Johan’s heart pounded at the shock of being disturbed, yet there was a reassuring warmth that radiated from the man’s presence as he stood there, his hands now held out in front of him, as if he was offering Johan something.

  “Hello?” said Johan, wondering if this was an appropriate greeting.

  “Johan,” replied the man.

  “Do I know you?” asked Johan in surprise.

  “You do… and you don’t. I am here to assure you that you are never alone. You miss your father, and you mourn your life prior to coming here. In fact, you are ashamed of what took place.”

  Johan nodded but was perplexed by the stranger’s knowledge.

  “I am here to tell you that you are not to blame, and that you are loved and cherished.”

  “Cherished?” asked Johan, somewhat bemused. “Surely you have to be with the ones who love you to be cherished.”

  “You are with ones who love you. People who see the goodness within you.”

  Johan thought of Yan, Yvonne, and the friends he’d made like Ebo, Jemila and Eric.

  “And you will see your parents again. You will see your army comrades and your uncle too. Everything will happen in its right time.”

  Johan felt a surge of love towards this kind old man who had come to him with these words of comfort.

  “But how did you find me? And who are you?”

  “I am a friend. I’ve known you for some time.”

  “But you are not Jesus?”

  The old man smiled. “No, I lived on earth many years before Jesus was born. You may call me Mel.”

  “Mel?”

  “Melchizedek, but I prefer Mel.”

  “What do you do? Do you go looking for people who are lost?”

  “I meet people where they are,” said Mel. “I love to wander the highways and byways of the New Earth encouraging those I find.”

  “How do you know these things about my life?” asked Johan.

  “Ruach tells me anything I need to know. You might know her as ‘the Holy Ghost’.”

  “I have heard of ‘the Holy Ghost’, and I met Ruach when Jesus resurrected me. Do you see her when you talk together?”

  “She is with us all. She is spirit and so is everywhere. If you ask her, she will speak to you, too. It’s as though we carry an invisible part of her within us; we just have to learn to hear her voice and use the gifts she gives.”

  “You make it sound easy,” said Johan with a slight chuckle.

  “Well, it starts with ‘Hello’, and you’ve proved you’re good at that!”

  Johan laughed. This unexpected encounter and the man’s wisdom had lightened the darkness that had weighed on his heart and restored his sense of hope and belief that all would be well. As the man raised his hand in farewell, Johan knew that he must return to his community.

  *

  Yan never rushed. Time has a very different quality when there is always another day. Remembering the constant worry of being caught by the secret police in the Previous Age, Yan compared his state of mind then with now. He had always been anxious, afraid not only for his own safety but of giving away information that might endanger his friends and family. Now he moved with confidence and intent. Johan was out there, and Yan’s focus was to locate him and reassure him.

  As the light began to change and evening fell, Yan felt an increasing sense of peace that Ruach was leading him to entrust Johan to her purposes and that he should end his search. Instead, Yan decided to use this opportunity to walk in the night air and draw near to Ruach in meditation.

  A familiar warmth began to grow as he turned his full attention to the divine flame within him. Ruach was the essence of God that Yan related to the most. He had great reverence and affection for Jesus, but it was Ruach who had drawn alongside Yan when he had been imprisoned and tortured for his beliefs in the Previous Age.

  During many dark nights in prison cells, her flame had burned, and he had experienced heavenly ecstasy as she poured love into his heart. Sometimes he had wondered if he could take any more of her glorious presence, and he had been known to break out into dancing, singing and shouting for joy, even in the midst of the dirt and stench of the prison.

  *

  “Oh, you’re back are you, Nazi?” sneered Chester, as he saw Johan next morning sitting at a table carving some wood with Yvonne

  “Chester, I’d like to talk with you. Would you sit with me?”

  “Fuck you!” came the response, as Chester spat and went on his way.

  Johan looked helplessly at Yvonne, who gave him an empathetic smile. Some minutes went by as they continued their work, but despite his previous resolve, Johan could contain his frustration no longer.

  “What am I supposed to do? I didn’t start the war! And I didn’t kill his friends! I lost my life in it, for Christ’s sake. I’m more of a victim than he is!”

  Johan threw down his tools and stormed off. Seeing Chester coiling some rope in the distance, Johan strode towards him, still seething. The closer he got, the more he was consumed by the injustice of the situation.

  “Chester!”

  Chester turned around, surprised.

  “Don’t you see? I’m a victim of that war even more than you are. You have no idea…”

  Chester dropped the rope and stepped towards Johan.

  “No, you bastard, you have no idea. Millions of people killed in your death camps?”

  Johan felt winded.

  “But I didn’t know!” he protested.

  “You disgust me.”

  “What do you want from me? To hear me say that I’m sorry? Well, I am sorry. I’m sorry for the whole damned lot of it. I’m sorry that I died, and that I was on the wrong side of it. Don’t you think you were just lucky? I mean, you could just as easily have been born where I was, and I might just as easily have been born where you were.”

  Chester threw out his arms. “Look at all this? Don’t you believe in God now? Don’t you think it’s clear that God made us and put us where he wanted us on the Earth?”

  “Yes, but I don’t think God made me to be caught up in the Third Reich. And I don’t think God determined that I should die in a war. What kind of God would make that happen?”

  “A sovereign one,” retorted Chester.

  “So sovereign that all kinds of evil happen all the time?” asked Johan, becoming emotional.

  “If that is God’s will.”

  “And yet here we are now. You believe certain things and I don’t – but we‘ve both ended up together in the same place.”

  Chester hesitated. “Yeah, but I’m here and not in the Eternal City because of the things I did wrong, so you must be too.”

  “So, the things you did wrong must be as bad as me being a Nazi?”

  Chester looked flummoxed.

  “According to your logic, I’m evil and guilty of genocide, and somehow you’re better than me. Yet here we both are - in the same place. So, what did you do that was as bad as being a Nazi?”

  Chester made no reply.

  “Come on, Chester. Let’s at least talk this through together?”

  “Not interested,” said Chester with a shrug of his shoulders. He picked up the rope and began coiling it again.

  Johan’s hands fell to his sides in exasperation. He turned and walked away.

  *

  A few days later Johan was thumbing through the first few pages of the thick tome that Yan had presented him with. His forehead was furrowed as he skim-read the text.

  Yan stood leaning on a chair on the other side of the table.

  “Who wrote this?” asked Johan.

  “Angelic observers. They have written accounts of human history since the beginning. This one details Europe in the first half of the twentieth century.”

  “Why? Didn’t God see what was happening?”

  “It’s not for God’s use. It’s so that people can learn about the Previous Age. It’s for moments like this one. It’s simply a report from an objective and unbiased viewpoint of what happened. Jesus trusts that this can bring insight and understanding to those with open hearts”

  Johan closed the book and sat back, taking a deep breath.

  Yan came around the table.

  “I know it will be a hard read, but just remember that every life that was lost is being raised to an abundant future. No one is lost forever.”

  “But that doesn’t take away the immense suffering, does it?”

  “No, but we have the ages ahead of us to heal all the wounds that were sustained in those days. The infinite life ahead of us means that eventually the years spent in the Previous Age will be swallowed up. A tennis ball might feel large in your hand, but next to a planet it doesn’t seem so big, does it? And compared with the universe, well, you get the idea. It’s the same with eternity and all the ages to come. It will put everything into perspective.”

  “I guess my task is to try and understand and move forward?”

  “As you progress and immerse yourself in new experiences, you will be able to see the past in a new light. It takes time to trust the vantage point from which we can now view the Previous Age. Don’t worry, Johan, just trust the process.”

  Johan nodded and re-opened the book.

  *

  Months turned into years. As Johan studied, he became deeply familiar with twentieth-century history. The knowledge he acquired gave him the tools to better understand his own story, as well as the experience and attitudes of others who lived through those tumultuous decades.

  For a long time, Chester resisted the invitations that Johan gave him to come and discuss these matters. However, one day as the wind was blowing across the grassy plains, Johan glanced up from his book to see Chester’s face looking in through his window.

  Johan smiled and gestured for Chester to enter. Chester opened the door and stood at the threshold.

  “Ok, Johan. We need to talk.”

  “You are welcome, Chester. Come in and take a seat,” said Johan, motioning toward the chair next to him.

  Chester hesitated but slowly made his way across the room to the chair.

  “Are you ok?” asked Johan, noting his reticence.

  “I think you will understand what I have to say.”

  Johan was struck by the change in Chester’s demeanour. It was the first time he had shown any sign of vulnerability. In fact, his face betrayed such a clear sense of discomfort that he appeared to be in physical pain.

  Chester sat down stiffly.

  “Recently I asked an angel to supply me with one of their observation books. I got a book on the history of Canada. It seems… it was not what I was expecting. I knew about the wars between the British and the French in Canada but we weren’t taught at school about the indigenous peoples and how we took their land so that many of them died from disease and starvation. And it wasn’t just what happened a long time ago. During my grandparents’ and my parents’ generations, children were taken from their families and sent to boarding schools where they weren’t allowed to speak their own language or learn anything about their own culture. Dreadful things happened to them in some of those places. And Johan, it was still going on when I was alive… and I didn’t know about it.”

  Johan closed the book he had been reading and the two began to talk. Over the next few hours tears were shed. After they had shared a simple supper Chester had no hesitation in accepting Johan’s invitation to stay the night. He felt totally understood, humbled and welcomed. The two men slept more soundly than they had done for a long while.

  Fran: Trying Harder

  Fran sat with her arms folded tightly over her chest. Nothing about her posture was relaxed.

  “There’s really no other way,” said Sylvia as gently as she could.

  “Right, I see. Well, obviously I must try harder then!”

  With that, Fran stood up and walked out of the room.

  Sylvia turned to Carlos and said nothing, her caring expression needed no words.

  “If that’s her approach, it will only set her back. She’ll be further from the Eternal City than ever,” sighed Carlos. “You can’t just try harder there.”

  “Yes, loving others takes effort and determination, but it also needs a change of heart. It can’t just be a performance to tick the right boxes. Anyway, let’s wait and see what happens. It may be that Ruach can use Fran’s mixed motives for her good.”

  “Ruach does that a lot,” Carlos agreed. “We’ve explained to Fran many times that love is the only way to the City, so let’s hope she can begin to grasp what that means in this new situation.”

  *

  On the way back to her cottage, Fran took a moment to stand with her hands on her hips. Feeling young again was still a delight, and she regularly paused during the day to feel the power in her resurrected body. She thought about her conversation with Sylvia and Carlos and mulled over the idea of ‘love’ as she surveyed her new community. She cast her mind back to the Previous Age and remembered how she had sometimes dropped a few coins into the collections taken by the Salvation Army for their work with the homeless. They had been kindly folk in uniforms who had stood shaking a bucket in her local high street as the brass band played. That seemed to Fran like a great way to show love. Maybe she could do something similar?

  Feeling pleased with her new idea, Fran returned home and sat at her table with a notepad determined to make a plan. She found it surprisingly difficult to think of many needs here on the New Earth, since there was no more death or disease, disability or depravation. But then her thoughts turned to Chesa, the Buddhist lady who collected fruit in a small wicker basket. If she had a more efficient way of transporting her foraging, maybe Chesa could start a business and trade her fruit on a much greater scale? Suddenly she pictured a wheelbarrow. Maybe someone in the village who was good at woodwork could be commissioned to make one. What a perfect solution for the Buddhist and so much better than her small basket!

  For the rest of the morning, Fran was happily engrossed in making a large banner using lots of bright colours. “Wheelbarrows for Buddhists!’ it read. She could already picture herself as the centre of attention at the next weekly market, and imagining how grateful and loved Chesa would feel gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling inside.

  A few days later, Fran hung up her banner at the market and stood under it, excited to drum up support for her charitable endeavour. It didn’t take long for a small group of people to gather.

  “What on the New Earth is this?” one laughed.

  “It’s my new charity. Some of us are more caring than others,” replied Fran smugly.

  “‘Wheelbarrows for Buddhists’? That’s the worst cause I’ve ever heard of in this age or the previous one! Why do Buddhists need wheelbarrows? And why should you be the one to get them for them?”

  “Well, you may not have noticed, but Chesa goes out collecting fruit and she only has a basket. It takes love to notice people’s needs, I’ll have you know!”

  “Ha!” scoffed another woman. “I’m going to enjoy watching this disaster unfold.”

  “If you’re not interested in helping, then I suggest you move along and make room for those who understand what it means to love their neighbour,” snapped Fran.

  The onlookers shook their heads and wandered away. Fran cleared her throat self-consciously and continued standing under her banner, a notebook at the ready to take down the details of anyone who wished to join her cause.

  Chesa was busy swapping fruit and vegetables at various stalls and other women were helping to find and pass the items used in the exchanges. As she worked her way along the row of stalls towards where Fran was standing, she looked up and was bemused to read Fran’s banner.

  Chesa calmly approached Fran, one eyebrow raised and smiling.

  “Hello Fran. How are you?”

  Fran grinned back. “Oh, I am just fine, thank you, Chesa. I see you have noticed my new charity?”

  “Well, yes I have. Can you tell me what it’s about? I see you have mentioned Buddhists?”

  “Well yes, of course. This charity is to help you!” beamed Fran.

  “Well, I am touched, so tell me more about it.”

  “You only have a basket, right? Imagine how much more fruit you could collect if you had a wheelbarrow. It would make life much easier for you and you could even set up a proper business. My charity is here to help you, so don’t worry, you don’t need to do a thing. We’ll get you a wheelbarrow without you needing to give anything in exchange.”

  Chesa was taken aback but managed not to show her surprise.

  “Right, I see. That’s a very kind thought.”

  “Oh, you’re welcome. I know that some of our technology in the West might be new to you, but in England we always use wheelbarrows for gardening and transporting all kinds of things.”

  “No, it’s not new to me,” replied Chesa, unable to suppress her laughter. “I don’t mean to be rude or ungrateful, Fran, but I don’t need your help, thank you. I use a simple basket because I don’t want to take more than my fair share of what is growing on the trees as it belongs to everyone in the community. Besides, I think my next-door neighbour already has a wheelbarrow in her garden. I’m sure I could borrow it if I really needed one.”

  Fran suddenly felt very foolish. With an angry red blush on her cheeks, she turned around, tore down the banner and stuffed it into her bag.

  “You should be grateful,” she muttered under her breath.

  Chesa heard her and put a hand gently on Fran’s shoulder. Fran shrugged it off and stormed off home.

  “Told you!” shouted one of the women who had watched the whole exchange.

  Fran felt both crushed and ashamed. Slamming the door behind her, she slumped into a chair. “God, I hate it here!” she cried as the tears rolled down her cheeks.

  *

  Fran remained in an angry mood for several months. Chesa smiled and tried to make conversation whenever they met around the village, but Fran did her best to avoid everyone, feeling embarrassed and resentful at the “Wheelbarrows for Buddhists” episode.