by Tim LaHaye
“Let me help you out. A mathematician named Dr. Peter W Stoner applied the theory of probability to Christ fulfilling just eight of the prophecies. He documents this in a book entitled Science Speaks. He had twelve different classes—about six hundred college students—work out the mathematical odds. The final conclusion was that Christ would have a one in ten to the twenty-eighth power of fulfilling eight prophecies.”
Murphy walked up to the white board. “To give you some idea, let me write out ten to the twenty-eighth power for you.”
He wrote a 10 on the board and began adding zero after zero. The students began to laugh at the absurdly long figure. When at last he had finished, the number read: 10,000,000,000,000,000,000, 000,000,000.
He could see the shock on the faces of some of the students. Murphy shook out his fingers theatrically, as if they were cramped from writing all those zeroes.
“Dr. Stoner attempts to help the reader of his book comprehend the staggering odds with a visual illustration. He suggests that it is sort of like covering the entire state of Texas two feet deep in silver dollars. Paint one of the silver dollars blue. Mix up all of the silver dollars with a big spoon. Blindfold a man and let him walk anywhere he wants and have only one grab for the blue silver dollar. Those would be the odds.”
Murphy again paused to let the enormity sink in.
“Dr. Stoner went on to consider the odds of Christ fulfilling forty-eight of the prophecies concerning him. The odds were one in ten to the hundred-and-fifty-seventh power. He said that you could no longer use silver dollars. You would have to use something far smaller, like an electron. Imagine a ball of electrons extending in all directions from the earth six billion light-years into space—light traveling at over a hundred eighty thousand miles per second, times the number of seconds in a year. Paint one electron blue. Mix up all the electrons with a big spoon. Blindfold a man and let him walk anywhere he wants and have only one grab for the blue electron. That’s just to fulfill forty-eight prophecies. Remember, Jesus Christ literally fulfilled over one hundred nine predictions of his first coming. There are three hundred twenty-one predictions of his second coming!”
Murphy glanced at the clock. The bell was just about to ring.
“With odds like that, when Christ returns, I don’t think there will be any doubt about it. So think about the importance of following a true teacher as compared to a false teacher. It could affect the future of each and every one of you.”
The bell rang and the students treated Murphy to a standing ovation for a particularly inspired lecture. He blushed and gave a nod of gratitude.
He looked over at Shari. She was beaming and clapping right along.
THIRTY-ONE
MURPHY ENTERED THE LAB and found Shari deep in concentration over an old manuscript. She was oblivious to his presence. As he watched her, her frown changed into a smile.
“That’s it!” she exclaimed.
“That’s what?”
She looked up with a gasp.
“Murphy! You almost scared me to death!”
“Sorry. What are you so excited about?”
“It’s the papyrus manuscript that you discovered. You know, the one from the curio shop in Cairo.”
Murphy nodded his head.
“What about it?”
“I discovered that it was written by the historian Mamonte.”
“I knew that it was old, but not two centuries before Christ. Were you able to read it?”
“Most of it. It basically records various events in history. Things like fires, floods, and other disasters. There’s something that I think you’ll find very interesting.”
“What’s that?”
“A brief mention about the Philistines capturing the Golden House of God of the Israelites.”
Murphy drew in a quick breath. “The Ark of the Covenant?”
“So it seems. It indicates that two magical objects were removed from beneath the cherubim. It then records that a number of people died from a strange illness. Do you think it could be alluding to the events that occurred in Ashdod and the Temple of Dagon?”
“It sure sounds like it. Let me take a look at it.”
“You might want to hold off on that until later. You have a command performance right now.”
“What do you mean?”
“You got a call from your best friend at the university.”
Murphy looked at her quizzically. “You don’t mean Dean Fallworth?”
“Good guess! And he didn’t sound happy.”
“I guess I’d better get it over with.” Murphy was not looking forward to this.
“Oh, by the way, did you hear the news about him?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Since President Carver is retiring, the trustees are considering making him the new president of the university.”
Murphy felt sick to his stomach. “I think that would be a colossal mistake.”
“No argument here,” Shari said.
Murphy went into his office looking for a couple of pieces of paper. If he had to go into the lion’s den, he would at least not go unarmed.
Fallworth was all business. “You may not have heard yet, but President Carver is retiring and the trustees will probably select me as the new president.”
Murphy was glad Shari had tipped him off. In his arrogance, Fallworth wanted to get some kind of reaction out of Murphy. But Murphy refused to give him the satisfaction. He simply said, “Oh.”
Fallworth looked a little disappointed. “I want to go on record with you that if I become president you may not be teaching your course in biblical archaeology.”
“Would you care to tell me why, Archer?”
“I’ve told you before. Religion has no place in the classroom!”
“Does that mean anything that has to do with religion?”
“Yes, it does.”
“Well, let me see if I understand you correctly. In teaching U.S. history, we should leave out the influence of Father Junipero Serra and the early Catholic missions? In teaching European history, we should omit all references to the great religious controversies of the Middle Ages? We should ignore the Protestant Reformation? We should eliminate any comments about the struggle for religious freedom in colonial times? We should discard Da Vinci’s Last Supper, Michelangelo’s Moses, Beethoven’s Missa Solemnis, or Wagner’s Valkyrie? Do I understand you correctly?”
Fallworth rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean, Murphy.”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t. How can any teacher separate himself from what is part of history? What is there to fear in teaching what people believe and how it has influenced humanity? If I hear that someone believes in UFOs, that doesn’t threaten me. Or if they believe that a large meteor hit the earth and caused the dinosaur extinction, I don’t have to agree with them. What are you afraid of… intellectual honesty?”
“Religion should be taught in churches only.”
“Really. Then may I ask you a question? Do you believe in obeying the legal rulings of the U.S. Supreme Court?”
“Of course I do. But they don’t say that you can teach religion in schools. The First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution states that ‘Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof….’”
“I thought that we might have this conversation, Archer, so I pulled some information from my files for you. With regard to the First Amendment you quoted, there’s a case that addresses it. It is found in Abington School District v. Schemmp. In his comments on opposition to religion and the study of the Bible, Justice Clark states the following:
‘… Of course… the state may not establish a “religion of secularism” in the sense of affirmative opposing or showing hostility to religion, thus, “preferring those who believe in no religion over those who do believe” (Zorach v. Clauson)…. In addition, it might well be said that one’s education is not complete without a study of comparative religion or the history of reli
gion and its relationship to the advancement of civilization. It certainly may be said that the Bible is worthy of study for its literary and historic qualities. Nothing that we have said here indicates that such study of the Bible or of religion, when presented objectively as part of a secular program of education, may not be effected consistent with the First Amendment.’”
Fallworth did not respond. Murphy could tell he didn’t like what he was hearing.
“In referring to teaching about religion and the social sciences and the humanities, Justice Brennan made these comments:
‘The holding of the Court today plainly does not foreclose teaching about the Holy Scriptures or about the differences between religious sects in classes of literature or history. Indeed, whether or not the Bible is involved, it would be impossible to teach meaningfully many subjects in the social sciences or the humanities without some mention of religion.’
“Justice Goldberg spoke to the passive and active hostility to religion and religious teaching on legal, political, and personal values:
‘Neither the state nor this Court can or should ignore the significance of the fact that a vast portion of our people believe in and worship God and that many of our legal, political and personal values derive historically from religious teachings. Government must inevitably take cognizance of the existence of religion and, indeed, under certain circumstances the First Amendment may require that it do so. And it seems clear to me from the opinions in the present and past cases that the Court would recognize the propriety of providing military chaplains and of teaching about religion, as distinguished from the teaching of religion, in the public schools.’
“Evidently, Archer, we don’t see eye to eye.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” he said with a sneer.
“I respect your right to disagree with me. I’m not trying to force you to accept what I believe. All I’m asking is that you have the same respect for me and my beliefs.”
“Well, don’t you sound like the loving Christian now.”
“That’s interesting, Archer. Whenever you have a difficult time defending your views, you resort to personal attacks.”
Murphy got up and started to walk to the door.
“Archer, as you have gone on record … let me go on record. You are on shaky ground. If you choose to make a battle over this, so be it. I will not roll over and play dead on this issue.”
He stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
Murphy felt the adrenaline pumping through him as he walked back to his office. There were not too many issues that he would fight for, but this was one of them. He started thinking about a proverb: The dogs bark but the caravan rolls on.
Over the centuries men have tried to put down the teachings of the Bible. They have barked like dogs at a caravan and yet the caravan of truth keeps moving forward in spite of them. God help me to remember this when under attack.
As he neared his office, he noticed Shari and Paul Wallach sitting on a bench under a magnolia tree and wondered if they were back together again.
THIRTY-TWO
MOSHE PEARLMAN had traveled many places in the world and throughout most of Israel, but he had never been to the original site of Ashdod. He took the highway leading south from Tel Aviv for about twenty miles and then headed west. He estimated that he was about ten miles north of the Gaza Strip. He was driving an old 911 Porsche from West Germany. It had given him many good years of service. It was also an old enough car that it didn’t attract any attention.
Before long he entered a large, low plain. Rising up from the plain he could see terraced hillsides covered with olive orchards and vineyards. He had heard that this area produced much olive oil. It was also famous for large quantities of the murex shell, which was valued for the purple dye it produced.
He stopped his car, leaned over, and grabbed his binoculars. He had been told by one of the archaeologists at Tel Aviv University that he would find the original site of Ashdod located on a small mound. He was also told that there had not been much interest in the site in recent years. The archaeologist was sure that there was more to be discovered there, but that archaeological interest had shifted to other locations in Israel.
Off in the distance he saw the ground rising and figured that it might be the spot. Focusing his binoculars, he scanned the area. His attention was soon focused on four vehicles parked to the north side of the mound. He could also make out the remains of an ancient block wall.
I’ll bet that’s the place. But what are those cars doing here?
He got back into his Porsche and drove toward the mound. He saw no one.
Strange.
Pearlman’s training with the Mossad made him very alert and very suspicious. He parked his car about a hundred yards from the other vehicles, behind an outcropping of rocks. He double-checked the clip in his automatic and put it back into his shoulder holster. He got out, donning a light jacket from the backseat to conceal his gun. He surveyed the area for any sounds or signs of movement. There were none.
I wonder where they are?
The closer he got to the vehicles the more curious he became. Carefully he looked into each car. There was nothing out of the ordinary except that these were not the type of vehicles one would take on an archaeological dig. They were too new, too nice, and too clean.
Again he looked around. They have to be here somewhere.
He examined the numerous footprints around the cars. He could clearly see the impressions they’d left in the light drifting sand. He followed the tracks away from the cars and toward the broken wall.
On the other side of the wall he saw another wall about twenty feet away. It had an opening in it about four feet high and about two-and-a-half feet wide. Pearlman approached, peering m, but he could only see a few feet into the dark.
He unhooked a Mini Maglight that he carried on his belt, hunched down, and entered the hole. Once inside, he found that he could stand up straight. He shined his light around the passageway. It was about six feet wide by about seven feet tall. It angled slightly downward and to the southwest. He followed it as it made several turns.
At one point he turned off the light and froze as he heard the muffled sound of voices ahead. He crept forward silently, keeping one hand on the side wall while the other felt in front of him. Eventually a light appeared in the distance and the two voices became clearer. To his surprise, he heard English.
“You two go back to the entrance while the rest of us go on. We don’t want any uninvited guests.”
Pearlman’s heart began to race. It might have been a mistake to come alone but it was too late now. Who were these people and what were they doing? He realized that if he didn’t hurry, he’d be meeting them real soon.
He began to back away from the light. He hoped that he could make it to one of the turns, where he could switch on his light and move more quickly. He didn’t like the idea of being caught in a dark passageway with two strangers in the middle of nowhere.
He had just reached the turn when he heard them coming. He switched on his light and began to exit more rapidly. But it was too late.
“Rafi, look! There’s a light.”
The words echoed to Moshe and he heard them running toward him. His heart beat faster. He had a quick decision to make.
Do I keep running and have them shoot me in the back or do I stop and face them and try to talk through the situation?
He chose to stop.
He turned around and shined his light in their direction. They slowed and approached Pearlman cautiously, their flashlight beams in his face blinding him.
A voice spoke in a thick Arabic accent. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”
“I’m a tourist,” Pearlman said brightly, hoping his acting chops were up to snuff. “I saw some cars and I stopped to look at the ruins of Ashdod. I then discovered the hole in the wall and entered. Are you archaeologists?”
The two Arabs moved closer.
“Why, yes, we are
. We are exploring for ancient artifacts.”
Moshe had heard enough lies during his career to quickly discern truth from falsehood by the tone in one’s voice. All of his senses were alert. He didn’t like them getting closer. Then he saw it—the quick reflection of light off a steel blade thrusting forward toward his stomach. He instinctively jumped back and at the same time brought a knife block down on the forearm of his attacker. It came with such force that it momentarily paralyzed the man’s arm and he dropped the knife.
Pearlman then gave a sharp front kick into the Arab’s chest. It sent him backward with such power that he collided with his compatriot, knocking both men to the ground. Pearlman then took off running. He didn’t like fighting blind, with no room to maneuver. He heard them yelling. Their cries attracted the rest of their party in the passageway. They came running toward the commotion.
When Pearlman came out into the light he was a good ninety feet ahead of his pursuers. He took off running across the open plain at full speed toward his car.
He could hear the men shouting in Arabic as they burst out of the passageway. He shot a quick look over his shoulder. He had a good head start and was only sixty feet from the protection of the rocks. They’d never catch him now.
Talon calmly walked to the trunk of his car. He opened it and took out his Russian Dragunov SVD gas-powered semi-automatic sniper rifle. The silencer was already on it, and he always carried it fully loaded with all ten rounds.
He lifted it to his shoulder and focused the sights of the powerful scope. Everything he did was with patience and precision. He lined Pearlman up in the crosshairs and fired.
Moshe did not hear the sound. All he felt was a scorching pain in his right thigh as the bullet penetrated his leg and exited somewhere in the sand. He fell face-first to the ground, kicking up dust.
Talon laughed at the sight. It was a perfect shot…. enough to slow him down but not enough to kill him. He handed the rifle to one of the Arabs. There were ten of them watching in awe as Talon performed what he did best.
