Solomon's Porch (37 page)

“That no flesh should glory in His presence,” Peter said, finishing the quote. “Mr. President, it is the height of foolishness to assume that a base man such as myself, a weak former convict with no formal training in either religious studies, politics, or science could possibly hold his own with such an elite group.”

“Exactly, Peter. Makes about as much sense as me not being able to punch those two no good former aides of mine in the teeth last night. What do you guys say to each other? God is good?”

“Always,” Peter acknowledged.

At the exact same time that the President was holding his meeting in the White House, another group of powerful men were huddled down the street in the offices of a United States Senator. Darkness was formulating its plan to defeat the Light.

The Vice President of the United States was in attendance for only a brief portion of the meeting, the part where three of the most respected psychiatrists in America and five of the most senior members of the Senate decided that the President had become “dangerous and psychologically unstable.” The term “desperate national crisis” was used to describe the blessing of the restriction, and “congenital liar and possible foreign agent” was the label applied to Peter Carson.

The Vice President needed plausible deniability, so he left after plotting the elaborate smoke screen that the conspirators hoped would obscure their actual intentions.

The two former senior advisors to the President wanted their jobs back, but with a twist; they also needed a new boss. They were intelligent and cunning men of the world, and because the evil one was now controlling them almost directly, they had become ruthless and amoral to the extreme. Nothing mattered to them other than their lust for power. They knew if their plan succeeded that they would become more than they ever were before. The new President would basically serve as their lap dog, a mere puppet that they and their master could control at will.

The beast attended the meeting in the Senator’s office, encouraging lies and treachery. As was always the case, the evil one marveled at how easy it was to turn most men against their own kind. But a righteous few were not so easily swayed. Satan’s most intense hatred was reserved for those blessed people who recognized evil and refused to acknowledge Satan’s falsely claimed supremacy in the universe; vile, worthless monkey trash like Saul Cohen and all of his friends.

“Saul!”

“What do you want from me? If you think I’m going to bow down to you, you’re wrong. You are nothing but a loser, damned for all time for your pride. I think you’re pathetic, actually.”

“If God is so good and powerful and loving, why does He let me hurt you, Saul?”

Into Saul’s mind Satan implanted thoughts of searing flesh. Saul felt as if he was being burned alive. But God only allowed so much agony, within a minute of its commencement the torture stopped.

The nurse watched on in horror as the skin on Saul’s legs charred and bubbled. Then, as quickly as it started, the bizarre effect ended and Saul’s skin returned to normal.

By now she had seen more than enough. Convinced someone had slipped her some LSD or other powerful hallucinogen and not wanting to go mad permanently, the traumatized nurse stood and told Malik, “I can’t do this,” then ran screaming out of the room.

Malik did not flinch. His mind was completely focused on Saul. If it were possible to pray his friend out of his desperate condition, he was determined to do so.

Malik asked God if He would be kind enough to allow him to suffer for his friend. “I’m stronger, Father,” Malik prayed aloud. “Saul has been through enough. Let me carry his load, Lord. I lay down my life for my friend.”

For the first time, Malik Graham audibly heard His voice in answer to a prayer.

“Are you sure, son? What you seek is a difficult path full of sacrifice and suffering. Are you truly ready to serve?”

Malik didn’t need Peter or anyone else to confirm the genuineness of His message. He knew with every fiber of his being that the Lord was calling to him.

“I’m ready God. Let Saul be, let him rest.”

Into the blackness that had once again been projected into Saul’s mind now entered a Light, bright and blazing like a white hot star. Saul immediately sensed that the evil one had fled, unable to withstand the power of His glory.

The Being now with Saul had hair as white as snow, eyes like flames of fire, and feet like fine brass. Saul knew he was in Christ’s presence. He marveled at how accurately both the prophet Daniel and St. John had described Him.

“Well done my good and faithful servant,” Christ said. “It is time for you to come home, Saul.”

Overwhelmed by love, happy beyond any human standard of bliss, totally at peace and fulfilled, Saul Cohen gave up his earthly existence.

Back in the small room at the White House, Malik felt Saul’s hand go limp in his and saw his brother’s breathing stop. He smiled and cried a tear of joy for his friend. He knew Saul was safely in the bosom of his Father.

Malik looked up. Now he could see the beast in the corner, hovering about like a jackal, hoping to enjoy a moment of triumph over the creatures he so despised.

“Guess what, you filthy son of a bitch,” Malik said boldly. “Now I can see ya! Oh, how I been waitin’ for this day. All the hell you done put me through you sick, evil monster. I’m comin’ to get you, devil! Praise God and Jesus Christ, I’m comin’ to get you!”

For the first time in nearly two millennia Satan experienced an unwelcome, almost human emotion. It was the same one he felt as he watched Christ rise out of His tomb.

Fear.

Twenty-One

“Are you sure, Alex?” Peter asked. “I know we’ve talked about the possibility, but now it is a reality. This is your home we’re dealing with here.”

“Whatever I have is yours, Peter,” Alex Anderson replied. “The estate is owned by a foreign trust that I control. Not even the IRS can touch it. As far as I’m concerned, the place belongs to all of us. It’s our sanctuary. God owns it all anyway, brother. I know you don’t need me to explain that to you.”

Alex didn’t need to explain, but regardless Peter was deeply moved. It was very comforting for him to know where he would be laid to rest. He and Saul Cohen.

“We’ll ship the body down to Georgia tomorrow, Peter,” Alex said. “Turns out along with everything else they have here at the White House, they’ve got a makeshift morgue. What plans do you have for the funeral, Panos?”

“There won’t be time for that now, Alex. We can celebrate and pray for Saul here tomorrow. Julie will see that Saul gets buried properly. Later you and the brothers can pay the proper respects at his grave.”

“Letting the dead bury the dead?”

“Like everything else the Master taught us, there is a time and place for its proper application.”

“Where will you be, Peter?”

“Alex?”

“When we’re all down at the farm mourning Saul, where will you be?”

Peter hadn’t realized that he’d let his guard down and slipped. He castigated himself knowing that shortly millions would be hanging on his every word. There was no room for error.

“Who knows, Alex?” Peter said, as dismissively and casually as possible. “I guess I find it difficult to make any plans. God has set my path and He’s left little room for any personal choice.”

Alex Anderson wanted to pursue Peter’s comment further, he could sense a benevolent ruse, but Malik had been patiently waiting to speak with Alex and Peter for over two hours. It had taken them longer than they expected to make the necessary arrangements for Saul.

“Sorry we were delayed,” Peter apologized, as he and Alex and Malik found a small empty office for a private talk. “Alex and I know how much you loved Saul. It was good you were with him at the end. It must have been difficult for you to watch him go.”

“I’m not sorry for Saul, Mr. Pete,” Malik said, as he sat down and quickly scanned the room, making sure that they were alone. “I know where he is. He’s restin’. ‘Bout now he’s speakin’ to Jesus, I suspect.”

“Of course he is,” Peter agreed. “But I know how much you will miss him. We all will. Saul was not replaceable. We are weaker with his loss.”

“Ah, Mr. Pete. Don’t be so sure about all that ‘weaker’ stuff. I kinda know part of the reason why the Lord called Saul home.”

“Please, Malik. Tell us. Praise God.”

“Ah, yes sir, Mr. Pete. Glory to Christ. Well, sir, I don’t think we’re no weaker with Saul gone because now I can see, Mr. Pete.”

“You can see? The demons?”

“That’s right, Mr. Pete.”

“Well I’ll be.” Peter hadn’t considered the possibility that the Lord would keep the gift alive after Saul’s death.

“Mr. Pete, I think you needs to know two things. First of all, I ain’t afraid of no devil. Ah, I know I need to watch my language and all, brother, but alls I got to say is screw him. He can bring it on, I don’t care. Now Saul, he was afraid of Satan. Not me. I’m gonna lick him. Me and God.”

Peter was well aware that Malik Graham’s entire life had been filled with violence and conflict. Surviving, indeed thriving as Malik had, under such circumstances breeds confidence and courage. Christ had taken Malik’s fearlessness, the very quality that when abused had allowed Malik to succeed as a violent criminal, and employed it for the benefit of the Kingdom. Peter took Malik at his word that Satan did not scare him. He understood his brother’s gifts and admired his abilities.

“The second thing is?” Peter asked.

“Sorry to tell you this, Mr. Pete, but the head man himself, Satan, he’s here tryin’ to do us in.”

“You’re sure? Legion is very powerful, Malik. Do you know the difference between the devil and his servants?”

“Mr. Pete,” Malik answered coolly. “Trust me. This thing is the devil himself. He ain’t like Legion. Don’t look like him, act like him, don’t even so much as smell like him. Oh, it’s Satan for sure. He’s the one who scared poor Saul to death.”

So,
Peter thought,
the battle is on.
No more proxies, no more second stringers.
Peter prayed silently for wisdom and strength. Unlike Malik he was not fearless, but like his brother he had the ultimate confidence in Christ.

“My friend, you’ve become our eyes and ears,” Peter said. “As I counseled Saul, be cautious. Stay humble. Do not underestimate the evil one. Remember the source of your power, Malik; Christ, the cross, the resurrection. Despite your courage you must always remain meek.”

“Meek, Mr. Pete? What’s that mean?”

“It means that Satan will try and tempt you to use evil against him, to let your confidence get the best of you, to step out of God’s power and protection. You can beat the devil, Malik, but only with love, not with hate.”

“I cannot love the devil, Mr. Pete.”

“No, of course not. But to overcome him we must pour out God’s mercy and love when he brings hatred and pain.”

“I get it, Mr. Pete. Like you been tellin’ me since I met ya, don’t play the devil’s game.”

“Exactly. And Malik, something else. Don’t tell anyone but the brothers about your new gift. Understood?”

“Yes sir, Mr. Pete.”

“Mr. Carson,” said the voice that called out after the sharp knock on the door. “Your wife is trying to reach you. She says it’s urgent. I’ll send the call through to the phone on the desk.”

Julie,
Peter thought.
What now?
Reluctantly, he picked up the handset.

“Peter, honey, I know we planned to talk later on tonight, but I thought this couldn’t wait,” Julie said. “Something told me you needed to get this message now.”

“Go ahead, Jules,” Peter responded, a bit condescendingly. His mind was occupied by a thousand different thoughts, all competing for his attention. Focusing on the moment was becoming more and more difficult for him. The last thing he needed was another distraction.

“An hour ago I got a call from overseas, Peter, from Greece. I could barely understand the guy. His accent is real thick and his English is limited.”

She’s calling me about some man in Greece? Now?
Peter thought, but did not say.
Lord have mercy,
he silently prayed.

“Jules, honey. Millions of people would call you if they … ” Peter caught himself. “How did this man get your number? I thought no one had it but Alex and me. We better get on this right now, Jules. I mean if this person … ”

“Peter, baby, relax. No one told him how to find me. He lives in a small village about forty minutes north of Athens. The last thing he is is a threat, to me or to anyone else. God gave him my number.”

Suddenly Julie had Peter’s total attention.

“His name is Gregory Kallistos. According to him, he’s your uncle. He’s a priest, Peter. An Orthodox priest. He says he needs to speak with you as soon as possible.”

Instantly the Spirit confirmed to Peter that what Julie was saying was true. But he wondered, why hadn’t the Carsons told me that I had an uncle in Greece? Why lie and say that my only close living blood relative was Marie Carson, my mother’s first cousin? Peter had never met anyone from Greece, or anyone named Kallistos, and had always assumed that his direct family heritage would forever remain shrouded in mystery.