Persecuted , livre ebook

© 2014 by Daniel Lusko
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
www . bakerpublishinggroup . com
Ebook edition created 2014
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4412-6469-5
Unless otherwise indicated, Scripture quotations are from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com
Scripture quotation in chapter 34 is taken from the New King James Version. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Foreword
Epigraph
Prologue
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
Epilogue
Questions for Conversation
Resources on Protecting Your Religious Freedoms
About the Author
Books by Robin Parrish
Back Cover
Foreword
P ersecution is a subject that calls to mind the most incredible sufferings from all over the world, dating back to the days of Christ. Writing a movie called Persecuted comes with it a heavy task. Everyone can relate to the feeling of being persecuted for one’s beliefs. The truth is many people feel persecuted, even within the Church, but few for the right reasons.
I want readers to know why I undertook this cause and why this particular story sits in front of them today. The stakes are high. I believe this project means life or death to those who are suffering from grave persecution all over the globe.
In America, we have become insulated in our lives to the point that few people, if any, seem to understand what it means to take up their cross and follow Christ. We’re raised to think the Christian life consists of following a celebrity pastor and being involved in exciting events. This is not the case in much of the world today, as elsewhere persecution is something that is understood as part of the package in accepting salvation. Jesus said: “Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” There is a power in suffering for the purpose of God, a power few have experienced in the West.
When persecution comes, few will be prepared for what comes with it. The story of this film is just the beginning of an awakening to prepare believers for a choice that will have to be made. I fear many will be wiped away, for the cares of the world will swallow them up. There is a cost to following Christ. Those who believe will know that cost, and they will have their reward in heaven. If you’re asleep, I hope this wakes you up, because truth is stranger than fiction. If you’re suffering worse conditions than those depicted here, don’t lose heart, for God is with you. Bottom line: There’s much more beyond the pages of this story; this is a symbol of the bridge I believe we must cross if we’re to be joined with the remaining body of Christ around the world.
This is a wake-up call. Many of our freedoms granted to us by God will surely be ripped away unless we make a stand. This story is just the beginning.
Daniel Lusko, writer and director of Persecuted
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.
—First Amendment to the Constitution of the United States
The framers of our Constitution meant we were to have freedom of religion, not freedom from religion.
—Reverend Billy Graham
A man who won’t die for something is not fit to live.
—Martin Luther King Jr.
Prologue
B oom .
Shot to the chest, instantaneous heart explosion. Emmett Olson. Brooklyn, eight years ago.
The next target came up. Mr. Gray took aim . . .
Boom.
Precision shot to the head, dead on impact. Gino Mendoza. Columbia, seven years ago.
He pressed the reset button on the panel in front of him. It triggered a belt in the ceiling of the shooting range that carried new paper targets into place. It was a huge place, larger than most, and Mr. Gray was setting each fifty yards away. But even so . . .
Boom.
Shot to the stomach, right where he’d aimed. Terrell Cobb. Tallahassee, five years ago.
He almost allowed a smile. That had been a more difficult, and therefore entertaining, job. The target wasn’t supposed to just die but actually suffer for a bit first. So Mr. Gray had aimed for lower body mass. It had taken eight minutes for Terrell Cobb to bleed out over his kitchen floor.
You got what you paid for when you hired Mr. Gray. He was a professional.
His name, of course, wasn’t really Mr. Gray. That was how he was known to those who employed his unique talents. Only a handful of people had had the misfortune of discovering the name he was born with, and he’d silenced them. Permanently.
Other men of his vocation would frown on assigning emotional values to past jobs. Mr. Gray found that it enhanced his skills.
He was about to take his next shot when his phone vibrated. No. Whoever it was could wait. The best marksmen could make any shot, even amid distraction.
Boom.
Head shot, double tap. Colton Lind. Tulsa, three years ago. The last hit he’d completed before taking on his new broader security assignment.
After taking a moment to ensure that his shots matched up with how he remembered the Tulsa job, he placed his gun down on the counter and pulled the phone from his pocket. It was the phone whose number he’d only given to his employer. It had already stopped ringing, but it logged the caller’s number with a 202 area code. Someone here in Washington, D.C., but not his employer. The phone buzzed once. A message had been left.
Interesting.
Mr. Gray slipped the phone back in his pocket and returned his attention to the range. He had fifteen more shots to complete before he was ready for any distractions. Discipline and focus had gotten him this far. It was a core value—of his and of his clients.
The remaining shots went cleanly, with only the fourteenth slipping outside his intended area by more than an inch or two. Mr. Gray cleaned and packed away his gun, stowed his earplugs, and left the range, nodding once to the guard who’d been waiting for him to finish so the place could be closed for the night.
Only when he’d made it to his car—an intentionally unremarkable sedan with an intentionally remarkable engine under its hood—did Mr. Gray finally retrieve his phone and listen to the message left for him. The caller had followed protocol, sharing nothing about the desired job and providing only a phone number to an untraceable cell phone.
“Your employer,” the message concluded, “suggested you as the best he’d ever met. He’s been quite pleased with your assistance these last two years. I think you’re exactly the right man for this opportunity.”
Even without the caller’s name, Mr. Gray could tell he was a politician. Elected officials were all the same, always trying to get people to like them.
Their pockets were deep, however.
Mr. Gray pulled an unused burner cell phone from his bag and placed the call to the number that had been left. When the call was answered, the unmistakable sound of a party—glasses clinking, forced laughter, even a band—could be heard immediately. “Go where no one can hear you or I will hang up.”
“Got to take this,” he heard the voice on the other line say and then the rustling of him walking away. Thirty seconds later, the caller said, “I’m alone.”
“What’s your need?”
“Oh. So, uh, what I need to know is how quickly you can go to work, once you’ve been given approval to proceed.”
“Define work ,” said Mr. Gray, his patience being tested.
“Well, it’s like this. For some time now I’ve been trying to convince my friend to join me in a vitally important initiative. I believe I still have a chance of winning him over, but if I can’t, if he won’t play ball . . . I may have need of your services.”
Mr. Gray considered the man’s words. Politicians usually dealt in vague terms, because clarity was too incriminating.
“Services?”
“Not that. Hopefully not that. But if he’s not for us, then he can’t be an obstacle. Your boss said you could handle this kind of complicated situation. You’ve helped him in the past.”
“My fee is nonnegotiable,” Mr. Gray said.
“Money is not a concern. Only success—and discretion, of course.”
“I can guarantee both.”
“That’s why I called you.”
“Send me the details electronically, along with payment in full. One hundred percent, in advance. Once that’s done, I will present you with options for removing your obstacle. And anything else you may need.”
“Excellent,” said the politician. “You’ll have both within the hour. I’ll be in touch.”
Mr. Gray clicked off, opened the phone, removed the SIM card, and snapped it in half. He’d finish destroying it at home, along with the phone. He glanced at his watch—1:30 a.m. Another productive day.
Starting the car, he began the drive back to the flat he’d secured as his base of operations here in Washington, D.C. It amazed him, after spe