”

The kitchen settled into quiet, all eyes staring into the distant past. Edward stirred after a moment and gently opened the heavy ledger.

“Dr. Mansfield, if you look here … and here … and here … you’ll see large balances that occur roughly three months, one year, and four years after the date of this letter. Each of them is then noted as being transferred to the Harvard administration. And from the books I’ve gone through so far, each of them appears to be accompanied by a letter and contract with the university, including a stamped receipt.”

He pulled out another blue bound book, carefully opening it to a marked section. “This document outlines Cleon Grindley’s specifications for the first two grants. See here? ‘To be bestowed upon men of the highest Christian faith and character, between the ages of sixteen and twenty-five, who meet the standard of need.” He looked up at Mansfield and Ian. “This has to be describing those merit scholarships he referred to in the letter.” He flipped through a few more pages. “There’s another contract here that endows a Chair at the university for a Christian professor of the sciences.”

Edward gently grasped Mansfield’s arm. Ian could see the wrinkled hand trembling. “The records of Cleon Grindley alone appear to show that Harvard was given the money for several hundred thousand dollars’ worth of grants—in today’s dollars—for
Christ-centered purposes on campus. And as far as I know, not a penny of it is being used for its stated purpose.”

Mansfield fingered the blotter. “As I told you when I got here, Mr. Grindley, these documents are almost certainly authentic. And if they are …” Mansfield locked his fingers behind his head and leaned back in his chair. A slow smile was beginning to play across his features. “… the timing is just about perfect.”

“May I ask what you mean?”

“It might take too long to fully explain, but suffice it to say that Ian and I, and dozens of students, have been working hard on a project that we hope could restore some balance to the rather hostile campus environment. The project will reach its climax soon. If this information here is accurate—” he gestured to the pile of old books and papers—“not only is it incredibly important for its own sake; it also comes at a time that might give us a tremendous amount of support.”