Babylon Rising: The Edge of Darkness
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"Did you surf?"
"All the time. It's a great sport. During the summers I was a lifeguard."
Murphy looked at her and nodded his head slightly. She does look the part. A southern California beauty with blond hair .
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"Dr. Murphy, I find it interesting that you are talking about false gods, and good and evil angels in your class. At the Preston Community Church, Pastor Wagoner is also talking about false teachers and fallen angels."
"Please, call me Michael... and yes, you're right. Bob is a close friend and we've been talking a great deal about the rise of the occult, false teachers, and demonic influence in our society. It bothered him terribly that it had infiltrated the church. Some members have gotten involved with the occult, and he thought it wise to warn the people as to what to watch out for."
"I could tell that your students are very interested in the topic, and they really seem to enjoy your classes--especially Clayton."
"Maybe Clayton enjoys it a little too much."
"I like the way you integrate your faith into the classroom. It seems so natural."
"Well, not everyone likes it."
"Are you referring to Dean Fallworth?"
He raised his eyebrows in response.
"Is he one of the gargoyles you were talking about in your class?"
Murphy chuckled. "How did you guess?"
"I've heard some of the other teachers talking about him. They think he's wound a little too tight."
Murphy saw Summer cast a furtive glance at his left hand, reminding him that he was not wearing his wedding band. If she noticed, she did not mention it.
"Michael, you talked about fallen angels or demons in your class. Do you think there is much demonic activity today?"
"My guess is that there is more than we are aware of. Does the name Dennis Rader mean anything to you?"
"It doesn't ring a bell."
"Maybe you remember him better as the BTK Killer."
"Yes, that does sound familiar...."
"Rader tortured and killed ten people. In his testimony, he said
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that demons told him to do it. A number of mass murderers have made similar claims."
"Do you think the demons always compel their subjects to commit murder?"
"I don't think so. Those are extreme cases. A number of Bible scholars believe that most demonic activity takes on more subtle forms. Things like extended depression, suicidal thoughts, debilitating anxiety, and doubts about God."
"Do you believe that all emotional problems are rooted in demonic activity?"
"Of course not, but when demonic activity takes place, it just exacerbates the individual's emotional turmoil. This type makes it very hard for counselors to distinguish between demonic attacks and psychological problems."
"How do people deal with this demonic activity?"
"Very carefully. In recent years there have been more and more discussions about exorcism or the casting out of demons. Some have even developed what are called 'deliverance ministries.'"
"It sounds a little scary."
"I think there has to be a balance. There is a danger in saying there is no such thing as demonic activity ... and there is a danger in seeing demons everywhere. Jesus is a good example to follow. Most of the people He dealt with were normal people with normal problems. He did, however, occasionally encounter people under demonic possession. He effectively dealt with both kinds of people."
"I've heard that missionaries to non-Western countries have more exposure to demon possession. Have you heard that?"
"Yes. Many missionaries report that they see more outward manifestations of demonic or occult activity This is especially true in areas where voodoo is practiced. In some countries people go into trances and some pierce their bodies with large nails and other items. People have been known to throw themselves onto fires or into the water or onto the ground in convulsions."
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"What about in the United States?"
"I think the occult influence takes on the forms of séances, card readers, use of spirit guides, and various forms of cult worship. You might recall Sergeant Loye Pourner. He was the officer from Travis Air Force Base in California who fought for his faith. He claimed that he was a high priest of Wicca. I think that demons are smart enough to work within a culture to capture the thinking of people. In less developed cultures they use outward manifestations. In more advanced societies they modify their presentations."
"It seems like some people have adopted sensational methods for dealing with demons."
"Some have, Summer. They seem to think that every sin is prompted by demons. That simply is not true. We all are capable of doing wrong without the help of any demon. This type of thinking removes responsibility for one's actions. You know the popular saying 'The Devil made me do it.' Some people think that if they remove the demon they will be able to live a good life. Truly good living comes from a relationship with God."
"Michael, have you ever had to face a demon?"
"No, and I hope I never will. Demons are very powerful. However, they are not as powerful as God. If demons are to be cast out of someone, it must be in the name and power of Jesus Christ. The Bible suggests that if we resist the Devil and his followers, they will flee from us."
"I'm with you. I don't think I'd like to make an occupation of casting out demons. I'll think I'll stick with volleyball." Summer looked at her watch. "And speaking of which, I have a class in about ten minutes. I don't know where the time went."
They both stood up.
"Thanks for the stimulating conversation, Michael," Summer said with a smile that could melt the polar ice caps.
"Great talking to you too."
Murphy sat back down and watched Summer depart as a growing
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confusion gnawed at him. Both Isis and Summer were strikingly beautiful women, warm and well spoken and intelligent. The one difference was that Summer shared the same faith as Murphy. They could connect on a different level than he and Isis. Until now, he hadn't realized how much he missed that.
Still, it bothered him that he could be attracted to Summer when he had such strong feelings for Isis.
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TWENTY-FIVE
MURPHY AND WAGONER were amazed as they drove the rented panel van onto the field. If the overfull parking area was any indication, the crowds attending J. B. Sonstad's Faith in God Crusade had increased. They noticed that two smaller overflow tents had been set up to accommodate the extra people. The men in orange vests had their hands full trying to get everyone to park in an orderly fashion.
Murphy briefly followed the traffic and then turned back toward the large tent. He went past the first row of parked cars and maneuvered to a spot not far from the semi truck housing Sonstad's television equipment. There were also a couple of smaller vans parked nearby belonging to local television stations.
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Murphy stopped near the vans. He and Wagoner got out and placed two antennas on top of their van.
Murphy was the first to speak.
"Have you come up with anything on Sonstad since our last visit?"
"Yes, I searched on the Internet and discovered that Sonstad is married and has three children. His only daughter, the youngest of his children, got married last year."
"Nothing unusual about that."
"You're right, except for one thing. I ran across a newspaper article that said that Sonstad put on a massive wedding for her at an exclusive country club. Dignitaries and important businesspeople from around the globe were in attendance. It was a formal sit-down dinner with well-known vocalists and musicians as entertainers. Cascading flowers, gourmet food, expensive champagne. And the article even tallied up the total cost. Care to hazard a guess?"
"Fifty thousand dollars?"
"He spent one point two million dollars for the wedding."
"You've got to be kidding! How long does it take to earn that much money, let alone s
pend it on a wedding? And where did the money come from?"
"What do you mean, Murphy? Doesn't every pastor of a church spend one point two million dollars on his daughter's wedding?"
"I guess I shouldn't be surprised. My own research indicated that the Sonstads own homes in Atlanta and San Diego, not to mention their ranch in Montana and their holdings in a television network."
"Well, at least we know that his preaching that God wants you to be rich works for him."
Murphy and Wagoner continued to make preparations and then went into the main tent. It seemed totally packed so they joined a number of people who were standing in the back.
They watched the people get worked up as the music played.
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Sonstad's entrance onto the platform was even more flamboyant than the last time. He quieted the audience and began his supposed conversation with God.
"Yes, Lord. I'm listening.... What's that you say? ... There's going to be an end to the conflict between the Palestinians and the Jews.... They are going to live in harmony.... When will this take place, Lord? ... In a year and a half... Praise God! Thank you! ... I'll tell the people."
By now the people were on their feet yelling and cheering. The noise was deafening.
Wagoner leaned over and yelled into Murphy's ear.
"Oh, that reminds me. While I was doing my research on Sonstad I discovered that he often prophesizes on future events."
Murphy yelled back to Wagoner.
"Have any of his prophecies ever come true?"
"A couple. But they were so general that you or I could have made them. At least a dozen of the ones I looked at never came to pass."
"Doesn't the Bible suggest that a prophet, if he speaks for God, has to be one hundred percent accurate?"
"True."
"Didn't they stone prophets that did not tell the truth?"
"Yes, they did. But I don't think you'll see anyone throwing stones at Sonstad here today."
"Well, Bob, I have to admit he is a great speaker. He knows how to manipulate a crowd. He would do well selling used cars, or refrigerators to Eskimos."
Murphy left Wagoner for a few minutes and went out to the van.
"What did I miss?" Murphy asked upon his return.
"Not much."
The crusade continued, with Sonstad having conversations with God and calling out the names of people with diseases. When their names
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were called they came to the platform, were touched on the head by Sonstad, fell to the ground, were helped up by the catchers, and returned to their seats. By the time the twentieth person was healed in this manner the crowd was beside itself. It was time for a good offering.
While the offering was being collected, Murphy and Wagoner quietly discussed what they had seen.
"Bob, have you noticed how Sonstad works some wonderful disclaimers into his talks?"
"What do you mean?"
"The first is that if you have enough faith, you will be healed. That gives him a great out if nothing happens and the person isn't healed. It's because they didn't have enough faith. It's not Sonstad's fault."
"But Jesus healed a number of people that didn't exercise any faith in His healing."
"Right, Bob. The second is when he says, 'The Lord doesn't always heal in the meeting. Many times He does the healing at home when you are alone.' This gives him another out for anyone not healed during the meeting.
"The other thing I was aware of was that most of the supposed healings were for problems or diseases that you could not see. Things like liver disease, kidney disease, or diabetes. How could anyone at the meeting tell if anyone was truly healed? They couldn't see it."
"That gives Sonstad another safety blanket, doesn't it, Michael?"
"Right. And did you notice that no one with a withered arm or leg was healed? That would really be something to see. There were no blind people whose sight was restored. No lepers who were cleansed. And no physically or mentally disabled people who were cured of their disability."
Murphy and Wagoner watched as the people left the meeting greatly excited about what they had seen. They could hear many people talking
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about how wonderful J. B. Sonstad was and what a great earthly messenger he was for God.
They made their way back to their rented van.
"Do you think it worked?" asked Wagoner.
"We'll soon see. Everything was on and functioning when I left."
They opened the van, climbed m, and shut the door. Murphy could see that the red lights were still on and the recording device was running.
"Let's rewind the tape and see what we've got."
"Where did you get all of this equipment?" asked Wagoner.
"I borrowed it from Levi Abrams. He said that it would pick up any conversations broadcasted within a half mile."
Murphy turned on the tape. They could clearly hear the voice of a woman speaking.
"Look toward your left. The third section. The man in the blue shirt. His name is Carl and he has been suffering with diabetes for three years."
"You've got to be kidding, Michael. When you told me that you thought that Sonstad had a receiver attached to his headset microphone, I thought you were crazy. Who is that woman speaking?"
"It's Sonstad's wife. I saw her when I came back to turn on the equipment in the van. The back door to the semi truck with all the television equipment was open and I could see her looking at the monitors. I recognized her from her pictures on the posters outside of the tent."
"How did she get the information about the people in the audience with problems?"
"It was fairly easy. Remember when we went into the tent? We were given prayer cards asking if we needed healing and what the ailment was so that their staff could pray for us. They would single out certain people and write down what they were wearing and where they would be sitting. Sonstad's wife would then pick up one of the cards and relay the message with the information to Sonstad while he was onstage."
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"So he really was having a conversation with someone... only it wasn't God."
"You've got that right, Bob. Let's see if the rest of the tape is clear."
Murphy and Wagoner listened to the entire tape. There were twenty clear messages from Sonstad's wife to him on the stage. They could even hear her final words before she stopped broadcasting.
"Don't go so long tonight. We have a late dinner appointment across town. I'm hungry. By the way, the last lady that you're going to deal with has been in a mental hospital before. You might tell her that she will never have to go there again."
"This is unbelievable!" Wagoner fumed. "We've got to expose them somehow."
"I think we should give the tapes to Steven Bennett at the Raleigh Gazette . He's a hard-hitting, no-nonsense, investigative reporter who will take the information and run with it. I'm sure that he'll do a whole exposé that will put an end to Sonstad's charlatan crusade."
"Michael, is what he's doing illegal?"
"I'm not sure. At the very least, it is misleading, unethical, and brings negative publicity to all the ministers and organizations that are doing the Lord's work. I'm not sure that the general public will be able to tell the difference, though. They might just throw the baby out with the bathwater. As far as I'm concerned, people like that cause great harm and should be held accountable for it."
A week later, Murphy received a phone call from Wagoner.
"Did you see Steven Bennett's television interview of J. B. Sonstad?"
"No, Bob. What happened?"
"Well, Bennett confronted him with sound bites of his wife talking to him. He said, 'Yes, that was my wife. We weren't doing anything wrong. We were merely trying to strengthen the weak faith of some of those in the audience. When they think that God is speaking directly
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to them, it ignites hope in their hearts. The seed of faith sprouts in their minds and for the first time they believe that Go
d cares about them enough to heal them of their illness. That, in turn, motivates them to stand and come forward to be healed. When all is said and done, God gets the glory and everyone is joyful.' Sonstad then invited Bennett to come to the meetings himself."
"Unbelievable," said Murphy. "Unbelievable."
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TWENTY-SIX
"UTTERLY MAGNIFICENT, Jakoba! It's incredible," said Viorica Enesco as they walked around the statue.
"Yes, it is true. The Academy has many works of art, but I think that Michelangelo's statue of David is the grandest. The architect Emilio de Fabris constructed the tribuna in 1873 just to house it."
Viorica cocked her head to one side and then the other, and stared for a long time at the thirteen-and-a-half-foot-high naked body.
"Wouldn't it be wonderful if all men looked as good as this statue?"
They both laughed.
The portly Sir William Merton waddled up beside them. He was wearing his usual jacket and collar of the English cleric. Viorica
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thought it was too bad that Sir Merton's body didn't match his brilliant mind.
"What are you two laughing at?"
"Oh, nothing," said Viorica, brushing her fingers through her red hair and giving Jakoba a knowing look.
They both giggled.
Women! he thought. Who will ever understand them?
He continued to speak. "Isn't it delightful that John Bartholomew chose Florence for our meeting? Italy is always so charming, especially at this time of year. How I love to meander around the Piazza Annunziata and do a little people watching. And have you ladies noticed all of the colorful and elegant scarves that the women are wearing?"
Viorica and Jakoba nodded their heads. They both thought it unusual for a man to notice such things.