The Harbinger II

by Jonathan Cahn

She didn’t answer.

  “Where did you get the seal?” I asked. “Who gave it to you?”

  “A friend,” she replied.

  “What friend?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Prepare yourself, Nouriel.”

  “Prepare myself for what?”

  “For the time,” she said, “for the revelation.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “He’s coming.”

  “Who’s coming?”

  “He’s coming back.”

  “Who’s coming back?”

  “He’s coming back . . . but not as you expect.”

  “I don’t expect anything.”

  “Then all the more so he’ll come as you don’t expect. Prepare yourself, Nouriel . . . for the return. And this is how it begins.”

  “How what exactly begins?”

  “How it all begins,” she said, “with the seal.”

  I looked down at the seal as if I would find something that would make sense of what was happening. I looked back up at the girl, and she was gone, or almost gone. I could just see the last trace of her blue coat disappearing into the crowd.

  I got up from my chair, made my way around the table to the place from which she had disappeared, and then into the crowd to catch up with her. The book signing was thrown into confusion. When I emerged at the other side of the crowd, there was no sign of her. She was gone.

  “And there was no one with her?”

  “No one.”

  “And nobody who knew who she was?”

  “I asked around, but no one had ever seen her before.”

  “Who do you think she was?”

  “I can only guess.”

  “And how did she get the seal?”

  “I had my guesses, but I couldn’t say for sure. But I knew it wasn’t that she just happened to show up there. She was sent. She was a messenger.”

  “By whom?”

  “That was the question.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I went back to the table and finished the book signing. But my mind was elsewhere. I couldn’t stop thinking about what had just happened and what it might mean.”

  “Then what?”

  “That night, alone in my hotel room, I took out the seal to look at it. As with the seals that the prophet had given me, there was an image engraved on it.”

  “Of what?”

  “The figure of a man, ancient, bearded, and robed. He was turned to the right and holding, in his left hand, a ram’s horn, set to his mouth . . . as if he was sounding it, or about to.”

  “The watchman,” said Ana, “the watchman sounding the alarm. It’s what the prophet told you when you last saw him; when he told you to spread the message, you were being given the charge of a watchman, to sound the alarm.”

  “Yes.”

  “And now you were given another seal and with the image of the watchman, which is where it all left off when you last saw the prophet—so it meant that you were about to receive another revelation. So the seal was a sign of a coming revelation . . . and that it was about to begin again . . . from where it left off.”

  “It was.”

  “And every seal you were given led to another encounter with the prophet. That’s what the little girl was alluding to . . . to prepare yourself for the return. The return was of the prophet.”

  “Yes,” he replied, “the prophet would come . . . but in a way I would not expect.”

  Chapter 3

  The Return of the Prophet

  SO WHAT DID you do?”

  “The only thing I could think of was to go back to the place where I last saw him and when he first told me about the watchman.”

  “Which place?”

  “The same place where he first appeared to me, where we first met, on the bench overlooking the Hudson River. So I returned there.”

  “And?”

  “And all I found was a bench. I sat down and waited for about half an hour, but nothing happened. About a week later I went back, and again, nothing. After examining the seal, yet again, hoping to find some clue or revelation, and finding nothing, I went to bed.

  “That night I had a dream. I was walking through New York City toward the west side, to the Hudson River. It appeared to be late afternoon. It was a windy day, and the sky was filled with clouds. And in the distance ahead was the bench.”

  “The same bench?”

  “The same bench. I made my way over to it and sat down. I reached into my coat pocket and took out the seal to examine it.”

  “The seal with the watchman.”

  “Yes. And it was then that I noticed I wasn’t alone. Sitting to my left was a man.”

  “Looks like a storm,” he said as he gazed out into the water.

  It was the prophet. He looked just as I had remembered him, dark hair, Middle Eastern features, and a closely cut beard and wearing the same coat he always wore when I had encountered him.

  “What do you have in your hand?” he asked without turning his gaze to look at me.

  “A seal,” I replied.

  “An ancient seal?”

  “Yes.”

  “May I see it?” he said.

  I handed it to him.

  “The watchman,” he said as he examined it. “What did the watchman do?”

  “He stood on the city walls, in the watchtowers, looking into the distance for the first sign of danger, an enemy, an approaching army.”

  “And if he saw in the distance the first sign of danger, what was he to do?”

  “Blow the trumpet, the ram’s horn; sound the alarm.”

  “So those in the city would know . . . so that those who had ears to hear the warning could be saved.”

  They were the same words he had used when he gave me the charge, the last time I saw him. They were the words that led me to write the book . . . to sound the alarm.

  “So,” he said, still gazing into the water, “has the watchman given the warning?”

  “Has he?” I asked. “You tell me.”

  “Has he sounded the alarm?”

  “I believe he has.”

  “And the people, have they heard the sound?”

  “Many have. Many have not.”

  “And have they taken warning?”

  “Many have . . . but most have not.”

  “Then they’re still asleep,” he said, “and in danger. Then the call of the watchman isn’t finished.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  It was only then that he turned to me.

  “It means that your calling isn’t finished, Nouriel. Your mission isn’t over. It means that there’s more,” he said, “more to be given, more to be received, and more to be made known.”

  “You look exactly as I remember you.”

  “I suppose that’s good,” said the prophet, “though this is a dream.

  Were you not told that I would come to you in a way that you didn’t expect?”

  “By the girl in the blue coat?”

  “Yes.”

  “I was.”

  “And did you expect me to come to you in this way?”

  “No . . . but did you really come?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Am I dreaming of you, or are you coming to me in my dream?”

  “Does it make a difference?”

  “So which was it?” asked Ana. “Was it from your thoughts or from beyond your thoughts?”

  “Time would tell.”

  “Tell you which?”

  “That there was no way I could have come up with what I was seeing. It was definitely beyond me.”

  “Then from what?”

  “In the Bible, revelations were sometimes given through dreams.”

  “What about the prophet?”

  “The revelations given in a dream or vision could sometimes come through the words of angels, messengers of God, even from God Himself. So it wasn’t so much that the person was dreaming of an angel speak
ing or of God speaking, but that God or a messenger of God was actually speaking through the dream.”

  “So was the prophet speaking to you through the dream?”

  “What the prophet said was that perhaps it didn’t matter if the prophet was speaking in the dream.”

  “But he said that in the dream.”

  “I believe that that was the point. Whether a revelation comes through a prophet, a dream, or a prophet within a dream, it doesn’t matter. It’s not about the means through which it comes—it’s about the revelation.

  And the revelation could not have possibly come from me.”

  “So what happened next?”

  “So you returned,” I said, “because . . . ”

  “Because it’s time,” he said, “and there’s more to be revealed.”

  “More?”

  “But first we must set the foundation. Why is it that a nation is given warning?”

  “Because of the danger,” I replied, “of judgment.”

  “And what nation is it that stands in danger of judgment?”

  “A nation that wars against the will of God.”

  “And what nation more specifically stands in such danger and is more accountable?”

  “One that has especially known the will of God, the ways of God, and the blessings of God . . . but turned away and now wars against them.”

  “And what ancient civilization was dedicated, from its inception, to the will of God?”

  “Israel,” I said, “ancient Israel.”

  “And what other civilization?”

  “America.”

  “And what else joins the two?”

  “The pattern,” I said. “America was founded after the pattern of ancient Israel.”

  “And what happened to ancient Israel?”

  “It fell away. It turned against the ways of God.”

  “And in the case of America?”

  “It also fell away and, likewise, turned against the ways of God.”

  “And what happened to ancient Israel?”

  “Judgment happened,” I said. “It was destroyed.”

  “And why does that matter now?”

  “Because the fall of ancient Israel reveals the template and progression of a nation heading to judgment.”

  “And what happened, specifically, in that template?”

  “God called them, sent prophets and messengers to warn and plead with them to come back. But they wouldn’t return; they wouldn’t listen. They hardened their hearts to the point where the only way to reach them was through a shaking.”

  “And how did that shaking come?”

  “The nation’s hedge of protection was lifted up, and an enemy was allowed to strike the land . . . to wake them up that they might return.”

  “And what about America?”

  “America likewise hardened its heart to the voice of God, and likewise came the shaking; the hedge of the nation’s protection was lifted up.”

  “When?”

  “On September 11, 2001. The hedge was lifted, and America was struck by its enemies, a wake-up call, that the nation might return.”

  “And did it?”

  “No.”

  “And according to the template, what happens next?”

  “After the shaking, the nation is given a chance to turn back, a window of time, years of grace in which to return to God.”

  “And what happened to ancient Israel in that window of time?”

  “They never returned, and the window came to an end. The judgment fell. The nation was destroyed.”

  “Now remember, Nouriel,” he said, “judgment is not the heart of God, not for a nation or a soul. Judgment is His necessity. But redemption is His heart. He wills that none should perish and longs to save, to grant mercy and forgiveness, to heal and restore. It is the necessity of good to bring evil to an end, that judgment must come—but it is the heart of good to bring salvation, to call back, to warn, and to even allow the shaking of nations that those who would hear His calling would come back and be saved.”

  “So what now?” I asked. “America hasn’t turned back.”

  “It’s not over,” he said. “There’s more to be revealed, more for you to be shown, and more that must be done.”

  “More to be revealed of what?”

  “Of that which was . . . of that which was not but now has been . . . and that which is yet to come.”

  “Of that which was. . . meaning, the first shaking . . . 9/11?”

  “Yes.”

  “But didn’t you already show me that when you revealed the harbingers?”

  “You were only shown a piece of the larger mystery. More than what was revealed to you was that which was unrevealed.”

  “Why didn’t you reveal it then?”

  “You couldn’t have been shown everything at once. And even if you could, it would have been too much for you to receive. And it wasn’t for that time to be revealed—but for now.”

  “And that which was not but now has been. . . meaning what has happened since then, since 9/11?”

  “Yes, and particularly that which has happened since we last saw each other . . . up to the present day.”

  “So are there more manifestations, more signs, more harbingers?”

  “You will have to see.”

  “And that which is yet to come. . . the future, of course.”

  “The future, of course,” he said, “and the future of the course.”

  “The course, can it be changed?”

  “We shall see,” he said. “But for now, remember one thing, Nouriel.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Record it.”

  “What?”

  “When you wake up, remember to record what has been shown you.”

  “So when you woke up,” said Ana, “you wrote it all down.”

  “I recorded it. I kept the same recorder by my bed that I used in my conversations with the prophet in our first encounters. I’ve always kept it with me since that time, just in case.”

  “When I see you again,” he said, “we will begin uncovering that which has not yet been revealed.”

  “What wasn’t shown me from the beginning?”

  “The mysteries hidden from the beginning but that are now to be revealed.”

  “Why now?”

  “Because they hold the keys to where we’ve been, where we are, and what is yet to come.”

  “For America.”

  “For America and more than America. America is the head of nations, the center of the present world order. It stands for many nations, for a civilization, a world, and an age. What happens to America will, in the end, touch the nations.”

  “So what would you call them, the other mysteries?”

  “The unrevealed.”

  Chapter 4

  The Gate

  SO YOU WOKE up and recorded the dream. And what happened?”

  “Nothing,,” said Nouriel, “nothing for some time. And I had no idea what I was supposed to do, if anything. The prophet didn’t leave me with any direction. The only thing I had to go on was the seal. But I couldn’t glean anything from it that would point me to what was next.”

  “And then?”

  “And then it came . . . in the form of a dream. I was standing in front of two colossal golden doors. To the right and left of the doors were walls made of large sand-colored stones. The doors were closed and bolted shut. I knew that I was standing on the outside of an ancient city and, judging from the size of its doors and walls, a great city. Adorning the two golden doors were engraved images.”

  “Of what?”

  “On the right side of the doors,” he said, “a representation of hills, a land of hills, and on the left, what appeared to be a giant torch. Above the flame of the torch was the sun, a stylized image with rays that looked more like spikes than light. Separating the sun and the torch from the land of hills was a series of curved lines, waves, that I took to represent water.”

 
“What do you think it meant?”

  “At the time, I had no idea. I was staring up at the colossal image, trying to make sense of it, when I heard a voice.”

  “So what do you make of it, Nouriel?”

  I turned to my left, from where the voice was coming. It was the prophet . . . the same appearance, the same coat—everything was the same as in the first dream except we were in an ancient setting.

  “I have no idea,” I replied. “I would think you could help me with that.”

  “It’s a gate. The great cities of the ancient world were walled, and within those walls were gates to allow their inhabitants and visitors to go in and out. The gate was the city’s portal to the rest of the world, the center of trade, through which commerce and merchandise poured, the place of markets, of buying and selling and trading. The gate was also a place of power, where the elders sat, where decisions were made, and cases judged. The gate thus became the symbol of a city’s power or a kingdom’s greatness. And so the gates were often adorned and embellished with the symbols and signs of power, wealth, and greatness . . . the gates of Nineveh . . . the gates of Babylon. The gate would become the embodiment of the city itself or the kingdom, empire, or civilization by which it stood.”

  It was just then that I heard a faint, distant rumbling.

  “What do you hear, Nouriel?” he asked.

  “A rumbling.”

  “Listen more closely.”

  “It’s the sound of hoofbeats . . . horses . . . and chariots.”

  “Approaching hoofbeats,” said the prophet. “The sound of an invading army, an enemy attack.”

  The moment he said that, in an instant, we were transported. I was now standing with the prophet on top of the wall, on the rampart by the gate.

  “Look, Nouriel,” he said, pointing into the distance. It was then that I saw the enemy, an ancient army with banners, horses, chariots, soldiers armed with spears, swords, bows and arrows, ladders, platforms, battering rams . . . siege works. “They’re coming to us,” he said. “They’re coming to the gate. The gate is the most vulnerable place in the wall.”

  “That’s why it was closed and bolted.”

  “Yes. The attack will focus on the gate.”

  The army drew near to the gate. What followed was a barrage of flaming arrows, the hurling of boulders, and the pounding of battering rams. I began to fear for our safety.