The Veritas Conflict (56 page)

My soul quaked as he spoke, and I fell again to the floor, sobbing. To think that such a sinful wretch as I had found favor of almighty God was more than my feeble mind could grasp.

“The Lord makes this promise to you,” the angel continued. “Your household will be a place of refuge, and He will raise up your offspring to succeed you in this fight. As your children and your children’s children follow Him, seek His face, and learn to walk in His ways, your household will follow Him all the days of their lives.”

Beside me I heard Betty weeping, felt her body trembling as she whispered “Thank You, O Lord God” over and over again.

The angels face grew fierce, and his voice deepened. “Tell your children: The time will come when men in this place will not endure sound doctrine, but to suit their own desires will gather teachers around themselves who will say whatever their itching ears want to hear. They will turn their ears and eyes away from Truth and shall turn to fables and concocted myths. As in days of old, they will have eyes but will not see, have ears but will not hear. The gospel is veiled and seems like foolishness to those who are perishing.”

The angel drew his sword, holding it upright in a strong hand. The trappings of our little room seemed to vanish into the background, and we were surrounded by the brilliant light.

“Therefore!” The angels voice rang out. “God Almighty in His mercy gives your family this anointing: Your children and your children’s children will be salt that seasons this place to keep it from decay. In every generation that walks in His ways, your family will be a lamp set on the lampstand, that those who come near might see the light, that the hidden things will be disclosed to them.”

Again I began to shake, still on my knees beside my wife. The angel watched us with a somber but compassionate gaze. Much to my shock, the mighty messenger suddenly knelt before us and looked into our eyes.

“Your descendants have been given the mantle to speak and see eyes opened, to pierce the veil of blindness woven by the evil one. What the listeners do from that point on will be up to them. Thus, your family has this charge from the Lord of hosts: Be prepared in season and out of season to give an answer for the hope that is within you. Pray unceasingly. With great patience endure hardship, keep your head in all situations, and speak always in love.”

I was startled to see the great face lift in what looked like a solemn smile. He stood to his feet and clasped his sword. Almost unconsciously, Betty and I also stood, still surrounded by the otherworldly brilliance.

His voice was a trumpet call. “By living a life worthy of the Good News of Christ, and by setting forth the Truth plainly, you will commend yourselves to every mans conscience in the sight of God. For you preach not yourselves but Jesus Christ as Lord.”

His eyes bore into ours as he quoted from Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians: “ ‘And when the hearers of the Word shall turn to the Lord, the veil shall be taken away.’ ”

And in a flash, the great visitor vanished.

We stood silent, seemingly suspended in time. The room was quiet. We came back to our senses, staring unseeingly at the pictures on the walls, the rocking chair in the corner, the woven rug beneath our feet.

For a long time neither of us spoke. We started to peer sideways at each other and then threw ourselves into each others arms, laughing and crying, shouting and talking, all at once. Then, just as quickly as the jubilation came, it was stilled in sober decision. We both sank back to the floor, holding each other tightly, and committed before our Lord to uphold those purposes with which He had so specifically charged our family.

The text stopped suddenly. Mansfield stared at the page, transported to that long-ago room where a couple knelt in solemn covenant.

Mansfield stirred, and looked up at Edward Grindley. His host was watching the fire, listening to the soft pop and crackle of the flames.

“A bit later in his memoirs,” Edward spoke quietly, without turning, “Gage Grindley ponders what the angel really meant. He cannot picture a time when Harvard’s Christian purpose, or the Puritans’ hard-fought freedom of faith in the New World, would be undermined by those with itching ears. He seems offended that a time might come when any person at Harvard would reject sound doctrine.” Edward turned from the fire, a rueful smile on his face. “How times have changed.”

Mansfield handed back the book, and Edward set the volume on his lap and folded his hands on its cover.

“Dr. Mansfield—excuse me, Mansfield—since the middle of the seventeenth century, the Grindley family has endeavored to take seriously the words of this messenger of God.”

“I would hope so!”

“Not just as a fuzzy exhortation and motivation to do great things for God, but as a blueprint for what our role is and how we are to fill this ‘mantle’ the angel described. Over time we have established many ways to do that. Of course, the most important is fostering a personal relationship with Christ from a young age and living a life that reflects His purity and love.” He held up a cautionary hand. “Obviously, we as individuals could undermine our calling through willful disobedience, but so far God has been gracious to this imperfect family of sinners, and we have mostly tried to live in a way that glorifies only Him.”

Edward returned his attention to the fire. The leaping flames cast a playful pattern on the Harvard crest above the mantel. “After an individuals faith commitment is made in this family, even from childhood we learn sound doctrine and apologetics in order to winsomely counter those ‘Itching ears.’ We have intercessory teams that pray for Harvard and its students and faculty, to do battle in the spiritual realm against the plans of the evil one. We have sent many of our family members to Harvard and—as I mentioned—have traditionally taken roles of servant leadership whenever given the opportunity.

“We use this house as a true place of refuge, helping those in need and hosting those the enemy would seek to kill, steal, and destroy. We strongly emphasize service to others—especially those who oppose us—to concretely demonstrate the heart of Jesus Christ, the Good Shepherd.

“In order to preach the Word, and always give an answer for the Hope that is within us, we teach even our youngest children a simple statement that captures in one sentence the essence of the gospel: that we are more lost and sinful than we ever dared believe, but are more loved and accepted than we ever dared hope.”

“That’s beautiful,” Mansfield said.

Edward smiled. “The gospel is beautiful.” He rested his head against the high back of his chair and closed his eyes. “ ‘For we do not preach ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake. For God, who said “Let light shine out of darkness,” made His light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.’ ”

He opened his eyes, looking at his visitor with bright eyes. “He is our all. Without Him, we are nothing.”

For a long moment, neither man said anything.

“It sounds,” Mansfield said quietly, “like your family is doing no more than all Christian families should affirm as their common practice.”

“Yes, absent the specific responsibility for Harvard—which is given to us for no other reason than His undeserved mercy—that is true. But we are weak and sinful, and perhaps it takes a visit from a warrior angel to get the idea across.”

Mansfield chuckled. He paused again. “Edward, you’re a man of purpose, and I am honored that you would share this private story with me. Why are you telling me this?”

Edwards eyes suddenly twinkled. “I knew you would get around to that question sooner or later.” He patted the book on his lap. “We believe God was speaking the literal truth when he said there would be a Grindley descendent as an ambassador of Christ at Harvard for every generation to come. We therefore have tried to keep track of the ever-widening circle of Grindley descendants so that we would know when someone with the Grindley mantle was at Harvard, but—as you can imagine—after more than three hundred years, its a big job.

“The direct Grindleys—those with the family name—we have largely been able to keep track of. A percentage of those—as well as some other close relatives—are in what you might call the inner circle, who know of our God-given heritage and calling and actively pray for His purposes at Harvard.”

“How many people is that, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“No, I don’t mind. I would imagine—oh—we’re at about three hundred now.”

“Three hundred! In just the inner circle?”

Edward chuckled. “Oh yes. Remember, we have thousands upon thousands in our extended family. The inner circle are just those—whether sharing the Grindley name or not—whose commitment to Christ is firm and who have been raised up from childhood to participate in our special calling. There are many thousands of other Christians in our line who do not know.”

He pursed his lips. “Unfortunately, as I mentioned when I first met you, as our family fortune diminished during the Great Depression, so did our access to Harvard’s highest corridors of power. We have had several dozen students at Harvard since that time, as well as two professors, but no board members or anyone else in policy leadership.”

The old man rubbed his hands gently over the cover of the book, his expression sober. “In the last few decades, our fight has dramatically increased, and our access has diminished. We have seen the need for anointed ambassadors of Christ become more and more urgent, but there has been no one with the Grindley mantle raised up to speak out and pierce that veil as God promised would happen in
every
generation!

“In the spirit, we have felt that the enemy has become stronger and stronger, fed by the increasingly dark climate of pride, greed, and a purposeful drawing away from
holiness and the thing? of God. The evil one has—partly through his work in the educational system—largely succeeded in establishing secularism as the politically correct norm in this country, rather than faith-based convictions.

“Thankfully, to counter this, children of God from all around the world have been brought here to be candles shining in the darkness, and the level of prayer has dramatically increased—as it always does during troublesome periods. But I also feel a responsibility, as the direct heir of Gage Grindley, to find those with this special anointing to speak out and see eyes opened, to speak the Truth and have people
hear
rather than think it foolishness. I know that our God has promised such a person—multiple persons!—in every generation, and He is faithful!

“Recently I realized that I could not simply wait for our great-grandchildren to reach an age when they could apply to Harvard. I came to the conclusion that God might already have someone with that mantle in place and that it was my responsibility to go out and find those individuals and tell them of their special calling, that they might step into the role God has for them.”

Edward looked at Mansfield with mirthful eyes. “In fact, when I went back through our history, I found quite often that there were Grindley descendants at Harvard who were Christians but who had never heard of the special calling God might have on their lives.”

Mansfield was fascinated. “When will you start looking through the documents and such?”

“We already have found our Grindley, and that is why we need your help.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know of any Grindleys at Harvard.”

“Oh yes, you do.”

“Who?”

“You.”

Edward flipped the book open, his eyes amused at Mansfield’s astonished expression. “We have a service that tracks our family tree and publishes an update every ten years or so—its far too large for a nonprofessional to do it.” He held the book out to Mansfield, pointing at a particular page.

Mansfield slowly took the book, which was open to a family-tree diagram that spread across two pages. He saw the names of his paternal grandparents and parents, a vertical line, and then in a neat typeface like all the others “William David Mansfield, 1935-_“ Beside his name a line stretched to another box: “Mary Bradford Mansfield (née Bradford), 1936–1992.”

Edwards quiet voice floated into Mansfield’s consciousness. “You are not the only Grindley descendent we have currently found at Harvard, but you are the only one we are approaching. At various times throughout our history, we have sought out people
like you and offered support and instruction about our heritage. Some don’t get it, but its interesting that—even among those, with no knowledge of our family calling—there is a very high percentage of Christians in our extended line. God really does bless the children of the righteous man to the thousandth generation.”

Mansfield grappled with the revelation, a bemused smile on his face. “What is it that you want me to do?”

Edward leaned forward, his face intent. “You now know that you, Dr. Mansfield, have an awesome responsibility. Do not give the Crist lecture to someone else; speak out yourself. Even though your willingness to bring in others is admirable,
you
have an anointing that must be released. God must have a great plan to use this as an opportunity to speak out at Harvard—not about history, but about
His Story
. It presumably won’t be an enormous crowd, but God can do anything. And, as the angel said, ‘When the hearers of the Word shall turn to the Lord, the veil shall be taken away.’ ”

“How did you know I was asked to do the Crist lecture?”

Edward sat back, his old eyes twinkling, “I have my sources, cousin. I have my sources.”

FORTY-EIGHT

“W
HERE WERE YOU
?”

Claire’s heart sank as she heard the edge in Ian’s voice. She gripped the receiver tighter. “I’m so sorry.… ”