The Veritas Conflict (74 page)

And behind the veil, many other faces watched as the young woman stepped into her calling. God’s hand was poised.

“We are here today,” she began, “to honor a man who loved much, and was loved much in return. Many of us were on the receiving end of his simple, unconditional love. Today, I want to talk to you about the reason for that love.

“Professor Mansfield, as anyone who took his classes knows, often said that we must strive for
Verìtas
, for Truth. Many people here knew that when Mansfield said
Truth
, he didn’t mean some abstract construct. He meant the perfect truth of God that he found in his Christian faith.”

There was a soft rustling in the crowd as the words sank in. The faces stayed quiet, upturned, respectful.

“However, even though Mansfield modeled
Veritas for
us, I think most of us don’t know what that really means. What is Truth? One kind of truth that we search for at Harvard is greater knowledge of facts and accurate information about our world. That is part of what truth is. But it’s not all that Truth is.

“We Christians like to think we have been striving for Truth—meaning, we think, an objective, moral, natural law in the universe, set up by almighty God. That is indeed part of what Truth is. But it’s not all that Truth is.”

She smiled, her voice sad. “As Mansfield pointed out to the HCF group one night, we have often fallen into the trap of thinking of truth as ‘right instead of wrong.’ And unfortunately, we have often acted as the caretakers of right, counting up all the ways that others are wrong. Right versus wrong is indeed part of what Truth is. But it’s not all that Truth is.”

Claire looked out over the sea of faces. “Why are there so many thousands of us here today? Would there be, if what Mansfield represented was right instead of wrong? No. That would not necessarily inspire hope, love, and great devotion. In fact, people who speak of right versus wrong—such as people of faith—are sometimes labeled narrow-minded legalists. As people who are judgmental. As those who—” she made a comical face—“take all the fun out of life.”

The laughter died away as her expression sobered. “Or, all too often, such people are labeled hypocrites because we are imperfect people who also do wrong. There’s no way to sugarcoat it. Although we’re supposed to live in purity as Christ lived, so that others can see Him through us, our lives are always going to be an imperfect reflection at best, and a tarnished, warped image at worst.

“The young man who killed Mansfield,” she struggled with the words, “was driven by such a warped understanding. He did not adequately experience the love of Christ from those of us on campus. For if he had experienced it—if we had reached out to him as Jesus would, to break down the walls of hatred and rage—he would never have done what he did. Instead, we succumbed to temptation, attempting to survive a challenging environment by protecting ourselves. But Niles didn’t need us to protect ourselves. He needed us to
be
as the Good Shepherd to him. And for that failing—” she swallowed, looking down, her voice dropping to a whisper—“I must ask for Niles’s forgiveness.”

A murmur ran swiftly through the crowd, looks of disbelief on many faces.

And with that murmuring came a gentle hand.

Gael stood behind his charge, his eyes intent, watching the crowd. Suddenly, on the chest of someone in the audience, a gold cross appeared as if on a shield. Then over there, another. Then another. And another … The field grew.

Eyes were being opened, ears unblocked, just as the Lord had promised.

Gael turned toward Kai who stood nearby, watching the shimmering crosses shine through the shadows.

“Her special calling, as you said, to accomplish God’s purposes.”

“If she had remained silent,” Kai answered, “God would have still accomplished His purposes. The very stones would have cried out.” He smiled. “But she has chosen to stand, and is stepping into God’s will for her. Her obedience is not just for Harvard’s sake; it’s for hers. God is pleased with this young one.”

“… so, then, what is the Truth that Mansfield lived? Mansfield’s struggle was not for right versus wrong. It was for
life instead of death
. It was for the abundant life Jesus meant when he said. I am the Way, the Truth and the Life; no one comes to the Father but through Me.’

“If you—all of you gathered here—want to honor his memory today, this week, this semester, ask one of the members of HCF sitting around you, wearing the silver crosses on their lapels, how they came to know the Truth. And in their answer you will hear what Truth is: not just right, not just an objective moral law—but life. These people have been given new life.”

She looked out at the crowd, gripping the sides of the podium hard. “And two days ago, Mansfield was given … new life.”

She felt tears prickling her eyes and let them fall. “And the reason I can’t keep from
crying is not just that I miss a professor and friend I had come to love—whom all of us loved—as a friend and surrogate father.” She looked up, closing her eyes. “It is because I can picture him now, standing before the Lord he loved so much that he was willing at any time to lay down his life for another.”

Her eyes flickered open, and her voice softened to a whisper. “ ‘And this is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down His life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers/”

She looked across the crowd, her voice strengthening. “You are all here today because Professor Mansfield showed
Veritas
by laying down his life every day just as Christ did.”

Claire paused, running her hands over the smooth wood of the podium. There was silence in the crowd.

“Over one hundred years ago another man beloved to this campus passed away unexpectedly. The Reverend Phillips Brooks. In an outpouring of love and grief, hundreds of students carried his casket for miles, from Trinity Church in Boston where he was a pastor, across the Charles River, through Harvard Yard, and on to the Mount Auburn Cemetery west of campus.”

In a warm den, watching on television, Edward Grindley gave a soft sigh. Gage Grindley turned and looked at his grandfather, his eyebrows raised.

“My grandfather was there then,” Edward said, “and he spoke of the funeral procession lining the streets, the revival on campus, the credibility given to evangelism, the progress made in Christian outreach and service. But within a generation—” he smiled sadly—“it was back to business as usual. And look where we are today.”

“It sounds as if you don’t think all this will serve much purpose,” Gage said.

“No, Gage, there’s always purpose in Gods ways. But we must do our part; we must so live the life of Christ that we transform our culture—not merely impact it. Just as this culture has gradually gone away from Christ, so will it change back only gradually, as hearts change.”

Gage’s voice was soft. “But in a world that is not our Home—”

“—there will still be sin,” Edward finished his grandsons sentence. “There will still be the daily choices in which we show ourselves all too frail. Only Jesus Christ can actually transform, and the only time that will fully happen is when He returns in glory riding on the clouds of heaven.”

He looked back at the screen. “But even if this country is never transformed back into a Christian culture, I believe God is using this time to create a place where—for a season—eyes will be opened, and people will be faced with a choice of what they really
believe. A marketplace of ideas.” He smiled at the thought of Mansfield’s oft-repeated words. “And Truth will win.”

“Behind me, in Memorial Church,” Claire said, “lies Professor Mansfield’s casket. And we too will carry it to its final resting place. But rest assured—that is not where he is! He has been welcomed into eternal Life. And with the words of Phillips Brooks’s address to the eager young members of an entering freshman class, let me encourage you to seek that Life.”

She cleared her throat, trying to keep her voice steady.

“The great hunger everywhere is for life. All things are reaching up towards it. All living things are craving an increase of it. Into this world comes Christ and announces himself as that world’s Savior and satisfier, in virtue first of his bestowal of vitality …? come to you here that you may live, that you may have life, and that you may have it more abundantly.’

“So speaks the Christ to the student. And with great trust and great hope and happy soberness, giving himself into the power of whatever is diviner than himself, believing truth, rejoicing in duty, the student goes forward into ever-deepening life. Of such life, and of brave, earnest students entering into its fullness, may this new year of the old college life be full.”

Out of time and space, a contingent of angels stood around a man with twinkling eyes, his silver hair and character-lined face now, somehow, ageless looking. His eyes were fastened intently upon the young woman speaking to the assembly. He had his arm around a trim woman, and she too watched as if she knew the characters on the Great Stage.

The man glanced behind him and smiled. A great crowd spread to the horizon, also watching the great moment in His story, watching the kings hand at work.

The watchers cheered as each golden shield appeared. From time to time someone would clap in rejoicing as the eyes of someone they knew, perhaps someone they had prayed for, were opened. The man smiled, watching a golden-haired grandma do a spontaneous jig as her grandson—the shield bright on his chest—broke into tears, trying to hide them from his neighbors.

Amid the joyful clamor, he saw a dark-skinned woman standing to one side, a
curious little smile on her face as her gaze alternated between the young woman on the stage and the gold crosses shining in the crowd. For just a moment, the man caught her gaze, and she nodded slowly, her eyes twinkling. Then she pointed back toward the crowd.

He turned and stared at the back of the memorial assembly to where a woman stood alone, her bristling manner evident in the arms firmly folded across her chest. A moment later he was shouting, pumping his fists in praise as he saw the golden sign appear.

Joy glimmered in his eyes as he hugged his wife. What mercy, this quiet hope for a new beginning! He closed his eyes in wonder. How astonishing that the King would have used him for such a purpose.

The couple turned back to watch the speaker. The young woman was finishing her remarks. She paused for a moment with head bowed then stepped from the stage, her back straight, her gaze clear.

Suddenly, the man and woman heard a sound like a soft rolling of thunder. They turned and saw the crowd dropping to their knees, heads bent in reverence.

The Son of Man was approaching. He was watching the scene before Him with pride, His eyes glistening. Love unbearable swelled inside them as the man and wife too bowed their knees, their hearts yearning, aching, for His lost children.

Mansfield raised his eyes and gazed into the eternal face. He stopped, breathless, as he saw the expression of a Father who knows that His prodigal is already at the gate.

“They have asked, and I have answered.” His voice was like the ringing of the seas. “My covenant is with them.”

The publisher and author would love to hear your
comments about this book.
Please contact us at:
www.multnomah.net/veritas

A N
OTE FROM THE
A
UTHOR

This story is a work of fiction, but it does incorporate elements of fact. I would like readers to know which pieces of the fictionalized story are based on real issues and which most decidedly are not.

• First and foremost, unless otherwise specified, no characters, groups, or organizations in this book (other than Harvard itself) are based on real people or organizations. Claire Rivers, William Mansfield, Anton and Victor Pike, Ian Burke, and the others are figments of my imagination, as are the Pike Fellowships, the Pike Fellows, Pike Holdings, and the subsidiary companies mentioned. In a university as large as Harvard, it is inevitable that some real people will share the surnames of my characters (for example, as I write this there are seven individuals with the last name of Mansfield at Harvard, at least two of whom are professors), but my characters were not based in any way on those individuals. Similarly, the Grindley and Pike families, and their dynasties of good and of evil, are fictional and are not based on real people. While I am quite sure that Harvard is a spiritual battleground, the concept of a specific family’s evil influence on it’s evolution is purely fictional.

• I have changed or simplified certain realities at Harvard in order to avoid confusing the reader. For example, in reality there are several different undergraduate Christian fellowship groups on campus, which I have combined into a fictional group named the Harvard Christian Fellowship. Also, there is no governing body on campus known as the “Board of Directors,” and I have purposefully left out any reference to the real governing group known as the “President and Fellows of Harvard College” to avoid reader confusion with the purely fictional “Pike Fellows.” I have also simplified or consolidated various facts about Harvard life, which only a Harvard student would presumably notice. (For example, most dorms don’t have hallways; they have entryways. Don’t ask.)