Whispers of a New Dawn (26 page)

“Hey, stranger.” A warm hand slipped into his pocket and wrapped itself around his fingers. “Sawbuck for your thoughts.”

“Sawbuck?” Raven put his arm around Becky. “That’s a lot of money.”

“It’s worth it.”

“Yeah? Where have you been? I haven’t seen you since you helped your mom and aunt serve the food.”

“Oh, I had some letters Mom wanted to see. My grandparents wrote me and Nick from Pennsylvania.”

“They didn’t write your mom?”

“No.”

“Are they your dad’s parents?”

“No, they’re Mom’s.”

Raven gave her a puzzled look, his forehead creasing. “What gives?”

Becky leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’ll try to explain. Mom and Dad were baptized into this certain religious group—the Amish—when they were young. The group doesn’t believe in war and doesn’t permit its members to enlist in the military. And it doesn’t allow anyone to assist the war effort in any way either—you know, like buying war bonds or attending a parade of soldiers or even joining the medical corps. So Mom and Dad are helping train Army pilots to fly better—or at least Dad is, since Mom is only teaching woman civilians. But they lump them both together for coming out here and helping Peterson, and no one is permitted to write them.”

“No one is permitted to write them. Even though your mom and dad are serving their country?”

“They don’t care if Mom and Dad are serving their country. They don’t want them serving their country.”

“But you’re training Army pilots, Becky.”

She squeezed his hand. “That’s different. I’ve never joined the
church. Never been baptized. Never taken any vows. So I can’t be cut off or excommunicated. It’s okay for Grandmother and Grandfather to write me. Nate too. Neither of us has joined the church yet.”

“Whew. That’s a relief. I don’t know if I could handle you being like that.”

“I guess it does make them sound harsh. But the Amish people are really very beautiful, Christian. You would like them.”

“Beck—” Raven started to protest.

“No,” she interrupted. “You would. They’re kind and cheerful and they take care of one another. You would have no problem because you haven’t broken any vows. They would welcome you and feed you and bless you. Of course, not showing up in a uniform would help first impressions.”

“Hm. I could fly dressed in civilian clothes.”

She laughed and looked up at him. “Poor Thunderbird. No, you can’t do that either. The church people aren’t allowed to pilot planes or drive cars or use phones or have electric lights. If you want to visit them you must make up your mind to accept that it’s still 1880 in their world.”

“What?”

“That’s how it is with them.”

“They sound like a cult.”

“No, no, they are not a cult. They believe in Jesus and in the Bible just like you and me. They just go about things differently, that’s all. But they are not a cruel people.”

“They won’t write letters to your father or mother or your Aunt Ruth. What do you call that?”

Becky sighed. “The shunning can be deceiving. It can make them look far worse than they really are.”

“I think I’ll skip the trip to Pennsylvania to find out.”

“Okay, look.” Becky tugged an airmail envelope out of her jeans. “I’m going to let you read this out loud to me. I haven’t opened it yet so I haven’t had a chance to censor it or change anything. And I won’t try to take the letter away from you if I don’t like what’s in it.”

“That’s odd. Why? I’d rather walk on the beach with you.”

“Oh, Christian, we can do that later. Right now, I want you to read this letter out loud.”

“Really, why does it matter? I don’t care.”

“The Amish people are not simply about shunning and turning their backs on planes and cars. I want you to know that.”

“Beck—”

“It matters to me.”

Raven shrugged, took the envelope, and opened it, tearing along the side. There wasn’t enough light so he moved closer to a window. He scanned the page.

“There’s some German in it,” he complained.

“Skip over the German.”

“Who is this from? A secret admirer?” He grinned. “Sure you want me to read it?”

“You goof.” She shoved him into a palm tree. “It’s the bishop of the church.”

“You gotta be kidding me.”

“Just read it, okay?”

My dear Rebecca,

I want you to know I think of you often and pray for all of your family. And I’m not the only one. The whole church prays for your mother and father and for your Aunt Ruth. We love them and look forward to the day we can all be reconciled in Christ Jesus our Lord.

So I am going to say some things that are not very Amish. I say them because I believe they are true. Now and then I look at the war news in the newspapers even though what I read puts a great stone in my heart. So much death. So much destruction. Oh, God in heaven, that those
made in your image would beat their swords into plowshares, their tanks and guns and bombs into pruning hooks. This is my deepest prayer.

But then I think—between my praying of this prayer and God’s answer of it, his resounding YES, what happens? How many more people are slain? How many children orphaned? How much land is ravaged and how many cities burned to the ground? So I bear in mind that the Lord does not call everyone to be Amish, only a few. Those few he charges with being salt and light in the manner in which the Amish are to live and pray and conduct their business and raise their families. Not everyone is called to this. Yet those who are not can still serve the Lord.

So what of these others who believe in Jesus Christ? What does the Lord call them to do if he does not call them to be Amish? To pray and worship of course. To raise their families in his sight. To conduct their business in a manner pleasing to him. Even if it will not be exactly as the Amish do it, their way can still honor our Lord.

I look at the war that covers the earth and I ask, What can be done, oh, God, what can be done in the measure of time between our cries
for peace and your granting of that peace? Who will strive with those who would rule the earth and imprison whole nations? Who will stand between the slayer and the mother with her children? Who will blunt the blow of the wicked?

This is what I think—it is not just the task of unbelievers to stand between the evildoer and his victims. God has appointed some Christians to be Amish, it is true, but he has appointed other Christians to maintain decency and order, to bring to an end the ways of the wicked, to safeguard the widow and the infant and bring about peace in God’s name. So some will be pilots, my dear, and do this. Some will be soldiers. Some will command great ships. But they will do it for God and for the people God made in his image.

I could not do this. I recoil from such a task. It is not in me to lift a gun. But God may put this in others who are his children—not because they love to do it, God forbid, nor even because they want to do it, but because they are compelled to do it by the living God.

Yes, yes, I am aware that many who do not believe in Jesus Christ bear arms and fight, and some fight for what is good. I do not judge them. It is not for me to weigh their
sins against their righteousness. All of this is in God’s hands. I know he raises up to do his bidding those who know him not—he did this with Cyrus the King of Persia when he wanted Cyrus to set the Jews free. What the unbeliever is called to do, this I leave with God. But for the believer I say, if you will not be Amish, yet do God’s will in God’s way. So if the believer fights to set people at liberty, to stanch the flow of blood, to shield the innocent from those who thrive on evil, let him do it as one doing the very work of God. That is what I wish for; this is what I pray for. If you must stand in the gap with the sword, let it be the sword of a righteous God and may you stand as one who stands on his very words.

How strange this must seem to you, my dear Rebecca. Such talk to come from an Amish bishop. But I look and see darkness spreading over the earth and I know there is yet more darkness to come. Some are called to dam the flood of evil. I believe this with all my heart. Just as I believe it is not for the Amish to do, never, for they are called to make a different stand in Christ Jesus our Lord.

But something is coming. Something more is coming. And it may be it is for you to deal with. Already you have trained a few pilots.

Perhaps you will train more. Perhaps your father and mother will train more. Perhaps it is what you and they are called to do. And there was mention in your last letter of a young man whom you favor. Who knows—perhaps you are in love with him? You say he is a Christ man, a Jesus follower, a Christian. So maybe it is also his destiny to guard, to protect, to deliver the people of the earth. Only if he does it let him do it in the Spirit of the Lord. We are frail, we are weak, we sin, yet as far as it is possible with this young man, let him fight in the Spirit of the Lord, not in his own might or the might of those who would usurp the beauty of the world.

I will write again for Christmas. God bless you, my dear. The Lord be with you forever.

Bishop Zook

Raven stood holding the pages of the letter in his hand. After a moment he folded them up and gave them back to Becky. Then he walked away from the house and looked down again on the lights of Pearl Harbor. She followed him but did not touch him or speak.

“You asked for my thoughts a half hour ago,” he finally said. “I was thinking about what it would be like to be a naval aviator, of how hard it would be to land on a carrier in the dark in the middle of a storm. But I was just beginning to think of other things when you showed up. How I’m likely to be transferred to the Philippines with the Army Air Forces. That the war with Japan will be there. And you will have to remain in Hawaii, far away from me. I will never see your eyes, touch your lips, pick you up, and carry you into the waves. Can I bear that?”

Becky didn’t speak.

“If I was a naval aviator, flying a dive bomber or torpedo plane or fighter, if I was assigned to a carrier that had Pearl Harbor as its home base—well, that would be a different matter. Sure, we’d go on deployment, we’d be away for weeks or months at a time, but not for years, and we’d always come back here.” He turned and ran a hand down the side of her face. “Your hair is getting longer.”

“The Bible and the Amish say a woman’s crowning glory is her hair.”

“So now I have the Amish to thank for that and for the letter.”

“I had no idea Bishop Zook would say those things. He could actually be cut off from the community for writing them down.”

“He said you might be in love with me.”

“Yes, I adore you—I can’t think of any better way of spending my time than being with you. But love? Love is a big deal. I loved once and lost. A lot of things may be healed inside me but not that. I’m afraid the moment I say love you is the moment you’ll be snatched away from me. I’m afraid to go where love is again.”

Her young face looked so troubled Raven cupped it in his hand and kissed the freckles that made their way across the bridge of her nose. “Hey. I’m okay. I’ve had rough landings before.”

“I don’t want you to have rough landings.” Tears made their way to the corners of her eyes. “I want you to know you’re cared for. Prayed for. Dreamed about. That when we’re apart I ache for you. You mean so much to me. I can’t stand the thought that I’m making it hard for you.”

“You’re not making it hard for me.”

“Of course I am. Any other woman would have said the words by now. But not me. I can’t say the words that would make you happy.”

“The happiest man on earth.” He kissed her cheek. “I can wait.”

“What if it never happens?”

“Are you trying to frighten me off?”

“I’m just saying—”

“Because it’s kind of hard to frighten off an army pilot. Especially one who wants to be a naval aviator. Who wants his home base to be Pearl Harbor so he can love you up forever.” He gently kissed the side
of her neck and she closed her eyes. “Not to mention that I’m
Waya
. The wolf doesn’t run, Becky.”

“I don’t want you to run,” she whispered. “I just don’t want to break your heart.”

“Shh. Christmas is right around the corner. Who knows? There’s a little something extra in the air that time of year. Anything could happen to your heart. To my heart.”

He kissed her. She clung to him as he held her tighter and tighter, never breaking the kiss. Finally he pulled away.

“Do you—do you love
me
?” She ran her hands over his face, looking into his eyes, her own face tight and anxious, her lips parted. “Do you, Thunderbird?”

He smoothed back her hair and stroked her cheek. “Remember the first time we met? I put out my hand and you wouldn’t take it?”

She looked even more anxious, her eyes widening in the dark. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—it seems like all I ever do is hurt you.”

“Before that I saw you when the jeep dropped me off at Peterson’s office. You were checking over your J-3. At first you were bent over and almost out of sight. Then you stood up. I thought I’d been hit by lightning. A buzz went right through me. It was like I’d been standing out in a field during a thunderstorm and electricity had gone through me.” He snapped his fingers. “It happened in a flash. For a moment I lost my breath. Do you remember spotting me at the other end of the runway?”