The Lost City

by Carrie E. Gruhn

  For long days rain had been withheld. As if that were not enough, the waters in many places ran with blood—the blood of those resisting the Beast and of the animals slaughtered to keep food from those without the mark. The extreme need for water made many drink of the horrid, dark liquid. The gathered ills, fevers and diseases raced across the world even into cities whose water supplies were protected. Men cursed God for staying in His heaven. They turned to the Beast who sat on a high hill, a great image from whose lips issued loud proclamations and warnings that were broadcast to the farthest reaches of the earth.

  Now and again we listened to the radio, which carefully veiled the true picture from our ears, from which came bewildering and urgent bulletins. Always they concerned two men who were making the Prince furious with their calm coming and going. Wherever they walked people stopped to listen. Many did more, they followed and after following would not give their allegiance to the Prince and to the Beast. The radio did not tell us how many followers they were gathering, but from the entrants our city was being constantly augmented until the very mountains seemed to be bulging. This had been a great city centuries before, yet it never must have held more people than it did now. We heard how these strange new prophets went about everywhere and offered knowledge of the Messiah that was drawing countless thousands to Him. Strangely, too, they seemed to know about our city. Even Paul had been unable to identify them.

  “I was walking through the streets hoping against hope to be able to find one shop where I could find food, as were many others. For a brief time we were allowed to go without molestation until quite a group had gathered in one of the streets. Suddenly two men stood with us and those nearest them drew back, startled by their sudden appearance. The unexpectedness of their arrival made us pause and listen. They looked at us and, as they looked they seemed to single me out—my neighbor told me that he felt the same individual attention—I could not take my gaze from the bright glow in their faces. I could not deafen my ears to their plea. It was not a new story that they told, but an old one made plain and wondrously new! Back through the years my vision drew me to a cross rising on a barren hill, to the Man hanging there with thorns on His head, a whole world of sin on His shoulders. It was crushing and breaking His heart. His very blood poured out became a satisfaction to God for me. I bowed my head in anguish as I recognized Him. Then I knew that we had crucified our Messiah, and that He was my Redeemer. Swiftly then, for time was limited, the prophets drew another picture. It was of a place which would, be open to my coming yet would shut out the Prince and his train of demon-possessed followers. Cursing police began battering a way through to seize these two quiet men who seemed to have no fear. I had pushed my way quite close and saw what happened. The first policeman reached out to clutch at the sparkling white garments, but his hand was stayed as a sudden blinding flash seemed to meet it and the air was rent with his cries of agony. Every policeman, soldier, or anyone who tried to lay hold on those two men met the same fiery outburst and was destroyed, yet not one of us who had received the vision was touched. It was a miracle past understanding, not even surpassed by the sudden vacancy where they had been standing.”

  “Do you mean that they simply vanished before your eyes?”

  “Yes. Others will tell you the same story. Minutes later these two men or two like them were telling their message to another gathering miles away. I know because our group met and journeyed here together with the second group.”

  “They must have been angels—” someone said.

  “Perhaps Elijah returned to finish his mission!” the Rabbi suggested.

  The dry spell with its bloody waters had passed when another catastrophe came out of the sky. We had been in hail storms and thought them bad, but the hail that now fell dwarfed anything we had seen. From a vast territory overspread by a single storm came reports of fields riddled, livestock killed, and people dead because the very roofs of houses were brought down by the weight of the ice. There had been a heaviness in the air of our valley and a scattered burst of rain had swollen the stream that meandered through it. No hail had fallen on our gardens for which we raised our voices in praise and thanksgiving to God.

  While the storm was in force several of us climbed to a high place to watch it spend itself. The clouds and sky seemed always very close viewed from this high place. We were denied the beauty of the sunset we had hoped might be etched against the black clouds; we were, nevertheless, loathe to leave because there was a small breeze which relieved the oppressive stillness. We sat and talked of many things, wondering at the peaceful quietness about us in contrast with a war-torn and element-tormented world. The clouds lifted and gave promise of a clear night.

  “Shall we go down or wait to watch the stars appear?” I hesitated, thinking of my mother, but I decided to stay with the others. It was invitingly sweet and cool up there. With faces turned toward them, we saw that a new wind was tussling with the water-soaked and icy fringes of a few stray clouds, later a star-jewelled, blue-velvet sky.

  “Oh, I am glad that we waited!” one exclaimed, and indeed it had been worth waiting.

  “The heavens declare the glory of God—” someone began to sing softly and together we all took up the Psalm:1 “The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handiwork. Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night sheweth knowledge—his going forth is from the end of the heaven, and his circuit unto the ends of it: and there is nothing hid from the heat thereof—” We would have sung all of the Psalm, but, as we lifted those words, a strange thing began to take place in the sky. We fell silent before this new spectacle; later we hid our faces as we saw star after star begin to leave its place and, drawn by an irresistible magnet, speed toward the earth. There was no escaping the blazing fury sweeping down out of the sky!

  The light was so great that it almost blinded us. Falling stars raced into new atmospheres and the light lessened as one after another they burned out. But not all dissolved in fiery heat. There were those that reached the earth and we felt their force as they struck. Far away, perhaps hundreds of miles away, a dull angry glow told of fire and destruction. The air was sulphurous and poisonous as if much of the oxygen had been burned out of it. What of the heavens?

  How we made our way back down from our high vantage point I shall never know! Our lungs seemed bursting because of scarcity of oxygen, and horror affected our limbs. After returning we had huddled long into the night around our receivers anxious for some word that would tell us of the extent of the damage done. It was almost morning before the first few words came through. They were often so jumbled and erratic as to be scarcely intelligible, but there was enough. A tenth—no, a fifth—no, a third of the earth lay black and smoking. No one could possibly have survived where stars collided with the earth. It had been nothing short of a miracle that had saved our world from complete destruction; yet, strangely, most of the damage seemed to have been in the isolated, less heavily populated areas. But we were not to be left without repercussions. Stars must have buried themselves in the oceans for their waters roiled and boiled, ejecting on the steam the bodies of fishes and sea creatures, ships and men. Only some ships that had lain close to shore seemed to have escaped that boiling cauldron that circled our globe. From afar came a feeble message on the airwaves telling of a great volcano that had come awake. A few days later when ships could venture out there were no signs of island or volcano—they had been swallowed up in the still steaming ocean. Many were the cities and people also swallowed up.

  “Surely men will know now that Damon is false, that he can offer them no way of escape from God whom he has flaunted and denied.” I shivered in the still hot air.

  The Rabbi was looking off toward the mountain tops and when he turned his eyes toward mine I saw them filled with a great sadness. “If only they will. I am afraid that instead of turning and calling on God they will only raise their voices to curse Him the more. It has ever been so since the beginning of time, Tan
ya. We love our own wills and our own ways. We spurn our conscience and blame others for the suffering we have brought upon ourselves. Today more stragglers came in through the wadi, and if what they tell us is true, and I know from experience that it rings true to man’s nature, then men are shaking their fists in the very face of God and screaming out their curses. No, they will not see God in storm, or lightning, or shaken heavens, or moaning seas—they will not see Him because they refuse to look beyond themselves. While around them others go down in destruction they feel sure that that destruction is not for them and they will outwit even God if given time in which to do it.”

  Another star had been reluctant to let go, but let go it must when God shook its moorings. Down, down it fell, bursting wide on the air currents, following them down to the lakes and the rivers, to the reservoirs and the springs bearing in each fragment a bitter poison that spread and polluted, bringing death to mankind. One small fragment dropped in the far part of the valley, but its poison was miraculously swept away and our waters were left sweet and clear.

  I knelt a long time at the clear spring where I was wont to fill my water bottles. I was remembering how Rebekah had been found at the well and how she had given of the water to Isaac’s servant and to his thirsty camels. I was following her along the long, hot caravan trail that led her at last to Isaac’s field and even into his tent. I could not keep back the tears remembering my own journey in silly indecision before I, too had come into my Isaac’s field and into his tent. Where was my husband now? The water was cool and sweet in the spring, but it was salt on my lips for the tears that flowed down into the cup I held. I could not keep back my imaginings as I tried to see out and beyond to wherever Paul was. Perhaps he was kneeling by some pool afraid to drink yet parched with thirst. Or perhaps he was standing with his hand on a shiny faucet watching the water pouring out cool and clear yet with no way of knowing if it were polluted or not. Perhaps he would not be able to withstand and would take the one fatal sip—or, perhaps he would turn white and his knuckles would glisten under the tightening skin as he turned off the water. I could not drink of the water in my own cup for thinking of Paul. I threw it far down the slope.

  “What is it, my daughter?” Simon was standing beside me.

  “Oh, Simon, Simon, what of Paul? Where is he? What is he doing? Is he suffering, too, or is he—is he—?”

  “God alone can answer that, Tanya. We can only wait and hope and pray—but carefully and in His will for surely we can trust Him to know best?” There was a question in his voice and I could not evade it.

  “You are right, Simon, of course, but it is hard not to think and thinking to worry. I have been so proud of all that Paul has made possible to us because he had complete faith and belief in God, but it is hard to sit still not knowing what that same faith and belief—that same drive and ability might lead him to do out there. How can he escape widespread destruction? And I keep on being afraid that there will be more to come—but how could that be since so many lives have been lost and so much of the face of the earth changed beyond recognition?”

  “I have wondered, too, but when I read in the Book, which Paul gave to me before he left, it seems that there not only could be more to come but it is certain before we see the King of heaven and earth descending with His army to bring His peace at last with Him. Yet, I am not fraid for Paul—surely if he is out there giving the message of truth to others God will give him His protection. We have heard how He is protecting Elijah and the other prophet—”

  “But they are different, Simon. They have come straight from God. Paul is not as they are.”

  “Is God any the less powerful, Tanya, because He is dealing with one who is only learning instead of those who are tried and proven?”

  “Of course not. But their part in this plan was written centuries ago.”

  “I have no answer to that. But I do not think God will let any channels be wasted since the time is so short for the giving of the message to those who will still hear and heed.”

  With that I had to be content and set, as we were, in the very hollow of God’s Hand it seemed it was not too hard to imagine that His Hand would protect Paul, too, even out there in chaos and disaster. I took my pitcher and carried it back to our quarters and managed to bring a song to my lips as I took a glass in to Mother.

  I raised her head—it was easier now than it had been a few days ago because now there seemed to be an answering help to my hands. And she drank thirstily with none of the old mechanical action. The last cool drop was drained before she stopped drinking. When I turned back to her after setting down the glass, her eyes were bright and focused on mine.

  “Tan—Tanya. Where am I?”

  I wanted to shout but with an effort held my voice soft and clear. “We are in God’s City or Refuge, Mother.”

  “God’s—God’s City of—did you say God’s, Tanya?”

  “Of course, Mother. Oh, Mother, never again will you hear doubt from my lips! You were always right, Mother! God was always there—just waiting for us to come to Him.”

  “He wasn’t in the temple—”

  “No, Mother, He wasn’t in the temple, but He is here and He will be wherever we call on Him. There is so much to tell you, but you must not tire yourself.” I turned to go but her voice held me, and it seemed unbelievably stronger.

  “Tanya—don’t go. I want to hear now! I have been hearing strange things—things that made me want to come back and listen—if they were true—tell me, Tanya. Tell me the story you told to little Toni—tell me so I will know if I have been dreaming—tell me why you sing and what song it is you sing—oh Tanya! Give to me my song!”

  So I knelt by her side and repeated the story I had told to Toni—I could not tell it in eloquence but perhaps its very simplicity was what mother needed. So I told it as if I were telling it again to my son, and as I told it I saw tears gathering in her eyes. The hand which I held in mine turned to grip mine and I knew that already she was singing though only God could hear her. God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit, would bend down to listen and to pass the song back to be swelled into joyous paen by the angels around the throne. “Rejoice with me for I have found my sheep—and ‘there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth’2—oh, Mother, Mother, I was never so happy—no, not even when the song the angels sang was for me!”

  1. Psalm 19.

  2. Luke 15:10.

  23

  THE ’FINING POT

  I COULD NOT COMPLETELY STILL my fears for Paul’s safety, but it had been long since I had felt any of the jealous fears. I had even forgotten the woman, Lilah, until, without warning she suddenly came to knock at the great door which had been built to keep out even the most penetrating atomic rays. I swung the massive door open and beheld those insolent, beautiful eyes that had haunted me in the past, and in spite of myself some of the old feeling returned.

  “Well Tanya! Aren’t you going to ask me in?” She laughed at my confusion.

  “Oh, of course, come in, Lilah. I—you startled me!” I stood aside to let her in. My mother looked up from her bowl of fruit to greet Lilah but quickly her eyes had flown to my crimson cheeks.

  “Why, Tanya! This is a surprise—Paul told me that your mother was ill—practically helpless!”

  “I was very sick, Lilah, but who could remain ill in this lovely place?” Mother’s eyes were serene and I was glad to have Lilah’s attention diverted to her.

  “Well, I haven’t had much time to see the loveliness if there is any. I just came through that miserable wadi. I never did relish it when we came here before and now, with the storms that come so unexpectedly, I certainly didn’t feel safe in that old watercourse! But really, Tanya, you have made it almost livable here.” She glanced around at the high-ceilinged room which I had tried to make a home.

  It had seemed pleasant and almost pretty before she came—now it looked very poor and makeshift, which it really was. As some of th
e heavy wooden boxes had been emptied of their foodstuffs Simon and I had made tables and chairs and cupboards from the rough boards. Simon’s old hands had managed to execute a certain crude beauty but mine were simply boxes trying to masquerade as furniture. There were a few rugs to lend their color to the floor and to the doorway behind the box walls which I had managed. But there had been no paint, no cloth with which to cover or soften the harsh lines of the tables or the chairs. Sometimes there were sprays and boughs of blossoms on the table or in the dark corners, but the room was so large and so lofty that all our furnishings were as matchboxes scattered haphazardly on a giant’s floor. No, it could hardly be called cozy in spite of all our efforts, also I could see its stark pretense through Lilah’s eyes. She had never been a lover of austerity or yet of moderate comfort. She had always clung to the luxuries, the heavy rugs, the soft chairs, the silks and the satins. For her had been the fleshpots—then how came she to us now?

  I shook off my questioning, as if I had any right to question her reason for being here! After all, if she had been here before then she must have worked with Paul in preparing this place. We now knew that many of his trips had been to this valley with provisions and supplies. A shock went through me as I realized where last I had seen her. She had been standing near the Prince waiting for his orders! Angrily I pushed back my petty thoughts. What if she had been close to the Prince? Had not Paul, too, been one of his co-workers? And if Paul had discovered the Prince’s true self and left his side could not the same be true of Lilah? I knew that was the answer and that it was childish to allow that old, foolish jealousy to return to torment me. I sent for Lilah’s bag without hesitation when she intimated that she wanted to stay.

  “Well, that’s that, Tanya,” she nodded with satisfaction as her luggage was brought in. I opened my eyes in astonishment before the mounting pile. How on earth had she managed to come so far with so much and escape detection? It was good that our quarters were so large or else where the room for all her things? The boxes almost grew into a wall and needed but few of ours to actually make a wall to separate her quarters from ours. Immediately upon the wall’s completion she disappeared behind it to busy herself with her unpacking. I offered to help but, with a queer look about my apartment, she put aside my offer.