now lifted. “You have violated us, and all the Sisters of Saint Mary-Salome that served before us. How you came to be here at this time, we do not know. What we do know is that you are here, and you are equipped to seize.” With this said, the sisters separated.
Now, in clear view, sat a reliquary, the objective of the operation. Preserving the blessed cord for two millenniums, the ornate cedar box rested on top of a table that very well could have been made from the same wood and by the same carpenter. Arbe lifted the box. Another gasp came from the ladies. He handed the reliquary to a team member, who then placed it into a protective container. As the men turned to exit the room, Arbe reassured the sisters, “On behalf of the holy, universal church, the Cornerstone will say to you soon, ‘Well done, good and faithful servants.’”
As the team headed up the earthy stairs, the video’s audio, while faint, picked up a sister’s voice. Because she echoed Arbe’s parting approbation, Pastor Donovan assumed he misheard her. His family’s insistence that he needs hearing aids might have merit, for what he heard was, “And the millstone will say to you, ‘Well done, my good and faithful servants.’”
* * * * *
The film footage ended, and the lights in the room came back on. George Carlson stood behind the podium and announced, “Men, I present to you the very umbilical cord of Jesus!” And with those words, he removed the cloths, revealing the reliquary just captured on screen. “Inside this small wood box—this one before you adorned with carvings inlaid with gold—rests the cord.”
Pastor Donovan sat forward, startled. Can this really be true? What on earth does George plan to do with it? Is he going to ask me to touch it? How did he know where it was? What happened to the sisters? Why on earth am I here?
As questions bombarded Pastor Donovan’s sense of reality, George leaned forward, and with his hands firmly on the podium, he explained, “I will not bore you with the details, but let me say that cord blood is a rich source of embryonic-like stem cells. In this box, men, is the very DNA of Jesus, perfectly preserved. With the remarkable advancements we’ve made in our genetic research here at SarkiSystems, the reproductive cloning of humans is not only a possibility, it is in fact a reality.” George held up an ultrasound photo of a well-formed fetus. “And here’s proof.”
George continued, “Just think about it for a minute. We can bring Jesus back. We create an enucleated egg, implant Jesus’ cells, stimulate the egg, implant the embryo, watch and pray, and in nine months we witness the second coming of Jesus to this world.”
Maxwell, George’s co-worker, raised his hand. “I have a question. Isn’t human cloning illegal?”
George answered as if rehearsed, “I’m glad you asked this, Maxwell. Yes, our government forbids what I just described. The John Doe fetus I showed you will, I assume, be classified as an ‘illegal alien.’” George offered a brief smile, and then got real serious. “The Bible says in the fifth chapter of Acts that the rulers questioned God’s men. ‘We gave you strict orders not to continue teaching in this name, and yet, you have filled Jerusalem with your teaching and intend to bring this man’s blood upon us.’ Now, do you remember what Peter and the apostles said? They said, ‘We must obey God rather than men.’ So, Maxwell, yes, I know that what we are doing is illegal. But like God’s chosen people have said down through holy history, ‘We must obey God rather than men.’”
George took a deep breath, wiped his forehead, and then resumed to divulge the plan. “Once the baby is born, we can set into motion the fulfillment of Ezekiel’s prophesy.” At this point, the text of Ezekiel 44:1–3 was projected onto the screen.
Then He brought me back by the way of the outer gate of the sanctuary, which faces the east; and it was shut. The Lord said to me, “This gate shall be shut; it shall not be opened, and no one shall enter by it, for the Lord God of Israel has entered by it; therefore it shall be shut. As for the prince, he shall sit in it as prince to eat bread before the Lord; he shall enter by way of the porch of the gate and shall go out by the same way.”
After having everyone read together out loud the passage, George carried on, “Today, and for nearly the past five hundred years, this gate remains shut in Jerusalem, completely walled up with guards posted ready to stop the Messiah from entering—all in hopes of postponing the Day of Judgment. But, you and I know that man cannot stop God’s plan. Nobody can force the Day of the Lord to wait. The prophecy has been made, the Eastern Gate will be opened, the Messiah will enter, God’s kingdom will come, and we shall reign with Him forever and ever. God has promised. It will be so.”
George stepped away from the podium and walked directly in front of the men. Pastor Donovan shifted in his seat, looking somewhat bedazzled.
“I know you have questions, a lot of questions. I plan to meet with you to go over all your questions and concerns, and to detail your part in the plan. It’s late, and I know you have things to do. I’ll see you soon.” With this promise, the meeting adjourned.
* * * * *
Pastor Donovan did not say a word as he left the room. When he started up the car, he turned off the radio that’s always preset to the Christian station. Inside the car remained quiet, yet anything but peaceful, the entire trip home. The CD of the sermon he preached yesterday caught his attention when it slid across the dashboard as he turned abruptly into his driveway. The soundman had handed the CD to him, just like every Sunday, after the service when he shook his hand. What could I possibly have said yesterday to help me today? Not ready to talk about the evening, he headed straight to bed. Though eager to sleep away his cares, he remained wide-awake, attempting to navigate himself out of the maze of his cares. I’m so lost, thought Pastor Donovan as he buried himself under the sheets. I really don’t know what to do. If I turn left, then I find that I should have turned right. Whatever I do, whether at church or home or wherever, seems hopeless. If I zigged, then I’m sure I should have zagged. I am lost—stranded, powerless, and doomed to be unworthy.
In the morning, after eating his wife’s “world-famous” waffles with his nose buried in the newspaper, he excused himself from the breakfast table. Sensing something wasn’t right, Ashley followed him into the bedroom. “Payne, is everything alright? Is there something we need to talk about?”
“I’m okay. I guess I’m just tired from that meeting I went to last night.”
“Then why not lie down for a while?” She fluffed his pillow and reassured him, “I will answer your phone if anyone calls.”
He did need time to process what George proposed, so why not do so in bed? To mask this need, and also to relieve a tinge of guilt for doing something so apparently unproductive on a workday, he asked if she would go out to the car and bring him the CD that was on the dashboard.
Using his laptop, Pastor Donovan listened to his sermon. He found himself drifting in and out of listening. Awakened by his dog jumping onto the bed, he wondered, How many people do I put to sleep every Sunday morning? Having now drifted back into listening, he heard himself tell the congregation: “Let’s do the math. They had five loaves of bread and two fish. This does not add up to feeding five thousand men, plus all the women and children. But let’s not forget, they had one Jesus. Now let’s do the math. Five plus two plus one equals eight. They all ate!” Pastor Donovan smiled as he heard his people’s laughter and groans. Then his recorded voice spoke directly to him, “Remember, if you have the one Jesus, then you have all that’s necessary.”
He sat up in bed and shouted, “We have all that’s necessary!”
Ashley dashed into the room. “Honey, are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m
