Read Online The Gathering Storm by Bodie Thoene, Brock Thoene - Free Book Online
Authors: Bodie Thoene, Brock Thoene
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from his library. It was written in Latin and printed in an archaic typeface.
He opened it and said, "I thought perhaps you might like to learn more about our friend Eben."
"He is cold and arrogant and boring." I turned up my nose.
Papa's eyes narrowed in disapproval of my disrespect. "He is among the thirty-six most eminent scholars of church history who live among us in the world. Apart from Edersheim, there are few who know the links between Israel and the church better than he. Here is a text he knows well. I do not doubt he could dictate it by heart. Written by Eusebius. The History of the Church'.'
I was aware that Eben was a scholar recognized for his mastery of ancient history and languages. At the White Rose Inn I had often listened, while pretending to be disinterested, as Eben explained ancient heresies reborn in the modern church.
Papa gave me my assignment. "Today you will translate this passage from Latin to German and then into English."
"But I am translating Keats. 'Ode to a Nightingale.'"
"The message is the same...so? No mathematics today. This is far more important."
Though I sighed and pretended to be unhappy, the task was not unpleasant to me. It was rather like unraveling a mystery. I loved language and welcomed the chance to delve into its hidden secrets.
I began at 9 a.m. and finished just before dinnertime. The meal was before us. We sat in our places and as Papa led us, we sang the blessing of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit: "What was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be.. .world without end, Amen, Amen."
Papa raised his eyes to me. "Well, Lora? You have something to share?"
With a sense of accomplishment and excitement, I unfolded my work for the day. I began with the heading: "Eminent Evangelists of the First Generation."
"Among the shining lights of the period was Quadratus, who, according to the written evidence, was, like Philip's daughters, eminent from a prophetic gift. Besides them, many others were known at the time, belonging to the first stage of apostolic succession. These earnest disciples of great men built on the foundations of churches everywhere laid by the apostles. They spread the message still further, sowing and saving seed of the Kingdom of Heaven far and wide through the entire world."
I looked up to see Papa's eyes shining with pride. "Well done, Loralei." Then to Mama, "Our daughter is set to be a scholar." "There's more, Papa." I felt such a surge of joy. "Much more," he agreed. "The most important part." I continued reading from my translation.
"...for even at that late date many miraculous powers of the divine Spirit worked through them, so that at the first hearing, entire crowds in a body embraced the worship of the Lord with wholehearted eagerness."
This small triumph of decoding the past was just the beginning.
Papa questioned me, "What do Keats' nightingale and the stories of Eusebius have in common?"
I smiled. "Both are unchanged by time."
"Well spoken. True." He waved his hand, drawing more from me.
"Beauty and miracles continue. The source of all is Christ our Creator, who is immortal and unchanged."
"True. And therefore?" He urged me to further conclusions.
"I don't know," I said, doubtfully, feeling drained.
"What is your spiritual genealogy?"
I did not understand the question. "You told me how to be a Christian, Papa. And Mama too."
"And who shared the story of Jesus with me and your mother?"
"You said Gipsy Smith."
"And who told him about our Savior?"
"I don't know. Can't say."
Papa lowered his chin and peered at me over the top of his glasses. "From one spiritual parent to another, the same, immutable truth is handed down, generation to generation, right back to the beginning. From the moment Christ emerged from the tomb. From the day of Pentecost when the Holy Spirit filled Peter and the others in Jerusalem. Death is conquered. The power of the Holy Spirit is unchanging, passed down from one to another. Miracles continue and
He opened it and said, "I thought perhaps you might like to learn more about our friend Eben."
"He is cold and arrogant and boring." I turned up my nose.
Papa's eyes narrowed in disapproval of my disrespect. "He is among the thirty-six most eminent scholars of church history who live among us in the world. Apart from Edersheim, there are few who know the links between Israel and the church better than he. Here is a text he knows well. I do not doubt he could dictate it by heart. Written by Eusebius. The History of the Church'.'
I was aware that Eben was a scholar recognized for his mastery of ancient history and languages. At the White Rose Inn I had often listened, while pretending to be disinterested, as Eben explained ancient heresies reborn in the modern church.
Papa gave me my assignment. "Today you will translate this passage from Latin to German and then into English."
"But I am translating Keats. 'Ode to a Nightingale.'"
"The message is the same...so? No mathematics today. This is far more important."
Though I sighed and pretended to be unhappy, the task was not unpleasant to me. It was rather like unraveling a mystery. I loved language and welcomed the chance to delve into its hidden secrets.
I began at 9 a.m. and finished just before dinnertime. The meal was before us. We sat in our places and as Papa led us, we sang the blessing of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit: "What was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be.. .world without end, Amen, Amen."
Papa raised his eyes to me. "Well, Lora? You have something to share?"
With a sense of accomplishment and excitement, I unfolded my work for the day. I began with the heading: "Eminent Evangelists of the First Generation."
"Among the shining lights of the period was Quadratus, who, according to the written evidence, was, like Philip's daughters, eminent from a prophetic gift. Besides them, many others were known at the time, belonging to the first stage of apostolic succession. These earnest disciples of great men built on the foundations of churches everywhere laid by the apostles. They spread the message still further, sowing and saving seed of the Kingdom of Heaven far and wide through the entire world."
I looked up to see Papa's eyes shining with pride. "Well done, Loralei." Then to Mama, "Our daughter is set to be a scholar." "There's more, Papa." I felt such a surge of joy. "Much more," he agreed. "The most important part." I continued reading from my translation.
"...for even at that late date many miraculous powers of the divine Spirit worked through them, so that at the first hearing, entire crowds in a body embraced the worship of the Lord with wholehearted eagerness."
This small triumph of decoding the past was just the beginning.
Papa questioned me, "What do Keats' nightingale and the stories of Eusebius have in common?"
I smiled. "Both are unchanged by time."
"Well spoken. True." He waved his hand, drawing more from me.
"Beauty and miracles continue. The source of all is Christ our Creator, who is immortal and unchanged."
"True. And therefore?" He urged me to further conclusions.
"I don't know," I said, doubtfully, feeling drained.
"What is your spiritual genealogy?"
I did not understand the question. "You told me how to be a Christian, Papa. And Mama too."
"And who shared the story of Jesus with me and your mother?"
"You said Gipsy Smith."
"And who told him about our Savior?"
"I don't know. Can't say."
Papa lowered his chin and peered at me over the top of his glasses. "From one spiritual parent to another, the same, immutable truth is handed down, generation to generation, right back to the beginning. From the moment Christ emerged from the tomb. From the day of Pentecost when the Holy Spirit filled Peter and the others in Jerusalem. Death is conquered. The power of the Holy Spirit is unchanging, passed down from one to another. Miracles continue and
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