Solomon's Porch (46 page)

It was at this point that the blessed claim they were “transported” to Galilee. Although unable to articulate how they knew, they were all sure both of their new location and also that several days had passed since the crucifixion.

The Man who had been nailed to the middle cross was now standing by the shore of a lake. He was no longer bloody and beaten, but whole and fresh. Perhaps fifty or so men and women were gathered around Him. They were listening to the words of the risen Christ and sharing a meal with Him.

After a bright bluish flash the vision shifted to a battlefield, but not an earthly one. On alien plains with stark charcoal landscapes, vast hordes of hideous creatures were attacking other angelic beings that emitted an almost blinding white light.

None of the bright creatures had fallen, but thousands upon thousands of dismembered demon carcasses lay strewn in vast, grotesque heaps on the grey soil.

The blessed said the battlefield had an overpowering odor of sulfur, as if millions of paper matches had been struck all at once. The atmosphere was dense and charged, as much electric as it was gaseous. The demon creatures shrieked as the beings of light annihilated them, making high pitched wailing sounds like the cries of young animals being butchered.

One at a time or in groups the demons attacked, again and again, but the results were always the same. It was a slaughter. The outcome of the battle was never in doubt.

The carnage suddenly stopped when a bolt of energy, something like lightning but far more powerful, fell from the milky sky. When it hit the ground, the colliding stream of white plasma opened up a huge chasm. From out of nowhere hundreds of bright creatures converged on the opening and began filling it with material from the surrounding area. Literally everything within sight was pushed into the gash, demons both living and dead and all manner of debris. When they finished no trace of the battle remained, just dull grey fields covered with mist stretching into infinity.

Then another burst of blue took the blessed to a much more recent historical event. The scene was Parkersboro only a few months earlier.

Every person present in the East Room was able bodied, yet they would all later testify that during this part of the vision they were paralyzed from the waist down. Many remembered the rickety old wheelchair and its peculiar chirping squeak that announced its owner’s arrivals and departures to the inmates at the prison camp.

The blessed were able to describe Solomon’s Porch in great detail, from the rusty benches with wooden seats to the crumbling cement and gang graffiti found on its western corner. They also knew exactly who they were in this vision, a badly wounded and bitter black inmate named Alan Audry.

As Peter Carson recited the prayer of healing over Alan from the book of James chapter five, verse ten the blessed could feel a Force healing their broken body, restoring its wholeness. They experienced the euphoria of standing up and walking away from an incurable paralysis. The blessed felt Alan Audry’s gratitude to God and the satisfaction he received from the validation of his faith. Then, with a final explosion of blue, the vision ended.

The technical crew working the studio in New York measured twenty seconds of dead air time from the raising to the lowering of Gabriel’s arms. The blessed in the East Room believed that they’d been “somewhere else” for at least half an hour.

Although getting a precise count was impossible, over five million people who were watching on television also claimed to have seen the vision. It was believed that most of these claims were valid, since the vast majority of those making them were aware of details also known only by the blessed in the East Room audience.

“People? Say something. What’s going on out there?” The Executive Director had been trying for about thirty seconds to get a response from any of his moderators. Alex Anderson was the first of the three to regain his senses, so he broke the silence.

“Everyone in the East Room has become a witness to the extraordinary power of the Living God,” Alex said, without explaining exactly what he was talking about or how he knew it to be true. “Peter, I leave it to you to take it from here. I’m afraid those of us charged with the duty of managing this discussion are currently not up to the task.” Dave Martz was leaning back in his chair, eyes closed. His lips were moving, but he made no sound. Doris Spence was curled up in a ball in her seat as if she was trying to reenter the womb.

“A vision as powerful as the one we all just experienced can drain and disorient you for a while,” Peter explained. “Can we take a break? Let’s give everyone a few minutes to collect themselves.”

During the interlude Gabriel honored Peter’s request and released the Reverend Peterson. He emerged from his stasis as a humbled man and said nothing other than “thank you” as he found his chair, sat down, and started to cry.

Alex Anderson used the interim to give the world a synopsis of what had just transpired. Assuming nothing, he walked the largest audience in the history of broadcasting through the content of the vision and told the viewers that, to the best of his knowledge, all souls present in the East Room had been blessed with the same experience.

As soon as the cameras were switched off, all of the important people gathered at the White House, the political, economic and scientific leaders from around the globe were attended to by a small army of aides. While it was quickly determined that everyone was in good health and in no apparent danger, the majority of the advisors to the great men and women argued that their superiors should run, not walk, to the nearest exit. The vision and Gabriel’s continuing presence confused and frightened the counselors, but not a single invitee decided to leave, or even seriously considered doing so.

Gabriel did not move during the break, standing tall and still behind the conference table like a sentinel. He said nothing either, except to Malik Graham.

Malik was watching both the demonic activity and Gabriel very closely. He knew that Gabriel had the ability to see the spiritual world, because that was his natural plane of existence. He wanted to ask the angel what he thought about what he was seeing, to determine if his read of the situation was correct, so he approached Gabriel and spoke.

“You learn quickly, Malik. Yes, you are right, the demons do fear me. But their master does not.” Gabriel moved nothing other than his lips as he answered Malik’s question. “Make no mistake. Satan believes he is more powerful and more worthy than any other angel. He will not hesitate to strike at me if he believes he has an advantage.”

Sitting in the back of the East Room, off by himself as much as that was possible in the crowd, was Bishop Kallistos. None of what he’d seen or heard surprised him. He knew what was coming, the terrible trials that lay directly ahead, so for him this spectacular event, while vitally important, was only part of a larger plan. What was happening was a necessary step toward an inevitable confrontation, not an end into itself.

Father Gregory felt a tremendous surge of pride as he watched his nephew more than hold his own with the worldly men. His satisfaction was both as an uncle and as a clergyman. St. Paul’s prophecies made two millennia before were being fulfilled before his eyes. Bishop Kallistos thought about how pleased his brother Nicki would be to see his son so ably walk the path God had set for him and he marveled at God’s grace as expressed through the love and dedication of the Phillipi brotherhood of priests, without whom the miracle of Peter Carson and Solomon’s Porch could not have been brought to the world.

Carlos Benes was the least animated of the panelists. Somehow he remained nerveless throughout the chaos, keeping up the appearance of total confidence. He had always been very difficult to read and he used this trait to his advantage as he rose first in the Brazilian and then in the United Nations political hierarchies.

Benes publicly proclaimed himself to be a devout Catholic, but the truth was that he had harbored doubts about both God and church since childhood. As a politician, he was a dedicated, outspoken advocate for the poor and disenfranchised, a noble Christian pursuit if there ever was one. His championing of the masses had made him more than a few enemies during his illustrious career, especially among European and American conservatives, but no legitimate critic questioned either Benes’ motives or his unblemished record of integrity.

The UN Secretary General came to the panel as a skeptic, quite certain that some rational explanation for the restriction would eventually present itself. But the East Room vision changed him. Benes was deeply moved by what he saw and needed no one to validate his experience. He was completely certain that he had been touched by God.

So when the panel reconvened, Benes was more than anxious to ask Him some tough questions. Issues that had weighed heavily on his mind since Carlos was a poor boy growing up in the slums of Sao Paulo were at the forefront of his thoughts.

“Peter, I want to begin by apologizing if I seem rude. Given our situation I feel the need to be direct. Have patience with me.”

“Certainly, Mr. Benes, but please do not expect me to have all the answers that you seek.”

True to his word, Benes got right to the point. “Why does God allow the rich to dominate the poor? I have never understood this. So many in our world have so little and so few have so much. Every time I read reports of children dying of hunger and disease I think of the economic elite and wonder why God does not punish them for their greed.”

“Mr. Benes, do you believe in the doctrine of free will?” Peter asked.

“Yes.”

“Then it is not God who allows selfishness and suffering to exist as much as it is we, His creation, who are responsible. God does not force righteousness on anyone.”

“Yes, I understand. But if God is merciful and all powerful, why does He not act? Is there no limit to His patience? Will He ever provide justice on this earth for those who love Him the most?” Carlos Benes was thinking of his mother when he asked this question. Lily Benes lived her life as a pious Catholic and a virtuous woman, only to be rewarded with poverty, chronic illness, and an early grave. Benes had always resented God for letting that happen.

“Why are you so sure, Mr. Benes, that poverty and illness are always a curse? For some of us, life’s problems are a blessing. Rejection of worldly comforts and deprivation can lead a soul to seek God. My brothers and I, some of whom were prisoners, can testify to this truth.”

“That seems so unjust, Peter. Why must it be so? Didn’t the Master teach us to share, to love our fellow man? Didn’t He say that when you have mercy on the least you are showing mercy to Him?”

“Without suffering there could be no mercy. We are here to learn eternal lessons, Mr. Benes, what happens to us in this world is temporary, but also full of important spiritual meanings. Do you recall the parable of Lazarus from the Gospels? He who is last shall be first.”

“So we must accept rampant poverty, starvation, and disease? Where is the love in that, Peter? Where is God?”

“Mr. Benes, I hope and pray that one of the outcomes of the Lord’s blessing of the restriction is a new awareness by His people that God has standards and expectations of us individually and as nations. I have witnessed first hand how much it grieves God to see millions of His creation suffer everyday for lack of the basic necessities of life. I agree with you, we must not let these sad, shameful, and evil conditions continue to exist.

“So, Mr. Benes, I am anything but complacent. I say disband our war machines and bloated bureaucracies and fight evil directly on the true battlefields, the hearts and minds of all living souls. Make no mistake, Secretary General Benes, God hears the cries of every impoverished and abused man, woman, and child. Only Satan rejoices when our selfishness allows the suffering of so many. The evil one is betting that humanity will never get it right and move closer to God. I say the devil is wrong, Mr. Benes. I believe we can do better and become much more like Christ. That is why He called me to His service, to be an example of how an evil man can change and come to the Light.”

“Carlos, my wonderful son. How proud I am of you. How much I love you, my beautiful boy.” The words came from Gabriel’s mouth, but the voice was not his own.

It had been close to forty years since he’d heard his mother call out to him, but Carlos Benes could never forget his mother’s sweet, comforting voice.

“Min Ha?” It took only an instant to transform the Secretary General of the United Nations from one of the world’s most powerful men back into a vulnerable ten-year-old boy who worshipped and adored his mother above all else. “Ma’e, is that you?”

“Carlos, do not grieve for me, son. I am with the Lord, happy and at peace. Listen to His messengers, learn from them and act. I love you forever my precious Morning Star. Use your gifts and blessings for the glory of God.”

“Min Ha? Ma’e!” Benes did not have to think about what was happening, or carefully weigh all the possible alternatives before reaching a conclusion. He was positive that it was his mother who was speaking to him. Not only would it be impossible for someone to capture and exactly reproduce his mother’s voice four decades after her death, no one, not even his siblings, knew that Lily Benes called her youngest son “my precious Morning Star.”

“Your mother is free and rich and flourishing with Christ, Carlos,” Gabriel said in his own voice. “She wanted you to know that and the Lord answered her prayer.”