“Sovereign Lord, we ask you to send your ministering angels to encourage Mark right now,” Mr. Stein prayed. “Prepare him for whatever you have planned.”
After they had prayed, Sam took Lionel to meet his friend Lev Taubman and his mother. They had become believers shortly after family members had died in a rebellion.
“Lev has been in touch with some friends in Jerusalem,” Sam said.
“Believers?” Lionel said.
Lev shook his head. “But they have not taken the mark of Carpathia. They say they are going to fight with rebel forces against Carpathia. They want to save Jerusalem.”
“That’ll be like a peewee football team trying to win against an NFL team,” Lionel said.
“What?” Sam said.
“They’re going to lose the battle, and they’ll probably all be killed.”
“I know that,” Sam said. “But Lev and I think we might be able to reach some of them for God. We want to go to Jerusalem before the big battle and tell them the truth.”
After hearing their plan, Lionel thought he should tell Judd and Vicki about this new development.
Mark sat alone in the darkness and waited. He could have played the interrogation a little better and made them think he was giving them solid information, but he was tired of playing.
His cell was down the hall and around the corner from the other prisoners. He felt something crawling on him and stood and flailed his arms. He settled on the cot and pulled a lone blanket around his shoulders.
Through the hall came singing, but Mark couldn’t make out the words. Then another voice joined in and another. There had to be at least half a dozen people singing now.
Mark put his ear to the door. He heard the word Jesus in the song, slid to the floor, and closed his eyes. He thought of little Ryan, the Fogartys’ son. How many times had Mark helped put him down for a nap singing “Jesus Loves Me”? That was one of Ryan’s favorites, and he always asked Mark to sing it again and again.
A soft glow filled the room, and Mark greeted the angel. The being looked at him kindly and sat. Mark couldn’t believe he was so comfortable with this heavenly visitor.
“What was that singing?” Mark said.
“I was teaching your friends a new song,” the angel said.
“Were they scared of you?”
“No. And they learned the words quickly.”
“What about the unbelievers? They must have been afraid.”
The angel smiled. “They managed to fall into a deep sleep.”
“That happens a lot with you, doesn’t it?” Mark said. “Those guards on the bus did the same thing when you came around.”
The angel smiled again.
“What song did you teach them?”
The angel closed his eyes and began singing in a low, pleasing voice.
“What can wash away my sin?
Nothing but the blood of Jesus;
What can make me whole again?
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.
Oh! precious is the flow
That makes me white as snow;
No other fount I know,
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.”
“That’s good. You should get a band together and go on the road.”
“We lift our voices in praise every day, but I must say, the words of the hymn writers are unique.”
“What do you mean?” Mark said.
“Humans write about redemption, salvation, the power in the blood of Jesus. We angels know nothing about such things, other than what we observe. We cannot be ‘saved,’ as you would call it. We had one chance to follow or rebel and that was it.”
“You mean when Satan was cast out of heaven?” Mark said.
“Correct. One third of the host of heaven followed Lucifer, and the others remained faithful to the Almighty. But all humans have fallen. All of them have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.”
“I guess I’ve never really thought about it that way. So why did we get a second chance and you didn’t?”
The angel took a breath, as if he were smelling a sweet flower for the first time. “The grace of God,” he whispered. “We look at it and are encouraged. We see it at work and are in awe of the plan of the Lord. He became one of you, a kinsman redeemer—a person who was in every way like you, except that this person was without sin. Jesus, who was God, became human. … I was there, you know.”
“Where?”
“Bethlehem, on the hills overlooking the town. You should have seen those shepherds when we started singing.” The angel paused. “But I tell you too much.”
“No, please don’t stop,” Mark said.
The angel put his hands on his knees. “We didn’t know what to think, the Son of God coming to earth as a helpless baby. That he would submit to such a life, then give himself as a sacrifice on Golgotha.” The angel shuddered. “Such an ugly death.”
“You were there?”
“The Son could have called on us at any moment, and we would have taken him from that place.” He held out a fist. “We would have struck down those Romans like toy soldiers. But he didn’t call on us. He took the shame and the beatings and the nails.” He shook his head. “How can you understand? How can any being comprehend such love?”
Mark bit his lip. “Can you teach me the song? I went to church, but I don’t really remember it.”
The angel spoke the words again, then picked up the melody and Mark sang along. When he heard the words, Mark found he could memorize them immediately. Tears rimmed his eyes as he reached the next verse.
“Now by this I’ll overcome—
Nothing but the blood of Jesus;
Now by this I’ll reach my home—
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.
Oh! precious is the flow
That makes me white as snow;
No other fount I know,
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.”
Footsteps approached and the angel stood, his nostrils flaring.
“Is this it?” Mark said.
“I’m not sure. From what I can tell, there may be one more test of your will. But stand strong, my friend. You are a child of the King, and you will soon be home.”
The door opened and Mark scooted to avoid it.
Deputy Commander Lockerbie walked through with another guard. “This way, Eisman.”
They led Mark through a series of hallways. He had no idea what time it was, but when the deputy commander took him outside, the cool, brisk air hit him in the face and Mark breathed deeply. The moon shone brightly in the cloudless sky.
Across the courtyard was a row of wooden tables, dwarfed by several guillotines. Mark had seen this setup on live feeds from GC prisons around the world. Some of the highest rated programs on television were rebel executions. Mark hadn’t watched many of these, but the ones he had seen had turned his stomach.
In spite of the cool weather, flies buzzed around them. The smell was overpowering. Several huge trash bins stood alongside the main building.
The deputy commander excused the guard and turned to Mark. “This is where it happens. Unless you cooperate, tomorrow you’ll be out here.”
“This is where I’ll wind up no matter what I say and you know it.”
“Not necessarily. You give us information on pilots, supply routes, locations of hiding places, information like that, and we’ll make things easier.” Lockerbie had a kind face, not unlike Mark’s cousin John. In fact, the two looked remarkably alike. “We have information that your group has been in contact with the mole inside the palace in New Babylon. Do you know anything about that?”
“Look, I can help in a lot of ways, but if the palace has a mole, I’d suggest you get an exterminator or a trap. I don’t know much about catching small animals.”
“Not that kind of mole. You know what I’m talking about.”
“You get nothing from me,” Mark said.
The deputy commander turned Mark around and keys jangled. Soon M
ark’s hands were free. He rubbed his wrists to get the circulation going again. “Why’d you do that?”
Lockerbie sighed. “Not all of us in here are the monsters you think we are. We do have some compassion.”
“You mean like a nice meal before you slice my neck?”
“No, I can see that you live. Simply take the mark and we’ll put you in a cell of your own. After this all dies down you can be moved and have more privileges. I’ll even find a Bible for you.”
“Right, like I really believe you’re going to come through on all that.”
Lockerbie dug into his pocket and frowned. “They would have my head if they knew I was doing this, but I had a younger brother. He was killed in the outbreak of poison gas. You remind me of him.” He handed Mark a cell phone. “I’m going to let you stay out here for a while. You won’t be able to run. There’s razor wire all around, and the guards are armed. But think about your life and what it’s worth. Call someone you know, someone who cares for you. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Mark took the phone and studied it as the deputy commander slipped inside. What an obvious trick! The GC wants me to call my friends—any number they can trace. The phone might even have a bug in it so they can listen.
Mark ambled over to a wooden table and glanced at a guard high in a tower. The ground was wet with dew. He sat on the table and studied a guillotine. The contraption disgusted him and he turned away.
Who could he call? No way was he going to dial Conrad, Shelly, or the others. He also didn’t want to call Petra. Though he longed to talk with Judd, Lionel, or Vicki, he didn’t want to mess up and have them give information the GC wanted.
Then he got an idea. A truly inspired idea.
The angel will like this one, Mark thought.
Lionel hit the Record button while he watched the latest news from the United North American States. He had asked Naomi to get Judd and Vicki.
An anchorwoman named April Wojekowski held one hand to her ear as she searched for words. “I’m told that you’re one of the rebels captured by Commander Fulcire in last night’s raid, is that correct?”
“You got that right,” a young man said.
The voice sounded familiar. Could it be Mark?
“That commander is a tough bird. He’s been asking me lots of questions, and I’ve been giving him lots of answers.”
It is Mark!
“Is that so?” Wojekowski said.
“Yeah, they gave me one phone call, and I thought I’d make it to the media so you could have the story.”
“And what story is that?”
“I was part of a group called the Young Tribulation Force that started an underground Web site. We wanted people to know about the Global Community because we thought it was bad. Now, after talking with Commander Fulcire and the others here, I know the truth.”
“So the commander has set you straight?”
“Right.”
Lionel’s heart sank. Was Mark giving the GC information? Had they somehow brainwashed him? Judd and Vicki ran in and Lionel put a finger to his lips. “Mark’s on the phone with GCNN.”
Mark had slowly moved behind the huge trash bins, being careful the guard in the tower didn’t notice him. He hid, choking at the awful smell, hoping this would be the last place anyone would look.
He had gotten the GCNN phone number from the directory of the deputy commander’s cell phone. He hadn’t expected to actually get on the air, but when it happened he prayed God would keep him calm.
“What have you told Commander Fulcire that you’d like to share with us?” Wojekowski said.
The door to the courtyard banged open, and several guards poured out.
Mark held the phone close, took a deep breath, and spoke softly. “Actually, I haven’t even shared this with the commander, so you’ll be the first to know.” He imagined the woman looking into the camera and sitting a little taller in her chair. “To all those who have read our Web site, or who were interested in knowing why the disappearances happened, or why we’ve had all these natural disasters, like the darkness in New Babylon, I’d like to point them to Dr. Tsion Ben-Judah’s Web site.” Mark gave the address quickly before the woman cut him off.
“So the commander hasn’t really changed your mind about being against Potentate Carpathia?”
Footsteps getting closer. Voices yelling.
“Being in here and seeing how they treat prisoners makes me all the more determined to live my last breath for Jesus Christ,” Mark said.
“Behind the garbage bins!” a guard shouted.
“Judd, Vicki, Lionel, Conrad—and anybody who’s listening—I’m not alone in here! I’m all right. And I’ll see you on the other side!”
The phone clicked and Mark wondered if his friends had heard his last few words.
Someone shoved a gun barrel into Mark’s back and he stood. Deputy Commander Lockerbie snatched the phone away and led him back to his cell.
26
THE NEXT few minutes were agony for Judd and the others watching from Petra. Judd put himself in Mark’s place and pictured the GC leading him straight to the guillotine.
It was Vicki’s idea to pray, and Naomi Tiberius ran for her father, an elder at Petra. She returned with him and Chaim Rosenzweig.
“Dear ones,” Chaim said softly, “let us join together.”
For the next hour the group gave thanks to God for Mark—for all the things he had done to help people come to know Jesus and for the good friend he had been.
“Father, we ask that you give special comfort and strength to Mark right now,” Chaim prayed. “Stir his heart and give him a peace that passes all understanding.”
When Eleazar Tiberius spoke, his voice boomed in the tech center, and many of the workers stopped what they were doing and gathered around. Judd didn’t even know most of them, but he could tell they sensed one of their brothers was in trouble.
“Sovereign Lord, we knew when this period of Tribulation began that many would die for your sake,” Mr. Tiberius prayed. “And though we would ask for a miracle, it may be your will that Mark passes through this fire rather than being taken out of it. So I ask you to bring to his mind what the psalmist said: ‘Lord, give to me your unfailing love, the salvation that you promised me. Then I will have an answer for those who taunt me, for I trust in your word. Do not snatch your word of truth from me, for my only hope is in your laws.’ ”
Vicki wept as she prayed. “Father, you know how much Mark and I disagreed, but I never doubted that he wanted to follow you as much as anyone. Whatever’s happening to him right now, help him remember all of his friends and how much we love him.”
“Yes, Father,” Chang prayed. “Because of you and your love, none of us is ever alone. We thank you for friendships and the chance to join in the sufferings of our brother Mark. If we could take his place, we would do that, but you have called him to face this final task and you would not choose someone who would fail you. We give you thanks and pray you would hold Mark up even now.”
Mark came back to consciousness, not knowing how long he had been in his darkened cell. He groped his way across the floor until he reached the cot. He felt his head and found a lump the size of a Ping-Pong ball. His back ached, and he wondered how many guards had joined in the capture.
He wished his angel friend would return. He would have to ask his name this time. How good of God to send a final companion.
Verses flooded Mark’s mind, especially from the Psalms. Then he recalled Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane and his prayer to God to ‘take this cup of suffering away from me.’ Jesus’ mental anguish had been so intense that the Bible said he had sweat great drops of blood. Suddenly Mark could understand that a little better.
“God, thanks for letting me go through this. I wouldn’t have chosen it, but if this is what you want me to do, I want to be faithful.”
Mark thought of Jesus’ crucifixion. He had been tortured and killed. Dying on the cross took hours of
agony. Mark’s would be over in seconds—at least that’s what he hoped.
“What are you thinking, my friend?” someone said.
Mark looked up. It was the angel, standing in a corner, shining with a heavenly light. “You mean you can’t read my mind?” Mark said.
“Only the Almighty can see into your heart. We can only guess.”
“I’m just trying to think straight,” Mark said. “Could I ask your name?”
“You may call me Caleb.”
“Have you done this many times?”
Caleb nodded. “There have been more in the past few months than ever.”
“Does anybody … I mean, when it comes time to … you know …”
“God’s people have always acted with great courage. Some weep at the end, others sing, and some quote Scripture. It is different every time, and yet there are remarkable similarities.”
“Like what?”
“The looks on their faces. The hope that shines through. Those who are doing the killing look like shells, but the ones being executed are truly alive. It happened that way recently with Chloe Williams. She was able to speak of the living Christ before her death.”
“You visited Chloe?”
Caleb put a hand over his chest. “Her heart was breaking over leaving her husband and son, but she expressed her desire to be with Jesus.”
“Will you do the same thing you did in the courtyard when Chloe was executed? You know, the bright shimmering thing we saw on TV?”
Caleb smiled. “Each event is different. If there is need for me to be there and speak, I will.” He tilted his head slightly to the left and gazed at Mark. “Thus says the Son of the most high God: ‘I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me, though he may die, yet shall he live. And whoever lives and believes in Me shall never die.’ Be comforted by these words.”
Mark raised his eyebrows. “Thank you. I hope I won’t let you down.”
The angel stepped closer. “I know you won’t because you are one of his.”
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