Agent finds a Warrior (18 page)

The Christians had been the minority within
Turkey. A falling away of relations between Christian and Muslim
took place and everything had changed for the worse. Turkish
soldiers under sanctioned authority drove between one million and
two million Armenian Christians on death marches into the desert to
die.

Some estimates of the death toll were even
higher. Even to the current era over a hundred years later the
Turkish government still denied that the Armenian Genocide ever
took place, but such a refusal to claim responsibility for past
misdeeds did not do away with all the evidence of their past
actions, which offer their own testimony as did the testimony of
those who survived.

Zora had survived. Somehow my precious love
had survived this hell on Earth scene that lay all around me that
stretched out as far as the eye could see.

As the memory unfolded I walked on through
the hot sand littered with the corpses of martyrs. They became
fewer and fewer, as the stumbling trails through the sand stopped
one by one, until there was only one trail that continued on.

The desert grew dark and cold and rounding a
corner I saw them.

There was a girl maybe ten years of age who
lay on the ground shivering, as she hugged herself for warmth
against the chill air of the desert night. There was no hope in the
child’s eyes. Eyes that reflected an emptiness that was
heartbreaking to behold.

Zora the woman stood within the ground plane
of her remembered memory staring down at the earlier version of her
herself that lay shivering on the sand. A little girl’s soul
shattered by the atrocities of mankind.

I stepped up and wrapped my arms around Zora
and she leaned back against me trustingly.

“You’re not that scared all alone in the
world girl anymore Zora. You don’t have to keep reliving this
terrible memory. I’ll protect you. I promise.”

She turned her face and pressed it into my
neck in search of comfort and closeness as she breathed out, “I
know.”

She was quiet for a moment before saying,
“My Papa told me that there would be a man one day, who would
change every misconception I had about what men were and that I
would be happy in his arms.” She pressed back harder against me
with the saying of her words and I held her all the more tighter to
me.

“Are you happy Zora?”

She turned and hooked her arms around my
neck and nodded with her eyes wet with tears, “Very happy! But I
have a bone to pick with you Mister!”

“Oh and what’s that?” I asked
cautiously.

“Why did you have to scare me half to death
by tying me up so that this memory would be prompted? You know I
would’ve told you if you’d asked!”

Actually I hadn’t known that.

“Maybe I just like to see you squirm and
moan from unavoidable pleasure for hours on end.”

She made as if to slap me, but chuckling I
stepped backward and opened my eyes.

My eyes met her now opened ones as we lay
together in the darkened bedroom. Her eyes reflected the wrathful
payback she wished to enact for how I had tormented her all
afternoon, but she couldn’t slap me because her hands were still
tied. A fact that she was very much aware of. Her eyes were stormy
as she gazed at me.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve asked. Do you
forgive me?”

She chewed her full lower lip for a moment
indecisively before giving in, “I forgive you, but next time I get
to tie you up!”

“That seems fair.” I admitted, as I leaned
up on one elbow and started to untie her hands, but her words
stopped me.

“Did I say I wanted you to untie me?”

I glanced down into her playful eyes that
bore no trace of the awfulness of her past or of the need for
revenge, because of how I had taken advantage of her instead of
just asking as I should’ve.

It was wonderful to be her man. I didn’t
have to be perfect, because all she cared about was how I loved
her.

I kissed my captive bride all thought of
releasing her, gone, as she seemed rather content to be as she was,
forever mine.

Monday morning came and so did the people.
They came in droves. They overflowed out of the church and the
Spirit of God fell upon them all.

There were miracles done and languages only
known to God spoken. The blind saw and the lame walked. People were
saved as the love of Christ was replenished in the hearts of those
who had grown cold to it.

The revival stretched on and became a week
in duration. Employers came to see what had become of their
employees and in turn got saved themselves. Through it all Zora
watched the hand of God moving upon the lives of others, as she
helped and was of use wherever she could be.

The service was in its seventh hour on the
Monday of the second week of the revival, when Zora left the front
of the church filled with worshipers to head back to the back and
sit and rest for a while.

On her way she saw a man standing at the
back of the church with a deer in the headlights look in his eyes.
He was Middle Eastern.

A congregation member approached in an
attempt to outreach to the man, but it was clear that the man did
not speak English well enough to fully understand what the church
member was saying.

Zora stepped closer and in fluent Arabic
said, “Welcome to the house of God friend. What brings you
here?”

The man looked astonished to hear his own
language and quickly responded, “I had a vision last night of a man
with holes in his hands and feet. He told me to come here. I am
here, but I do not understand why.” The man said, as he relayed in
evident mystery as to why he a practicing Muslim should be told by
a man with unquestionable authority in a dream to come to a
Christian church.

Zora began to explain to him then the
symbolism of his encounter as well as the gospel of the man named
Jesus, who had come in the flesh being the Son of God and who had
died for all so that all who believed in Him and put their faith in
Him alone could have everlasting life.

The man labored with a simple concept of the
part of the process though by which salvation is attained by belief
in Jesus and what he did for all.

“This forgiveness. I do not understand it!
How can a man who I never met, who is God, but walked as a man on
this Earth forgive me so far forward into the future, when I never
knew of Him?”

Zora studied the man closely for a moment
and then said, “Your father’s father’s name was Imalic Soliga.”

The man stared at her in astonishment and
then in further astonishment when she said both where he had lived
and that he had been a soldier who did great evil in the
persecution of Armenian Christians.

“I am a daughter of Armenia and I forgive
you for the hatred of your generations towards mine and for the
slaughter your grandfather was a part of.” They had been hard words
to say, but Zora felt released from her past in a way that she’d
never been before.

The man before her was literally falling
apart as tears coursed down his cheeks, “How can you forgive such a
crime my family is guilty of against your people?” The man asked
imploringly.

Zora pressed her hand to her heart and said,
“I can forgive you, because I have been in turn forgiven for the
evils that I have done.”

She pointed upward and the man got what
forgiveness of unmerited favor was like as it was pressed down from
above and he broke down saying, “I believe!” Over and over in
Arabic.

He started to sink to his knees, but Zora
caught him and pulled him up and down toward the front of the
church, “Come and let us worship God, who has turned an enemy into
a friend, even as we both are now the heirs to the same promise
that God set in place for both of us before the foundation of the
world.”

“Let it be so!” The man exclaimed heartily
and then he said, “And let it be so for my family to! For I will
bring all of them, who will come into the house of my Jesus and we
will no longer serve the god of this world, who is not a god, but
who is a liar and a thief of men’s souls and known by such names as
they for even they are among the forty names attributed to him and
by which he is called among my people!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The revival went on into its third week, but
we weren’t there for it. We were back to walking down endless rows
of corn and by fields of hay.

I gave a longing look at every wheat field
we passed, but Zora rolled her eyes at me. She wasn’t budging on
that one. We walked along in amicable silence for several
hours.

“So where are we going now? What stone or
church will we turn over next?” Zora asked with excitement.

I grinned, “Who knows. I don’t. Something
inevitably always comes up though.”

She smiled in return at me and said, “I love
sharing this job with you Elon!”

“I love sharing it with you Zora!”

More time passed by before Zora asked, “Do
you see that kind of changeover in churches often?”

I shook my head no, “No, such outpourings
are rare. Not because the Spirit of God isn’t willing, but rather
because the Spirit of God isn’t pursued in order to bring revival.
People settle for the substance of a cracker when they could’ve had
a whole meal.”

Zora nodded, “I was talking to one of the
pastors and he was saying that for many believers their faith has
come down to attending church a few times a year most notably at
Christmas and Easter.”

I nodded grimly at the sad revelation of
faith in America. I had seen it all before, but America at one time
had been a special place. It was hard to see a path of return to
that former glory, but nothing was impossible for God.

I glanced at Zora, “That sad revelation
aside something that really bothers me is that the two religious
events that these people choose to attend are the most mixed up of
all. Christmas should be celebrated in September when Jesus was
actually born. It was moved to December by the early church to
coincide with a pagan holiday. Their hope was that by giving the
pagans a chance to still be able to celebrate something that more
of them would convert to Christianity. Whether that worked I’m not
sure, but the paganistic symbolism of the Christmas tree and Santa
Claus, which translates back to a Babylonian god all muddy up the
birth of Jesus in a way that I do not like. Easter in my opinion is
an even worse tragedy.”

“How is Easter a tragedy?” Zora
exclaimed.

“Well for starters it shouldn’t be called
Easter, but instead it should be called Resurrection Day. The
holiday like Christmas was moved to line up with a pagan holiday.
Resurrection Day should be celebrated several weeks earlier than it
typically is in much of the Christian world. Remember the name of
the demon I wrestled with at Flint’s house in Italy?”

“It was Ishtar wasn’t it?” Zora said
hesitantly and I nodded in confirmation.

“Ishtar was a woman in early Babylonian
times who set herself up to be worshiped as a fertility goddess.
She was a witch and like any time when someone delves into the dark
magic or the occult they expose themselves to being possessed by
demons, which become the person’s familiar spirit. A familiar
spirit is a demon that can manifest the persona of the person it
inhabits as well as having access to that person’s memories and
thoughts.”

Zora cut in, “You’re saying that when people
report seeing long dead relatives walking about or haunting a place
that it isn’t the actual person, but rather a demon manifesting the
form of someone they once inhabited?”

“Yes I am. When people die they die. There
is no lingering around. These demonic manifestations are able to
trick people into believing that they are their human counterparts,
because they know everything there former hosts knew. When you hear
of psychics supposedly contacting the other side and talking with
family members, who are dead there really talking with demons in
disguise.”

“I did not know that.” Zora said softly.

She glanced over at me puzzled looking and
asked, “What does this fertility goddess Ishtar have to do with
Easter?”

“Ishtar translates over into English from
ancient Babylonian as Easter and it’s her day that is celebrated
instead of the resurrection of Jesus from the grave.”

Zora was staring at me shocked and a little
disgusted at what had been revealed.

“Do you know what the symbols of Ishtar’s
fertility were?”

I didn’t wait for her to ask, but continued
on, “The rabbit and the egg. Think about what the most commonly
attributed items of Easter are. The resurrection of Jesus is the
last thing that most children in this nation think of when Easter
is mentioned. Instead all that comes to mind for them is consuming
chocolate bunnies and popping open eggs filled with jelly
beans.”

Zora looked away from me and down the road
as she said, “That’s terrible!”

I nodded grimly, “Evil is always at work
seeking to confuse and misconstrue the gospel salvation story and
God’s word in general and that’s why one should always prove out
what you believe and participate in by looking to the word of God
and keeping yourself educated instead of going along with the herd
over the cliff.”

Zora glanced at me and I saw a knowing look
come into her eyes, “At Flint’s place you said you killed the human
aspect of Ishtar. Dating yourself there aren’t you a bit? All right
out with your deep dark secret origins! You found out mine and I
want to know yours!”

I grinned at her but made no effort to say
anything.

She stopped in the middle of the road and
crossed her arms, “I want to know!”

“What do you want to know?” I asked
cautiously, but she shook her head as she said, “Don’t make me tie
you up and sensually torture you for hours on end to get what I
want dear husband.”