A New Kind of Zeal

by Michelle Warren

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: Precipitation

  Mark Blake stood at his lounge window.

  Wellington was spread out before him, at his feet. Clouds were gathering over Lower Hutt to his left, wind chopped the water of the harbour straight ahead, and, a little in the distance, to the right, the central city of Wellington was still.

  To his right, on the little coffee table, the photo of his wife Teresa, and his young family, was turned over on its face.

  On his TV a perpetual replay was running of the procession down Queen Street in Auckland – of Joshua Davidson on a float, waving like royalty: a Maori company leading the way, proclaiming him as king.

  Mark clenched his teeth. A king! How dare he? All the talk of judgment was bad enough, but now? Actually parading down the centre of Auckland? How could that even be possible?

  He frowned. Why had the man not been arrested? Why had Connor not acted in response to this provocation? Mark would have thought he would be the first to act – yet, not. Was he afraid of this man? Were the police themselves actually afraid?

  Mark remembered the earlier reporting – healings, outside North-East Hospital, on the North Shore in Auckland. Healings! Surely they were false – surely set up testimonials, to stir up public support. Surely the man was a fraud!

  And yet, what if…What if…?

  Mark trembled. How would it be, if this was Christ returning right now? How would Mark be? Exposed, vulnerable: a wretch. He had rejected him! He had rejected him.

  This was a mistake he must not make.

  Mark reached now for his Bible, sitting on the couch – and turned to the gospels. Jesus was descended from King David, of Israel. He emerged, amongst the people. He fed them, and healed them.

  “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” [9]

  Fleetingly Mark closed his eyes. Joshua was acting in the same way – offering the same comfort. But was this enough to prove his identity?

  “Truth,” Mark murmured, opening his eyes. “What truth is he teaching them?”

  Mark flicked through a few more pages.

  “I tell you the truth,” Jesus said, “the tax collectors and the prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God ahead of you.” [10]

  Mark trembled. “Show me,” he whispered. “Show me.”

  “Do not worry about your life,” Jesus said, “what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?” [11]

  Tears pricked at Mark’s eyes – he kept turning.

  “A time is coming,” Jesus said, “when all who are in their graves will hear the Son’s voice and come out – those who have done good will rise to live, and those who have done evil will rise to be condemned.” [12]

  “I tell you the truth,” he continued, “whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life and will not be condemned; he has crossed over from death to life.” [13]

  “Crossed over,” Mark whispered, reaching to lift Teresa’s photo up again, off its face, “from death to life.”

  He gazed out through the window, at the choppy waters below and then to the sky above. There were a few light fluffy white clouds, but the sky was still blue. How would he know, if Joshua was the Christ? How would he really know?

  “Give me some kind of sign,” he prayed. “How can I know he is the one? Give me some kind of sign.”

  He kept flicking the pages of the Bible – what would define Jesus most? What was the most defining feature of his life? Then Mark found what he was looking for: Lazarus. Jesus’s friend died – and then Jesus raised him from the dead.

  “I am the way and the truth and the life.” [14]

  Mark swallowed. A resurrection. If this man Joshua actually brought someone back from death, how would Mark be able to deny him?

  There was movement behind him, and then Selena’s voice.

  “‘A wicked and adulterous generation asks for a miraculous sign,’” she quoted [15], and he grimaced, fixing his eyes on a ferry on the Harbour.

  “None will be given but the sign of Jonah,” he continued paraphrasing. The sign of Jonah – the death of Christ, his burial, and then his resurrection. Joshua’s death? That wasn’t going to happen – and certainly not a resurrection. But a resurrection of another? Yes – that would be the real test! A contemporary Lazarus…

  “‘Watch out that no one deceives you,’” Selena continued to quote, behind him, “‘for many will come in my name, claiming “I am the Christ,” and will deceive many.’” [16]

  Mark swallowed again. Was he being deceived?

  “‘You will hear of wars and rumours of wars,’” she continued, “‘such things must happen, but the end is still to come. If anyone says to you, “Look, here is the Christ!” or, “There he is!” do not believe it. For as lightning that comes from the east is visible even in the west, so will be the coming of the Son of Man.’”

  The clouds in the sky were lit with the sun – it was a radiant day. How did the Bible depict the second coming of Christ? In the sky! Visible to all! Unavoidable! Wonderful, for those who want him, and terrible for those who do not.

  “This isn’t the Second Coming of Christ,” Mark murmured to himself, exploring the clouds. “In the Second Coming, there will be no doubt – and there will be no hiding place. No…” And now a kind of wonder struck him, as he reached up to finger the window pane between him and the sky. “It’s almost as if…” He gasped, now, in realization, “It’s almost as if this is the first coming…”

  “No,” Selena’s voice quickly interrupted. “Not the first coming. He has already come.”

  “Of course,” Mark continued in wonder. “He has already come: the true Christ has come, and he will come again. But this Joshua…it’s almost as if he is a ‘type’ of Christ: a picture of Christ, for a new people – an expression of Christ, two thousand years later, for a new generation.”

  The thought began to stir hope within him. Could it be? Could it be that this new one was actually the same as the old?

  “There’s nothing new in what he is doing,” Mark said. “Nothing new in what he is saying. It’s all been done before! It’s all been said before…”

  “What use is there for a new expression?” Selena chided. “No! You must do away with him! You must sweep him aside!”

  “What use?” Mark responded, breaking into a wide smile. “The same use as for the old expression! The old expression was once new – once fresh, and relevant, and alive. Why a new expression? We are a new people. The same truths need to be communicated in a new way – the same truth! Life giving truth! To all the nations.”

  Now Mark turned to face Selena directly. “He isn’t overriding Christ!” he proclaimed. “He is communicating Christ! He is portraying Christ! He is embodying the same person – imparting the same God. A picture of the truth – a picture that bows down to the reality. What Santa is to St Nicholas, Joshua is to Jesus: and both bow down to Christ.

  “Why?” he continued. “For understanding! So that a new people can understand, and can respond: so that a new people can be shown how to live.”

  The realization filled his heart with joy – but Selena’s face was dark: her eyes almost black.

  “To live?” she spat back at him. “What use is this ‘understanding,’ in a pursuit for life? Is Joshua really seeking to give true understanding? Is God really seeking to give life? He sets his people up to fall! He grants life, only to bring about death!

  “You know this already, Father! You were at her side when she died!”

  Now Mark was thrust back nine years – now, before his eyes, he saw again the unbearable. The car was upside down! They were trapped! Teresa was hanging, next to him, suspended by the seat belt. She had been knocked out! Still breathing, but bleeding! Her head – it had smashed the windscreen! A gash was there, in her head: pouring out blood. The airbag had failed to fire
.

  “Oh God,” he whispered. “Help us! Help us!”

  He reached for her belt, but his left hand was trapped between the seats! And his right arm was broken – hanging down toward the shattered windscreen.

  “Save us!” he cried. “Save us!”

  Voices were outside the car – hands were trying to open the doors, but they were jammed.

  Mark stared at Teresa’s face. Something was wrong. Her face was swollen. She was twitching. And then she stopped breathing.

  Desperately Mark tried to reach her: he could not.

  “Get us out of here!” he screamed. “Get us out – she’s dying!” But the hands could not help.

  In the distant Mark could hear sirens wailing – but it was too late.

  “At least let me die too,” he whispered to God. “Please! At least let me die too!”

  But his prayer was not answered.

  Now Mark looked into the dark eyes of his sixteen year old daughter.

  “Does God really care about us?” she asked. “I don’t think so, father.”

  He struggled to respond. “He kept me alive for you,” he whispered. “He kept me alive for you!”

  “And in this also you failed,” she said – and her words were knives to his heart, because he knew they were utterly true.

  “Joshua is deluded,” Selena said, turning to the window – looking at the sky, with a smirk. “He believes he is a king! He believes he is a god. But we know better than that now, don’t we father.” Now her eyes fixed hard on him. “We know there is no God.”

  Mark stared at her, and his heart flooded with agony. No God? No God? It couldn’t be true! All of his life he had invested into God! All of his life, he had followed him! He was the bishop! The Bishop of Wellington. And yet, now, in this moment, he swayed on his feet – now he began to falter.

  “You killed her,” Selena said, and Mark tightly closed his eyes, clenching his fists. “You killed her with your reckless driving. You killed her, not God – and now this Joshua is an imposter who needs to be swept away.”

  Now he felt Selena’s touch to his shoulder. Agony consumed him – and darkness filled his heart.

  “Kill him,” Selena said, “and do away with the lies forever.”

  A strange stillness came over him. Mark opened his eyes. He could feel nothing, now: nothing at all. He stared out of the window, to the sky: he swayed.

  “Kill him,” Selena said again – and Mark struggled.

  “I can’t kill,” he whispered. “I’m a priest.”

  “You know how to do it,” Selena said. “You know who has the authority to kill.”

  Mark glanced now toward the central city, in the direction of the Beehive.

  “Oh my God,” he whispered. The weight of betrayal was crushing him. “Oh my God, I can’t do this.”

  “You must do it,” Selena said. “Joshua is leading our whole nation astray.”

  “He has done nothing wrong…”

  “He has committed the ultimate sin,” Selena said. “He is putting himself forward as God. Blasphemy.”

  Blasphemy. A battle raged in Mark’s heart now: an intense battle. Was Joshua innocent? Was he guilty? Blasphemy was serious – perhaps the most serious spiritual crime to commit. And yet, was he a picture of Christ? Had he come from God?

  “There is no God,” Selena said. “Joshua is deceiving them all, as you also were deceived. False hope! False expectations! He is leading us all into death – he is handing our nation over to international conquest.

  “Do we have a king? There is no monarch but Elizabeth. Do we have a priest? There is no God.

  “Better that one man die than a whole nation perish! [17] Do away with him. Do away with him, and set our nation free.”

  Better that one man die…Mark now felt himself girded – felt himself strengthened with resolution. He was here for a reason! He was here for such a time as this.

  It was time to act – to save his nation.