by Bill Myers
“I, uh …”
They had traveled about a hundred yards and Salman was turning to a large structure to his right. “The Grand Theater, you will want to see this. This is where the riot occurred.”
They had discussed the event during the ride to Ephesus. According to the book of Acts, this was the very amphitheater where an angry crowd had spent two hours shouting down a follower of Paul. Brandon had every intention of seeing it, was looking forward to going inside, but something had suddenly compelled him to head the opposite direction. Something very strong.
“What’s this?” he asked, motioning to a long stone road nearly thirty feet wide with broken columns on either side. “Where does this lead?”
“That is the Harbor Street,” Salman replied. “It used to lead to the harbor.”
“Can we go there first?”
“The sun is nearly down. This is much more important. Did you know that there are over twenty-four thousand seats, and that at one time —”
“That’s great, Salman, really impressive — but there’s something down here, something I need to see.”
“Mr. Brandon, there is nothing at the other end of that road but bushes and blackberry briars.”
Brandon nodded. He knew it didn’t make sense, but he also knew what he was feeling. It wasn’t exactly what he’d felt on the stage in L.A.; it was much more subtle. But it was just as insistent, just as compelling. He knew it didn’t make sense, but he also knew he had to obey. “I understand,” he called back to Salman. “But … there’s something down here I need to see.”
Salman let out a heavy sigh and started after him. “As you wish, Mr. Brandon, as you wish.”
What’re all these cloud thingies?
“Clouds?”
Yeah, you know, that misty stuff that’s surrounding everybody.
“Ah, you see them as mist. Of course.”
What are they?
“They are more of my colleagues. They work with me to protect your people from the harsh and burning light of the enemy.”
Eric glanced around the room where he was resting in the recliner … well, at least where his body was resting. Because the conscious part of him, the part that was actually Eric Lyon, floated over his body. It hovered eight feet above the room, looking down at the scene with Heylel. The two of them had made up days ago, and now, once again, Heylel was showing him deeper mysteries. They watched as Sarah conducted another experiment while she talked to his mom in hushed tones. Lucas stood nearby.
How come Mom and Lucas got more of the mist stuff around them than Sarah?
“Because they have allowed more of us to surround and protect them.”
But Sarah hasn’t?
“Precisely.”
Why?
“Your mother and Lucas are open to our help. Sarah is not. She still believes in Oppressor’s ways.”
Eric felt Heylel shudder at the name. He seldom used it, but when he did it was always accompanied by revulsion and fear. The reason was simple. Heylel had never told him the whole story, but from what Eric gathered, a long, long time ago there was a powerful dictator who kept the universe under his ironfisted control. Heylel was one of this dictator’s top generals. But he saw the terrible injustices and led a revolt to liberate the universe from this cruel tyrant. He managed to get a third of creation to stand up with him, but two-thirds did not. The rebellion was crushed, and Heylel and his followers were banished here to earth. But even though they were imprisoned here, because of the kindness of their hearts, they had decided to help the planet’s inhabitants by protecting anyone who wanted to be protected from Oppressor’s ways.
So, Eric thought, that’s why you’re so careful around Sarah? She still follows Oppressor.
“Precisely. In her ignorance, she has potential for doing great harm to us … and to Lucas.”
And Lucas is really important, right?
“Yes. The two of you will be a team. And with my help, there is nothing you will not be able to accomplish.”
Eric looked back down at Sarah. But if she’s such a threat, why don’t you just take her out?
“Until her time, Oppressor has forbidden us to touch her … unless, of course, she gives us permission.”
Permission? Like how?
“You have many questions today, my young friend.”
If I’m going to help you run stuff, I better learn as much as I can.
He heard Heylel chuckle. “Yes, as always you are right. And, as always, I am well pleased. There is no one finer in all the world to help me rule.”
And Lucas, don’t forget Lucas.
“Yes, and Lucas. You and Lucas. But it will always be you, first.”
Eric felt the pleasure swell inside him. This was another reason he liked Heylel, another reason he put up with the outbursts of anger and the struggles for control. It wasn’t just because of the power growing inside of him, or the promises of what he would become; it was also because of the respect and admiration Heylel had for him.
So — Eric looked back down at Sarah — how are you going to stop her?
“At the moment there is little we can do. Oppressor’s light has blinded her to our truth. However, we are attempting to bring her and Lucas together, so he can help.”
Together? What, like boyfriend, girlfriend? I thought she was married.
“Of course, but there is always hope.”
Like what? How do you do that?
“So many questions.”
Tell me.
“We influence her thoughts. We subtly change the patterns of her thinking.”
You can do that?
“Only if she gives us permission.”
Cool.
“Yes, it is. But we must be very subtle. If our work is too obvious, she will block it. But if she lets us touch her thoughts, if she allows us to gradually rework her thinking, the two of them may very well become lovers.”
Too bad you couldn’t do that with Mom.
“We have other plans for your mother.”
Really? Like what?
“In good time, my friend, in good time. Would you like to see something else?”
Sure, what else do you —
Suddenly his ears roared with rushing wind. But, instead of falling, as he always did during these times, Eric was shooting up … at incredible speed. Before he knew it, he was high above the Earth. Below him were the Himalayas. Further north was what had to be China, and to the south lay India as well as the Indian Ocean. But he wasn’t just seeing physical land. He was also seeing larger pockets of the same mist and fog that had surrounded the people in the room. Now, however, the pockets blanketed entire regions. In some places it was very thin, in others very thick.
Wow, Eric thought, this is incredible!
“It is quite lovely here.”
I’ll say. And all those misty and foggy places, those are your buddies, too?
“Yes. Instead of concentrating upon just one person, my more powerful friends concentrate on specific regions and —”
Look out! Eric shouted. He lunged to the side as a pencil-thin shaft of light penetrated a clump of mist below them. It sliced through the air just yards from where they’d been floating, and then it was gone.
What was that?
There was no hiding the irritation in Heylel’s voice. “More of Oppressor’s works. Take a careful look and tell me what you see.”
Eric squinted, looking out across the continent. Nothing. Just land, water, clouds, and your mist buddies.
“Look closer.” The voice was more of a command than a request, and Eric knew better than to disobey.
I am, but I don’t see any — oh, wait a minute.
“Do you see them now?”
You mean those light beams?
“Yes.”
They’re superthin but, yeah, I see them. They’re shooting up all over the place.
“Yes. And look what they do to our attempts to protect your people.”
Eric squi
nted harder, focusing upon one particular patch of mist concentrated over what looked like a city. Several narrow shafts of light were cutting through it, and as he watched, he noticed the mist beginning to dissolve and break up.
“Do you see what’s happening?” Heylel asked.
It looks like those beams are wiping your guys out.
Heylel said nothing.
Not a lot, though.
“Enough. By itself, no single ray of light can destroy our protection. But, as you see, the more that penetrate us, the weaker our presence becomes and the harder it is for us to protect you.”
But what are they? Where do these beams come from?
“They are people like Sarah, the deluded ones who still follow Oppressor’s path. This is their communication with him.”
That’s terrible, Eric thought back.
“Yes.”
Isn’t there some way to stop them?
“There are many ways. The best is, as you say, ‘to take them out.’ ”
But you said he won’t let you.
“No, not on my own. I am only spirit. I need physical tools to manipulate the physical. That is why you and I must work together.”
Once again Eric felt his importance rising. Because, he asked, with me, you can do anything?
“Very good. Together we can do anything.”
Eric broke into a grin, then recited what he’d heard a dozen times before. And the more control I give you, the greater we’ll become …
Heylel completed the phrase. “… until all is ours.”
But when? Eric demanded. You keep promising me that, but when?
“Soon, my young friend. You are nearly ready. Your time of glory will be very, very soon.”
The closer Brandon came to the end of the road the harder his heart pounded. He knew he was about to hear something, to learn something. And he knew it had to do with the other half of the Ephesians letter … the warning half. Because, as much as Christ had praise for the church at Ephesus, He also had a stern rebuke.
Yet I hold this against you: You have forsaken your first love. Remember the height from which you have fallen! Repent and do the things you did at first. If you do not repent, I will come to you and remove your lampstand from its place.
But what did that have to do with the end of this particular road?
As they approached, Brandon noticed they were no longer surrounded by tourists. They were entirely by themselves. And why not? The road went nowhere, and it was nearly closing time. They had walked six hundred yards down the uneven stone pavement until it finally came to an end. The stones stopped abruptly and were replaced by a dirt bank three to four feet high, covered in grass and brush.
There was nothing else.
“See,” Salman said, squinting at Brandon who stood between him and the setting sun. “It goes nowhere. There is nothing here.”
Brandon turned toward the bank, looking out across the flat land. “But it used to go somewhere.”
“Of course. It was the great road to the city; it led to the harbor where the ships docked. All of the world’s kings and emperors were greeted upon these very stones.”
“But there’s no water here.”
“Not now. The sea is two miles away.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Ephesus, it used to be one of the mightiest seaports in all of the Roman Empire.”
“What happened?”
“The Cayster River. Gradually, over time, it filled the harbor with its dirt and silt. Since no one cleaned it out, the harbor eventually filled up. Now there is only dirt and weeds.”
Brandon’s head began to swim. There was a truth here. Something profound, if he could just grasp it. He looked down at the bank, then kneeled before it. Without looking at Salman he asked, “And since the city no longer had a harbor?”
“It no longer served a purpose.”
Brandon slowly turned to him. “And it was deserted.”
Salman shrugged. “Of course. What good was it to anyone then?”
Brandon nodded, but barely heard. He looked back at the bank and reached out to finger the dirt. It was good soil, some of the best … just like the Ephesians had performed good works, some of the best …
I know your deeds, your hard work and your perseverance… You have persevered and have endured hardships … and have not grown weary.
And yet it was that excellent soil that had slowly replaced the most important thing to the city — its harbor … just as — now he had it — just as the excellent works of the church had slowly replaced its love.
Yet I hold this against you: You have forsaken your first love.
Unnoticed, silently, the good quality soil had replaced the city’s harbor … Unnoticed, silently, the good quality works had replaced the church’s love.
Now Brandon understood. That’s why he’d been led to the end of this road — to see this truth.
But there was more. The truth didn’t end with this city or this church. Wasn’t this also what the makeup woman had said about Jimmy Tyler … at first he was full of love, but gradually his works consumed him? That somehow they’d “lost” Jimmy Tyler? “You don’t become one of the biggest ministries in the world without sacrificing something,” wasn’t that what she had said?
The thoughts swirled in his mind. How much of it was his own thinking, he didn’t know. How much of it was inspiration, he wasn’t sure. But understanding raced into his head, almost faster than he could absorb it …
Wasn’t that the main reason he’d hated church, the reason his friends never darkened its doors, because of the lack of love? Wasn’t that what everyone needed more than anything — sincere, genuine love? Sure, there was the teaching, the preaching, the programs — and they were all necessary and they were all good. But, somehow, amidst all of the programs and good … love had been forgotten.
But not just their love for others … more tragically, he sensed it was the Ephesians’ love for God. Their “first love” — that zeal, that joy for being saved, that excitement he’d seen on Sarah’s face the first time she understood how loved and forgiven she was. For him, for those who had grown up in the church, it had become old hat, cliché — as lifeless as some other religion’s ceremony or prayer beads. Like the silt, good religion had replaced heartfelt love. Godly works had replaced fervent passion.
But what could be done?
“Mr. Brandon, Mr. Brandon, are you all right?” The concern in Salman’s voice made it clear he saw the moisture welling up in his eyes.
Brandon nodded and reached into his backpack. He fumbled for his pocket New Testament and Psalms and pulled it out, quickly flipping through the pages to Revelation.
Remember the height from which you have fallen! Repent and do the things you did at first.
What had he done at first? What had Sarah done?
They’d thanked God, they’d worshiped and adored him. Not from rote, but from their hearts. They didn’t recite dusty hymns from dusty hymnals, they didn’t recite overhead projection verses. They truly worshiped, using their minds and their hearts. That’s what had started to fade … the love from their hearts.
He turned back to the Bible and read.
If you do not repent, I will come to you and remove your lampstand from its place… He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To him who overcomes, I will give the right to eat from the tree of life, which is in the paradise of God.
But how could the others be warned? How could today’s church be reminded of the subtle deception that was slowly creeping in and —
Brandon had the answer before the question had completely formed. Slowly, he rose to his feet and looked back down the road toward the amphitheater. In the distance the multiple rows of stone seats reflected gold in the setting sun. He fought off an involuntary shiver.
But he knew …
He would be the one to tell them. Once again, he would be required to stand in front of a crowd. And, just as in
L.A., and just as in that amphitheater two thousand years ago, the answer would be booed and shouted down. The thought made him cold inside. But just as surely as he felt the cold gripping his gut, he knew it would be done.
Not here, not now. There were still lessons to be learned. But in time it must be done …
CHAPTER 10
GET OUT OF THE street! Hurry!”
Sarah glanced over her shoulder and saw a trickle of people rounding the corner and racing down the street toward her. A trickle which quickly grew into a torrent, and then a mob. And still they poured in. Hundreds, maybe a thousand, all shouting and waving their fists at a frame of burning bamboo held high above their heads.
“In here!” Katherine shouted as she pulled Sarah across the wet cobblestones and into the open doorway of a shop. “We’ve got to get out of the street now!”
They reached the doorway just as the first of the crowd began to pass.
“What’s going on?” Sarah shouted. “What are they doing?”
“Watch!”
Sarah pulled further into the safety of the doorway as the throng came by. The trip to Katmandu had been Katherine’s idea. “To get you into the city and see some sights,” she’d said. And they had seen sights … everything from the tea shops to street flower vendors, to the temples complete with spinning prayer wheels, to painted holy men … to human bodies being cremated right there on the banks of the Vishnumati River. It took nearly an hour to get the stench out of her nostrils, and she knew she’d never be able to entirely remove the image. Even more unsettling for her was that this same river, where they poured the remaining ash, was where other people ceremonially bathed and cleansed themselves from their sins.
Then there were the children. Everywhere she looked, especially in the temple areas, there were dirty, ragged children. Some begged by playing what looked like cheap, miniature violins, holding them in their laps and lifelessly running a bow back and forth across untuned strings. Others were more direct, dogging them and tugging at their clothes for any money they might have.
“Where do they all come from?” Sarah had asked.
“Lots are orphans.”
“They have no home? People don’t adopt them?”
“This is a Hindu state, remember.”
