Read Online 02 The Secret on Ararat by Tim Lahaye - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Tim Lahaye
Tags: Christian
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all the time?”
“As a matter of fact he was,” Baines admitted.
“Well, you were able to respond to your father’s perfectionism by becoming a perfectionist yourself, by beating him at his own game, I’m guessing. For Tiffany—because she’s got a different personality—it’s not so easy. Maybe she gets discouraged because yourstandards are so high. When was the last time you encouraged her, told her she was doing great, that you liked her art or whatever?”
Baines looked crestfallen. “I don’t remember. Not for a while.” He turned to Murphy. “You’ve given me a lot to think about, Professor Murphy.”
“Please, call me Michael. And don’t hesitate to give me a call if you want to discuss anything we talked about. Look, my assistant, Shari Nelson, she’s great at reaching out to teenagers with problems. She’s had her share and she’s wise beyond her years. Pastor Bob suggested she might introduce herself to Tiffany and your wife next time they attend church.”
“That would be great.” Baines nodded.
“And meanwhile, why not pick up the Bible and see what else you can find in it that’s relevant to your life? It’s never too late to start reading the Good Book. Start with the Book of Colossians.”
Baines shook Murphy’s hand, his spirits lifted. “I will,” he said. “Thank you. Look, I won’t take up any more of your valuable time. You’ve got classes to teach, artifacts to dig up, no doubt.”
“Actually, I do,” Murphy said. “But I’m always happy to help out if I can. You’ve got my number.”
He watched Baines walk toward the parking lot, feeling his own spirits lift. Nothing like focusing on someone else’s problems to get your own in perspective, he thought.
He didn’t hear the soft clicking of a camera from behind the trees. He had no idea a pair of dark, feral eyes were watching him.
SEVEN
IT WAS TEN MINUTES TO NINE and the Memorial Lecture Hall was beginning to fill up. Which for a Monday morning was a somewhat unusual occurrence. Preston University students tended to play hard on weekends and sleep late the next day. Hence the first lecture of the week was known among the teaching faculty as the graveyard shift. Depressing if you wanted an audience that was going to eagerly soak up your words of wisdom. A relief if you were a little tired yourself and were glad the class wasn’t too alert.
But this lecture was being given by Michael Murphy, and somehow the word had gotten out over the weekend that he wasn’t going to be speaking on the designated topic: How to map out an archaeological site.
He was going to be talking about Noah’s Ark.
As the rows continued to fill up, some of the studentslaughed and joked together. But most were earnestly discussing the likely content of Murphy’s lecture.
Wasn’t Noah’s Ark just a story from the Bible? Did it really exist?
One thing was sure: Whatever Professor Murphy had to say about it would likely change the way they thought about it.
Shari Nelson had arrived early to set up the PowerPoint projector for her boss. But she was as anxious as the rest to hear what he was going to say.
Paul Wallach was in the front row, wearing his typical pressed slacks and sports shirt. His dark hair was neatly trimmed, as if he had just been to the barber, and he was wearing one shiny loafer. His left foot was still in a walking cast, the explosion at the Preston Community Church having severely damaged his leg and foot. Finishing up with the projector, Shari left the stage and came to sit next to him.
She hadn’t tied her hair back as she usually did. It was hanging long, its jet-black luster contrasting with the shining silver crucifix at her throat. The way her sparkling green eyes seemed riveted to him as he spoke, it was easy to see that she cared for him deeply. It was as if she was trying with all her being to bridge a chasm between them.
Then, at exactly nine o’clock, Murphy strode into the hall and the
“As a matter of fact he was,” Baines admitted.
“Well, you were able to respond to your father’s perfectionism by becoming a perfectionist yourself, by beating him at his own game, I’m guessing. For Tiffany—because she’s got a different personality—it’s not so easy. Maybe she gets discouraged because yourstandards are so high. When was the last time you encouraged her, told her she was doing great, that you liked her art or whatever?”
Baines looked crestfallen. “I don’t remember. Not for a while.” He turned to Murphy. “You’ve given me a lot to think about, Professor Murphy.”
“Please, call me Michael. And don’t hesitate to give me a call if you want to discuss anything we talked about. Look, my assistant, Shari Nelson, she’s great at reaching out to teenagers with problems. She’s had her share and she’s wise beyond her years. Pastor Bob suggested she might introduce herself to Tiffany and your wife next time they attend church.”
“That would be great.” Baines nodded.
“And meanwhile, why not pick up the Bible and see what else you can find in it that’s relevant to your life? It’s never too late to start reading the Good Book. Start with the Book of Colossians.”
Baines shook Murphy’s hand, his spirits lifted. “I will,” he said. “Thank you. Look, I won’t take up any more of your valuable time. You’ve got classes to teach, artifacts to dig up, no doubt.”
“Actually, I do,” Murphy said. “But I’m always happy to help out if I can. You’ve got my number.”
He watched Baines walk toward the parking lot, feeling his own spirits lift. Nothing like focusing on someone else’s problems to get your own in perspective, he thought.
He didn’t hear the soft clicking of a camera from behind the trees. He had no idea a pair of dark, feral eyes were watching him.
SEVEN
IT WAS TEN MINUTES TO NINE and the Memorial Lecture Hall was beginning to fill up. Which for a Monday morning was a somewhat unusual occurrence. Preston University students tended to play hard on weekends and sleep late the next day. Hence the first lecture of the week was known among the teaching faculty as the graveyard shift. Depressing if you wanted an audience that was going to eagerly soak up your words of wisdom. A relief if you were a little tired yourself and were glad the class wasn’t too alert.
But this lecture was being given by Michael Murphy, and somehow the word had gotten out over the weekend that he wasn’t going to be speaking on the designated topic: How to map out an archaeological site.
He was going to be talking about Noah’s Ark.
As the rows continued to fill up, some of the studentslaughed and joked together. But most were earnestly discussing the likely content of Murphy’s lecture.
Wasn’t Noah’s Ark just a story from the Bible? Did it really exist?
One thing was sure: Whatever Professor Murphy had to say about it would likely change the way they thought about it.
Shari Nelson had arrived early to set up the PowerPoint projector for her boss. But she was as anxious as the rest to hear what he was going to say.
Paul Wallach was in the front row, wearing his typical pressed slacks and sports shirt. His dark hair was neatly trimmed, as if he had just been to the barber, and he was wearing one shiny loafer. His left foot was still in a walking cast, the explosion at the Preston Community Church having severely damaged his leg and foot. Finishing up with the projector, Shari left the stage and came to sit next to him.
She hadn’t tied her hair back as she usually did. It was hanging long, its jet-black luster contrasting with the shining silver crucifix at her throat. The way her sparkling green eyes seemed riveted to him as he spoke, it was easy to see that she cared for him deeply. It was as if she was trying with all her being to bridge a chasm between them.
Then, at exactly nine o’clock, Murphy strode into the hall and the
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