W: The Planner, The Chosen (30 page)

Chapter 6

“
P
ush, Kris. Come on, Honey. Push.” Karyn Conners tried to sound confident as she coached her sister. In fact, she was terrified. Watching Kris give birth under these conditions was awful; she wanted to help her, but other than her love and concern for her big sister, she had very little to offer. She silently thanked God that Michael was there. He was a doctor—although he was not trained in obstetrics.

Kris was concentrating hard on the delivery, trying to shut out everything that both Michael and Karyn were saying. From the moment she had realized that she was pregnant, she had begun praying that she and her baby would be safe during the labor and delivery, and when her pains had begun that morning, she had withdrawn emotionally from everything going on around her. She was very thankful that Michael and Karyn were with her, but she knew that, in the end, it would be just Jesus and her; He was the only one who could safely deliver her child into the troubled world in which they were living.

Kris was sitting on the pallet that served as her and Michael’s bed, and the perspiration was running down her face and dripping into her eyes. It wasn’t time to push yet; she knew that, and she tried to control her breathing—slow deep breaths; stay calm; stay focused; slow deep breaths.

As Kris waited, her mind went back to the day Michael had asked her to marry him. She had been in love with him for more than a year—since they had both lived in the federal employee’s housing of the FMPD, but it was only after they had left that Michael had told her about his feelings for her. She wanted desperately to marry him, but the whole world was upside down, and she could not justify taking such a big step when their lives were in turmoil.

“I love you,” she had told him, “but I don’t know how we can begin a life together under these circumstances. Either of us could be arrested at any time. It’s funny, I always wanted a husband and children, but I got involved with Ben and wasted seventeen years of my life living in sin with him.  I wish I had met you when I was twenty-two.”

“But you didn’t, and besides that, when you were twenty-two, I was already married to Maddie,” Michael had responded. “We met now because this was God’s timing. He knew that Maddie would die young and that you and Ben would never marry. He knew that at this moment you and I would be exactly where we are, and He’s given us a chance for happiness—a chance to love again. If we don’t do this, we may not get another chance.” 

“I know you’re right,” Kris had said. “I know you loved Madelyn, but I’m not sure I ever loved Ben. I had romanticized our relationship and convinced myself that I was in love, but I never loved Ben the way I love you. I realize that after having wasted my child-bearing years, children are no longer an option, and that’s probably a good thing. I wouldn’t want to bring a child into this world with all the evil that’s going on.”

Michael had taken hold of Kris’ shoulders and turned her to face him. Looking directly into her eyes, he said, “I don’t know whether God has children for us, but if He does, you must be willing to accept them. Children are a gift from God, and that’s true in good times and bad. If you become pregnant, it’ll be because God has chosen to bless us with the most precious gift that He can give a married couple. Remember this, Kris: If Christians refuse to have children, our faith will die with us. It is both our duty and our privilege to prepare the next generation.”

It was now nine months and three weeks to the day since she and Michael had been married under a canopy with Father Nathan O’Brien officiating. “Well,” Father O’Brien had commented when they had asked him to perform the ceremony, “it’s strange circumstances, indeed, that require a Catholic priest to marry a Messianic Jew and an Evangelical Christian, but it’s been said that ‘desperate times call for desperate measures,’ and times don’t get much more desperate than these. Yes, I’ll do it.”  

Michael and Kris were both glad that Nathan O’Brien had agreed to perform the ceremony. He and Michael had gone to college together and had become instant friends. Michael had been serious and a little brooding, but Nate, as everyone called him, was always bubbling over with laughter. He was tall and blond and tan—the image of a “California boy”. Girls were crazy about him because in addition to his amazing good looks, he was friendly and warm and seemed to be genuinely interested in everyone.

Michael and Nate had met when they were both twenty-one. Michael was already married to Maddie, and Nate had already decided that after he graduated he was going to become a priest. Both men were intelligent and interested in a variety of subjects, and they shared a deep faith in Jesus Christ. They could never agree on the finer points of their respective beliefs, however, and they spent long hours debating the differences. They spent even longer hours playing one-on-one basketball. For two athletic young guys who needed to burn off energy after a day spent in classes, the basketball court offered the perfect way to unwind.

Michael and Nate had always remained friends, and as they matured they realized that they shared many core beliefs. They shared the same views of the sanctity of life and of traditional marriage. They valued freedom and liberty, and neither was afraid to speak his mind. Each year they discovered that they were more alike than they had originally thought.

Kris’ pains were growing stronger. They radiated from the center of her lower back toward her stomach, reaching further with each contraction. With the last contraction the pain had become an excruciating band that circled her body, and she now felt her muscles working to force the baby out of her. It was time to push. She took a deep breath, held it in, and pushed with all her strength. Once, twice, three times, and then an enormous sense of relief, and the pain stopped.

The baby was crying, and Michael looked happier than she had ever seen him. “It’s a boy! It’s a boy!” Karyn was shouting. In that moment every doubt Kris had ever entertained about becoming a mother evaporated.

After Karyn and Michael had cleaned up the mess from the delivery, they left Kris alone with her child so that she could rest. She was much too wide awake to consider napping, but she was glad to have this opportunity to talk to her son. “Your name is Aaron Mitchell Linton,” she began. “Your daddy’s middle name is Aaron, but before I married him my last name was Mitchell. I wanted to name you after your daddy, but I wanted you to have my name too, and now I’m going to tell you a secret that no one else knows. I’m going to call you ‘Mitch’ because I think it’s the best name in the world.

“I’m going to tell you something else too. It’s not a secret, but you’ll be surprised to find this out. This is my birthday. I’m forty-three years old today. I know that seems old to you, but it’s really not very old. But the best part is that you and I have the same birthday, and we’ll always have a special giant party to celebrate. No matter what happens, Mitch, you are the best birthday present that I will ever get in my entire life. I will love you forever, and I will always thank God for sending you to me.”

∞

Kris was so happy with her new son that for the next few months she had little time for anything else. She knew that Mitch was special—that God had a purpose for his life that would involve saving many people. She was certain that God would protect him so that he could do his work, but she wasn’t so sure about her own future. She feared that she might die before Mitch was grown and that he would suffer because she was not there to take care of him. Every day she prayed that God would allow her to live long enough to raise him.

It wasn’t just her natural mother’s love that made her believe that Mitch was special. Everyone recognized that he was different. Even Keith, who did not like to think about God being too personally involved in people’s lives, admitted that Mitch was destined to do “something big”.

In mid November, Keith announced that he had to “check something out” and that he would be gone for a day or two. He said that he was following up on a lead that Jessie had given him and would tell the rest of the family all about it when he returned.

Three days later his dusty Jeep pulled up in front of the trailer, and he burst through the front door looking as though he had just won the lottery. “I found a house that’s perfect for all of us!” he exclaimed. “Jessie spotted it when he was flying missions, and I wanted to check it out on the ground, but it’s perfect.”

“What are you talking about?” Kris inquired.

“Well, Jessie saw this big old house out in the middle of nowhere. Every time he did a flyover he looked around to see whether anyone was living there, but there were never any signs of life. He finally decided that it would be safe for me to go check it out in person. 

“It’s a huge one-story made out of concrete. Concrete floors, walls, the whole package. There’s a little watch tower on the roof where you can see for miles in every direction.  When I was looking around, I discovered a tunnel that you can access through a trap door in one of the rooms.  It has concrete stairs leading into a concrete tunnel that I could stand up in. I followed it several hundred yards. It exits at a spot in the desert behind a pile of boulders big enough to hide anyone coming out. Whoever built the place wanted privacy and an escape route. It’s probably a hundred years old, and it doesn’t look like anyone’s been there for years. 

“You’re always saying that God makes provision for us in advance; well, if He had built a hideout especially for us, this would be it. When Mike and Jeff get back, I’m going to talk to them about heading out there ASAP.”

Kris felt an icy-cold fear spring up in her chest. She knew that if they were supposed to go there, something really bad was about to happen.

∞

Keith had been right about the house. Karyn, Jeff, and their children took one wing, and Kris, Michael, and the baby took the other. Although there was plenty of room on the ground floor, Keith insisted on taking over the watch tower, which was actually a fifteen by fifteen foot upstairs room with a three-hundred sixty degree view.

One day when Michael and Jeff were away, Kris told Mitch, “After I married Daddy I wanted to have a big house, but I didn’t think we would ever be able to get one. Now just look at us! We have a huge house, and Aunt Karyn and Uncle Jeff and your cousins live just down the hall, and Uncle Keith lives upstairs. We are the luckiest people in the whole world.” Kris laughed out loud as she looked around the dark, depressing concrete building which more resembled a prison than a private residence. Following her lead, Mitch squealed with laughter, and she picked him up and kissed his chubby cheeks. “I don’t care what anyone says,” she told him. “I love you and Daddy so much, and even though things are hard, I’m happier than I’ve ever been. Every day I thank God for protecting us and bringing us to this place. Some day this will all be behind us, but for now I’m thankful for every day I have with my two men. The only thing I couldn’t stand would be for us to be separated.”

Chapter 7

B
y early December, Mitch was four months old. “This will be his first Christmas!” Kris beamed as she dressed her little son following his bath. 

“And his first Hanukkah,” Michael added. “Even the youngest members of the family are present for the lighting of the Menorah. This year, that means you,” he touched the tip of his son’s nose, and Mitch smiled.

The baby’s smile made Kris smile too. “When is Hanukkah this year?” she asked as she finished tucking Mitch’s blanket around him. 

“Sunday night,” Michael responded.  “We light the first candle right after sunset to begin the first night of the celebration.”

Kris did not know much about Hanukkah, and she had no practical experience with it. She did know that she wanted to make this Hanukkah special for Michael—it was the third holiday since he had lost his parents, and his family had always celebrated together. She knew from going through Christmas without her own parents how much holidays magnified the loss of family. She had started looking for recipes early in the year. Supplies were very limited, but potato pancakes were doable—she had even recruited Karyn to help her. Other than preparing the latkes, she did not know what she could do to make the celebration seem special. 

On Sunday evening everyone gathered in the living room. For several weeks Michael and Jeff had been working on the Menorah in their spare time, and Michael now held a roughly-fashioned candelabra holding nine candles, with the center candle slightly higher than the others. Jeff had made a little platform for the Menorah—he was the one with the construction experience, and he had been happy to help Michael with the project, but he did not understand why they had gone to so much trouble to light some candles. Both families gathered around, and Seth and Faith watched with a child’s interest. Kris held Mitch facing the Menorah so that he could see what was happening. Keith slouched against the wall. He had zero interest in religion and less than zero interest in Hanukkah, but he liked the idea of sampling the potato pancakes.

“We light the candles after sunset to commemorate the Feast of Lights,” Michael began. “In 168 B.C. Antiochus Epiphanies declared war on the Jewish people and suspended the worship of the God of Israel. The prophet Daniel had foretold that a ruler would come who would desecrate the temple and stop the sacrifice, and Antiochus fulfilled this prophecy. Antiochus wanted to destroy the worship of Yahweh and bring the whole world under his control by eliminating all other religions. Using deceit, he was able to capture Jerusalem. He stripped all of the wealth out of the temple and carried away the gold, the candlesticks, the altar of the incense, the table of the shewbread, and all of the linen cloths. He killed many Jews and took about ten thousand people away as captives.  

“Antiochus wanted to completely blot out the worship of the true God, so he desecrated God’s temple by sacrificing swine on the altar, and he forced the people to set up altars to idols in every part of Israel and to sacrifice swine on them. He also made it illegal for the Jews to circumcise their sons, as God’s law commanded. He crucified the Jews who resisted and the women who circumcised their babies, and he hanged their newborn infant sons around their necks as they hung on their crosses. He burned all of the copies of God’s law that he could find and put to death anyone possessing a copy.

“At this time, there was a Jewish priest named Mattathias who had five sons—John, Simeon, Judas, Eleazar and Jonathan. The governor demanded that Mattathias set a ‘good example’ for the rest of the community by offering polluted sacrifices on the Temple altar and encouraging the people to obey Antiochus. But the high priest feared God more than the king, so with only his five sons, he started a rebellion. ‘If anyone is zealous for the laws of his country and for the worship of God, let him follow me,’ was his rallying cry, and thousands of faithful Jews did follow him into the desert. Mattathias taught this group of followers to defend themselves. He killed all of the traitors who had sacrificed to idols, and he ordered that the parents who had not done so must now circumcise their sons.

“After a year, Mattathias became very ill, and he called for his sons and charged them to carry on his work.  He told them to fight for the laws of their country and said that if they would do so, God would give them back what they had lost and restore their nation to freedom.

“After his father’s death, Judas, also called Maccabeus, took control of his father’s army, and the family and their followers became known as the Maccabees.  The name means ‘Who is like unto you, O Lord?’ Judas’ army was far out-numbered, but he reminded the people that victory does not come from armies—it comes from God alone.  He encouraged his men to fight for freedom and for the liberty to worship God and for the laws of their country, and his armies defeated the much larger enemy armies until, finally, after three and half years, Judas had regained control of Jerusalem. 

“Now Judas encouraged his men to go to the Temple and thank God for giving them such a great victory, but when they arrived, they were dismayed to see that the Temple was wrecked—full of filth and weeds.  They found one jar of uncontaminated olive oil sealed with the seal of the high priest buried on the grounds of the Temple, but it was enough for only one day.  They would need eight days to make more oil and to purify the Temple.  Judas posted guards around the perimeter to keep the enemy away, and then he set to work cleansing the Temple and restoring the table with the shewbread and the altar of incense. He built a new altar for sacrifice from unhewn stones because the previous altar had been profaned with unclean sacrifices.  This purification of the Temple took eight days, and during that time, that one jar of oil, which was enough for only one night, burned for the entire eight days.  On the twenty-fifth day of the month, the Temple was reopened and Judas reinstated sacrifices to the God of Israel.

“That is what Hanukkah commemorates—even in the darkest moments in history, the spirit of God is always present to help those who resist evil.  The Maccabees were allowed the privilege of witnessing the miracle of Hanukkah because they were willing to honor God, to stand up against evil and to fight for what was right, even if they died doing so.  In the days of the Maccabees, people could be restored into right relationship with God only through reinstating the daily sacrifice in the Temple, but since the coming of Jesus, we live in the Age of Messiah, and we are restored into right relationship with God as we allow Him to rule and reign in our own hearts.  And as we fight for the freedom to worship God and to teach our children to worship God, the Spirit of God will fight for us, just as it did for my ancestors, thousands of years ago.”

Michael lit the center candle and used that candle to light the far left candle, and then he recited the prayer that his father had taught him:

“
Blessed are you O Lord Our God, King of the universe, who has given us holidays, customs and times of happiness to increase the knowledge of God and to build us up in our most holy faith.

“Blessed are you O Lord our God, King of the universe, who has granted us life, sustained us, and permitted us to reach this season.”

Keith had been leaning against the wall listening, and now he spoke, “I have a question, Mike. Since Hanukkah is eight days, why are there nine candles? And why is one candle taller than the others?”  Keith actually liked Michael, in spite of himself, but all of this religious stuff drove him crazy.  Anyway, he wanted to see whether Michael knew the answer.

The pleased expression on Michael’s face immediately made him wish he had not asked the question. “I’m so glad you asked. The candles represent the miracle of the oil. The oil represents the Holy Spirit—the Spirit of God on earth. None of these candles has any greater significance than any of the others—they tell the story of God’s faithfulness as a whole. But the center candle is the Shamash candle—the servant candle. It is the only candle that can be used to light any of the others. It gives light to all of them. My father used to tell us that the story of Hanukkah recounts the story of God’s faithfulness to His people, but it also foretells the coming of Messiah.  It is a picture for us to remind us that just as the olive oil would supernaturally give light to cleanse the temple, in less than 200 years, the Holy Spirit would supernaturally bring about the birth of Jesus who would be born in a stable into the lowliest of circumstances and through His death and resurrection would cleanse the world of sin.  For those of us who believe in Jesus, every part of the Menorah tells that story.  In ancient rabbinical teachings, seven was the number for natural completion—in six days God created the world, and He rested on the seventh.  But eight designated those things which were outside of the natural order and, therefore, possible only for God.  So the eight candles remind us that the birth of Jesus was miraculous—an event that only God could orchestrate.  The Shamash reminds us that He came as a servant, ‘For the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many.’  The lighting of the candles from the Shamash reminds us that Jesus is the light of the world who gives light and life to all who receive Him. And as we light the final candle on the final night we remember that the scripture teaches that God raised Him from the dead and gave Him a name which is above all other names. He is the Servant who gives light to the world, who has been elevated to sit at the right hand of God.”

Now Keith really was annoyed. He had come down for the pancakes, not to hear a sermon. “That’s a nice story for the kids,” he smirked. “But you and I both know that in real life nobody comes to save you. Thousands of years of lighting candles and waiting for the Messiah—or I guess in your case waiting for the Messiah to come back—and where has it gotten you exactly? We’ve all lost everything; we’re living in an abandoned house we don’t even own waiting for the end. And we’re supposed to believe we live in the ‘Age of Messiah’? Give me a break! That ‘chosen people’ stuff has never worked out for anybody who has tried it. Millions of people who thought they were ‘chosen’ died in ovens or were shot to death and tossed into mass graves. But you know something—my parents thought they were ‘chosen’ too. My mom always told us that God had a special plan for our lives, and that each of us needed to try to find it and live it out.” With his hand he made a sweeping motion around the room.  “Some plan, huh?”

“Keith, please,” Kris tried to stop him. He was angry, and he was spoiling the evening with his rant. She looked at Michael and mouthed, “I’m sorry.” Michael ignored her and looked directly at Keith.  He was calm but very direct.

“Keith, do you know how the ‘chosen’ get to be the ‘chosen’? When they hear a call to stand up for Truth, to fight for God’s laws, they are the ones who respond.  There may be millions of others who hear that same call and never respond to it; they go through life like sleepwalkers, as if nothing has happened. But ‘the chosen’ answer. I never actually met your mother, but I know her a little through Kris. I know that she was a special woman; I believe that she was right—God does have a purpose for each of your lives. But whether you find and fulfill that purpose is up to you. God will never force it on you—it’s entirely up to you to respond. The Maccabees were just one family, but they responded to the calling of God, and they changed their country’s future. If they had not responded, someone else would have—maybe not at that moment, but sooner or later, somebody would have responded and when they did, they would have been ‘chosen.’ Their story reminds us that God uses ordinary people in special ways when they respond to the leading of His Spirit. Being ‘chosen’ doesn’t mean you’re special—it just means you answered when you were called.”

Keith looked down and said nothing. In a few minutes he left the room and went back up to the tower alone. Later that evening Kris climbed the watchtower stairs with some latkes, but Keith did not look at her or speak to her.

For eight nights, every evening at sundown, Kris, Karyn, Jeff, Seth, Faith and Mitch watched Michael light the candles. After the first night Keith never came downstairs for the ceremony again, but whenever he entered the common room he noticed the Menorah sitting there, and it angered and bothered him. He did his best not to look at it, but then he would turn and catch a glimpse of it out of the corner of his eye. He had seen hundreds of Menorahs—he had even taped a Hanukkah celebration when he was working in cable news. It had never meant anything to him until a few nights before when Michael had lighted the candles. Now all he could see was eight candles representing one miracle and a Servant candle elevated to a place of honor above them. It bothered him so much that he wished he had not heard Michael’s explanation. “The next time he wants to do something like this,” he muttered, “he can do it without me.” And he felt a deep sense of relief when the eight days finally ended and the Menorah was taken down and put away.