Solomon's Porch (43 page)

“I’m just trying to maintain, Tim,” Kenny responded. “This scene is beyond any conceivable fantasy. Peter must be scared out of his mind.”

“I know I am,” Larry admitted.

“What about him?” Enrique Vargas asked, discreetly gesturing toward Malik. “He doesn’t seem a bit rattled. If I’d been given a division of Maliks, I’m sure I could have conquered the world.”

“Malik is on patrol, General,” Gail quietly explained. “He’s on the lookout for any uninvited guests. He and Peter have some signal worked out if the nasties get too thick in here.”

“ … but before I bring in our panel,” Doris Spence continued as she stood, pivoted, and gestured to her left, “let me introduce Mr. Carson’s closest associates to our audience. Anyone watching the broadcast on the nineteenth already has a good sketch of each of their backgrounds.”

“From left to right seated directly in front of me is … ”

As Doris Spence recited each disciple’s name, Malik was busy surveying the room. His sudden head movements and wide eyes indicated the proximity of unseen activity.

“Talk to me,” Tim Austin whispered to Malik, as he also smiled and nodded in response to Doris Spence’s introduction of him.

“Bout twenty or so really ugly sons of b**** , sorry, demon things flittin’ ‘round, but they stayin’ way back, Mr. Tim. They scart or somethin’. I can feel the rotten beasties fear. It’s like they don’t want to be here, but somethin’ is makin’ ‘em be.”

“Satan?” Tim asked.

“Be my guess, brother. Ain’t no sign of him yet, thank you Jesus.”

“Keep watching, Malik.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Tim. I got Mr. Pete’s back. No way I’m lettin’ these fiends spoil this party.”

“ … and Miss Gail McCorkle, formerly of the United States Bureau of Prisons,” Doris Spence said, as she finished and deftly handed back the narration duties to Dave Martz.

“The first member of our panel is the President of the United States, Mr. … ”

“Mr. Tim, theys gettin’ all twitchy ‘bout somethin’. Can’t tell if it’s a general type of thing or if they mean to start up some nonsense in here.”

“Keep alert, Malik. And pray.”

“Been doin’ that, bro. Non-stop.”

“ … Cardinal Thomas Reardon of Boston, Massachusetts, Mr. Sam Harwell, entrepreneur and owner of Harsoft, the Reverend Thomas Peterson of the Cathedral of Christ Church in Oklahoma City, Rabbi David Rosefielde of the … ”

“Kind of weird how he’s doing the intros, don’t you think?” Kenny observed.

“How so?” Larry asked.

“It’s like Martz is giving the starting lineup at a basketball game. For gosh sakes, I would … ”

“Ssh!” Gail said, leaning over toward Kenny’s chair. “They might be able to hear you up there.”

“Sorry,” Kenny mouthed.

“ … United Nations Secretary General Carlos Benes from Brazil, Dr. Carl Fuchs, most recently from Princeton University, Dr. Howard Simms of Harvard, and Mr. Roger Stone of Madison, Wisconsin.”

The panelists took their assigned seats as their names were announced. They appeared to be calm and poised, although Peterson was noticeably more intense than the rest with his disapproving scowl and pages of notes. The only exception to the common demeanor was Roger Stone, who took his seat with a huge smile on his face and an almost carefree countenance. He appeared neither worried nor tense, but rather joyous as if he had been invited to a friend’s birthday party or a wedding.

The President saw both the humor and the significance in Roger Stone’s well-worn polyester suit, his ten-year-old necktie, and oversized turtle shell glasses. While the rest of the panelists either glared at or ignored him, the President reached over and shook Mr. Stone’s hand and wished him well.

Alex took over for the final introduction.

“And now it is my great honor and pleasure to present to you my friend, Mr. Peter Carson of Atlanta, Georgia.”

“Lord have mercy,” Peter prayed. He slowly walked out to the conference table and sat down.

“He’s doing it again,” Gail observed.

“Do you think it comes through on camera?” Kenny wondered.

“Hey, Chuck,” the stage director barked into his headset. “We got a problem with camera three? Carson looks like he’s glowing or something. What’s all that residual shine?”

“Copy that,” the studio chief acknowledged. “No malfunction. We were told by Martz to expect it. Same thing happened at Parkersboro.”

“Mr. Carson,” Doris Spence began, arranging her notes and laptop computer in front of her, “in order to give some initial structure to our discussion each panelist will be allotted five minutes to ask you whatever he wishes. After that time, there will be no order of engagement; good manners and respect will be our only guide.”

“As you know, we have no preset time limit for our discussion. We shall continue on until you or the panel decides to conclude.”

“Lots were drawn. First up is the Reverend Thomas Peterson of Oklahoma City. Reverend Peterson.”

“My Lord in Heaven,” Kenny complained very softly. “Why him?”

“Ssh!” Gail admonished. “I don’t want to miss a word.”

Thomas J. Peterson, all two hundred and seventy-five self-righteous pounds of him, was primed and ready to pounce. Blinded to the simple truth of God’s plan by his pride and arrogance, he had become like those misguided Jews Christ described in the Gospel of John who believed they were “offering God a service” by persecuting Christians.

“Mr. Carson, sir,” Peterson began in his puffed up and pretentious preacher’s drone, “I want to acknowledge how impressed I am by your tactics. You have considerable skills, Mr. Carson, but let it be known that Thomas Peterson believes you to be a fraud and an imposter. I find you and your friends neither to be righteous men nor worthy of the acclaim being so hastily heaped upon you without just cause.”

“May Christ bless you, sir,” Peter responded matter-of-factly, clearly unshaken by Peterson’s rude assault. “It is unfortunate that you have such a low opinion of myself and my friends. I hope that it will not always be so.”

“Yes, well.” Peterson was caught unawares by Peter’s coolness under fire. “Be that as it may, sir, I have questions for you.”

“Please, Reverend. I am your servant.”

“What denomination are you, sir?”

“I was baptized as an Orthodox. Recently I have reestablished a connection with this church, but I do not consider myself to be a member of any one denomination.”

“An Orthodox. Does your church claim you, sir?”

“By that I assume you’re asking if an Orthodox hierarchy has declared a miracle or endorsed our efforts in some official capacity. I don’t believe so and it’s not important. Denominations and schisms are contrary to God’s plan. Seeking validation from factions is irrelevant.”

“See, there you go, Mr. Carson. You just insulted millions of Baptists in my denomination. We are not in any way ‘contrary to God’s plan,’ we are God fearing followers of Christ Jesus, sir. Humility does not appear to be among your spiritual gifts, Mr. Carson.”

“Reverend Peterson,” Peter said calmly, trying not to allow himself to get caught up in a useless debate. “I did not say that your members were not Christians, nor did I say or imply that Baptists were not God fearing people. So are many Roman Catholics, Episcopalians, Methodists, Coptics, and so on.

“What I said was the division of Christ’s church since
1054
into denominations has been counterproductive and has served only the goals of our enemy. We must return to the basic faith, Reverend, and ground ourselves in the Gospel and in Christ’s love. I believe if we fail to do that we, we being humanity, may not survive.”

“And who is to lead this new church of yours, Mr. Carson?” Peterson needled sarcastically. “You? An ex-con, a thief, an admitted liar, and embezzler? Do you realize how greatly you have insulted the religious hierarchy of all denominations, Mr. Carson? You and your mind tricks, your illusions. I’m not buying what you are selling, sir.”

No, and you probably never will,
Peter thought to himself.
Satan has prostituted you, used your passions to cheat you out of your heritage.
The Reverend Thomas J. Peterson was a fool trapped in his own ego and rhetoric. His prayers were blocked by his pride and the hardness of his heart. Peter felt bad for the man, pitied him more than anything.

“I’m selling nothing, Reverend Peterson. I’m sharing with you and the world what the Lord has revealed to me. I seek neither fame nor glory nor money. If left to my own devices I would gladly disappear and leave the earth to you, but I cannot do that. I must be obedient to the Lord.”

“Two minutes, Reverend Peterson.” Doris Spence was acting as the official timekeeper.

“Very well, let’s move on. My ‘misguided denomination’ would like to know, Mr. Carson, is the Bible the literal word of God?”

Peter shook his head. Here comes the “born-again” litmus test. Such silliness. It was going to be a long night if the bellicose Reverend managed to dominate the agenda. Peter vowed to himself not to let that happen.

“If by saying that, Reverend, you mean to imply that every word or story in the Bible should be taken as being literal truth, as an inerrant recitation of historical fact, then no. However, the Bible is the word of God, His spiritual truth. It is our guide and our history and a most beautiful collaboration between God and man.”

“That’s what I thought. You mock the word of God, Mr. Carson. I’m not surprised, no, not at all. If I may, sir … ”

“Do you know where this whole concept of Biblical inerrancy began, Reverend Peterson?” Peter was not trying to argue, but rather to educate the billions in the viewing audience.

“It has forever been so, Mr. Carson. True believers have always defended the faith and the Scriptures. I, for one, find … ”

“The whole idea of Biblical inerrancy came about as a response to the Roman Catholic assertion that the Pope was infallible. Protestantism elevated the Bible to perfection to counter the Bishop of Rome’s claims. Of course, neither the Protestants nor the Romans were right, and neither really cared about what God had to say on these subjects. Those men, like you, Reverend, were more interested in worldly power than in discerning the mind and will of God.”

“Now hold on there, Mister Carson. Do not begin to believe that you can lecture to me on Biblical matters. I have been to seminary, taught at the finest univer … ”

“The doctrine of Biblical inerrancy is directly related to the misguided notion that a person can be saved through faith alone; the idea that if one claims Christ as his Lord and Savior, then, regardless of his works, he will have eternal life with Him. This is not so and is in fact directly contrary to the Master’s and the Apostle’s teachings.”

“Please, Mr. Carson. It’s my time to ask questions. That you deny the most basic tenets of Protestant Christianity is a given. But rather than get into this, I’d much … ”

“Read your Bible, Reverend. Matthew sixteen verse twenty-seven, Mark thirteen verse thirteen, Second Corinthians five verse ten, Revelations twenty verse twelve, Hebrews ten verse twenty-nine. You must live out your faith through your deeds in order to be saved.”

“I can see that you have no interest in answering my questions, Mr. Carson. What are you afraid of? Scared I’ll penetrate your flimsy fraud, expose your tricks?”

“Do you see how far we’ve come from the center, from Christ? You are jealous and worried about my status, my glory. You’re embarrassed and angry that someone dares challenge your religious authority.

“Instead of being smug, Reverend, why don’t you help? Work on your love, strive for His glory. The glory of God is not some sporting event or economic competition. It’s about serving others, Reverend, it’s about love, it’s about Him.”

“Why, you impudent a**! My ministry feeds thousands of needy people daily, helps to educate and clothe the poor in over thirty countries. While you were out stealing, sir, I was, and still am, healing. You are … ”

“Reverend. I acknowledge your good works. They are considerable. Why then do you negate them by insisting on preaching a Gospel of exclusion rather than inclusion? The Master lived and died and rose again for all of us, Reverend, for the Jew, the Muslim, the Christian, even the atheist. God became man to bring true love into the world, not to win elections or to build personal fortunes.”

“When this restriction farce is over, Carson, I will be the first person to … ”

“Your time is up, Reverend.” Doris Spence deadpanned like she was announcing the door prize winner at a charity bake sale.

“Yuk,” Gail whispered.

“Double yuk. That man is a giant heap of slime,” Kenny added.

“He’s got friends too, Mr. Kenny. The nasty things seem to like him,” Malik said. “Not a good sign.”

Doris Spence announced, “Cardinal Reardon, you’re next up, your Eminence.”

In contrast to Reverend Peterson, Cardinal T. Farrell Reardon was anything but pretentious or antagonistic. He wore a simple priest’s frock with a Roman collar, not his Bishop’s robes. He had no desire to flaunt his status in the Catholic hierarchy. Reardon’s gentleness directly contrasted Peterson’s harshness.

“Peter, God bless you, son. How are you doing?”