The Regime: Evil Advances

by Tim LaHaye

  "All right, just get going."

  "You're not going to pin my name to my shirt?"

  "Goon!"

  All Irene wanted was a more personal, genuine experience with God, one that matched her new relationship with Him. She had determined to not let whatever she discovered at New Hope reflect poorly on her church. But she couldn't help it.

  The first thing she noticed, after the humanity of the pastor, was how many people welcomed her, asked her name, and said they were glad she was there. She thought it interesting that none asked about her husband or family. Maybe they had learned to avoid embarrassing divorcees or widows and to wait to learn about the family situations of newcomers.

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  The service proved much more informal than any she had ever attended. This church sang hymns similar to those she was used to, but they seemed more robust and energetic. She thought Rayford would like it, but who knew? Maybe he would find it all a little too overt.

  The pastoral prayer was different too. Informal. Not written and read. But it was the sermon that really moved Irene. No homilies. No lofty pronouncements. No performing. Pastor Billings merely pointed people to the passage he was going to speak on, and all over the sanctuary came the rustling of onionskin pages.

  Irene quickly located John 2:12-14:

  I write to you, little children,

  Because your sins are forgiven you for His name's sake.

  I write to you, fathers,

  Because you have known Him who is from the beginning.

  I write to you, young men,

  Because you have overcome the wicked one.

  I write to you, little children,

  Because you have known the Father.

  I have written to you, fathers,

  Because you have known Him who is from the beginning.

  I have written to you, young men,

  Because you are strong, and the word of God abides in you,

  And you have overcome the wicked one.

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  Now that was one confusing passage. Irene couldn't help but wonder why she had never heard it before in all her years in church. Probably because it was obscure and would take some explanation. It wasn't one of the majestic, beautiful passages that just sounded good to the ear from the get-go.

  She couldn't wait to hear what Pastor Billings had to say about it.

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  TWENTY-THREE

  With relatives in from all over the Southwest for the funeral, Cameron found himself having to face them all the day before. One by one and in groups and families they descended upon his childhood home.

  He had never felt so much like a foreigner. Cameron had no idea whether his imagination was in overdrive or if he was really able to read everyone's thoughts by their expressions, faces, mannerisms, and body language.

  An aunt seemed to assume that he was so grateful to be home and away from the strange and exotic East Coast that he might even consider transferring to the University of Arizona. "They have a writing program, don't they?"

  "A journalism course? Oh, I'm sure. But I've just a few months until graduation at Princeton, and then ..."

  "Yes, I heard about the position at the big paper. The Boston Sun or some such."

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  "The Globe ."

  "Um-hm. And you have to wonder if those Boston Brahmans have ever even heard of Tucson."

  "Believe me they have. And I'll try to represent us well there."

  Others were so overly sympathetic that Cameron read in them a belief that he felt terribly guilty for having been unable to see his mother before she died. An elderly cousin clucked that he must forgive himself. "I know you would have been here if you could," she said.

  Still others were plain in their judgment of him. An uncle quizzed him about how it came to be that he was late. "And you couldn't borrow some money, get an emergency fare, prevail on a friend to get you out here somehow?"

  "I did everything I could, sir. And as it was, I just missed seeing her."

  "Didn't you know how bad off she was?"

  "Dad and Jeff tried to tell me, but maybe I just didn't want to accept it."

  "Well, you should have been here."

  "Were you here?" Cameron said. "Did you see her?"

  "Well... ah ... no, no. But we knew it was going to be soon. Anyway, Cammy, she's your mother."

  Yeah, I got that.

  Cameron was impressed with his father and worried about him at the same time. His parents had not had the best of marriages, but they had gotten along and spent nearly thirty years together. He'd seen the pictures of them in their courting days, when both were young and

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  thin and obviously putting their best feet forward. They also looked dreamily in love in some pictures, something he couldn't remember seeing in person. They were not physically or verbally affectionate, but they were nice enough to each other.

  Cameron was sure his dad would be panicky and feel lost without her for a while. But he was being the consummate host, thanking every person individually for coming and saying just the right things. He was fine, he said. It was hard, though he had known it was coming. He felt a little numb, had done his crying in private and was sure more was to come. But for now he wanted to remember her the way she was before the cancer overtook her.

  Most impressive to Cameron, however, was Sharon, Jeff's wife. While Jeff was distant and quiet--and most gave him his space--Sharon assigned him to look after their son and daughter, apparently to occupy him. Cameron was only guessing, but it appeared Sharon didn't want Jeff moping around, saying angry things, casting aspersions on his little brother.

  It was obvious from Jeff's demeanor that he meant to play up Cameron's slothfulness until he could wring no more benefit from it. The attention had always seemed to be on Cameron, but here was a way to step into the spotlight. Jeff was a sympathetic character, the rock-steady stay-at-home guy.

  With the funeral planned for midmorning the next day, guests and relatives began abandoning the house for their hotels early in the evening. Jeff took his kids home

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  to put them to bed while Sharon stayed to help her father-in-law clean up. Cameron tried to get his father to just sit, but he insisted on keeping busy. Between the three of them, the place was tidied in way less time than Cameron would have predicted.

  When his father allowed himself to be talked into going to bed early, Sharon started making noises about getting home. And though she grabbed her coat and headed toward the door, she paused and sat in the living room, looking up at Cameron.

  "How are you doing, Cam, really?"

  "I'm all right. I should have been here, but there's nothing I can do about it now."

  "Jeff will get over it," Sharon said. "I think his anger is misplaced. There are other things going on there. You're just a convenient target."

  Cameron snorted. "I always have been. Why should that change now?"

  "He really loves you, Cam."

  Cameron waved her off.

  "I'm serious. He does. He doesn't talk a lot about it. There's jealousy there, sure. And self-righteousness. But a wife can tell. He talks about you a lot. Wonders. Worries. Cares."

  "You don't say."

  "I do say. You know how I can tell what he really thinks of you? By what he tells other people. A person can't talk to him for five minutes without his bringing up your name and what you're up to."

  "I'm surprised."

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  "Don't be. He always wanted to leave Tucson too, you know. Just felt obligated to stay, especially when you went."

  "So, again, it's my fault."

  "I didn't mean it that way. Maybe when your father is gone Jeff can sell the business and do what he wants wherever he wants."

  "What and where would that be?"

  "You don't know?"

  "He doesn't talk to me, Sharon. He hardly ever has, even when we were kids."

  "But surely you know of his love for horses and ranching."<
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  "Yeah. It was his favorite thing to do as a kid: spend time on a ranch, roping, herding cattle, rodeoing. What're you saying? He'd become a rancher?"

  She nodded. "Probably in Texas."

  "Well, more power to him. Whatever makes him happy."

  "That's my motto," Sharon said. "The kids make him happy, I think. I'm not sure I do anymore."

  Cameron was curious, as always, but he wasn't sure he wanted to get into this. In fact, he was pretty sure he didn't. But Sharon seemed to settle back on the couch, as if warming to the topic and hoping Cameron would pursue it.

  "So, big day tomorrow, huh?" he said. "I suppose you've got a lot of work to do at the funeral too. It's great how you helped out here. Like you were a daughter instead of a daughter-in-law."

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  Sharon smiled but couldn't hide the fatigue around her eyes. "Listen, Cam, when I married in, I bought in for the whole ride. Like it or not, I'm family now."

  "Oh, don't get me wrong. I like that you're family."

  "Do you?"

  "Of course."

  "Well, that's sweet of you to say. I'm not sure it's a sentiment widely shared."

  Where was this going? Cameron was struck by the fact that if he had been talking to someone else, someone not related, he would be dying to follow every rabbit trail, pursue every question, get to the bottom of the vagaries of every relationship. This was just too close to home. He no more wanted to know why Sharon felt unwelcome than he wanted to know why she worried she didn't make Jeff happy anymore.

  As he was to find out, both insecurities were rooted in the same fear. "People are put off by my faith," she said.

  Cameron knew that, but how was he supposed to respond? "They are?" he said.

  She nodded. "I take it all a little too seriously, I guess. Or so they think. It seems to me that if we all believe in God and go to church, it ought to be the most important thing in our lives. Or am I missing something? What do you think, Cam?"

  He shrugged. "Each to his own, I guess. Some people are more into religion than others."

  "I'm not talking about religion, Cameron. I'm talking about Jesus."

  And she wondered why people were put off? How

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  many people went around talking about Jesus? God was one thing. Even Christ was a little more theoretical. But talking about Jesus like you were on a first-name basis with the guy--the real guy--from the Bible? Cameron didn't want to say so, but there was something a little brassy, a little in-your-face about that. He admired that Sharon was courageous enough to be plainspoken, but it should come as no surprise to her that it made some uncomfortable. People like him.

  "Um-hm," was all he could muster, smiling.

  "How about you, Cam? Where are you in all this?"

  So there it was. If she was going to put it to him like that, he would be honest; that was for sure. "Have to admit I'm probably where Jeff is," he said. "He and I ran from our church as soon as we were old enough to talk my parents into it. They were disappointed, but they didn't make a big deal out of it. I respected them for that. They kept going and they invited us to special events. Sometimes we would go. But I gotta tell ya, Sharon, if the church we grew up in is what God is all about, He's boring. And I mean boring."

  "Well, that church is not representative; I can tell you that. And that's the problem. At least you and Jeff were honest and on the right track getting out of there. Your mistake--forgive me for being so blunt--was that you thought all churches were the same. So once you were out of that church, you were out altogether. Am I right, or are you attending somewhere there in New Jersey?"

  He shook his head. "Too busy. With work and school and ..."

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  She looked him dead in the eye. "It's not about busyness, Cameron. You just said so yourself. You got turned off to church or you'd find one."

  "Truth hurts," he said.

  "Yeah, but it's less painful than lying to yourself."

  It was kind of her to refer to his as the lesser sin of denial than actually lying to her, which was what he had done. Sharon might tend toward the obnoxious, but she wasn't afraid of the truth.

  He shrugged. "Guilty as charged."

  She stood. "I'd better get going. But can I give you my pitch?"

  "Your pitch?"

  "My sales job. As long as everybody in this family has me pigeonholed as the devout lunatic, I might as well get some mileage out of it. Here it is, Cameron. I love you and care about you as if you were my own brother. Your church was a poor representation of God and Jesus and all They are about. God loves you. He sent Jesus to die for your sins. He wants to hear from you, to make you His child, and to see you interacting with Him in a church that knows what that's all about. Think about it. You don't have to answer to me. I know better than that. But, if nothing else, now you know why the family sees me the way they do, and you've got your own story you can tell behind my back."

  Cameron stood and embraced her. "Sharon," he said, "I will never do that. I appreciate your being so honest and forthright. And caring."

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  TWENTY-FOUR

  There had been nothing flashy or dramatic about Pastor Vernon Billings. He simply had a natural, down-home way about him, knew how to keep his audience's attention, and put his emphasis on the message and not on himself. He actually seemed to be keeping Chloe's attention too, no small feat. Irene couldn't wait to find out what she had thought of her first Sunday school class at the new church.

  Pastor Billings's message was straightforward and informative. He made the Scripture so clear that Irene felt as if she were drinking fresh water. And it wasn't an easy passage to explain; at least she didn't think it was.

  His bottom line was that the apostle John was writing about two families: the family of God and the family of Satan. Christians were forgiven and pulled out of Satan's family, so they were now part of God's family. They were

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  not to love Satan or his family or the world that is controlled by him.

  But what was all that business in John's letter about little children, fathers, and young men? The pastor explained that the Greek word translated "little children" in verse 12 was actually different from the word translated the same way in verse 13. The first word, he said, referred to offspring of any age, while the second reference was literally to little children. According to the pastor, John repeated his message to hammer home the point of the believer's belonging to the family of God.

  As for the references to fathers, young men, and little children, Pastor Billings explained that these signified different stages of spiritual maturity. Could Irene ever relate to that! She so wanted to grow and become mature in her faith. But she believed she was stagnating. How she would love to make New Hope her church.

  The truly spiritual person--the fathers, the pastor said--was spiritually mature because he had come to know God in His fullness. He referred to Philippians 3:10: "That I may know Him and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death."

  Pastor Billings further explained that the second stage of spiritual maturity--the young men--was made up of those who may not yet know God in the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His sufferings, but who did know sound doctrine. They had read and been taught and had an arsenal to help them stand against the deceit of the devil.

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  That's where Irene had thought she was, or was at least getting there with Jackie's help. Now she wasn't so sure.

  Finally the pastor explained that the earliest stage of spiritual maturity for the believer--the little children-- comprised those who had only the most rudimentary knowledge of God and needed to grow the most. Irene feared the rest of her family was not even at that door yet and were thus vulnerable to the falsehood and deception the evil one tried to foist upon people.

  Irene's head and heart were so full when she and Jackie went to retrieve their kids that she hardly knew where to begin.
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  "Enjoy that?" Jackie said lightly.

  "Enjoy?" Irene said. "Jackie, I should be further along as a believer. I'm getting a lot from you and from the Bible and from praying, but it doesn't show in my life."

  "I think it does."

  "C'mon, Jackie. I want to be myself around you, but of course I always try to put my best foot forward. I have to live this in front of Rayford. My whole point is to try to reach him, but everything I say and do turns him away. I can't blame him. It's as if I can't help myself. I'm doing the opposite of what I want to do. I love him. I care about him. I want to win him, bring him to Christ. But if I'm the example of Jesus to him, I'm failing."

  To Jackie's credit, she didn't argue. Without a word, Jackie's mere sympathetic look spoke volumes. Irene knew she was right, that she had to examine herself, make a wholesale change in her approach.

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  Cameron had what he could only call a nearly out-of-body experience at his mother's funeral. The service was so formal, so by-the-book, and full of so many platitudes and empty speeches that he found himself imagining her washing her hands of the whole thing.

  She would rather people be honest and tell the truth about her. When the eulogies began and old friends and relatives made their way to the microphone, things livened up a bit. People laughed and cried and told stories of the real Mrs. Williams.

  Cameron had decided not to participate but nearly changed his mind, particularly when Jeff spoke.

  He was remarkably articulate and heartfelt and told stories of interactions between his mother and him that Cameron had never heard before.

  Strangely, Sharon sat weeping through the entire service, unable to be consoled, apparently unable to even look up. Cameron could only imagine what upset her so. Yes, she had been close to his mother. But it was also common knowledge that the women had been honest with each other. That was one thing he could say of his mother: she met straightforwardness with the same.