The Cord. Stephen W. Robbins
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 more than okay. I believe it’s finally my time to enter the pool of Bethesda.”
“I’m not exactly sure what that means, but it’s sure nice to see you recharged and smiling. Oh, by the way, someone named George called while you slept. He told me to tell you that he would be at the church at two o’clock this afternoon.”
Pastor Donovan closed up the laptop, got out of bed, and picked out his clothes for the day. While showering, he sang over and over again the chorus to the hymn “One Day!”—“Living, He loved me; dying, He saved me; buried, He carried my sins far away; rising, He justified freely, forever; one day He’s coming, O glorious day!”
2
Pastor Donovan shut the door to his office immediately upon arriving at church. Standing directly in front of his bookshelf, he scanned the books collected from his seminary days. Some he had read, and many he intended to someday. He selected a few from his “eschatology” section. Spreading them out on his desk, he began to research and reacquaint himself with prophesies and timetables. It felt good to turn the pastor’s office back into a pastor’s study.
George knocked on the door precisely at two o’clock. Having stared relentlessly at the clock on the wall as the time drew near, Pastor Donovan greeted him with praise for his punctuality. “Right on time. Not too many people serve up this common courtesy anymore. Thank you for valuing my time. Please, have a seat.”
“I’m sure you have questions from last night.”
“It was a lot to take in. How do you know this is what God wants? How do you know this is the right thing to do? It almost seems like an Abraham and Sarah moment.”
“Abraham and Sarah?”
“Yes, when Sarah told Abraham to take Hagar as his concubine because Sarah was too old to have