Godsent

by Richard Burton

  Walking on, he saw storefront churches filled with those too old in spirit or body to actively resist or participate in the viciousness of the life outside their fragile sanctuaries, but who nevertheless bore the scars of it in their hollow-eyed, deeply lined faces, in which the deaths of friends and family were as visible to Ethan as if they had been inscribed there. He heard their prayers, recognized in their voices not faith but a kind of desperation that looked to Heaven only because no hope remained on Earth.

  He walked on, and though he remained hidden, there was nothing hidden from him. He saw husbands beating their wives, wives beating their husbands, parents beating their children, and children left to fend for themselves in front of television sets by men and women who were scarcely more than children themselves and had better places to be at night than at home looking after the little burdens they had created. He saw the hungry, the weak, the frightened. He saw brutal men who were no more than boys inside, and girls who had learned to equate giving their bodies with love, and giving birth with status. He saw people who had tried to kill every trace of their own humanity and failed, leaving behind wounded husks that would walk through the rest of their lives, wondering where things had gone wrong. And he saw those who had succeeded and were no longer human beings but had become containers for demons that were as attracted to corrupted souls as flies are to excrement.

  All was not bleak and loveless. Amid the suffering, the pain, and the fear, the squalor and the violence, he saw people who somehow maintained their hope and faith in the face of institutionalized racism and the self-destructive culture it had given rise to like some distorted mirror image. People who loved unselfishly and were not afraid of making personal sacrifices and hard choices to earn a better life for themselves and their families; people who still believed in God with all their hearts and minds and souls. Yet when Ethan returned to his hotel room later that night, it was not the memory of these people that kept him awake and filled his heart with anguish.

  Godcast #5, from The2ndSon.com.

  Hi, everybody. Thanks for listening. I’m coming to you today from Los Angeles. We’ve been here a week, and the response has been amazing. It’s an inspiring place, Los Angeles. A little overwhelming. All the energy, the sophistication, the creativity. You can feel it in the air like electricity. To a guy from Olathe, Kansas, like me, LA almost seems like another world. The city of angels. A bit of Heaven fallen to Earth.

  But of course it isn’t. Underneath the glitter and the illusion, it’s the same world you and I live in every day. No different. I’ve walked down these famous streets, with their famous stores, and I have to admit I’ve seen some beautiful people. I’ve met movie stars, models, musicians. People look like a different species out here. More evolved somehow. They wear the latest designer clothes. Take the latest designer drugs. And they’ve sculpted and modeled their DNA with the latest designer genes. Maybe you think I’m going to condemn all that. Come down on these people for trying to make themselves into something other than what God made them. But if you think that, you’re wrong. God made us, but He also gave us the ability to upgrade ourselves. If He hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here. We wouldn’t have been able to survive. Or if we had survived, we’d be no different than animals, who exist just as God made them but lack the gifts my father gave us of self-awareness and intelligence, along with the drive to better ourselves. In bettering ourselves, we come closer to God. How can that be a bad thing? The only time it’s bad is when that drive gets twisted and corrupted, like with drugs. Not all drugs are bad. But drug abuse is always bad. Abusing drugs never brought anybody closer to God. In fact, it takes you in the opposite direction.

  When you’re here in LA, it’s impossible not to be dazzled. Back in Olathe, I used to read about this place. There were magazines devoted to it. TV shows. The men and women we watched and read about were like Greek gods to us. Or angels . . . some of them the fallen kind, I admit. But they were richer, more beautiful, more everything. We envied them, even when we laughed at their excesses or were horrified by their tragedies. They took us out of ourselves. Entertained us. We wanted to be them, if only for a day, an hour.

  But if we could be them, what would we find? We’d discover how much like them we already are. All the plastic surgery, personal training, and gene mods in the world can’t, of themselves, change a person’s soul. They can’t make it shine any brighter, unless those physical enhancements are accompanied by spiritual growth. Which they often are, but not always. Not necessarily. And of course spiritual growth doesn’t depend on any kind of physical enhancements at all. It doesn’t depend on wealth or status or anything like that. That’s the beauty of it. There are many paths to God, an infinite number. My father didn’t make it hard to find Him. He made it easy. God is all around us. He’s everywhere, in everything. He’s in us, whether we know it or not. It’s just a matter of opening our eyes. Opening our hearts. It’s that simple.

  We’re all beautiful beings. Each one of you was designed in my father’s image. Each one of you has greatness within yourself. Don’t look to Los Angeles for that greatness. Don’t look to movie stars. Look in the mirror.

  That’s where we’ve gone wrong, I think. We forgot what Jesus told us. My brother said, “The kingdom of God is within you.” Somehow, we started looking for it outside ourselves instead. And in doing so, we distorted my brother’s teachings and the teachings of other men and women wise in the ways of God.

  We’ve lost our way. My father isn’t about discrimination, hatred, or lack of compassion. He doesn’t want people to struggle with and fight against their neighbors, to denigrate people based on their religious beliefs, the color of their skin, or the manner in which they choose to live their lives. People are different from each other because God wanted to give us as much opportunity as possible to develop the qualities of understanding, patience, compassion, and love. Sure, it’s easy to love your neighbor as yourself when that neighbor looks like you, dresses like you, speaks the same language, practices the same religion. But God wants us to do better than that. He doesn’t want us to be satisfied with doing what’s easy. The irony is that in the midst of all the advances in technology and understanding that surround us, in an age when humanity is more educated than ever before, people have somehow become more narrow-minded, less accepting, less giving of themselves. Far too many of us have stopped being curious. I don’t mean curious about what our neighbors are up to behind their curtains. I mean intellectually curious. Spiritually curious. We’re not using the gifts that God gave us. And that makes my father sad. It hurts Him.

  That’s why He sent me. Because when people lose faith in God, then God loses faith in them. Think about that for a minute. Everything that exists, exists because God has faith in it. He wills it. For God to lose faith in something: Can there be a more terrible calamity? So I’ve come to give warning and to offer help.

  Look in the mirror. Dig deep within yourselves. Deeper than you have ever dared to dig before. Go to those places within yourselves that you fear to see. The dark places. The shameful places. We all have them. We all know they are there. Acknowledge that those places exist in you and confront them. Question them. Try to figure out why they are there. What caused them? What purpose do they serve? Do they bring you closer to God or take you farther from Him?

  If you answer those questions honestly, then you can begin to free yourselves of the shackles that bind you. It’s only then you may begin to recognize the true meaning, blessing, and grace of my father—your God. It’s only then that God, who sees all things, will see that you are struggling to find the way back to Him. And He will meet you halfway. More than halfway. His hand will reach out to you, lift you up, and carry you over every obstacle. I promise. But first you have to try. You have to show God that you have faith in Him, so that He will have faith in you.

  It was during the first night’s sermon in Dallas, Texas, after Ethan had once again refused to follow the script provided for him, that Papa Jim d
ecided it was time for a heart-to-heart talk with his great-grandson. Sending Kate on ahead with Trey and Wilson, he drove back to the hotel with Ethan in the same armored limousine he’d used as secretary of Homeland Security, which he’d leased back from the government. Nothing short of a direct hit by a shoulder-fired missile could bring this baby to a stop, and Papa Jim doubted that the Congregation was willing to use that kind of firepower, even now. But just to be on the safe side, having underestimated them before, he had two Oz Corp helicopters pacing them, making sure the airspace was clear. With Denny driving, Papa Jim and Ethan were alone in the limousine’s spacious, leather-upholstered interior, which boasted a fully stocked bar and humidor, a state-of-the-art entertainment system, full wireless access, a secure satellite uplink to the AEGIS network, and weapons systems so advanced and deadly that their mere presence made Papa Jim feel warm and tingly all over. Now he sat with a cigar in one hand and a tumbler of Aberlour in the other, his feet stretched out comfortably in front of him. Ethan was at the other end of the plush backseat, sipping from a bottle of mineral water; his sermons always left him feeling dehydrated.

  “I’m glad it’s just the two of us for a change,” Papa Jim said as he puffed on his cigar. “We hardly ever get a chance to talk man to man.”

  Ethan glanced at his great-grandfather and shook his head. “You’re up to something. I can tell.”

  Papa Jim’s attempt to look innocent was not entirely successful. “Does a man have to have an ulterior motive to want a little quality time with his great-grandson?”

  “In your case, yes.”

  “I’ll allow that there are one or two minor matters I hoped we might discuss in private,” Papa Jim admitted.

  Ethan sighed. “Kate didn’t really leave early because she had a headache, did she? You sent her away on purpose, so that we’d be alone on the ride back to the hotel.”

  “She didn’t look at all well,” Papa Jim said somewhat defensively. “I sent her back for her own good.”

  “For your own good, you mean,” Ethan replied. “If Kate’s not here, it’s because you don’t think she’d like whatever it is you’re about to tell me.”

  “A shockingly cynical attitude.”

  “But not wrong.”

  “No, I didn’t say that,” said Papa Jim with an unrepentant grin. He leaned over toward Ethan. “All right, I’ll lay it out. You’re being too much of a maverick, Ethan. Disregarding the scripts we give you and preaching about whatever strikes your fancy without running it past me first. I’ve been running some numbers . . .”

  “What kind of numbers?”

  “You know, polls.”

  “What do we need polls for?”

  Papa Jim looked aghast, as if some blasphemy had been uttered. “Because without them, it’s like we’re wandering blindfolded through a mine-field. That’s what we need them for.”

  “And what do these polls have to say?”

  “They say that your approach is working with young people of all races, creeds, and classes. They trust you and identify with you as one of them. That’s good. But they also say that you’re turning off older, more traditional voters.”

  “Voters?”

  Papa Jim blushed. “Just a figure of speech.”

  “Is it? Look, Papa Jim, I’m not running for anything. That’s what I’ve told the press, and that’s what I’m telling you.”

  “Well, of course, now isn’t the time to announce . . .”

  “No.” Ethan shook his head angrily. “What part of ‘I’m not running for anything’ didn’t you understand?”

  Papa Jim frowned, his face reddening, but not from embarrassment this time. He raised the glass of whiskey to his lips and threw back a quick swallow. “You’re the one who doesn’t understand,” he said at last. “Don’t you see the opportunity here? Do you think it’s just a coincidence that you got your memory back now? That you rediscovered your mission and reclaimed your powers now, in an election year? Don’t you see that God wants you to run for president?”

  Ethan’s laugh had more sadness in it than humor. “As my brother once said, ‘Get thee behind me, Satan.’”

  Papa Jim stiffened. “I don’t think that’s fair.”

  “Maybe not. I know you’re only doing what you think is best. But to quote my brother one more time, ‘My kingdom is not of this world.’ You have to accept that, Papa Jim. If you can’t, maybe it’s better if we part ways.”

  “Whoa, hold on to your horses. Nobody said anything about parting ways. Now you’re just being ridiculous. And ungrateful. Do you have any idea how much all this”—he waved his cigar—“is costing? How far do you think you’d get without Oz Corp bankrolling your travel and expenses, providing security for you and for Kate?”

  “As far as God wants me to get,” said Ethan.

  “Okay, okay,” Papa Jim said after a moment. “I’ll lay off the electioneering for now. But that doesn’t change things, Ethan. You’ve still got to broaden your support if you want to make an impact.”

  “I’m making the impact I need to make,” Ethan said. “I’m grateful for all your help and support, Papa Jim. But I have to do things the way my father wants me to do them.”

  Papa Jim gave an exasperated sigh. “At least respond to that ex-girlfriend of yours! You’ve got to rebut her claims. She’s out there every day, badmouthing you.”

  “No, I’m not going to do that, either,” Ethan said. “I’ve reached out to Mags privately, through Pete, and I’m going to keep on trying. But I’m not going to attack her in public.”

  “I’m not asking you to attack her.”

  “What then?”

  “Turn the tables on her. Right now, a lot of people sympathize with her. You need to get them to sympathize with you instead. How? Simple: issue a public apology. Say that you’re sorry if she got the wrong idea about your relationship, that you never meant to lead her on, that you still love her and only want the best for her.”

  “I’ve said all those things before.”

  “Yes, here and there, but never all in one place. Record an apology and post it on the web site. It could go a long way toward defusing this issue. And who knows? It might even help the girl.”

  “I’ll think about it,” said Ethan.

  Papa Jim nodded. “That’s all I’m asking.” But beneath his agreeable exterior, he was not happy. Once again, Ethan had showed himself to be unmanageable. Papa Jim was starting to wonder if he’d backed the wrong horse. Ethan was fixated on his mission, but what about Papa Jim’s mission? Papa Jim knew that God expected him to bring America back to Him, and it was increasingly clear that Ethan wasn’t going to be a help in that mission. If anything, he was proving to be a hindrance. “My kingdom is not of this world,” he’d said. Well, Papa Jim wasn’t interested in kingdoms that weren’t of this world. He wanted to build God’s kingdom right here, right now. And what Papa Jim wanted, he got.

  But could he succeed without Ethan?

  In the depths of his mind, a plan began to take shape. He wasn’t ready to give up on the whole Godsent idea yet. And he wasn’t going to let anything happen to Ethan, either. Whatever else he was, the boy was family. He would always be cared for, protected. Just like Kate.

  The limousine continued on to the hotel, gliding through the streets like a shark.

  During his stay in Minneapolis, Ethan spent time, like millions of other visitors, at the Mall of America in nearby Bloomington. But unlike those others, he didn’t come to shop, but to observe. Strolling amid the crowds, the families and the groups of teenagers and twenty-somethings, the patrolling munchies and rent-a-cops, the mall workers in their colorful uniforms, Ethan marveled at the extent to which consumerism had become a kind of religion in itself.

  There were malls in Olathe, of course, and Ethan and his friends had frequented them like young people everywhere, but he’d never seen such a concentration and variety of stores and shops offering so many choices and so few consequences. It seemed as if everythin
g had become a commodity. There were walk-in clinics for Lasik surgery, organ replacement, plastic surgery, cybernetic implantation, and genetic testing and adjustment. There were chapels where marriages were performed and ATM-like kiosks where divorces were issued electronically. He saw the family planning centers where, upon payment of a fine and a fee calculated on the basis of time passed since conception, abortions could be obtained. He saw the full-sensory-immersion arcades and the smart tattoo and body-mod parlors. He saw the day care centers and the adoption mills. He saw the eutube booths, where elderly or gravely ill individuals, after medical examination and psychological counseling, could, if they so desired, pay for the privilege of painlessly ending their lives. He saw recruiting centers for the military and for Oz Corp. All these varied services were being offered up alongside restaurants, banks, law offices, and stores selling clothes, shoes, lingerie, electronics, books, games, computers, furniture, music, perfume, cosmetics, linens, sporting goods, and countless other traditional items, to say nothing of the indoor amusement park, aquarium, and multiplex movie theater. Hanging from the ceiling and along the walls were massive display screens, nearly as big as movie theater screens themselves, on which advertisements and music videos, which he often couldn’t tell apart, were continually playing.

  As he made his way through the gigantic, teeming space, which was like a small, self-contained city, a kind of commerce-driven Vatican or earthbound space station, Ethan thought to himself that it really didn’t matter what the stores sold—it wasn’t so much the items or services that mattered as the act of shopping, of buying, of replacing the old with the new, the outmoded with the fashionable. And when upgrades were no longer possible, desirable, or convenient, of throwing out the old model, whether it was a computer or a life.