The Veritas Conflict (55 page)

“Do you see? In Christianity there is one—only one—step, and everyone knows what it is: Give your life to Jesus. The good, the bad, the rich, the poor—they’re all God’s children. He knows that none of us is going to be as good as He requires—which is perfect—so He made a way for anyone to be saved!”

Bethany still looked wary, but Claire hardly noticed. “All the other religions say we have to earn our way to God, but in Christ, God freely comes to us! So many people think you have to somehow work your way into God’s heart, but in reality He’s an unconditionally loving Father who simply wants your love.”

She shook her head in wonder. “Last year I read a perfect example—in the last words of Buddha versus the last words of Jesus—of just how opposite all other religious philosophies are to Christianity. Buddha’s last words to his disciples were ‘Keep striving—and that’s exactly what so many people think they must do. But Jesus’ last words on the cross were ‘It is finished.’ God Himself has done it all.”

Her thoughts were suddenly wrapped up in silent praise. She heard a sigh and turned to see Bethany’s head flop down into her hands.

“I’m just so confused. I don’t know what I think anymore.” She lifted her head and looked at Claire, a wry smile on her lips. “Are you sure you’re a freshman?”

“Look, Bethany … I’m just your average Christian trying to find my way. I don’t have all the answers to all your questions. I just know that I have met Jesus and that He is real. He’s alive, and He is
the
answer. Once you’ve met Jesus, no one can convince you of anything else. That’s the reason the early Christians didn’t recant when they were thrown to the lions. Nothing anyone could say or do could change the Truth they knew.”

Bethany sighed again, shaking her head. “I just don’t get it.”

“Maybe you don’t get it because you’ve never met Him. He’s not a concept—He’s a person! Why don’t you try talking to Him? Ask Him to meet you. I promise He will.”

There was a sudden movement of the air inside the station, and the two women could hear the distant approach of the train.

Claire stretched and stood up. “Well, that’s us.”

Bethany didn’t move.

A sudden chill came over Claire. She had almost forgotten their original purpose
in all the discussion.
O dear Lord…
Had she unwittingly alienated her?

For a long moment, neither student spoke. The train approached at a rush, the cars squealing on their rails as they slowed into the station.

O Lord, speak to her.…

Bethany suddenly stood to her feet, looping her purse over her arm. She glared at Claire. “Well, are you coming, or are you going to just let me find this place by myself?” A quick grin flashed across her features.

An answering grin broke out on Claire’s face. She grabbed her decrepit backpack and hustled the two of them onto the train.

The two young women didn’t notice the giant figures that formed a cordon all around them as they rode. They didn’t notice the protection all around them as they disembarked and walked several blocks through an unfamiliar neighborhood just as it started to snow. And they certainly didn’t notice the zone of brilliant light that surrounded the small building as they entered, one face nervous, one hopeful.

Within minutes the Spirit was speaking to the heavenly host, and they sprang into the air in delight. Yet another little one would be saved and … They paused as they listened eagerly to the next revelation, then burst into spirals of triumphant praise. Another captive would be set free!

FORTY-SEVEN

“C
OME IN, COME IN
. Q
UICKLY
.” Edward Grindley held the door open for his visitor, squinting at the biting wind and tiny snowflakes that swirled into the foyer and onto his robe and slippers.

Mansfield gladly stepped into the warmth of the house and shook off a light dusting of snow from his hat and shoulders. He could hear the welcome crackle of a fireplace somewhere nearby.

He reached out and shook the hand of his diminutive host. “Thank you for calling, Edward.”

Edward Grindley leaned lightly on his walking stick and smiled. “Thank you for coming, and on such a day, at that.” He fingered the collar of his robe. “I apologize that I’m not better dressed, but I’m not feeling well. I’m napping as much as I can, and, well, this is one of those days when I will consider myself ‘robed in righteousness.’ ”

Mansfield laughed. “No apologies necessary! I envy you. However, I don’t want to disturb you if you’re not feeling well.”

“Nonsense, nonsense!” Edwards eyes twinkled. “I must speak with you.”

He suddenly turned his head and coughed several times, leaning more heavily on his walking stick. His eyes closed, and he winced. After a moment, he turned back to his guest, smiling despite his evident pain. “Besides, Dr. Mansfield, as you can see, if we waited for a day of perfect health, I fear we would have to arrange a meeting in the heavenly realms.”

“Let’s hope that day is a long way off, Edward.”

“Hmm. Yes.” Edward moved toward an open doorway off the side of the foyer. He gestured for Mansfield to follow.

The doorway opened into a warm room in deep greens and browns, the flames in a giant fireplace casting a friendly glow on sofas, chairs, and overstuffed ottomans. There were no windows, and two walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, rolling ladders running on tracks along their lengths. A grand piano sat in one corner, its cover open, musical scores spilling out of a folder on its polished surface.

Mansfield smiled in delight as he entered the room.

“My study,” Edward said.

“its perfect.”

Mansfield walked over to one of the bookshelves and ran his fingers along the spines of several gold-leaf hardback books.
“Huckleberry Finn, The Swiss Family Robinson, A Tale of Two Cities…
all collectors’ editions.” His gaze shifted to the fireplace, noting the framed print of Harvard’s old crest above the mantel. He turned back to his host, good-natured envy on his face. “This would be my favorite room.”

Edward smiled. “It is.”

He settled into a large high-backed chair near the fireplace and gestured for Mansfield to take a seat on the sofa nearby. He leaned over and pressed a button on the table at his right hand. Within moments, a pretty girl appeared in the doorway.

“You okay, Grandpa?”

“I’m doing fine. Lacy, this is Professor Mansfield from Harvard—”

“Hello, Lacy.” Mansfield nodded in her direction.

“—and I’m wondering if you would hang up his coat in the hall closet and bring us some warm drinks.” He turned to his guest. “Would you like hot chocolate? Coffee?”

“Hot tea, if you have it.” Mansfield looked over at the girl. She nodded and disappeared. The professor glanced back at his host. “She’s lovely.”

Edward smiled. “Thank you. She looks just like her mother.” His eyes twinkled. “Her mother is my
granddaughter
, so she’s actually my great-granddaughter.”

“Good heavens.”

“And no, I’m not going to tell you how old I am just yet. You’ll find that out in due time.” His expression suddenly became serious, and he paused a long moment. “I need to tell you why you are here.”

Lacy came through the doorway and around the sofa, setting a tray on the coffee table in front of Mansfield.

“Ah, thank you, my dear,” Edward said.

She poured hot water from a small teapot for Mansfield and handed a steaming mug of hot chocolate to her great-grandfather. She showed Mansfield the small containers of tea bags, lemon slices, cream, and sugar, then smiled and departed.

Mansfield turned to Edward with a bemused expression on his face. Edward laughed. “We always have guests of one sort or another in this home. All the children learn early on how to be good—and discreet—hosts.”

Edward sipped at his mug, then cupped it carefully in his hands. “Professor Mansfield, I asked you here today because I need to tell you a story.”

“Please call me Mansfield. Everyone else does.”

“Very well.” Edward looked into the fire. “In 1636, as you know, the Massachusetts General Court chartered Harvard College. As I believe I told you when we first met, a Grindley was a member of that body. And that mans son was one of Harvard’s first board members. The story I have to tell you relates to him.

“Gage Grindley was, according to all accounts, an exceptional man, a man after God’s own heart. His very name means ‘pledge’—‘one who dedicates his life to God.’ Unlike many of his contemporaries, Gage never had a period of youthful wanderlust and rebellion before reaffirming his faith. It was always there, steadfast, unwavering. He came over from England with his mother and father as a youth, and by the time his elderly father was voting to establish an institution of higher learning in the new colony, Gage was ready to assume some leadership in the endeavor.

“I won’t bore you with all the details of his writings from that time, but I myself have read them. All the Grindleys have read them from the time they make a personal commitment to Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior.”

Mansfield raised one eyebrow slightly, but didn’t comment.

“Gage Grindley was instrumental in establishing the Christian purpose of Harvard. He believed that extensive learning across all the disciplines was extremely important for the development of a free New World, but he—like his peers—recognized that intellectual development would be empty unless it occurred in the context of seeking Gods knowledge, God’s truth.”

Edward gestured to the crest that hung above the fireplace. “Hence,
Veritas
. Gage Grindley apparently was an early advocate of that motto. He thought it perfectly synthesized the goal of finding Gods truth in all the disciplines, as well as encouraging the goal of seeking—and finding—the truth of the gospel of Christ. All of the founders were passionate about that. As one of the earliest charters said, ‘through the good hand of God,’ Harvard hoped to educate the ‘English and Indian youth of this country in knowledge and godliness.”

The old man took a careful sip of the hot chocolate, then set the mug on a side table and picked up a slim book. “Gage Grindley eventually became the chairman of the Harvard board of directors. He was sworn in on a frozen autumn morning, much like this one. And that night … well, I’ll let you read his own words. They start on page 2.”

He held out the book. Mansfield rose and took it from the wrinkled hand. The book was a good-quality paperback, its cover a nondescript burgundy with cold borders. There was no tide, but the words
Property of the Grindley Family: not for outside audience
were printed on the bottom right corner.

Mansfield settled back onto the sofa and began to read as directed. He was looking at a printed excerpt of Gage Grindley’s description of the day he was sworn in as chairman of the board.

The ceremony completed, I retired to the president’s office for a short meeting with the other board members. That done, I gratefully headed for home, Betty looking lovely at my side.

I recall thinking, at the time, how impossibly blessed I had been by the faithful providence of our Lord. To have been entrusted with the task of this young “college in the wilderness,” as well as the gift of such a wife and family—well, my heart was filled to overflowing with thanksgiving.

When we arrived at home in the darkness, Hattie had the children all ready for bed, and we set about tucking them in. Little Amanda’s fever had abated, and I visited with my daughter for a long spell, reading her a story until her little eyes drooped and closed.

I ventured downstairs, lamp in hand, and went into my study to wait for Betty and our usual time of evening devotions. (We had found that our tempers were much improved and any problems of the day much diminished when we made time each night to spend in the Word of God and in prayer. The servants knew that this was our custom and had retired to their part of the house, which is why the events of that evening were not witnessed by anyone else.)

Betty came in, her flaxen hair shining in the light of the fire, and we knelt by the hearth, prepared to come before the Lord.

In that instant a bright light filled the room, a light that seemed like the very sun itself. In a moment of what I can only describe as holy terror, a giant figure appeared before us, shining with the glory of God. He wore a brilliant tunic, a shining sword at his side, his face, hair, and eyes blazing with what seemed like fire.

We fell with our faces to the floor, unable to speak, or even—for the moment—think, so great was our fright. In a small portion of my mind even then, however, I was able to summon capacity for the rueful thought that
this
was why the biblical angels always led their messages with “be not afraid.”

And sure enough, when our heavenly messenger spoke, “Do not be afraid” was first on his lips. He waited while we lifted our faces from the floor and looked up at him. We were clutching each other, still kneeling, but our initial terror had begun to drain away, replaced by wonderment and even a joy deeper than I have ever experienced. So deep that I felt my chest could not hold my heart.

“I come with a message from almighty God,” the angel said. “Your endeavor of this time is more important than you can know. This nation has been dedicated to Him, and this college has been dedicated to serve His purposes. Through the years this college will be raised up in stature and influence; thus the enemy desires to take this territory. This will be a ground of great struggle.”

His voice was like the thundering of the seas, filling the room. I could feel the strong presence of the Holy Ghost there with us and began to tremble. Beside me, Betty clutched my arm, her face pale but riveted in wonder.

The heavenly messenger continued. “The King of kings desires his children to stand and fight for this important ground. There must be generals to lead this fight in love, wisdom, humility, and courage. You, Gage and Elizabeth Grindley, have found favor in His sight. Your family will be established as ambassadors of Christ here in this place, in every generation to come, that His Glory may go out from here to the nations.”