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Authors: Ted Dekker

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BOOK: Sinner
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“Now,” Johnny said.

Now? Alarm spread through Kat's chest. “You can't! There's the court order, you have to watch over me!”

“We'll have to speak to the judge.”

“No. Just what's this all about anyway? Kelly, you can't just up and leave your home because he says it's time! What's so important about Paradise anyway?”

“It's not Paradise,” Johnny said. “You may not realize it yet, but our lives changed when the Constitution changed.”

“What are you talking about?”she demanded.“So you can't trash another person's race or religion. You yourself said the light is best shown, not just talked about. I don't see how our lives have changed, other than you think you have to come to Paradise to face this wraith of yours.”

It was crucial he realize just how important he was in her life at this time. The thought of him abandoning her was terrifying.

“I'm not sure you understand, Kat,” Johnny said. “This change in the Constitution allows Congress to create new laws that make it a crime to express your faith in public. What may seem like a good thing on the surface opens the doors to laws that could make following the teachings of Christ a hate crime.”

What?

“Seriously? How could talking about the love of God be a hate crime?”

“Because saying that he is the only way to enter the kingdom implies that another's path is wrong. You're saying your faith is better than another's faith. They will say it's no different than a claim that black skin is better than white skin. Both will be interpreted as hate crimes.”

She understood in a single flash that sent a buzz through her skull.

“So saying, ‘Jesus is the only way, follow him,' is like calling those who don't follow him fools. An insult.”

“Yes.”

“But Jesus claimed he is the only way. The whole kingdom is based on teachings like that. Even by following him you could be judged as saying that others are fools for not following him the way he insisted the world follow him!”

“That would be an extreme interpretation, but yes, you get the point. What few Christians realize is that you can't follow Jesus without actually following his teachings—none of which include denying him with silence.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning that we are in a bind, dear Kat. There will be challenges, but any public support for the narrow teachings of Jesus will likely be deemed by the courts as a personal attack on other religions. Take my word for it.”

And then he added under his breath, “This reeks of Marsuvees Black.”

Kat's whole mindset changed. Johnny's need to make a stand in Paradise, however that looked, had nothing to do with her. Her eyes had been opened to an incredible new world two weeks ago, a reality brimming with light and truth. The realization that Jesus was who he'd claimed to be. The Light of the World. The Truth. The only Way.

She would never abandon that light!

She'd only just learned that her whole life was oppressed by a great dark lie, and now some law was going to attempt to force her back into that darkness? How could she even consider not walking in the light?

She'd read about a dog named Rutt who was so severely beaten every time he left his cage that when he was finally set free he found his way back to the cage, entered it, and died of starvation.

Unlike Rutt, she would not return to the cage, not under any circumstances.

“We can't let that happen!”Kat paced along the cliff, mindless of where her feet landed. She spun back to Johnny.

“Someone has to tell them. This is what following Jesus means, they can't make following him a hate crime.”

“Someone
is
going to tell them,” Kelly said.

Kat hardly heard her.“And what about the Muslims or the Hindus? Are they going to take this, just . . . lying down? Doesn't this affect them?”

“The clerics will scream foul, but like nominal Christians, nominal Muslims don't actually follow their faith to the letter. In the face of this tide sweeping the West, most will argue for tolerance. As will most Christians.”

“It's obscene!”Kat's voice rang out over the cliff so that a careful ear in Paradise might have wondered if they'd heard a hawk's cry. “Tolerance, yes, but tolerance for the darkness? Are we bats?”

They let the echo fade. Johnny faced Paradise. Kat recalled Kelly's last statement:
Someone is going to tell them
.

“Who's going to tell them?” she asked.

“Johnny is,” Kelly said.

“Then so am I,”Kat said, marching back to him. “I'm going to Paradise with you.”

“I really don't—”

“I don't want to hear it. You promised me, you promised the judge.”

“You're in the middle of a school term.”

“There's no school in Paradise?”

“Your mother—”

“Will agree. And don't tell me about how dangerous standing up for my faith will be. I've done it.”

They stood in silence once again, and Kat knew that the matter was settled. She suddenly felt quite emotional about going with him to stand up for all the world to see, because surely, knowing him, that's what would happen.

Johnny was this day's John the Baptist, a voice crying in the wilderness. Only this time John had himself an apprentice.

“Thank you, Johnny,” she said.

“It could get very bad, Kat. You know that.”

“No, thank you for showing me the light.” Tears welled up in her eyes.

“It's the kindest thing anyone has done for me.”

He put his hand on her right shoulder and pulled her close. Kissed the top of her head. “You're welcome.”

“When do we go?” Kelly asked.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

DARCY STOOD at the podium in the United States Senate chamber staring out at ninety-seven senators, prepared to convince these men and women to pass the National Tolerance Act, the first federal law to be based on the amended Constitution. Ninety-seven—a full house, less three, compelled by Billy to abstain or have their abuses of power exposed: Brian Clawson (D-Utah), whom Billy had persuaded to either vote for the law, miss the vote entirely, or pay the fallout when the real purpose of his frequent trips to Thailand were made public; Nancy Truman (R-Texas), who was missing under similar pressure; and Rodney Walton, senior senator from Arkansas, who was in the hospital with a prostate flare-up. All other members were present, including two who had been escorted in by Capitol Hill police for a mandatory quorum call, the first time the Senate had enforced a quorum using compulsion since 1995.

Her mind flashed over the last five days. While she and Billy toiled around the clock, working their magic, the riots had spread, picking up steam over the weekend with nine separate national incidents that resulted in the death of at least one party.

Racial protests were joined by freedom-of-speech protests. It was all a bit jumbled. One image of a mob marching down Pennsylvania Avenue showed protesters carrying signs that read Stop the Hatred,No Tolerance for Bigots right next to signs that read Americans for Free Speech.

The outcry from all sides of the social and political spectrum was inevitable. Liberal social-progressives found themselves agreeing with archrivals, even though neither group shared any other common idea.

The Human Rights Watch, along with the Religious Action Center, attacked the constitutional amendment from both sides, one arguing that the legislation didn't do enough, the other that it was a step in the direction of national socialism.

The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People condemned the lynchings on one network and decried the constitutional amendment on another. A group calling itself the Nontheists of North America emerged from the political woodwork, hailing the amendment as a “bold new shift in social strategy.”

Elliot Marshall, president of the National Association of Broadcasters, stated at a televised national conference that the government had just committed “the most flagrant act of legislative irresponsibility in U.S. history” by amending the Bill of Rights, which began with the specific phrasing “Congress shall make no law . . .” but that the American people deserved such severe repercussions. “Let us hope,” he said, staring past bushy eyebrows into the camera, “that history forgives us.”

The bottom line was that everybody wanted to be heard and nobody wanted to listen. But Darcy had changed all of that here in Washington. And now she would make them listen in the most sacred of all halls.

Located in the north wing of the Capitol building, the Senate chamber was a massive expanse that dwarfed the White House in both spaciousness and prestige. Royal blue carpet mapped the floor, surrounded by eggshell-white walls and populated with rich brown desks. A broad center aisle separated each political party, and three rows of chairs over-looked the room from the balustrade above.

She'd dressed in a blue business suit, one of seventeen of varying designs and fabrics that Annie had tailored for her five days ago, immediately following their successful meeting with the president. Darcy knew within ten minutes of sitting down across from President Chavez that as long as they could gain access to the right people over the next five days, they would succeed. He'd breathed in her words, converted wholeheartedly, and offered unlimited support in the initiative's passage.

Today, Billy sat behind and to her right, legs folded beneath a Queen Anne chair that had been given to the Senate as a gift by the Duchess of Wales before Darcy was born. His weapon was his mind, and he wielded it with a small PDA that transferred the notes he thumbed into the keypad to the prompter in front of her.

Hardin, D, 2 + 2. Religious Right concerns.

Which meant that Senator Hardin, a senior Democrat who sat two rows back and two seats over, was struggling under the excessive strain that had come from both his office and the House of Representatives.

The tension was a welcome advocate for Billy and Darcy. Together, they would motivate the Senate toward a resolution, like Mozart conducting an orchestra—every note and strain had to be perfect, he with his ears, she with her voice. There would be no second chances.

Darcy looked at the white-haired senator, who sat back frowning, tapping his pencil's eraser on the desk. “I realize that the Religious Right has come out of the woodwork regarding this resolution,” she said. “The Christians and the Muslims are screaming bloody murder as we have expected. Try to muzzle a Doberman and he will try to bite your fingers off. Try to silence a bigot and he will turn his hatred on you. God himself understood this when he gave the Ten Commandments, restricting free speech. False witness in court was treated with stoning. This law we have before us today doesn't call for the stoning demanded in the biblical times, but it is critical we level appropriate punishment at those who spurn the Constitution of these United States as amended yesterday.”

She watched his lips flatten, his throat bob as the conviction in her words resonated with some deep place of agreement in his psyche.

Darcy had spoken for less than ten minutes, and she already knew that they had the majority votes needed to pass the National Tolerance Act. It would provide federal provisions to enforce and prosecute the new terms of the Bill of Rights as a public bill, with the necessary appropriations included, to be voted on by the House of Representatives that very afternoon.

But she pressed them with her gift in this final push to change history, speaking in this language she now affectionately called
Washington lingo
.

“I have no doubt that each member of this Senate has been exposed to more hate mail and public contempt than ever before. With the power vested in each of you comes the responsibility to act, to engage in direct interdiction with these events. Yes, we've seen the vitriol on the news networks. Even out front of this building. There are rabid fanatics who have plagued your office lines with threats simply because you responded to the president's—no, the nation's—call to this session. I would ask you then, senators, delegates of our union—if the call to action has been heralded by civil unrest, social upheaval, and rampant crime, then when is the time more appropriate to call for a vote to stem the tide of recent violence and social distrust? When?”

The sensation of power had become her drug. Sweat veneered her face and cooled into ice from the air-conditioning and the wide-eyed stares of the Senate before her. Yes, it was her drug. She made no attempt to deny Billy's caution.

“Both houses have passed the resolution to amend the Bill of Rights. The president has signed it. Seven out of nine Supreme Court Justices have defined its interpretation as necessary and true to the durability of the Constitution. What we are asking of you, what
I
am asking of you today, is that this resolution, the National Tolerance Act, be acknowledged according to the urgency of the nation's need.”

She paused and allowed a few breaths. Enough time to convey the exhaustion brought on by her passion, enough time to scan her prompter for an update from Billy.

She scanned the room slowly, seeking the strong to weaken, but she'd weakened so many over the past five days that only a few remained fixed to their convictions. Sixty-six men and thirty-one women, all dressed for business, watching her with glassy-eyed stares.

With great conviction comes great emotion. Perhaps more than anything it was this emotion that attracted Darcy to her undeniable power. Never had anger and contempt flared so hotheadedly than before she'd taken the stage when they'd gathered to vote four days earlier.

And then never so many tears.

“The power of the vote brings all of us into this chamber. The responsibility of legislation. As an American citizen today, I ask . . . even
demand
that you act to deescalate the conflict. Make examples of yourselves as legislators by voting to support, enforce, and prosecute the National Tolerance Act. Sign it into law. History will remember you, but only if you act with definitive unity and decisive speed. A nation of hurt and disaffected people look to you to put your feet down and say ‘This is enough.' It stops here. If you do not, thousands of municipal, state, and federal law-enforcement officers will be abandoned, without the support of the nation and the provisions and appropriations that this act supplies.”

BOOK: Sinner
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