TWENTY
Greater is strength of mind
than strength of body;
Yet greater is strength of spirit,
than strength of mind.
Julius Mann, Thoughts, vol. 8, ch. 4
The chain loosened from the wall. It was but a tiny movement but a movement it was. The dream was now a reality. Roy again tugged with all his weight, this time harder than ever before, for now he knew he was succeeding. The chain, connected to a thick metal ring in the brick wall, was attached to clamps around both his arms and both his legs. It had prevented him moving much further than the edge of the rough planks of wood that had been his bed for so long that he had lost track of the months, let alone the days.
With each strained tug forward his hair fell over his face. He had no idea what he looked like. Although at the start his head had been regularly shaved bald, his hair was now long and knotty. For the first time in his life he had a beard, and it too was a mess. His clothes were nothing but rags, mostly torn and never once cleaned.
Again the chain moved the ring, and again Roy kept tugging. It soon moved more and more until it broke out from the wall with a cloud of dust and debris that included a large chunk of stone brick. Roy fell forward and landed with pain on the cold stone floor. The chain hit the hard floor and rang out like an alarm bell. The silence of both the cell and the outside corridor made the noise so much louder.
Roy was overjoyed. His body was weak from lack of food, as his last semblance of food had come five days previous. He was covered in scars and his limbs cried out with each movement, all gained from the long series of tortures given to him with the idea that it was for his spiritual good, to prepare him for the Judaits’ idea of afterlife; purgatory and the company of other lost and crying souls. Roy had withstood it all, with a strength he knew was from the Spirit of God and not himself. The monks had long given up on him, but their handiwork would remain with him for the rest of his life. Despite his afflictions, Roy could not have been happier. He was free from the wall, free to move further than the bed. It felt like he was free from the monastery altogether.
He gathered together the chains that still hung from his arms and legs, and carried them as he went to the cell door. It was five days since he had seen or heard anyone. From what he could see through the bars in the small window of the door, he was still alone. He pushed the door and found in locked and as solid as the walls around him.
Don’t give up.
The words were not his own but they seemed to be. If there was one thing Roy was pleased about during his time in captivity, it was that he had learned to sense instructions from the Holy Spirit. He now knew what guided Wuting and Jian.
After he walked around the small room to regain some strength to his legs, he spent the next few hours hammering away at the chains with the piece of stone that had fallen from the wall. He cut the bulk of the chains away but he still had the bonds on his wrists and ankles. When the final link of chain broke away, he resumed his praying.
Since he had been isolated in the cell he had learned to spend more time praying than sleeping. He never knew that he could pray with such boldness, such faith, such thankfulness in his God. He found words of praise coming up in his spirit; words that defied the state of his body and his whereabouts. It was like his soul was elsewhere, not confined to the cell, but free in the heavenlies, and he could be there any time he prayed. Songs would come up in him; songs more beautiful and theology more profound than anything he had ever heard before. He could not care less that his new style of prayer disagreed with his theological training that said such ecstatic worship led by the Holy Spirit was a thing of the past and now reserved for fanatics. It was the only thing that kept him going. It was his sole remaining source of life.
Then he looked at the door like the answer was obvious. He grabbed the piece of stone brick and ran to the door. He battered the stone at the area of the bolt, each time making dust float down from the low ceiling. The noise echoed down the corridor but still no one came to stop him. He hammered with growing enthusiasm, knowing the lock could not hold up against the force of his will. Then the bolt cracked and he could budge the door open. He pushed it so hard that it smashed against the wall and loosened its hinges.
Roy stepped out into the middle of the corridor, the stone gripped tight in his hand, faith strong in his eyes. He looked up and down the narrow, twisting hall that he only ever saw when dragged to and from the torturing rooms. He felt like shouting out to the monks, daring them to come see him. He felt so full of God’s strength that he was sure they would run away from him. The sight of another cell door changed his mind. He remembered the others.
Once or twice a month he would see them, his fellow captives, either in their cells or in transit to one of the other rooms. The sight of one in particular had given him great encouragement: Russell Heslin, once his loyal church elder, now a warrior in chains for the faith. The change in Roy’s old friend was dramatic, from a man always concerned with the worldly, to one thinking nothing but the things of God. Roy hoped that such a change would be noticeable in himself, but his change was from the religious to the heavenly. The change felt like moving into a different world. He spent hours contemplating the change, and was sure it was the same for every prisoner who continued to defy the monks.
He was disappointed to find their cells unlocked and empty. He walked down what seemed like endless corridors, not really knowing where he was going. There was no sign of life. He guessed that the occupants had been taken away to wherever it was the monks had for the final disposal of the bodies. He had always know that the monks were smart, but he never knew they could be so ruthless. With disgust he threw the stone down the corridor. It hit a wall and rolled away into the darkness.
“Who’s out there?” a man called. He had a weak voice but a strong heart. It was further down the corridor, in the direction of the stone.
Roy ran to the cell and found the door shut and locked. He peered in but it was too dark for him to see anyone.
“Are you bringing me food? You’re too late; angels have beaten you to it!” the man shouted out. Although weak, his voice was full of a defiance greater than Roy’s.
It was another survivor. Roy began to see the man’s shadowy outline. He too was strapped with chains to a wooden bed. Unlike Roy, he had no hair.
“I’m one of the prisoners, like you,” Roy called into the cell. “I’m Roy Hoyle. Do you know me?”
The man did not respond. Roy strained to see him more clearly.
“I’ll open the door,” Roy assured the man before starting a search for that stone.
“Roy?” the man called tentatively.
He looked back. “Do I know you?”
“You knew me when I was in the world, part of the world, but perishing in my sins.”
Despite its dry and wheezing sound, the voice was familiar; a voice from Roy’s past, in the days when he was free from the monks. When everyone was free from the monks.
“Who are you?”
“Bern Thompson, you neighbour at one time.”
“Bern?” Roy did not know whether to disbelieve him or jump for joy.
“But now I’m still your neighbour—your neighbour in chains, although in those days I carried other chains; chains unseen by mortal eyes.”
The voice was the same but the words so different; the tone was different, the man was different. This man had peace inside him. The last time Roy had seen Bern he was full of fears and problems. He was a mess that many had given up on. That was before the Two met him. That was before God got to him.
“Wait on,” Roy said with more urgency. “I’ll get the door open.”
He found the stone and ran back to hit at the door. It soon swung open and Roy at once began smashing the chains away from Bern’s hands and feet. Bern watched him for a while and then took the stone to finish the work himself. Soon his right hand was free and the left half-way. Roy sat back and realised that the work and excitement had exhauste
d him. His lack of food was catching up to him. He needed to rest and pray.
“You think the monks have gone?” Bern asked him without ceasing from hitting at the chains.
“I have no idea,” Roy said as he looked his companion over. It was indeed Bern, but he looked a great deal older. He bald head was covered in scars, and his face was covered with a light grey beard. The eyes were the same except for a little sparkle that Roy had never seen before.
“You made a lot of noise out there,” said Bern. “I’m sure they would have come from all directions had they still been here.”
“Perhaps you’re right. They must have gone and left us.”
“Where do you think they went?”
“I have no idea. I’ve given up trying to figure them out. I once thought they were like me, before I knew the truth. I thought they held the same values, understood many of the same basic doctrines; worshipped the same God.”
“Well, one thing I’m sure of, it’s not the same God they’re following.”
“How have you handled them, Bern? You must have stood up to them. They would not have kept you here if they were not trying to work on you, to break you.”
“I handled them fine. I preached the gospel to them.”
Roy laughed at the thought.
“It really scared them, you now?” continued Bern, also seeing the funny side of it. They both needed that.
Bern then cut away the chain to his left hand and took a rest. He looked deep in thought. Roy waited for him to say what was on his mind. There was much that he wanted to ask Bern but he did not know where to start.
“Tell me, Roy; you know all about religionists: what is it with these Judaits? I thought you church people were all the same; all caught up in your pious worship and self righteous better-than-other-people attitude. You gave me that book, that Julius Mann book. That was the closest I’ve ever come to reading the Bible; I mean really reading it, not just looking for something wrong with it, or find some secret message in it. I’ve thought about it a lot since I’ve been put in here. Not about what Mann wrote, but the verses he quoted. I’ve been living by those words, you know? I wish I had what you had, all that training and knowledge. Tell me about these Judaits. How come they do all this to us in the name of their church? How can they use the same God, Jesus Christ, and quote from the same Bible, and then do these things to us?”
“That’s a question I’ve asked myself so many times since I’ve been here. The only answer I can give you is what Jesus said, that there will be thieves and robbers who will come after the true saints of God; people like you and me. And they will come like wolves after the sheep, to steel, kill and destroy.”
“That’s not in the Bible?”
“Yes, it is. And I think what we’ve seen, is the very worst fulfilment of that prophesy.”
“They tortured me, Roy. A lot.”
“And me, Bernard. And everyone they had here.”
“Each time they made me thank them for what they did, as if it was for my good. I think they thought they were helping me.”
“I can’t explain it, except to say that which calls itself Christian is not necessarily Christian. I always knew there were cultic groups, mixed-up and far from God, but I never knew I was so close to one.”
“Those two Chinese guys were real Christians. I know that.”
“Wuting and Jian.”
“Yeah, that’s them. I’d forgotten their names. Thanks for reminding me. I only knew them briefly. They came into my house and ordered me to listen to them. They didn’t even give me a chance. They told me about Jesus, that he loves me, that he died for me and rose again the third day so I can live forever and be set free from my sins. Their words were so powerful, I really felt this conviction of sin, but more than that, of the presence of God. For the first time in my life I realised God was real and that he loved even me, and he wanted me to serve him. Tell me, Roy, the monks didn’t get those guys too, did they?”
“Not as far as I know. They probably returned to China. In fact, I’m sure of it.”
“That’s good. I’ve always been watching out for them, you know? I thought that maybe they’d come back and break my door down. I never thought it would be you doing it.”
“What happened to you, Bern? When I heard about your conversion I went to your house. Where did you go? Was it your sons?”
Bern returned to working on the chains on his feet. “I’ve spent hours praying for them. I’m not giving up hope.”
“But it was them?”
“I don’t know how much they were involved in all this, but yeah, it was them. They did not take too kindly to me when I tried to tell them what happened to me. I thought they would believe, like I did, but they went berserk. They took me here.”
“How could they?”
“I’ve forgiven them, Roy. Please do the same. Pray for them; they need it.”
They did, right there. While Bern hit at the remaining chains they prayed for his two sons. When he disconnected the final chain he dropped the stone and looked at Roy with astonishment.
“What is it, Bern?”
“I don’t know. It feels like I’m free from them, from my sons. I’ve done all I can for them. It’s like God just revealed to me I no longer have to be concerned for them. They are the Lord’s concern, not mine. I have other work to do.”
“What work?”
“I don’t know. All I can say is that God has something else for me to do; something better. I heard the Lord speaking to me audibly, a couple of days ago, and he told me there was still time, but only a little. There is still time, and work for us to finish.”
“I’m sure there is, but we’ll have to get out of this fortress first.”
They walked the maze of corridors and checked each cell for survivors, and found none. They did find a room with keys, and gladly released the bonds on their wrists and ankles. There was also a room for bathing, and they spent as long as they wished just relaxing in the water. They figured that if they were caught they could not have that enjoyment taken away from them. They found that the only clean clothes were monks’ outfits, but they were pleased to find anything at all.
Once dressed and refreshed, they ascended the stairs to the monastery. Now they were more cautious and watched out for any signs of the monks. Roy wanted to get out while they had the chance, but Bern felt confident enough to want to take a look around. The idea was crazy, and all commonsense told them to get out, but Bern’s faith was so strong that it was like he was afraid of nothing. Roy felt the same way when he first broke out of his cell, but had lost it. Now Bern showed he had not lost it, and he was letting it guide him. Roy turned his back to the way out and followed his friend. They went up the grand staircase to the offices and prayer rooms, and other secret rooms known only to the monks.
They marched into the first office they came to. Bern looked with amazement at the fabulous expensive oil paintings that lined the walls. Roy went for the computer and soon had it running.
“How long do you think we were down there?” asked Bern.
“I’m not sure. I tried counting the days and weeks, and months, but I lost track.”
“It was years, wasn’t it.”
“I guess so,” Roy said as he ran through a list of files.
“What are you looking for?”
“I think I’ve found it.”
“What?”
“How they did it. At least, what helped them. How they knew who to take and who to leave. Who was for them and who was against. It was the church files. Every church in the city must have been tapped into. I can see mine here. We all communicated and shared files with each other. They must have monitored everything we did. They copied all our files. They knew about everyone, all the most private details.”
“You mean to tell me you kept personal files on the people in your church? With private details?”
Roy wished he could tell him that it was not true, that they did not really watch the people s
o closely that they knew everything about their lives, that they did not really store it all on computers and automatically group people according to “deeds and needs”, as the programme was named. It seemed an ideal ministry tool when they installed it, but not it looked like an invasion of privacy. It was the sort of control the monks enforced on their prisoners, although far more subtle.
Roy switched to a different computer mode and found himself looking at an empty room similar to the one they were in. The screen displayed options including audio and audio-record. He then found that he could move to different rooms, and even see a map of the entire monastery, with each room available to view.
“What have you found there?” Bern asked as he went to look at the screen.
Roy was caught up in the thought of what it was. He regained his breath. “This enables us to look into every room, which will tell us for sure if we are alone or not.” He clicked from room to room, only staying long enough to be sure it was deserted.
“What did the monks need this for?” asked Bern.
Roy knew the answer. He knew all about life in monasteries that was kept from the public. It was part of Kingdomite training to learn about the follies of monastic life, to show that Mann’s way was better. Roy knew all about it, but he did not think it was actually carried out so strictly. All monasteries include a policy of the monks spying over each other to see if any slipped up on their daily practices.
“They watched each other?”
“Life in a monastery,” Roy said as he checked that he was not missing any rooms. “Designed to be harsh and submissive. No one is allowed to defy the rules. They all had to serve each other, and watch each other, and report on each other.”
“And they thought they were serving God by doing that?”
Roy looked away from the screen but still kept clicking from room to room. “My church isn’t all that different; not really. We were all guilty of thinking we were serving God in our own unique way. We all thought our way was better than someone else’s way. In reality we were just following the traditions of men, and not God.”
“I didn’t follow any traditions. I seemed to have missed out on those,” Bern said with a relieved sigh.
“I think you might have been better off than us. Look at us both now. There is little difference between us.”
“Yeah, I agree. It’s like we have finally turned into Wuting and Jian.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Roy said with a laugh as he looked back to the screen.
If only.
“Sure we have,” said Bern. “You think I’ve changed? That a look at yourself.”
Roy turned back to him, intrigued at the idea. He knew he had changed on the inside, but could Bern see a change on his outside? He was about to ask him when Bern starting pointing at the screen.
“There’s one!”
“One what?”
“Monk. A Judait.”
Roy looked at the screen and was amazed at the sight. In what appeared to be a prayer room, a hooded monk was kneeling before a tall statue of Mary. Roy turned on the audio. With amazement they heard a series of sighs, pauses and incoherent mumbling. Roy put the audio up as far as it could go, but neither of them could understand what the monk was saying. It was just repetitive groans, like crying mixed with heavy sighs. Then came a shout, followed by another, followed by a long series of shrills and noises.
“Where is he?” Bern demanded.
“Wait a minute. I think it would be better if we just left the building. Let’s get out while we can.”
“I want to know where he is.”
Roy looked at the computer map and found that the room was the next level up from where they were; five rooms from the stairs off the southern hallway. Bern took one look at it and went for the door.
“Wait,” said Roy. “What are you going to do?”
“He’s the only one left, I’m sure of it.”
“You’re not going to harm him? We need to forgive him, Bern.”
“Harm him? Man, I’m going to preach the gospel to him.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Just watch me.”
“He’s probably dangerous.”
“So am I.”
“There might be others.”
“Then I’ll preach the gospel to them too!”
Roy followed him, trying his best to dissuade him, but he was too determined to be stopped. Bern’s pace was fast and Roy ran to catch up, but he was too slow and missed the monk’s reaction to Bern crashing the door open.
“Repent and believe the gospel!” Bern shouted.
Roy followed and saw the startled monk throw back his hood and stare wild-eyed at them. He was young; the youngest monk Roy had ever seen.
“You’ve escaped,” the monk gasped at them.
“Where are the others?” Roy shouted, suddenly feeling as bold as Bern.
“They’ve been recalled, to Rome,” he said as he backed away from them.
“They left you in charge?” asked Roy.
“Repent and believe the gospel!” Bern shouted again,
The monk threw his rosary at them and Roy easily deflected it. A small and beautifully painted statue of Saint Dionysius de Oscar was hurled at them, but missed. The monk then took a long blood-stained lash from his pocket and swung it above his head. The lash made a nasty swirling sound as it cut through the air. The monk’s face was full of fury as he advanced toward them.
“In the name of Jesus, put that down!” Roy commanded. In an instant Roy knew what it was like to move in power, the same as he had seen from the Two.
Fear seized the monk. His hands opened to release the swinging lash and it flew into a wall. The monk then fell backwards in trying to get away from them. Roy and Bern slowly walked toward him. On hands and knees the monk scrambled to get away. Then he jumped up and ran for the door. Bern and Roy after him, not knowing what they were going to do with him when they caught him.
They ran down the hallway and through a long series of adjoin rooms, feeling like they were in a maze. One room they ran into seemed to be full of loud and rushing wind. It engulfed them until they could see nothing in front of them. But they both kept running, both knowing it was where they should go. There were unusual things surrounding them. Roy thought he could see people, and he wondered if they were men or angels. It seemed ludicrous that they could be men—they had to be angels. Both Roy and Bern found that they could no longer run. Then they saw where they were.
They were standing outside in sunlight and fresh air, in an idyllic landscape of manicured grass. There were large trees near them, and an old iron seat under each tree. It was a park. In the distance were old buildings of Gothic design; tall and each with a steep roof and numerous chimneys. The air felt cool and the atmosphere different.
“Where are we?” Bern asked as he looked around and was forced to squint in the natural light of the outdoors.
Roy smiled. He knew exactly where they were. It was years since his last visit, but nothing had changed. Nothing ever changed at Chichester. They went to the nearest tree and sat on the seat while Roy did his best to explain their experience. Bern seemed to understand more from what he felt in his spirit than from Roy. His friend told him about Chichester and the history of the Kingdomite church there.
“All I need to know is this is my place of work,” said Bern. “And yours too.”
Roy saw a group of youths in the distance, walking their way. He knew that the group would know nothing about who they were or where they came from.
“I know the culture and acceptable language here,” Roy said as they both stood and began to walk toward the group. “I’ve been here before. I spent a couple of years with these people. They like to cling to their history and traditions, and can be easily offended if you don’t do the same. Let me do the talking with them, and you talk as the Spirit give you inspiration. I’ll be like Wuting, and you can be like Jian.”
Watch, lest anyone shall cheat you th
rough philosophy and empty delusion, according to the traditions of men, according to the principles of the word and not according to Christ.
(Colossians 2:8)
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