The Indwelling: The Beast Takes Possession by Tim Lahaye, Jerry B. Jenkins Page B

they also entered, using a key Demetrius pulled from under a board near the door. He grabbed Rayford’s bag from the car, over his protests.
    “There’s nothing I need from there until I get back home, thanks,” Rayford said.
    “You must spend at least one night here, sir,” Demetrius said.
    “Oh, imposs—”
    “You look so tired! And you have to be!”
    “But I must get back. The stateside people need the plane, and I need them.”
    Laslos and Demetrius wore heavy sweaters under thick jackets, but Rayford didn’t warm up until Laslos had a fire roaring. Laslos then busied himself in the kitchen, from which Rayford soon smelled strong tea and looked forward to it as he would have a desert spring.
    Meanwhile, in a small, woodsy room illuminated only by the fire, Rayford sat in a deep, ancient chair that seemed to envelop him. The young pastor sat across from him, half his face in the dancing light, the other half disappearing into the darkness.
    “We were praying for you, Mr. Steele, at the very moment you called Lukas’s wife. We thought you might need asylum. Forgive my impudence, sir, as you are clearly my elder—”
    “Is it that obvious?”
    Demetrius seemed to allow himself only the briefest polite smile. “I would love to have you tell me all about Tsion Ben-Judah, but we don’t have time for socializing. You may stay here as long as you wish, but I also want to offer you my services.”
    “Your services?” Rayford was taken aback, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he and Demetrius had immediately connected.
    “At the risk of sounding forward or self-possessed,” Demetrius said, intertwining his fingers in his lap, “God has blessed and gifted me. My superiors tell me this is not unusual for those of us who are likely part of the 144,000.1 have loved the Scriptures since long before I was aware that Jesus fit all the prophecies of the Coming One. It seemed all my energies were invested in learning the things of God. I had been merely bemused by the idea that the Gentiles, specifically Christians, thought they had a corner on our theology.
    Then the Rapture occurred, and I was not only forced to study Jesus in a different light, but I was also irresistibly drawn to him.”
    Pastor Demeter shifted in his chair and turned to gaze at the fire. The fatigue that had racked Rayford, which he now realized would force him to at least nap before trying to return to the States, seemed a nuisance he would deal with later. Demetrius seemed so earnest, so genuine, that Rayford had to hear him out. Laslos came in with steaming mugs of tea, then returned to the kitchen to sit with his, though both men invited him to stay. It was as if he knew Rayford needed this time alone with the man of God.
    “My primary gift is evangelism,” Demetrius said.
    “I say that without ego, for when I use the word gift, I mean just that. My gift before becoming a believer was probably sarcasm or condescension or pride in intellect. I realize now, of course, that the intellect was also a gift, a gift I did not know how to exercise to its fullest until I had a reason.”
    Rayford was grateful he could just sit and listen for A while, but he was also amazed he was able to stay awake. The fire, the chair, the situation, the hour, the week he had had all conspired to leave him in a ball of unconsciousness. But unlike in the car, he was not even aware of the temptation to nod off.
    “What we who have been called find fascinating,” Demetrius continued, “is that God has seemed to streamline everything now. I’m sure you’ve found this in your own life. For me the sense of adventure in learning of God was magnified so that my every waking moment was happily spent studying his Word. And when I was then thrust into a place of service, giftings that might have taken decades to develop before were now bestowed as if overnight. I had had my nose in the Scriptures and commentaries for so long, there was no way I could have honed the