The Lost City

by Carrie E. Gruhn

  “No—no, it was not easy giving up our good homes and our prospering businesses to come here. You were right when you said we came only when there was no where left to go. But we are here, now. What more does God want?”

  “Do you have to ask? He wants your hearts, your homage, your worship! He wants you to see the nailprints in His hands and to know that they are that you might live! Romans nailed Him to the cross, but not until we demanded it and took on responsibility down to our children and their children! Deny it if you will, but the world knows it is true. We but shut our eyes to truth, if we refuse to acknowledge it! That is what we have been doing year after year, generation after generation, century upon century! While we were doing that, our rejected Messiah gave Himself to the Gentiles and many of them believed. He gave promises to them, too. Before the time of Jacob’s trouble, which would involve the whole world, our rejected Messiah, the Christ, would call the Christian believers out of the world. A Prince would rise, bringing a false covenant, and this prince could not be revealed until the Christians had been caught away. The unexplained vanishing thousands to this day are unaccounted for!”

  “You are going too fast for an old man.” Simon’s voice shook, nevertheless there was a brightness in his eyes that belied that quivering.

  “Events have been going too fast, Uncle Simon! Other things were to follow, and though I tried to push them back, as if by doing so I could change the truth, they rushed over and past me. Peace came to a world where peace was an impossibility. The sudden request came that we prepare to re-build our temple. The nearly three and a half years from the first covenant to the promised renewal of it, came on the very heels of the new temple. Dal told me of those things, too. He had read of them in our books! He warned me to watch and be afraid, or to look up and call on the Messiah we had rejected, who would not reject us when we called upon His name. Let me read again from this book—it is our book of prophets, plus the books written after Christ by his followers. It was surely as inspired as our older writings. Our prophets told of things to come; the New Testament writes of the fulfillment of many of those things but it, too, foretells and adds to the things told by our prophets. Here is one from the New Testament which is linked to our books, because the same God who gave us Daniel gave us Matthew. If we will but listen4—‘When ye therefore shall see the abomination of desolation spoken of by Daniel the prophet, stand in the holy place,—then let them which be in Judea flee into the mountains … for then shall be great tribulation, such as was not since the beginning of the world!’ Shall we look at what Daniel says—or is it enough that we have just seen the abomination spoken of here?”

  “You do not need to read it to me, my son. I have remembrance of Daniel’s strange visions and stranger interpretations. I believe they do indeed refer to the Prince, to Damon, who dared desecrate our Holy Temple. As to the rest—I do not know—I do not know!”

  1. Isaiah 53.

  2. Matthew 27:11-13.

  3. Isaiah 53.

  4. Matthew 24:15-21.

  18

  INTO THE WILDERNESS

  HOW LONG WE SAT around the table discussing these things it is hard to say. There had been a little heated debating, but on the whole all seemed glad to be interrupted so that we could carry our thoughts away to the privacy of our rooms. At least I felt that way and no one else showed any inclination to hold Paul back when a call for him came from the hospital rooms.

  I hurried to mother and dismissed the woman who sat there. I pondered all the things Paul had said, not only that night but on other nights. I could understand a God who cast off His people when they continually turned their backs on Him. I could see how He would raise a new people to carry on His plan when the first people failed. Yet, Paul had said that God had not really cast us off; He had merely turned to others for a time and that our promises still held. If the promises were there, how simple, yet how wonderful, was the answer! We had but to turn our faces toward God, give Him our hearts and He would let His blessings flow toward us again! It had happened often in our history—it could happen again. If the Messiah had come humbly once to die as my Redeemer, would He not return to sit on His throne? If one half of the prophecies concerning Him had been fulfilled, were not the rest of them as sure to come to pass? Where was my unbelief and cynicism? I was a Jewess and could not hold fast to them. I could hold fast to God and to His promises! I could wish that I had been like my mother who had had faith through so many dark hours, yet, I was glad that now I had found the Messiah and perhaps, God willing, would be able to lead my mother to Him. She had guided me, whether I would or no, to her God.

  As the hour grew late I sat with new joy and peace unfolding within my heart. Just when I had suddenly accepted the Christ as my Messiah, after acknowledging Him first as my redeemer, I do not know. As I sat there thinking, I had opened my heart and suddenly knew He was there! I never could reason with any degree of logic, so it was not logic that made me see and accept Him. Nor was it the desire to follow Paul, although my heart gladdened because he had shown me the way—perhaps it was simply because, for the first time in my life, I looked toward God without rebellion and really sought to give myself completely into His hands. I could not deny my small son when he came trusting me and, with searching eyes, sought reassurance on some problem—perhaps God was like that and in His hands were the answers, ready before my asking!

  Late as it was when Paul came for me we were not yet to have refreshing sleep. Mother’s eyes had been closed for some time, and her breathing seemed to indicate that she was indeed asleep, so I closed the door softly and did not object when Simon went with us instead of to her. After all Paul should know if it were safe to leave her. I was very tired, though extremely happy, and I wanted to tell Paul of my new faith. There was an urgency about both him and Simon that kept me silent.

  “Tanya, do you remember what I told you a long time ago about a hidden refuge to which you were to go if things got too bad? Well, that crisis seemed to pass but this time it will not pass. I want you to get ready to go there, now.”

  I looked about our home, then back at Paul and nodded.

  “Very well, what shall I take? How long will we be gone?”

  “You’d better limit your packing to as little as possible. But what you take should be sturdy and long-wearing. Take plenty of bedding, but nothing that you can get along without. And Simon wants to know if you can help him with getting your mother’s things ready.”

  “Of course, Paul. But Paul—” A new thought struck me. “It was a long time ago, but still it seems to me that the city was a long and hard journey from here. Do you think Mother can stand the trip?”

  “I don’t know, Tanya. I know that we can’t leave her here. As I told you I can find nothing organically wrong with her and if we make her as comfortable as possible perhaps the shock of what we are doing will help snap her back to normal. It’s the only thing we can do. Simon, you’d better stay here and help Tanya, then she can go with you to get her mother’s things. I’ll go see how Ahmed is getting along.”

  I was too astonished to stop him. Bewildered I turned to Simon, “He sounded as if we were going to leave tonight!”

  “That’s right, Tanya, my daughter. If we are to escape we will have to leave tonight. There remains only tomorrow before Damon expects our answers. We must be well on our way before that.”

  I looked wildly about me. What should I take? What should I leave? The rugs and the blankets, of course. And the toughest clothing. I wished that I knew how long we would be gone, and whether we would have to live in tents like the Arabs or in houses—whether there would be furniture and cooking implements—but Paul had said that Ahmed was taking care of that so I tore down the beautiful rugs from the walls. Surely they would serve us well wherever we went for they were warm and sturdy. The bed came next then all the blankets and sheets allowed us in our room. After all, we had very few possessions. There were no fancy clothes to worry over. I hesitated getting boxes, the
n I decided in favor of the Arabian way of rolling all the things in tight rolls within the largest shawls. Simon helped as best he could. We carried the things from his room to ours so that my mother would not see and worry.

  “There, I hope we haven’t forgotten anything,” I wanted to sit down on the rolls and cry, but crying would not help.

  I looked around the room we had called home and, indeed, it had become home to us. Would there ever come a time when we could stay in one place? Was our son to know only oppression, fear, and homelessness too? I still did not understand, but Paul had certainly hinted at a hope. The blackest hours are always those just before dawn! If, indeed, we were about to face the worst time of trouble, then out ahead the sun must be waiting to rise at last for us!

  Paul was surprised and pleased to find me not only ready, but almost able to smile when he came for me a few minutes after the last bundle had been made.

  “You are very dear and sweet, my Tanya. And you have at last grown up, I think. Where are the tears that you used to drown yourself in at the first hint of disaster? Don’t tell me—perhaps I know—you have found the Redeemer and Messiah and through Him have found peace and hope at last?”

  “O Paul! I have! I have! I will know the Messiah now if He comes! And He will! But, do you think it will be long?”

  “Not too long, my sweetheart. Come, we must not waste a minute talking about even so wonderful a subject. Simon will bring your mother. Ahmed will help me with these. You go to the nursery for Toni. Perhaps, if careful, you will not need to awaken him.”

  “Paul, maybe he will be all mine where we are going and he won’t have to be kept in a nursery!” I hurried away with that thought singing in my heart. It was a good plan having all the children cared for so well and so expertly, thus giving the mothers time to do their work, but I had such vivid and beautiful memories of the few brief years spent tagging about after my own mother and I had longed for similar for myself and son.

  It was well that the station wagon was roomy. There were others already in it when I carried the still sleeping baby out to it. The seats had all been taken out except the one for the driver. Pile upon pile of bedding filled the whole of the car. I wondered if there could possibly be room for me in the already crowded interior—wondered, too, if the station wagon could move under such a heavy load. But there was room for me to squeeze in and curl uncomfortably atop the rolls and bundles. No one talked. In fact, there was a secrecy about our movements that made us look anxiously toward the buildings to see if we had been noticed.

  Quietly the station wagon was rolled away from the nearer building, then as it neared the gate those pushing it clambered in and Paul threw in the clutch. The motor caught hold, we were away through the gate and speeding through the night. Someone strained to see behind us and breathlessly we waited for him to speak.

  “All’s quiet back there. Don’t think anyone heard us.”

  “So far so good,” Paul answered, then gave his attention to the road.

  It was dark, for even if it had been the time of the moon’s fullness it still would have been dark. The wind rose and fell, whipping the lowering clouds about erratically. The station wagon swerved time and again. Now and then rain fell obscuring the black road, making it slippery and treacherous. There had been heavier rains, for in places the water ran across the road and the wheels splashed water high on both sides of the slowing car. There was an abrupt rapping on the roof; it cracked against the windows. It was hail. For moments we huddled at the side of the road expecting the bullet-like ice pellets, unbelievably large, to smash through, or break one of the windows. At last it passed, and Paul sent the car creeping forward along the crunching ice-filled road.

  Ahmed spoke briefly, “That hail didn’t leave much standing out in the fields.”

  “Not much,” Paul answered tersely.

  The wind was fiercer after the hail and it made us shiver, tightly packed as we were. Or, was it the demoniac quality of the storm that chilled us? I quailed before an aroused memory of the malignant mists that had reached out for me as we had been embarking for this land. Were the elements leagued against us? A child whimpered in terror as the wind rocked the station wagon. Gradually I became accustomed enough to the dark to make out some of my companions. There were eight adults and three children in the back on the piled-up bundles. Even Ahmed held a youngster on the higher pile that made a seat high enough for him to help Paul watch the road. I wondered how he could stay up there on his uneasy perch as the car continued to sway and lurch. The floor of bundles shifted and rolled about under us. I was wedged into a corner, yet I rolled from side to side and could not keep the baby asleep. He clung to me and seemed less afraid than I had thought he would be. It was easier to hold the two of us steady with his small stout arms wound tightly around my neck, but there were times when he nearly strangled me.

  Gray dawn began to spread its fingers across the sky and, as if afraid to be caught in the full light of day, the storm flung one last assault of wind and slashing hail across our windows. I pressed my lips against Toni’s auburn head and, cramped as I was, I must have slept. I was aroused suddenly by Paul trying to lift our small son from my arms as a sharp pain shot through my arms. They had been tensely clamped so long about the small form that to move them was painful. Others fared little, if any, better. In fact, I think Simon suffered the most. All night he had held my mother’s limp and uncaring body against the shock and jar of the road, and age had stiffened his arms and legs without her added dead weight.

  One woman was violently ill so that Paul left me, as soon as I could move, to give her first-aid. His face was grim when he had eased her enough to return.

  “Poor woman,” he said, and I looked toward her aghast. If I had been so sick in the quietness of the village what must she be going through!

  Except for the rough, little-used road there seemed no sign of civilization in this uninviting spot. Paul had said that we must go deep into the desert and mountain to reach the hidden city. Surely we must be close to it.

  Ahmed and another man were busy setting up a small petrol stove and heating water for a much-needed cup of coffee. I dug down into the huge fruit hamper to find bread and oranges and cold meat. In a short time we were eating. Only the lone woman sat forlornly with her back resolutely turned toward the food. Paul had given her some capsules which he hoped would work, but the stress and the strain of our flight was hard on her.

  “How much farther is it?” I asked anxiously. “She looks awfully sick, Paul.”

  “You should know.” I knew he was not as heartless as he sounded, yet I threw him an angry look. He added, soberly, “A long ways, little Tanya. We will have to leave the station wagon soon and start trekking in earnest!”

  “You mean we will have to walk and carry all that—” I turned toward the loaded station wagon appalled at the prospect.

  “Let’s hope not. Ahmed thinks the Bedouins who promised to let us use camels and horses once will keep their word now. I’ll admit I never came this way before, but Ahmed knows this country. The people are friends of his who have come to us for treatment. Obligation and perhaps some of Ahmed’s high-pressure charm has overcome their reluctance, but they did agree to furnish us with animals if the need arose. That was before, a long time ago, in fact, and Ahmed thinks that if they have heard about Damon’s demands they will be less reluctant to help us. That edict hits them pretty hard and they won’t give in easily. Whether we agree with them or not, they have stuck to their God and won’t bow down quickly to the Beast. We hope they will feel sympathetically inclined and help us.”

  Ahmed was right, the station wagon groaned and fought the rocky slopes. Walking was faster than riding. We trudged along what seemed miles, thankful at least that we did not have to carry the paraphernalia; yet sensing that unless we soon came to the huddle of tents we might have to unload and carry it.

  The two older children thought the whole thing fun. Toni, too, seemed to be enjoying it, w
hether he jounced along in the back part of the station wagon or walked sturdily beside me.

  “Where going, Mommie?” he asked curiously.

  “To some place Daddy wants us to see,” I answered, for I did not know myself where we were going. True, he had told me a long time ago, but since at that time I had not understood fully, I could not remember anything except that it was to a long-dead city where he hoped we would be sheltered.

  A glad shout gave us the welcome news that the tents had been sighted, and a few minutes later several horsemen blocked our way. I looked up into the grim, swarthy faces and felt my heart beat before their darkness, unlighted by the usual grins. Surely we could expect no help from these.