Chapter Nine
I found myself in awe. On one side stood the Teacher, whose presence brought me calm. On the other stood the Minister of Wrath. I felt like a speck of nothing between these two entities.
We slowly circled the globe. I continued to examine the crack that seemed to run through it.
The Minister of Wrath spoke again, his voice like thunder.
“Marine, are you ready to enter the globe?”
I paused. “I’m fearful. How can I affect the consequences or the outcome of this? Why am I here?”
We continued to circle the globe. The Teacher and the Minister of Wrath looked at each other.
“All you can do is put forth your best effort,” the Teacher replied. “You will learn along the way the nuggets of wisdom necessary. Your job, Marine, is to carry your vessel back. The outcome will be up to those who live inside the globe.”
I still stood in awe of what was taking place. By now, I was beginning to comprehend. I had seen the first world—the first globe, the world of history: World War II and its dramatic effects. I had seen the second world, the globe that did not have to be, but could follow from unchecked allegiance. It could be devastating. I was fearful that the real world—the future—would end up like the second world.
“Sir, before we enter, what should I call you?” I asked, facing the Minister of Wrath, still fearful.
“Sir, we’ll be fine, Marine. Are you ready to enter?”
“Yes, sir,” I replied.
In an instant, we were inside the globe. It was still peaceful. I recognized things around me: my hometown, the skies, the birds.
“Sir, may we move around and see the country?”
“Granted, Marine.”
We went to Beaufort. I looked at my old duty station and watched the tides fall and rise. I went to my hometown in Indiana. We went to Arlington National Cemetery and watched the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. I also walked through the cemetery.
We saw places I had pondered and learned about. I saw every state, every city—everything I had hoped to see—within a matter of seconds.
“It’s time to get on with the lesson, Marine. Are you satisfied?”
“Thank you, sir,” I replied.
The words had barely left my lips when I found us in the congregation of a large church. We weren’t in the pews. We weren’t floating. We were simply there. I could feel the presence of both the Teacher and the Minister of Wrath.
As I looked across the church, I saw a crack running all the way through it—from the baptismal, through the pulpit, between the pews, and out the door.
I pondered what it represented. I remembered looking at the globe. The crack ran almost identically to the crack in the globe. Was it a reflection?
As I pondered, I heard the Minister speak.
“That crack, Marine, represents the division within the church. The church itself has become divided by the rhetoric being portrayed in the political arena. What individual can you think of who warned against this?”
I hovered in silence for a moment, absorbing what he was telling me. Then the answer came to mind instantly.
“Sir, Abraham Lincoln once said, ‘A house divided could not stand.’”
“Correct, Marine.”
I remained in the church. On one side, words appeared on the wall. They did not come from a projector. They seemed almost as if they had been burned into the wall, but they had not. They were simply there.
They were the seven things the Lord detests, listed in Proverbs 6:16–19:
• A proud look.
• A lying tongue.
• Hands that shed innocent blood.
• A heart that devises wicked imaginations.
• Feet swift to run to mischief.
• A false witness who speaks lies.
• One who sows discord among brethren.