“You’re not so scary,” said John, and Alex’s face intensified again.
“You have no idea,” he said.
“You are not the same as your father, Alex Kensington,” said John.
Alex stared at him, and swallowed. “I hope and pray that is true,” he whispered, and he looked up to the cross, turned, and thrust open the glass doors before him.
John looked again to Rachel. She looked perplexed.
“Well?” asked John. “How’s his mental health?”
“His mental health?” asked Rachel. “I was hoping you’d tell me how his spiritual health is.”
John frowned, looking after him. “His spiritual health,” he murmured. “He is in pain: sometimes spirit-breaking pain.”
“Yes,” said Rachel.
“And yet,” said John, “there is more.”
“What more?” asked Rachel.
“There’s something about him,” said John. “Something…”
“…powerful,” finished Rachel.
“For good or for bad,” said John. “Something powerful.”
Rachel held his eyes, and smiled sadly.
“And you?” asked John. “What do you see in him?”
“A broken boy,” said Rachel, shrugging slightly. “A broken boy who needs care.”
John nodded. “And so you have responded,” he said. “As inevitably you would.”
“Inevitably?” asked Rachel.
“Well,” said John, “you’re a sucker for hard core cases.”
He broke into a grin, and Rachel hit him on an arm.
Instinctively he drew her to his chest. They were alone at last. He felt her breath quickening on his face; he lowered his lips toward her…but then the church doors opened again.
“Well?” said Alex’s voice. “Coming with me into the pit of hell?”
John drew back, released Rachel, and watched her turning toward Alex.
“Okay,” she said. “I’m coming.”
“I’ll be right here,” said John to them both.
“Okay,” said Rachel. “I’ll see you soon.”
And she followed Alex out of the church and away, toward Parliament.
CHAPTER FIVE: Love, Light and Fear
Tristan Blake stood on the sand of Oriental Bay. In front of him, Rau Petera stood on the same familiar rock, lifting his voice to the crowd. Tristan cast his eyes over the many faces: Maori, Pakeha, Pacific, Indian, Chinese, Filipino, Korean…Many thousands had crammed themselves within the tsunami retaining wall of the beach, spilling over into the calm sea behind Rau, forming silhouettes for the light reflecting off the water.
“Good news!” cried Rau at the top of his lungs, his voice lifting on the gentle sea breeze. “Joshua Davidson is alive! We killed him in our fear, but he was stronger than our fear. We killed him with our darkness, but he was stronger than our darkness.”
Tristan reached into his own jacket pocket. His rifle, the weapon he had used to execute Joshua, was gone. What was in its place? Empty space? His fingers groped about, searching for the familiar trigger, seeming lost without it…and yet…and yet…
He looked again at Rau’s brown face, radiant in the sun – he felt his own face responding, his own smile dawning. It didn’t matter! It didn’t matter that his defence was gone! He had thrown it away, into the Hutt River – he had chosen trust instead. Trust in what? In life after death? In a kind of life stronger than death?
He remembered Joshua’s face, as he had knelt before Tristan; as he had worn the cursed ancient crown Selena had thrust upon his head. As he had sweated blood.
“Father, don’t hold it against them!” Joshua had cried, lifting his face to God. “They have no idea what they are doing!”
No idea…Tristan had sent the bullets into his chest. Joshua had received them! Had taken them into the grave. And then…and then he had overcome them.
“We saw him!” cried out Rau, a thousand times, with no less passion as he reached the masses with the news. “John and I saw him! We touched the bullet holes in his chest! He was alive! He is alive! And now…” He paused, his warm brown eyes finding Tristan. Tristan saw the familiar tears form, and felt his own tears responding. “…and now we can live too.”
Joy. Tristan could feel it, like a river bursting forth in his depths – life! Life, strong enough, true enough, to even transcend death. Eternal life! Everlasting life…
Rau’s eyes were holding him fast. “Come!” he cried out to the crowd. “Accept this gift which God has offered: a new chance! A new way! Say goodbye to the old ways, of death and destruction – hand those ways over, let Joshua take them into the grave. Rise again with him into a new way – into a new kind of life.”
A new life…
Rau gestured behind himself to the water. He smiled at Tristan, and Tristan grinned back at him.
Don’t you dare, old man, he said to him through his gaze, and now Rau was off the rock and striding toward him, reaching out his hand.
“No gun in your pocket holding you back this time,” muttered Rau, as Tristan stared at the hand.
“Yeah, I know,” he said, “but, come on, grown men holding hands?”
“Enough!” cried Rau. “You’ve procrastinated too long, boy!”
And he pulled on his sleeve, and Tristan let him drag him into the sea, playfully flicking at the affectionate strong Maori grip on his arm.
“Wash away the darkness of the past!” cried Rau, to the crowd watching on the sand. “Wash away the guilt. God is offering a new start! God is offering a new life.”
Now Tristan let Rau lower him under the water.
A wave covered his face. He stared up through the murky salt water to the sunlight beyond, and now Rau was pulling him up out of the watery grave with both fists on his jacket.
Tristan gasped, and stood, dripping, standing in the sea. A crowd was watching him – he didn’t care. He lifted his face toward the warm summer sun. He closed his eyes, and took in a deep breath.
“Christ is coming,” Rau’s voice sounded alongside him. “Christmas is coming. He came once; he will come again. We look to his coming; we look ahead to the time when the true King will make all things right again.”
Christmas…a mass of people gathered to receive Christ.
“Next time when he comes, he will not be as a baby,” said Rau. “Next time, he will come as Lord.”
As Lord…Tristan opened his eyes and looked at Rau.
“But what does that even mean?” he asked. “A Prime Minister? A human dictator?”
“An altruistic monarch,” said Rau. “But with one key difference: this monarch carries within him the authority of God.”
“God,” said Tristan. “All powerful, all knowing, all scary…”
“Joshua, on his knees,” murmured Rau, “carrying your bullets that you might live.”
Tristan quickly reached out a hand to his shoulder. “It’s a frightening thing, Rau,” he said, “the thought of Christ taking over.”
“There will come a time,” said Rau, clasping Tristan’s hand on his own shoulder, “when you will long for it to be so.”
Rau led him out of the water.
“The vulnerable human being,” said Tristan, “shot, killed, crucified, that we might live.”
“He keeps his vulnerable humanity,” said Rau, drawing him back onto the sand. “He keeps his divinity.”
“How can a person be both human and God?” asked Tristan, and Rau turned to him, his eyes sparkling.
“To not reduce Christ to mere humanity,” he said, “and to not elevate humanity to the position of God – that is the task before you, Tristan. Because humanity is by no means God, and yet Jesus is beyond mere humanity.”
Rau shook his hand. Tristan stared at their hands together, and shook Rau’s in return. The Maori priest grinned. “May God bless you, Tristan,” he said, and then he circled back to the others.
Tristan watched him for a while: his warmth, as he stretched out his hand to ma
ny; as he held many. Tristan was dripping, in the sand, but still warm. Christ, divine and yet human. How? How could this possibly be understood? And yet Joshua, on his knees, receiving Tristan’s bullets; Joshua, alive again, before Rau and John. This could be understood.
Tristan turned, and looked across the sparkling water towards the sun. His heart was lifting…
“Love,” said a voice alongside him, and Tristan looked up to see John. “There is light, and there is love.”
Rachel was next to him, with her pretty face and messy hair. She was grinning at him. Did she have light? Did she have love?
Tristan searched her. Rachel had almost died – Tristan had stood ready to protect her, ready to shoot his own comrade, James Lester, pointing the gun to her head. But something profound had happened in that moment. She had believed. She had trusted in Joshua’s new life beyond her own imminent death.
Now her arm was around the shoulders of another.
Tristan almost started. Alex! He hadn’t expected to see him back here, on a Sunday morning. The last time Tristan had seen him appear in this spot, Alex had been carrying Kensington’s gun.
Alex’s forehead was forming a crevice, his eyes moving rapidly across the sand. Tristan had seen the signs so many times, since he had lived in their house: the fast breathing, the tension in his body, the harrowing look in his eyes…
“Hey,” said Tristan, touching him on the shoulder. Distraction! Bring him back. “You must think I’m a dweeb, a fully grown man walking into the ocean with all my clothes on.”
Alex’s eyes settled on him, and his face broke into a quiet wry smile.
“I think I prefer the clothes on,” he said.
“You should try it some time,” said Tristan. “It’s really quite refreshing!”
“I’ll bet,” said Alex, and his eyes followed after Rau. He wandered toward the priest, while Tristan returned to John.
“Love,” he said. “I get Joshua’s love, who wouldn’t? A man dies to save you.”
“That’s the point,” said John, with the same bright faith in his green eyes. “The love is there, as well as the light. The light can be frightening, if we are still in darkness, but the love gives us confidence.”
“Yes,” murmured Tristan.
He noticed Rachel wandering after Alex, and instinctively followed after her. She stopped behind Alex, and reached out a hand to his shoulder. What was going on there? Tristan glanced back to John, but the green eyes, perceptive, were wholly at peace. There was something else about the beautiful lady; in the doctor. Curious, he circled around the group waiting for Rau, and faced Rachel and Alex.
She spotted him staring at her. He questioned her with his gaze; she shrugged her shoulders, keeping her hand on Alex – but now Alex grabbed his attention.
He had reached Rau, and his young face suddenly contorted.
Rau reached for him, grasping his arms while Rachel fell back away. Alex’s voice was rising! Rising, higher and higher, toward a scream.
John thrust himself forward, but Rau was drawing Alex toward the ocean.
“No!” Rachel called out. “The water! He’s having a flashback! He might drown!”
“Leave the past behind,” said Rau. “Be washed clean of it, Alex! Start again: a new birth. A new life.”
“He’s coming!” cried Alex. “You’re not safe! None of you are safe!”
“Rau,” Tristan said, stepping forward, reaching a hand to the priest to restrain him. “I know what you’re trying to do, but…”
“Joshua is stronger,” said Rau, and Alex sank to his knees on the sand before him, as Rau pulled him in toward his chest.
“I know Joshua is stronger,” whispered Alex against him. “I know!”
In wonder, Tristan watched them. This young man had been sent by his father to kill Rau, and yet he had resisted, and submitted to Rau’s message instead. Rau was comforting him! Joshua had indeed been stronger. Yet Alex was not at peace.
He leaned against Rau, and then rose to his feet and turned his contorted face to the beach.
“Please,” he said to Rau. “You’re meeting out in the open, getting stronger and stronger, and I don’t want to see you die.”
Tristan stared at him. Kensington was dead – Tristan had shot him himself, with James Lester! Both had fired: two bullets, to heart and brain, saving Alex’s life. There had been no possible survival.
Yet Alex was clearly serious. Surely delusional! Surely it was the potency of the flashbacks. They were real! Tristan knew the power of trauma. Each flashback was almost as strong as the original pain. Fear ruled; anguish consumed the soul with the fear of it all repeating all over again…
Yet Rau was taking him seriously.
“Even if he should come,” said Rau, “even if he should rise from the dead, Joshua is stronger.”
“You don’t understand,” whispered Alex. “None of you understand.”
“Even if everything you fear comes to pass,” said Rau, “God will overcome in the end.”
“I know,” pleaded Alex, “but I can’t bear to watch you die.”
Rau held Alex’s forehead to his own, his eyes holding Alex’s terror.
“Then look away,” he said. “When the moment comes, look away.”
Tristan watched as Alex stiffened. “You know?” cried Alex. “You already know?”
* * *
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The Crux of Salvation Page 5