by Tim LaHaye
The doctor was saying, “The International Red Cross and the World Health Organization, as wonderful and effective as they have been in the past, are not equipped to handle devastation, disease, and death on this scale. Potentate Carpathia’s visionary plan is not only our only hope for survival in the midst of coming famine and plagues, but also it seems to me—at first glance—a blueprint for the most aggressive international health care agenda ever. Should the death toll reach as high as 25 percent due to contaminated water and air, food shortages, and the like, as some have predicted, new directives that govern life from the womb to the tomb can bring this planet from the brink of death to a utopian state as regards physical health.”
Rayford and Amanda turned toward the escalator, Rayford shaking his head. “In other words, Carpathia clears away the bodies he has blown to bits or starved or allowed to become diseased by plagues because of his war, and the rest of us lucky subjects will be healthier and more prosperous than ever.”
Amanda looked at him. “Spoken like a true, loyal, employee,” she said. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. They stumbled and nearly tumbled when the escalator reached the bottom.
Buck embraced his new father-in-law and old friend like the brother he was. He considered it a tremendous honor to introduce Tsion Ben-Judah to Rayford and to watch them get acquainted. The Tribulation Force was together once more, bringing each other up-to-date and trying to plan for a future that had never seemed less certain.
CHAPTER 15
Rayford forced himself to stay up until a normal bedtime Saturday night. He, Buck, and Tsion went over and over Bruce’s material. More than once Rayford was moved to tears. “I’m not sure I’m up to this,” he said.
Tsion spoke softly. “You are.”
“What would you have done had I been unable to get back?”
Buck said, “I don’t know, but I can’t risk speaking in public. And certainly Tsion can’t.”
Rayford asked what they were going to do about Tsion. “He can’t stay here long, can he?” he said.
“No,” Buck said. “It won’t be long before it gets back to Global Community brass that I was involved in his escape. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if Carpathia already knows.”
They decided amongst themselves that Tsion should be able to come to New Hope Sunday morning, possibly with Loretta, as a guest who appeared to be an old friend. There was enough difference in their ages that, except for his Middle Eastern look, he might appear to be a son or a nephew. “But I wouldn’t risk his exposure any further than that,” Rayford said. “If the shelter is ready, we need to sneak him in there before the end of the day tomorrow.”
Late in the evening a bleary-eyed Rayford called a meeting of the Tribulation Force, asking Tsion Ben-Judah to wait in another room. Rayford, Amanda, Buck, and Chloe sat around the dining room table, Bruce’s pages piled high before them. “I suppose it falls to me,” Rayford said, “as the senior member of this little band of freedom fighters, to call to order the first meeting after the loss of our leader.”
Amanda shyly raised her hand. “Excuse me, but I believe I am the senior member, if you’re talking age.”
Rayford smiled. There was precious little levity anymore, and he appreciated her feeble attempts. “I know you’re the oldest, hon,” he said, “but I’ve been a believer longer. Probably by a week or so.”
“Fair enough,” she said.
“The only order of business tonight is voting in a new member. I think it’s obvious to all of us that God has provided a new leader and mentor in Dr. Ben-Judah.”
Chloe spoke up. “We’re asking an awful lot of him, aren’t we? Are we sure he wants to live in this country? In this city?”
“Where else could he go?” Buck asked. “I mean, it’s only fair to ask him rather than to make assumptions, I guess, but his options are limited.”
Buck told the others about the new phones, the coming computers, how Bruce had outfitted the shelter for phone and computer broadcasting, and how Donny Moore was designing a system that would be interception- and trace-proof.
Rayford thought everyone seemed encouraged. He finalized preparations for the memorial service the next morning and said he planned to be unabashedly evangelistic. They prayed for the confidence, peace, and blessing of God on their decision to include Tsion in the Tribulation Force. Rayford invited him into the meeting.
“Tsion, my brother, we would like to ask you to join our little core group of believers. We know you have been deeply wounded and may be in pain for a long, long time. We’re not asking for an immediate decision. As you can imagine, we need you not to just be one of us, but also to be our leader, in essence, our pastor. We recognize that the day may come when we might all be living with you in the secret shelter. Meanwhile, we will try to maintain as normal lives as possible, trying to survive and spread the good news of Christ to others until his Glorious Appearing.”
Tsion rose at one end of the table and placed both hands atop it. Buck, who so recently had thought Tsion looked younger than his forty-six years, now saw him weary and spent, grief etching his face. His words came slowly, haltingly, through quivering lips.
“My dear brothers and sisters in Christ,” he said in his thick, Israeli accent, “I am deeply honored and moved. I am grateful to God for his provision and blessing to me in bringing young Cameron to find me and save my life. We must pray for our brothers, Michael and his three friends, whom I believe are among the 144,000 witnesses God is raising up around the world from the tribes of Israel. We must also pray for our brother Anis, whom Cameron has told you about. He was used of God to deliver us. I know nothing more about him, except that should it come out that he could have detained me, he too may be a martyr before we know it.
“Devastated as I am over my own personal loss, I see the clear hand of God Almighty in guiding my steps. It was as if my blessed homeland were a saltshaker in his hand, and he upended it and shook me out across the desert and into the air. I landed right where he wants me. Where else can I go?
“I need no time to think about it. I have already prayed about it. I am where God wants me to be, and I will be here for as long as he wishes. I do not like to live in hiding, but neither am I a reckless man. I will gratefully accept your offer of shelter and provisions, and I look forward to all the Bible software Cameron has promised to put on the new computer. If you and your technical adviser, young Mr. Moore, can devise a way to multiply my ministry, I would be thankful. Clearly, my days of international travel and speaking are over. I look forward to sitting with fellow believers in your church tomorrow morning and hearing more about your wonderful mentor, my predecessor, Bruce Barnes.
“I cannot and will not promise to replace him in your hearts. Who can replace one’s spiritual father? But as God has blessed me with a mind that understands many languages, with a heart that seeks after him and always has, and with the truth he has imparted to me and which I discovered and accepted and received only a little too late, I will dedicate the rest of my life to sharing with you and anyone else who will hear it the Good News of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Messiah, the Savior, my Messiah, and my Savior.”
Tsion seemed to collapse into his chair, and, as one, Rayford and the rest of the Tribulation Force turned and knelt before theirs.
Buck felt the presence of God as clearly as he had during his escapade in Israel and Egypt. He realized his God was not limited by space and time. Later, when he and Chloe went up to bed, leaving Rayford alone in the dining room to put the final touches on his memorial service message, they prayed that Verna Zee would follow through on her promise to attend. “She’s the key,” Buck said. “Chloe, if she gets spooked and says anything to anybody about me, our lives will never be the same.”
“Buck, our lives haven’t been the same from one day to the next for almost two years.”
Buck gathered her in, and she nestled against his chest. Buck felt her relax and heard her deep, even breathing as she fell asleep minutes later.
He lay awake another hour, staring at the ceiling.
Buck awoke at eight in an empty bed. He smelled breakfast. Loretta would have already been at church. He knew Chloe and Amanda had bonded and frequently worked together, but he was surprised to find Tsion also putzing around in the kitchen. “We will add a little Middle Eastern flavor to our morning repast, no?” he asked.
“Sounds good to me, brother,” Buck said. “Loretta will be back to pick you up at about nine. Amanda, Chloe, and I will head over as soon as we’re finished with breakfast.”
Buck knew there would be a crowd that morning, but he didn’t expect the parking lots to be full and the streets lined with cars for blocks. If Loretta hadn’t had a reserved spot, she might have done better to leave her car at home and walk to the church with Tsion. As it was, she told Buck later, she had to wave someone out of her spot when she got back with him.
It didn’t make sense for Tsion to be seen with Buck at church. Buck sat with Chloe and Amanda. Loretta sat near the back with Tsion. Loretta, Buck, Chloe, and Amanda kept an eye out for Verna.
Rayford would not have known Verna if she was standing in front of him. He was occupied with his own thoughts and responsibilities that morning. Fifty minutes before the service he signaled the funeral director to move the casket into the sanctuary and open it.
Rayford was in Bruce’s office when the funeral director hurried back to him. “Sir, are you sure you still want me to do that? The sanctuary is full to overflowing already.”
Rayford didn’t doubt him but followed him to look for himself. He peeked through the platform door. It would have been inappropriate to open the casket in front of all those people. Had Bruce’s body been on display, waiting for them when they arrived, that would have been one thing. “Just wheel the closed coffin out there,” Rayford said. “We’ll schedule a viewing later.”
As Rayford headed back to the office, he and the funeral director came upon the casket and the attendants in an otherwise empty corridor that led to the platform. Rayford was overcome with a sudden urge. “Could you open it just for me, briefly?”
“Certainly, sir, if you would avert your eyes a moment.”
Rayford turned his back and heard the lid open and the movement of material.
“All right, sir,” the director said.
Bruce looked less alive and even more like the shell Rayford knew this body to be than he had under the shroud outside the demolished hospital where Rayford had found him. Whether it was the lighting, the passage of time, or his own grief and fatigue, Rayford did not know. This, he knew, was merely the earthly house of his dear friend. Bruce was gone. The likeness that lay here was just a reflection of the man he once was. Rayford thanked the director and headed back to the office.
He was glad he had taken that last look. It wasn’t that he needed closure, as so many said of such a viewing. He had simply feared that the shock of Bruce appearing so lifeless at a corporate viewing might render him speechless. But it didn’t now. He was nervous, yet he felt more confidence than ever about representing Bruce and representing God to these people.
The lump in Buck’s throat began the moment he entered the sanctuary and saw the crowd. The number didn’t surprise him, but how early they had assembled did. Also, there was not the usual murmuring as at a normal Sunday morning service. No one here seemed even to whisper. The silence was eerie, and anyone could have interpreted it as a tribute to Bruce. People wept, but no one sobbed. At least not yet. They simply sat, most with heads bowed, some reading the brief program that included Bruce’s vital statistics. Buck was amazed by the verse someone, probably Loretta, ran along the bottom of the back page of the program. It read simply, “I know that my Redeemer lives.”
Buck felt Chloe shudder and knew she was near tears. He put his arm around her shoulder and his hand brushed Amanda just beyond her. Amanda turned, and Buck saw her tears. He put a hand on her shoulder, and there they sat in their silent grief.
At precisely ten o’clock, just the way (Buck thought) a pilot would do it, Rayford and one other elder emerged from the door at the side of the platform. Rayford sat while the other man stepped to the pulpit and motioned that all should rise. He led the congregation in two hymns sung so slowly and quietly and with such meaning that Buck could barely get the words out. When the songs had concluded, the elder said, “That is the extent of our preliminary service. There will be no offering today. There will be no announcements today. All meetings will resume next Sunday, as scheduled. This memorial service is in memory of our dear departed pastor, Bruce Barnes.”
He proceeded to tell when and where Bruce was born and when and where he died. “He was preceded by his wife, a daughter, and two sons, who were raptured with the church. Our speaker this morning is Elder Rayford Steele, a member of this congregation since just after the Rapture. He was a friend and confidant of Bruce. He will deliver the eulogy and a brief message. You may come back at 4:00 p.m. for a viewing if you wish.”
Rayford felt as if he were floating in another dimension. He had heard his name and knew well what they were about that morning. Was this a mental defense mechanism? Was God allowing him to set aside his grief and his emotions so he could speak clearly? That was all he could imagine. Were his emotions to overcome him, there would be no way he could speak.
He thanked the other elder and opened his notes. “Members and friends of New Hope Village Church,” he began, “and relatives and friends of Bruce Barnes, I greet you today in the matchless name of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior.
“If there is one thing I have learned out there in the world, it is that a speaker should never apologize for himself. Allow me to break that rule first and get it out of the way, because I know that despite how close Bruce and I were, this is not about me. In fact, Bruce would tell you, it’s not about him either. It’s about Jesus.
“I need to tell you that I’m up here this morning not as an elder, not as a parishioner, and certainly not as a preacher. Speaking is not my gift. No one has even suggested that I might replace Bruce here. I am here because I loved him and because in many ways—primarily because he left a treasure trove of notes behind—I am able in a small way to speak for him.”
Buck held Chloe close, as much for his own comfort as for hers. He felt for Rayford. This had to be so hard. He was impressed with Rayford’s ability to be articulate in this situation. He himself would have been blubbering, he knew.
Rayford was saying, “I want to tell you how I first met Bruce, because I know that many of you met him in much the same way. We were at the point of the greatest need in our lives, and Bruce had beat us to it by only a few hours.”
Buck heard the story he had heard so many times before, of Rayford’s having been warned by his wife that the Rapture was coming. When he and Chloe had been left behind and Irene and Raymie had been taken, at the end of himself he had sought out the church where she had heard the message. Bruce Barnes had been the only person left on the staff, and Bruce knew exactly why. He became, in an instant, an unabashed convert and evangelist. Bruce had pleaded with Rayford and Chloe to hear his own testimony of losing his wife and three young children in the middle of the night. Rayford had been ready. Chloe had been skeptical. It would be a while before she came around.
Bruce had provided them with a copy of a DVD his senior pastor had left behind for just this purpose. Rayford had been amazed that the pastor could have known in advance what he would be going through. He had explained from the Bible that all this had been predicted and then had been careful to explain the way of salvation. Rayford now took the time, as he had on so many occasions in Sunday school classes and testimony meetings, to go through that same simple plan.
Buck never ceased to be moved by what Bruce had always called “the old, old story.” Rayford said, “This has been the most misunderstood message of the ages. Had you asked people on the street five minutes before the Rapture what Christians taught about God and heaven, nine in ten would have told you that
the church expected them to live a good life, to do the best they could, to think of others, to be kind, to live in peace. It sounded so good, and yet it was so wrong. How far from the mark!
“The Bible is clear that all our righteousnesses are like filthy rags. There is none righteous, no not one. We have turned, every one, to his own way. All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. In the economy of God, we are all worthy only of the punishment of death.
“I would be remiss and would fail you most miserably if we got to the end of a memorial service for a man with the evangelistic heart of Bruce Barnes and did not tell you what he told me and everyone else he came in contact with during the last nearly two years of his life on this earth. Jesus has already paid the penalty. The work has been done. Are we to live good lives? Are we to do the best we can? Are we to think of others and live in peace? Of course! But to earn our salvation? Scripture is clear that we are saved by grace through faith, and that not of ourselves; not of works, lest anyone should boast. We live our lives in as righteous a manner as we can in thankful response to that priceless gift of God, our salvation, freely paid for on the cross by Christ himself.
“That is what Bruce Barnes would tell you this morning, were he still housed in the shell that lies in the box before you. Anyone who knew him knows that this message became his life. He was devastated at the loss of his family and in grief over the sin in his life and his ultimate failure to have made the transaction with God he knew was necessary to assure him of eternal life.
“But he did not wallow in self-pity. He quickly became a student of the Scriptures and a teller of the Good News. This pulpit could not contain him. He started house churches all over America and then began speaking throughout the world. Yes, he was usually here on Sundays, because he believed his flock was his primary responsibility. But you and I, all of us, let him travel because we knew that here was a man of whom the world was not worthy.”
