Lowering his head, he whispers, “But each time…I thought I was doing what was right. I may have messed things up previously, but I ended up doing what was right. I ended up figuring it out, and I fixed things. So if I did what was right, why am I forced to do things over?”
Other memories surface in random order.
Suddenly, a sharp pain in one of his fingers flares and makes him flinch. He finally raises his hand to his face to examine the damaged skin, veins, and bones. He winces. After deciding once again to leave his hand as it is, he lowers it back to his lap.
His thoughts focus once more, remembering people, places, events, why he did certain things, and why he didn’t. Once again, he reaches no reasonable explanation for the cause of his dire circumstances.
For a long time, he sits in silence, in confusion, in frustration.
Then, unable to correct his plight and unable to solve this puzzle, he reaches despair.
With nowhere else to turn, he finally whispers, “God, how do I get out of this?”
An answer comes.
Suddenly, more memories feed into his mind. But they no longer seem to be random, and he is not the one directing them.
They are memories of events that occurred before the repeating cycles of time.
He sees once again when he was a teenager. He rambled into a high school gym, where young Pastor Jason’s church met for Sunday services:
After Jason said in his message, “Just by living our average daily lives, we easily slide into the role the world makes for us…”
He thought the idea was ridiculous: The world didn’t make roles for people. He chose what to do every day. What he did in his daily life was his, and his decision only.
Then, Pastor Jason finished his sentence, “…not the role God has purposed us to have. Each of us has a role in this life.”
While trying to understand why this particular memory surfaced, he allows more to come into his mind. Next, he sees the first time he spoke to Gul on the mountains of Pakistan.
“You are becoming what you are,” Gul said with amazement in his eyes.
He lifted his head to look at Gul. He opened his mouth, but for a second he held back his words. Then, he finally said, “Gee, I think you just gave me a cryptic answer.”
“You are becoming what you are…what you are intended to be.”
“What did I just say?” He gave up looking for straight answers, and then said instead, “So, how do you know these things? God said he would send me someone to help me. Are you the one?”
“Help you?” Gul laughed out loud and began to walk. “God gives to those what their roles require.”
After taking a few more paces, Gul continued, “And me…oh, my role is to be a messenger and to guide you in your path, in your role. With your abilities, does it look like I am the one to help you?” He waved his hand. “No no no no. No no no. It is unlikely. It must be someone else.”
He followed Gul, “So, how do you know these things? Why couldn’t God tell me Himself?”
Gul stopped and looked into the sky, “I prayed to God for the honor to tell you myself, and He granted it. And now you are here.”
Another memory came. It was of the first night he realized Paige and her son Isaac attended the same church he frequented. As always, he was in a drunken state:
Sitting down, he rested his head on the backrest of the seat in front of him.
“Ooo…whoa…” he said quietly, as his head began to spin.
Nevertheless, he tried to pay attention to Preacher Man. It took several minutes for him to catch the theme on which Preacher Man Jason was speaking for the evening, but when he heard Jason say, “We settle in the role the world has given us, not the role God has purposed us to have,” it became clear. He nodded his head, and in his daze he agreed and thought, “Amen, brother.”
As Jason’s message progressed, another sentence made it into his consciousness: “You are chosen by God not because of anything you have done, but because…” The remaining sentence trailed off, melting into the ringing in his ears. He tried to listen to the rest, but it proved to be too difficult to continue concentrating.
Jason’s words wafted and faded, “…but because Jesus - God - has decided to choose you.”
Once again he fell asleep, with his head resting on the top of the seat in front of him.
The conversation in his apartment after he witnessed Malik Khel’s death was emotional and upsetting. During that time, he did not realize that in his intense, blind anger he made the earth quake in its foundations:
He sat on the couch and calmed himself. With his elbows on his knees, he rested his forehead in his palms.
His crying stopped, and he became completely silent.
Several minutes later, he asked with his head still down, “So, who am I in this world? So, what is my role in this world?”
There were a few seconds of silence, and then a response came, “Someone has been sent.”
He stood in anger, “I don’t need “someone“. I don’t need anyone.”
Defiant, he pronounced, “I’m not doing this!”
“I’m no hero. I’m no spy. I’m no helper of the downtrodden.”
He began to walk again.
“I’m no healer. I can’t even heal myself. Much less help myself or stop myself from drinking!”
He made his way back to the kitchen counter and leaned his hands against it.
He stood for a while.
Then, he concluded flatly, “I’m not doing this. I’m on vacation. I told you before…vacation. I’m on vacation.”
Then came a gentle question, “From what?”
Beating both his hands down, he growled emphatically, “From life!”
The idea of his place in the world begins to form clearly deep within him. He realizes it. So too, does he realize that he has fought against it, unwilling to take hold of it and unwilling own it.
For reasons still unknown to him, he has subconsciously blocked almost any words, any thought, and anything that would lead him to take a definitive step into the destiny chosen for him.
A rattle of gunfire rings in his head. Beneath the darkened dirt of the earth, his spirit was finally awakened, stirred, and moreover given purpose through Gul’s words during the time he and Gul hid from Jalel’s pursuit:
The faint red glow from the dirt wall illuminated their faces, within the enclosure he formed out of the dugout in the cave.
He repeated, “Smiley, what am I?”
Gul smiled and looked in his eyes. He answered with a look that displayed his joy in being able to finally reveal a long forgotten mystery to the one who had lost it. He had asked God for this very privilege. “My friend, from the Bible - in Genesis - and other ancient text, you are what is called a…”
Jalel rattled rounds from his machine gun through the dirt wall and onto the iron enclosure. The shots ricocheted off the iron, with muffled metal pings, and struck the tunnel walls, whizzing by the ears of Jalel and his men.
Gul’s words were difficult to hear over the ringing metal, but he understood them.
Gul continued, “You are a Nephilim…a pure Nephilim. Truly part human - truly part angel. And more…God has further set you apart. You were not created by man and woman but created by the very will of God. He has given you the power and responsibility to be the guardian of the realm between the heavens and the earth. Your affairs are the affairs of men and the affairs of angels.”
He closed his eyes, leaned forward, and listened to his friend’s voice.
He finally understood.
A peace began to settle in his heart, and he was moved beyond measure in finally knowing the truth. He clung to the sound of Gul’s voice.
Gul reached for the back of his neck to draw him in, so that he could speak directly in his ear.
“You must accept both your station as a human and your station as an angel.”
Gul’s hand shook him firmly to emphasize his next statement. “The deci
sion is yours to make, my friend, and yours alone. Will you live as you live now or will you freely take the role in life God has ordained for you?”
Gul released him, saying, “Remember, there is evil in the world. And its fruits abound when good does not oppose it and uproot it. My friend…” Gul’s eyes began to roll. He could no longer focus; so, he closed his eyes, as he slowly spoke, “You had one beginning…but…you have no…” He lost consciousness. Gul’s last words were at the end of a sigh, but he heard and understood every word: “You had one beginning, but you have no end. You are an ancient being.”
There is one more to follow. He needed to know of a relationship that exists - of a bond that exists. It is the relationship and bond between son and father: like that between Samuel Ian Kessian and his father, like that between his own son and him, and like that between him and his God, his Father. In that bond, there is a role that fathers have with their sons, in the lessons they teach.
But revealing it to him means taking him to a memory and a time he fears and avoids: a painful event that has so affected him that he fled from the path he once knew his life was intended to go.
His eyes see half of the sun sink beneath the horizon, and the remaining half projects a brilliant gold light from its center. Surrounding it is a bright yellow crown, and around that is a soothing warm orange glow. He stares at the fiery gold center as the scene begins to play.
Quickly, he recognizes it.
Slowly, he closes his eyes and tilts his head skyward, wanting to say something.
As though the one sending him the memory waits for him to speak, the scene stops and the images in his mind disperse.
He whispers, “This is a place I don’t want to go. But if you need me to go, I will go.”
There is a brief moment of pure silence.
Then, a gentle breeze brushes across his face, floating a strand of hair across his cheek. As the strand glides back down, the breeze wanes, and soon he hears the sound of waves fade into his ears once again. With just the lapping waves in his mind, another moment passes.
He starts to feel a calm that allays his fear.
In a moment, the peaceful scene begins to play once more:
The autumn sun was shining brightly and warm, on the mountainside, above dense trees and shrubs now clothed in the colors of the fall season. Their four-door car hugged the road, as it maneuvered the turns hewn from the mountainside. Onto the windshield, images of the sky and of the treetops projected.
His wife was at the wheel.
As he lay back with his seat down, he turned his head back to speak gently to his son and take the moment to teach him a life lesson, with as much simplicity as a small boy could understand.
His son listened carefully, sitting behind his mother’s seat. The boy held a half-solved Rubik’s Cube in his hands, but he had been stuck with it at its current color positions for quite a while. His father had asked him if he wanted a hint for what to do next. But the boy preferred to solve the cube all on his own. Now, he listened as his father attempted to answer his precocious question: “How will I know what I want to be when I grow up?”
In the middle of an unintentionally long response and contrary to the simplicity he wanted to convey, he continued, “…but sometimes it’s difficult to figure out what you want to be, and that’s when you’ll need the help of your parents or your closest friends, maybe, to get advice and figure it out. Sometimes your way is laid out for you…”
His son gave him a puzzled look.
He noticed and backtracked, “Ok. By ‘laid out for you’ I mean…that things just happen so that it’s easy for you to see one way or another. But it may not be easy to pick one way over the other. Sometimes you can put off your decision until you learn and know more about what the choices are…but uh…sometimes, time can’t wait and you need to pick one way or another quickly. Maybe you’ll wait too long to make a decision…but uh…”
His son lowered his head and began to fiddle with the cube once more. His attention was lost.
His wife noticed, as she looked into the rearview mirror. While she held his hand, she gently tugged at him.
He blinked and gazed up at her, “Yeah, sweetie?”
“Keep. It. Simple,” she whispered slowly and with an amused smile.
“I thought that’s what I was doing,” he whispered back. “I was doing good, no?”
“Baby, you’re not succeeding.”
He turned back to his son in order to painfully make a conclusion. “Ah…so…well, but in any way. You’ll decide by choosing what you want the most - and by choosing what will make you happy…and, uh…by what is right to do. Lesson learned? Cool.” He quickly turned back to his wife and rolled his eyes, “Wow, that was a struggle. Glad it’s over.”
Then, he soon remembered he wanted to tie his answer back to a previous point he wished to make. He had a strong desire to help his son solve the cube, and he wanted the boy to ask for his help.
He turned back around, saying, “Oh, so there’s one more thing…”
His wife chuckled and shook her head.
“But there’ll be times when you’ll need the help from other people. So, just be willing to ask. You don’t always need to solve everything yourself.” He paused and gestured his head toward the cube, “Now, take that cube. You’ve been trying to figure out that last part for a long time now. I can help you with that if you want. All you need to do is ask.”
His son’s head was still down, and his hands were busy turning the sides of the cube. The boy responded flatly, “No thanks, Dad. I’m getting it. I think I’ll get it soon.”
Defeated, he turned around again to his wife. “Ok, he’ll get it - doesn’t want my help.”
She lightly squeezed his hand, smiled, and said a profound truth, “Sometimes we just have to stand back and let him fail on his own. Then, he’ll learn from his mistakes.”
He answered, in whispering protest, “Well, I just want him to ask for help.”
She then turned briefly to him and added, “He’s independent, wants to solve things by himself, and he’s a bit stubborn that way. Hmm…where do you think he got that from?”
As he lay back on the reclined seat, he folded his arms behind his head and said sarcastically, “Well, it’s gotta be you. No doubt.”
She shook her head at him, and they both laughed.
His wife continued to drive on the winding mountain road, and he tilted his head to the right to watch the trees glide across his window. A moment later, he noticed two military transport trucks stopped at the side of the road. He raised himself in the seat, as his wife slowed their car, in order to cautiously pass them by.
The backs of the trucks were completely open and underneath the large camo-green canvas roof coverings, he could see ten to twenty soldiers patiently sitting and waiting. A handful of armed soldiers stood, at the perimeter of both trucks, while two others worked to remove a front tire of the first truck.
Rolling his window down, he smiled and waved at the soldiers.
They waved back.
“Looks like a flat tire,” he said turning to his wife.
“Should we stop and help?”
“I think those big boys got it covered, babe.” He rolled up his window and leaned back once more. Closing his eyes, he shuffled in his seat to get comfortable.
Suddenly, up ahead, something startled his wife. Frightened, she jerked the wheel. From the corner of his eye, he saw her surprise.
With a sudden flex of all the muscles in his body, he immediately lifted himself up.
The playing memory stops a moment before the event he dreaded most is reached. Spared from reliving it, he takes notice. So with his eyes closed, he whispers, “Thank you.”
Both the rest of the memory and its meaning are withheld for another day. Today it will not be revealed. He is not ready.
He lets the memory of that mountain drive sink deep in his heart. He receives its message.
In quiet thought, he
opens his eyes, to watch the waning light from the sun. It has disappeared into the horizon, and now, only a reddish-orange glow remains. The darkness, from above him, begins to reach down to the horizon to overcome the last remnants of light.
Nothing more is revealed to him.
With his legs folded under him and one hand cradling the other, he stays frozen in his gaze. The blood on both hands has dried, but a dull ache lingers. He watches until the glow of the sun vanishes, and only a dim strip of light remains just above the horizon.
Much like both the world and the time to which he wishes to return, soon, nothing else will push back the darkness.
He lowers his head and closes his eyes. An echo of Gul’s voice repeats in his mind, “You must accept both your station as a human…and your station as an angel. The decision is yours to make, my friend, and yours alone. Remember, there is evil in the world. And its fruits abound when good does not uproot it.”
A moment later, the sky is overcome in darkness, by the absence of light.
His vision turns black, and cold silence surrounds him.
An unknown length of time passes.
Then in the darkness, he begins to move.
Reaching his decision, he separates his hands to his sides and rests them palms-down over the sand.
He is willing to become the light in the darkness.
Bending down, he says softly but clearly, “Jesus, save me in my humanity. God, I will obey. Lead me.”
When his requests end, the whispers of the lapping waves return once again.
At peace with his words, he remains calm and motionless.
Then, suddenly, from the far reaches of the dark southern sky, a tiny light appears. Another light simultaneously emerges from the northern sky. From the opposite ends of the heavens, they fly toward each other. The closer they converged, the larger they appear. They are enormous fiery golden spheres of energy, arching across the sky, and descending down towards him.
He can sense their power approaching, and he patiently keeps his eyes closed and head low.
Closer and closer, and now with noticeably great velocity, the two blazing objects fall from the sky, arching in and down.
He can hear the dull roar, as their flames whip and ignite the air and give life to the blackened sky.
RB 01 Through Flesh & Bone Page 50