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- FOREWORD -

The Mountain

 

Ever had any of those questions? You know the kind, about the meaning of life, or why God hides Himself and lets the enemy run rampant. Maybe you even asked Him and then waited to see if He cares enough to answer you. Did He?

 

Imagine for the moment that eternal Truth is a fixed thing, a mountain if you will. You long to see it and so you pray, “Lord, would You show me the mountain?” Of course God could respond with a few simple words but would you really have your answer? While you hope He will tell you, Father has infinitely better plans, He longs to show it to you. The simple fact is that He knows you cannot see it from your vantage point, so He must move you. And that is exactly what He will do if you will let Him. In answer He will lead you both high and low, by whatever path will finally bring you to the Truth. When you find it the breathtaking view, the breeze on your skin and the cry of a distant eagle will all answer your prayer. Then your heart will own the treasure of it. That is the secret of spiritual revelation, allowing God to change you.

 

God Came Running, is that kind of journey. It will take us into the bowels of darkness where demonic powers plot their schemes, and up beyond the glorious gates of heaven where God still holds His throne. Yet back of it all, this stage is being set for the most magnificent revelation of all – finding that mountain which is nestled in God’s heart!

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For the curious, here is a...

Chapter 1

- IT'S TIME -

 

The streak of sunlight creeping over her desk told her she was running out of time. Four cups of coffee had kept her going all night, but then Ms Abbot would expect no less. The woman had spent six months strangling the life out of her Ph.D in politics. Now Jasmine was expected not only to resurrect the thesis but to secure her all the accolades a woman of her stature deserved.

A knock on the door interrupted Jasmine’s relentless assault on her keyboard. She panicked.

But I’m not done yet! Her fingers shifted into high gear.

An impatient thud, thud was soon to follow.

Jasmine hurried to the door. One deep breath and she opened it with what she hoped was a composed smile.

“Ah cool! Err, here.” A scrawny fellow shoved a parcel and clipboard her way.

Jasmine tried to clear the fog swirling through her mind. “Are you sure this is for me?”

“Well like, says there,” he twisted his neck to read the cast off clipboard, “like some Jenny or something. Yeah, like Jasmine Spencer. That you?”

“Yes, I guess it is.”

“Well there ya go!” Tada, would have worked just as well, because his face lit up as if she’d won a prize.

She cracked him a grin.

“You gonna take it ma’am?”

“Yes, yes of course. Where do I sign?”

Her pen took aim and the deal was done. He grabbed the clipboard and spun around in a single motion, trotting down her stairs with his pen dangling on a leash.

The thesis! Jasmine flew back to her work, off-loading the parcel without another thought.

 

In Kondor

Deep within the bowels of the earth where nothing dared to venture except the creatures who called it home, was a labyrinth of caves and caverns. This was not hell, that place of fire and brimstone meting out eternal torture on the damned. No, that was only a myth conjured by the God who hoped to keep them from illumination. But Lucifer had opened their eyes, he had liberated them. Here in Kondor, this kingdom of darkness, he had unearthed a forbidden secret, a power God could never have wanted them to find. Now they were the lords of their own destiny and the prize for such was infinite: glory, revenge, anything a demon desired – even godhood – to those who dared to take it.

Deep scars in Ironark’s leathery hide revealed the price of his own chunk of glory. He had claimed the rank of Novarum, a title which bound a thousand demons under his rule.

He sat alone in his chamber. On either side of him were stalactite pillars which hung from the ceiling like fangs. Even his throne was an unnerving sight. An enormous talon formed its backrest. It curled over his head and seemed to accuse all who stood before him. One lonely flame burned at the entrance of the chamber and let the rest bleed out into darkness.

An underling scuttled in from there, his head bowed so low he was almost breathing up the dirt as he approached. “Message master,” he waved the note high, like a white flag. Ironark snatched it and the underling darted for darkness.

The Novarum deciphered the code to read one short line.

 

Jasmine Spencer just received a Genesis.

 

“Bring me the atlas,” he crushed the note.

 

Jasmine’s Home

The next knock on the door was Ms. Abbot. She was more imposing than ever with her heels affording another three inches to her usual five foot eleven advantage. She donned a white tailored suit with matching handbag and a perfume which stunned Jasmine as she opened the door. The manuscript changed hands. “You’re a darling,” was the complete exchange of words before the white Mercedes drove off to glory.

Jasmine shut the door and slumped into her office chair, more than exhausted. I need another coffee. The thought propelled her to the kitchen where she caught sight of the delivery again.

One eyebrow raised as she stalked it. A second later she tore open the note taped to its wrapping. It read:

 

Jayjay it’s time.

Jeremiah 1:5-12.

 

She lowered the note as her hand became heavy with its message. “It’s time,” she repeated, trying to absorb the full significance of those two, simple words.

Her eyes began to pace the room. Her chest was pounding with either delight or dread, maybe both.

No wait! It can’t be time, I’m not ready yet. I’m not nearly ready! Fears began to chase each other through her mind, spinning faster and faster until she propelled the box away to abort the conflict. That settled it.

Jasmine went back to the mundane tasks of the day trying to put it all out of her mind. She had a light supper and hoped to distract herself with a book. It was a good book, but a futile attempt. Her eyes just kept bouncing back to the parcel.

It’s Pandora’s box is all that is. Get over it Jasmine, it’s never going to happen – now move on.

Part of her was relieved by the dismissal, but the other part knew she would regret it forever – literally forever.

Her heart starting thumping again as she eyeballed the delivery, almost daring it to open itself. All it did was sit there waiting for her to surrender. But no matter how she reasoned with herself she just wouldn’t open it, she couldn’t.

 

Kondor

It was long moments before the atlas bearer trudged in from the shadows. Onnus was a decrepit looking figure, with skin creased like a rhino’s hide and a slow and labored gait. He was bent over double, as if he had carried the burden on his back for centuries. When he finally did reach Ironark’s throne, he shuffled himself around so that his enormous book faced his master, who used him for a tabletop.

“Jasmine Spencer, where are you?” Ironark scanned furiously through the atlas’s pages. If they had something on the girl, it would be in here.

The book formed an elaborate chart, recording intelligence gathered right at the enemy’s gates. Demons had been posted there for millennia, watchers they were called, with flapping ears to eavesdrop on God’s decrees as He fashioned each new human soul. When a baby was born it was like a living blueprint, knit according to the Word of His will.

There was a kind of macabre magnificence to that idea. It meant that even the demons of Kondor were privy to the facts. Ironark flicked through the ancient leaves until his eyes locked on the entry he was looking for. As he read it his blood turned cold.

The atlas began to shudder as Onnus’s weathered knees threatened to give way. One blow to the book and Ironark’s table turned rigid. He read the entry again, slowly, without it quivering. All the while his claws slowly contracted into a fist.

“So Jasmine thinks she can get away with that does she? If it’s a war she wants then she has come to the right place.”

He slammed the atlas shut. “Summon Rasqueet.”

 

Jasmine’s Home

What should have been a night’s peaceful sleep became a contest as Jasmine wrestled with the words it’s time running through her mind, over and over again.

God knew she wanted this, more than the air in her lungs, but more importantly He had to know it was too big for her. And yet He was calling her anyway. Arguing with Him would be futile.

She hadn’t had a wink of sleep by the time her alarm clock ticked over to 03:14, so Jasmine finally gave in.

Arming herself with a night gown, two fluffy slippers and a Bible in hand, she shuffled back through the house. She switched on a side lamp and flipped through some crisp pages until she found Jeremiah Chapter One. Jasmine read through the familiar promise. Father had given it to her before, but never the last few words:

 

I am ready to perform My word.

 

“I guess then it really is time, Father.” There was nothing more to say. Jasmine gingerly approached the parcel. Her breathing was shallow as she took a seat beside it, giving them both time to settle.

The wall clock bassooned every passing second.

Okay Lord, here we go. Trembling fingers peeled the first corner open, then another. There it was!

Jasmine stared at it through watery eyes as a lump formed in her throat. She hadn’t imagined it would be quite so beautiful - or quite so painful either. Her tears finally erupted. Years of emotion poured from the pit of her stomach in a flood that flowed for more than an hour. Once every drop was spent she lay huddled in a ball on the floor, clutching her new treasure like a girl would a teddy.

“I don’t think I can do this Father. But if You want me to, You know I really will try,” she whispered. “For You, I will try.”

Soon the exhaustion caught up with her and Jasmine drifted off into a deep, deep sleep.

 

Kondor

Back in the bowels of darkness a tall, lean figure answered the Novarum’s summons. He was a watcher, Rasqueet by name. Watchers were the spies of Kondor and Rasqueet was a legend among them. With eyes as sharp as a hawk and every bit as stealthy a predator, he was ruthless in his art. If there were any secrets worth discovering anywhere, he could unearth them – and make someone pay for it.

“Jasmine Spencer,” Ironark breathed, “find her weakness. Discover what makes the blood pump through her veins and then find me a way to suck it from her.”

“It would be my pleasure master,” Rasqueet gave a wry smile. “But pray tell, what brings on your sudden interest in her?” The watcher’s gaze was unnerving, as if his prying eyes were already undressing Ironark’s own secrets.

“Do I answer to you!”

Rasqueet gave a slight bow and with that he left.

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