City On a Sea, short story #2

Compact Day

Who despises the day of small things? Men will rejoice when they see

the plumb line in the hand of Zerubbabel.  Zechariah 4:10

“I’m not spinning off a company, I’m creating a country,” Sean insisted with admirable patience. Likely only Rebecca noticed the effort.

“You can’t turn a company into a political entity,” David replied with disgusted exasperation.

“Of course not,” Sean said. “Nor am I trying to. PacRim will still exist as a corporation. I am simply choosing to lease its vessels to Bethel citizens.”

David slammed his hand on the conference table. “You lied!”

“I withheld information,” Sean admitted, smiling as he felt the Magellan adjust course for open waters. Could his siblings even notice? “But my overall plan was no secret. I simply led the world to believe that Compact Day was next month. And don’t forget the move to long-term growth was approved four years ago. You should enjoy above-average returns in about thirty years. If you choose to stay invested.”

“What difference does thirty years make?” David demanded. “Quarterlies!”

It makes a huge difference to your grandchildren, Sean thought, but he didn’t bother rehashing the point. He had no tolerance for present-oriented Christians.

“Dad would not have wanted this,” David said.

Sean nodded, allowing the point. “But remember what he was like when we were young,” PacRim’s CEO urged. “Starting the business involved great risk. He thrived on the uncertainty. Isn’t it better to think of him that way?”

Before the dementia, Sean did not add. Before he became a dotard and a coward and nearly destroyed everything for which he had worked. And who had saved the company during their father’s decline? Neither of these, content to live on land. The majority stake had rightly gone to him, though youngest of the three.

Sean stood up for a moment to scan the horizon aft. Though the owners of Pacific Rim Cargo met in the highest stern observation deck, Taiwan could no longer be seen. Sean estimated Magellan’s speed at just eight knots. Sea slug, he mused, but that was OK. The largest floating drydock in the world. And it was his!

Physicists liked to talk about space-time. Sean preferred to think in terms of time-money: specifically, that it should never be wasted. So even though the ceremony wasn’t scheduled to take place for another hour, Magellan’s construction crew had already laid the composite double- keel of the first Bethel Kamsarmax bulkcarrier. The novel creation cost five times the price of a steel, single-keel vessel – but it would last a thousand years.

David and Rebecca joined Sean at the window, and for a moment they were a united, obscenely rich family inspecting from on high as servants went about their masters’ bidding. But Sean had performed just about every job offered by PacRim, either during childhood or after returning with his precious (useless?) MBA. He had spent years working side-by-side with those shipbuilders. He had welded rivets and fitted pipes and operated cranes. He had practiced firefighting and typed bills of lading and piloted vessels through cyclones.

Then there was David, who didn’t even want to shake Sean’s hand. Too many calluses. Too much engine grease. Bethel’s opponents called Sean a pie-in-the-sky dreamer disconnected from reality. But what about this sneering brother, unwilling to interact with anyone outside his country-club circuit? Wasn’t David the one who was really out of touch?

Sean observed his employees, some destined to join Bethel, others interested in nothing beyond their next paycheck. The PacRim CEO knew the name of every man laboring down in that drydock. He had helped them link two hull sections this very morning (such a fascinating technology, joining instead of welding). Sean had written his name alongside that of his men. When this precious piece of Bethel territory was finally launched, those interior signatures would be hidden behind a secondary bulkhead. But his employees would know the autographs were there: proof that the new cargo ship was a work of art. And the craftsmen would remember Sean’s name written with their own.

He looked down at his hands, dirty, bloody, driven by rock-hard forearms. Then he studied his brother’s effeminate frame. Both men had grown up in one of the world’s wealthiest families. Both men claimed allegiance to Christ. How, then, could they be so different? Was there nothing upon which they would ever agree?

“This City On a Sea crap is already killing share value,” David complained afresh. “The composite nonsense is just the final straw. Don’t you think there’s a reason no one would finance it?”

“It’s a new idea,” Sean granted. “But after a generation of consistent covenant-keeping, I think banks will get on board.”

“It’s just…irrational. You’re wrecking the company in every sense. Reputation’s already gone, thanks to you. Now you’re eating up our cash reserves with your stupid R&D materials. Who do you think you are? Even the navy uses steel. When Christ returns what difference will it make how you built your ships? And the willful stupidity of using mostly Christian crews. They’ll get raptured and the ships will founder. Think of the economic impact.”

Theological pornography, Sean sighed. That was what had really driven them apart. His brother had been wrecked by Premillenial escapism: titillating trash for lazy Christians. Sean just couldn’t believe the irony of his brother’s criticism. To David’s way of thinking, Christians should be so irrelevant that the rapture would not have any actual effect upon the world. God forbid that the removal of  believers might reduce America’s gross domestic product! No, things should continue as smoothly as when Christians were still on earth. And if the rapture did cause economic disruption – well, Christians must have been sinning by doing something of significance!

Sean tried the reply he had used so often: “If Christians are the ones who change direction when we meet Jesus in the air, need the world fear any harmful side effects resulting from his return?” David just rolled his eyes.

Rapture nonsense, Sean lamented. So many evangelicals ruined, wasted, rendered unfruitful. Bethel would be different. As individuals, Thelans would prepare for the Lord’s imminent return. As churches, families, ships and culture they would plan and think and labor as though Christ were not returning for a million years. By God’s grace, the Son of God would come back to find Thelan ships thousands of years old and still going strong. Oh, the power of compounded capital! Bethel would build an offering. They would hand it over to their King on the day of His power.

A bit to Sean’s surprise, Rebecca rose to his defense. “The Army uses advanced materials in its tanks, and in the plates and helmets composing soldiers’ body armor. Naval vessels are made of steel, granted, but a modern warship’s armor is not made of steel. They use composites, too. Non-metals make up an increasing percentage of rocket fuselages due to their superior mass/volume ratios. And then, of course, there are your golf clubs. You are accusing Sean of arrogance because he is making ships out of something other than metal. But these other uses of composites – no one considers them acts of pride.”

“Steel is good enough,” David insisted.

“Even if your theology is correct,” Rebecca persisted, “and Jesus is going to return within the next few years, composites provide other advantages. The material is less dense than steel, resulting in lighter vessels. This will reduce fuel costs and consequently the total carbon footprint of each cargo run. We can trumpet this to the press as a major green innovation, which will make companies more willing to contract our services. They can claim an interest in the environment simply by having PacRim move their products to market.

“Furthermore, the enhanced strength of composites will make bulkheads much harder to breach. Combined with the new double-keel design, our vessels will be the safest cargo ships ever to sail the Pacific. Don’t you want to give our crews the safest possible working environment? We can market ourselves as a company truly interested in the well-being of its employees.”

“And  remember,” Sean added, “every vessel will contain a casting room. If a hull segment is damaged, a ship will literally be able to create a new one and replace the section while still at sea. This is critical. A ship will not have to enter drydock to repair underwater damage. Greatly reduced down-time. That’s the beauty of joining instead of welding. No more pain of having to stare at one of our boats awaiting repair.”

David returned to his seat, shaking his head. Quarterly profits, Sean thought. How could a Christian be so fixated on short-term returns? Sean knew many employees who cared nothing for Christ, yet were nevertheless driven by long-term thinking. They worked sixteen hours a day, not for themselves, but to create a better life for their children and grandchildren. Christians used to build churches to last more than a thousand years. Now unbelievers…Sean shook his head. Theological pornography.

Sean finally gave his brother an opportunity to read the documents that had coaxed David aboard the Magellan. He observed silently his brother’s growing frustration with the paper viewing system. That was why Sean had installed it in the conference table, of course. These documents laid bare the founding of Bethel: Presuppositions, Preamble, Constitution, Compact, Legal Code, Commentary of Authorial Intent, plus names of those who had committed to becoming Bethel’s first citizens. It would all be posted online in a few hours, of course. But as the slides were locked under a glass top, David could do nothing but read them. Nothing for him to hold. Nothing for him to take.

David glowered at Sean, no doubt suddenly realizing why Sean had not allowed him to carry electronic devices. David wanted to photograph these documents and leak them to the press ahead of the compacting. In doing this he would steal Sean’s thunder, focus attention upon himself, and give a strong negative spin to all things Bethel before Bethel even officially existed.

Sean observed David’s hands begin to shake. For a moment he considered calling security, then remembered it was hardly necessary. In the years David had been sipping cocktails with future members of the Foreign Relations Committee, Sean had been repeatedly beaten senseless by Manila street-gangs as he attempted to share the gospel. Six artificial teeth, five facial surgeries, four arm casts, and three pints of blood later, Sean had finally earned the right to lead a Bible study in that neighborhood. And what had David secured? An invitation to the U.S. Open. Sean had nothing to fear from David. His big brother was a pansy.

Of course, David would never have attended this meeting if he had doubted Sean’s official start-up date. That Sean would deceive him, that he would lie to the whole world about when Bethel would begin…David had never seen it, had never conceived it: his little brother wasn’t just gentle as a dove; he was shrewd as a snake. Sean had lured David away from the Los Angeles news studios on the very day of compacting. He had done it with the promise of documents and insider information, material he knew David would crave. But the only consequence of David’s trip to the Magellan would be to marginalize him during the first critical hours. Sean’s face would dominate the news this night. By the time David’s jet made it back to California, he would have no secret information to reveal.

“You can’t force me to do this,” David finally blurted out.

Guarding that Park Avenue life? Sean thought with disgust. But he said, “Obviously. Rebecca is offering to buy out, in whole or in part, your remaining stake in PacRim.”

“And if I don’t sell?” David challenged. “You’ll take it by force?”

“Certainly not,” Sean insisted. “Respect for property rights is a basic Bethel value. Ships will remain under private ownership even as they become part of the body politic.”

“Nonsense!” David spat. “You’re a nutcase. You’re a freak. I own 9% of this company. You can’t ruin me like this.”

“Then sell,” Sean said.

He watched the options churn through David’s mind. Retain his shares and everything he did to ruin Bethel would reduce the value of his holdings. Sell to Rebecca and no more board meetings, no more ability to speak to the press as a major company partner. He would lose the ability to hinder Bethel from within.

Sean sighed. He wondered if in his elder years David would come around and join them. After others had endured the real risks, of course. Where was that dividing line in American history, when colonizing ceased to be dangerous and America began attracting those looking for a “better” (translation: easier) life? I’m on the first boat to Plymouth, Sean thought. No, I’m making the first boat. And the boat is Plymouth! He would leave David behind in “England.”

“Such an ego!” David accused. “You’re a traitor. I should sue you for what you’re doing.”

Sean desperately resisted the urge to gloat: We’re starting a new country, you idiot. That means you’d have to sue us in Bethel court. Read 1 Corinthians 6. A Christian court won’t allow a civil suit between Christians! You’re such a complete moron you don’t even realize it.

Sean prayed for the Holy Spirit’s help. He was sinning boldly in his anger, and was now in danger of compounding his disobedience with angry words. Most people can handle, at most, one change, Sean reminded himself. I’m giving David six.

He considered his sibling with exasperated love. They were both Billings, to be sure: wide shoulders, blue eyes, type A personalities, in theory believers committed to matters of eternal significance. But too much money, too little cross. Even Rebecca, queen of the short-term missions trip: so eager to endure privation for the sake of the gospel, as long as that comfortable life waited back in the States. She was willing to give it up, though. Sean had to grant her that. He just wished it was for Christ rather than for him.

“Was the founding of Massachusetts an act of pride on Bradford’s part?” Sean asked. “Were the British colonists committing treason by establishing a new civilization? If a country is, most fundamentally, a group of covenanted people, cannot a nation exist on sea as well as on land?”

David stood up again. He had reached his breaking point. “I’m leaving,” he declared.

“Certainly,” Sean said. “But please stay to observe the covenanting.”

“I want to go now.”

Of course you do, Sean thought. You could still make it to Taiwan before we finish.

“Look,” Sean said, pointing out the windows. The Magellan held course in open waters, but twelve Pacific Rim Cargo vessels now escorted her. “As of twenty minutes ago this immediate airspace entered governance of Bethel air traffic control. For security purposes, no flights in or out will be cleared until after the ceremony.”

David stormed from the conference room, no doubt headed for his helicopter and its communications gear. He would find his radio non-functional, his satellite phone unable to pick up a signal, and his computers incapable of linking to the Magellan’s wireless network. Compact Day belonged to Sean and the people of Bethel. The man pre-positioned by CNN to provide brutal, carefully crafted negative soundbites would be suddenly and mysteriously out of touch.

First impressions, Sean thought. On this most special of days, the day of Bethel’s founding, Thelan Dependence Day, Sean Billings had purchased the silence of his greatest enemy. He bought it at the cost of a brother.

*******

“The key to Pacific Rim Cargo’s success,” Sean explained from the Magellan’s forecastle, “is that we do we what say we are going to do, for the price we say we are going to do it, by the time we say we will have it done. We always meet contract. We are covenant-keepers.”

Sean’s audience squeezed into every available section of topside space. His shipbuilders, still wearing their sweaty uniforms, had strapped fire blankets over the new keels enclosed within the drydock. Upon this makeshift insulation the Magellan’s crew precariously straddled, resolved to stand out from the crowd, determined to make clear that Magellan was their ship. And not just their place of employment: this ugly, blockish, floating factory was now also, amazingly, about to become their country.

Sean had not planned on his workers creating this remarkable photo-op, but he appreciated the effort. A picture of Sean would be boring. But a shot of the men and women who were building Bethel’s first composite ship, lining the edges of the hull they had crafted that very morning…it conveyed vision and possibility in a way some of Bethel’s new citizens would never be able to articulate in words. Sean longed to be down there with his people, wished he could be a part of the image he realized would stand out long after his speech was forgotten. But then he remembered the stumbling block likely to threaten Bethel’s destruction in thirty or forty years. Given that future crisis, it was definitely best that he be absent from the day’s defining photograph.

The crowd shielded their eyes from the sun and wind as they attempted to get a clear glimpse of Bethel’s founder. Speakers piped his voice with admirable clarity, so even those below-deck got to hear. Indeed, most of Bethel’s new colonists observed this ceremony by live satellite feed. The eighty-one vessels had each sent a token representative to sign on behalf of his ship. But gathering the fleet for Compact would have made no economic sense: delivery dates had to be kept. Besides, satellite linkage was the indisputable technology that made a city on a sea possible. Internet connection united them into a single people, no matter how far apart ships were on any given day. Critical, then, that the Thelans compact through video conferencing: it drove home the means by which they would function as a collective entity.

“One week in high school I read a book by a Christian businessman,” Sean said, scanning the crowd in an attempt to maintain eye contact, while still fixing the majority of his attention on the camera carrying the fleet-wide stream. “This author, whom I will leave unnamed, said that Christian businesses are not trusted by secular businesses. If a check is written by a Christian business, the other party in the transaction does not ship the purchased product until the check has actually cleared. To put it crudely, Christians as a whole have a worse reputation than unbelievers. We’re actually worse at keeping our word than they are.

“This was an eye-opening moment for me,” Sean continued, “the day I realized that perhaps most Christian businesses were not like PacRim, and that perhaps most Christians were not like my father. He taught me that Christianity means covenant-keeping, and he practiced what he preached.

“I must confess I was highly skeptical of what I read. So I left the sea for America. Now this was hardly my first time in the States. I had been ashore innumerable times in the West Coast ports. I had visited dozens of churches in these cities. But although I had American parents and an American passport, culturally I belonged to the Pacific rather than to any specific country.

“Understand, then, that college and graduate school were adventures for me: living on land, living in one place, joining a specific church, fulfilling duties as a member of that church. If the thought of living at sea strikes you as novel, know the opposite held true for this ocean-going nomad: putting down roots in Columbia and Philadelphia. I had never experienced anything like it.

“My father had ensured that I receive a thoroughly American education growing up. In fact, so concerned had he been that I fit in, I actually ended up knowing the standard civics lessons better than my peers raised landside.

“What I had learned from the books I decided to experience first-hand. Money has its privileges, of course. I spent freely taking my friends on epic vacations. I quickly fell in love with all things Americana. I’ve toured every State, my friends, and I love them all.

“But as much as I enjoyed touring the country, you must remember I was a man on a mission. The criticisms I had read, of the United States in general and of U.S. Christians in particular – surely they had to be exaggerations: rants of disgruntled, separatist backstabbers ungrateful for the unique liberties and opportunities only America could provide.

“Through my study of the United States, I made discoveries rather more complex than what the books proclaimed. America certainly has deeper problems than the God and Country crowd admits; blind devotion to a mindless patriotism helps no one. But the United States is hardly about to succumb to the predictions of doomsayers: commitment to hard work, relentless innovation, the general tendency to be at one’s best when times are at their worst – it’s all still there. So I guess you could say that, far from developing a critical attitude toward America, I actually fell in love with her.

“The American version of Christianity, however – that I did not fall in love with. And it is because of this one simple fact: American Christians do not think covenantally. Every covenant I have made – the promises I made when I became a Christian, when I joined my church, when I married my wife, when our children were baptized. Every business deal into which I have entered, every loan I have taken out, every contract I have signed as majority owner of Pacific Rim Cargo – every covenant I have ever cut is printed out and taped to the walls of my office. And my heart’s prayer every day is that the Holy Spirit not let me be put to shame, but rather enable me to keep these covenants.

“Covenant-keeping. This is how Christians live out their faith in Korea, in Taiwan, in the Philippines, in Hong Kong. I’m not talking about moralists or Pharisees or Roman Catholics or legalists. I’m talking about Evangelical Christians who trust only and entirely in the finished work of Christ for the forgiveness of their sins. They don’t keep covenant in some vain attempt to earn or repay the favor of God. They believe in salvation by grace alone. But they also believe in covenant-keeping as the visible sign of having received God’s grace. And that is not how American Christians think.

“I have often heard the comment of how culture changes the church more than the church changes culture. How I wish that were true! For I know plenty of secular businessmen who never miss a deadline. Why can’t Christian businesses learn that from their surrounding culture! Whenever I sign a contract with a secular company, I find myself thanking God that they have not been affected by Christians. Otherwise, I could not trust them!

“Bethel is a nation for covenantal Christians. We demonstrate this by compacting today as a body politic. Each child will practice the covenantal lifestyle by having to choose, at age twenty, whether or not to sign the national covenant. No one will be born a citizen of this country. To become a citizen you must make a choice. You must covenant.

“Equally important, to remain a citizen you must remain faithful to the covenant. Citizenship is a privilege, not a right. Break the covenant and you lose your citizenship. You revert to resident alien status, possessing the same rights and responsibilities of any other resident alien. Through sufficient covenant-keeping a former citizen can earn the privilege of becoming a citizen once again. But as to obey is better than sacrifice, so it is better to remain faithful than go through the painful process of repentance and restoration.

“What makes Bethel unique is not that we live at sea. If a piece of land opened up, I’d grab it in an instant. We’re on the ocean because it’s the only planetary territory unclaimed by current nation-states.

“No, what makes Bethel unique is that if you want to be a citizen, if you want to remain a citizen, you must be a covenant-keeper. Take Trinitarian oaths, pay 9% of your net income in taxes, obey the law, enforce the law, uphold every public contract you enter, both civil and religious. Be faithful. Think covenantally. Keep law better than religious people, so sadly convinced that man can earn salvation by keeping law! In the end, that is our real goal: obtaining a righteousness that surpasses the Pharisees even as we embrace salvation by grace alone.

“May our Sovereign, Triune Creator grant such favor! May we establish a civilization that puts American Christianity to shame.”

Sean strode to the Compact table, smiled at the cameras, and drew the Aurora Asian that he had received from Jonathan Cheung. 2,440 pens had been handed to Sean in the last three years, one from each head of household. Some were more expensive than the one Sean was about to use, others were the cheapest of ballpoints. Today these covenanting instruments had been symbolically gathered into two boxes, one on either side of the table over which Sean now leaned. Although he had memorized the words, Bethel’s founder read out loud carefully from the parchment so as to make certain he got it right:

In the name of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, Amen.

We, whose names are underwritten, the loyal subjects of our crucified and risen Sovereign Lord Jesus Christ, by right and work seated at the right hand of God, now wielding all authority in heaven and on earth, and who will one day return to judge the living and the dead.

Having undertaken for the glory of God, and advancement of the Christian faith, and the honor of our King, a resettlement to plant the first colony in the greater Pacific Ocean; do by these presents, solemnly and mutually in the Presence of God and one of another, covenant and combine ourselves together into a civil body politic, for our better ordering and preservation, and furtherance of the ends aforesaid; and by virtue hereof to enact, constitute, and frame, such just and equal laws, ordinances, acts, constitutions and offices, from time to time, as shall be thought most meet and convenient for the general good of the Colony; unto which we promise all due submission and obedience.

In witness whereof we have hereunto subscribed our names one hundred nautical kilometers due east Taiwan this eleventh of November, Anno Domini, 2013.

Sean signed, followed by his senior aides and the reps from each ship. Eighty-seven signatures total. Sean let the press get up close and shoot some feed. Reverend Yu offered a closing prayer. Sean thanked everyone and turned for the bridge.

“What?” a reporter yelled after him, confused. “That’s it?”

In the sudden, overwhelming exhaustion of the moment (it had taken a lot of years to create Bethel), Sean almost absentmindedly passed the question to a spokesman. Then he remembered his sweetheart deal with FOX News. On Compact Day FOX got exclusive interviews with Bethel’s President and senior officials. In exchange the network promised to ignore David Billings for twenty-four hours.

Sean scanned the deck, found his brother freaking out near the stern: the FOX people were the only TV press aboard Magellan, and none were willing to point a camera at David. Likely David had also learned of his helicopter’s inexplicable mechanical problem. The aircraft would take time to repair: twenty-three hours, at least. The agony on David’s face made Sean eternally grateful to FOX. They deserved another sound bite.

The founder of Bethel approached the confused reporter, put an arm around his shoulder, led him to the port bulwark. He directed the landlubber’s attention to the other Bethel ships. They were breaking formation, adjusting course and putting on speed.

“The party’s over,” Sean pronounced. “We have cargo to deliver.”

*******

Chief of Staff Rebecca Billings convened the Christian Republic of Bethel’s first cabinet meeting. She thought it highly improper that someone besides Sean should take lead, especially on Compact Day, but her brother had been detained by Magellan’s captain. Ship’s business, he had apologized.

Rebecca reckoned she had better get used to that phrase. The thought did not please her. Unlike most of Bethel’s initial American colonists, she possessed neither a grudge against secular humanism nor a wish to settle Mars. She owned a thoroughly delightful home in Connecticut, and was perfectly content to watch from its porch as her friends sailed past for a day’s yachting. Indeed, the Dramamine patch on her shoulder was the only thing preventing her from vomiting, this despite Magellan riding what any experienced seaman would describe as light swell.

Rebooting, idealism, adventure, artistry: Rebecca cared for none of it. The woman was driven by a far simpler motive. She idolized her little brother. From the moment she had first beheld his infant form, she had been bound to him like Europa to Jupiter. Whether Sean decided to grow wheat in South Dakota or harvest ice from the moon hardly mattered from Rebecca’s perspective. She would ensure her brother’s success, or die trying.

The latter felt more likely at the moment. Rebecca collapsed into the conference room’s head seat and grasped her stomach. “I wish he had gone the space route,” she moaned. “Freefall can’t be this bad.”

Four people joined Rebecca, each settling into the adaptive, salt-water resistant chairs ironically invented by David when he still had some interest in living at sea. The “family gathering” that morning had only embittered Rebecca further against her older brother. In a more naïve time she had searched EBay and purchased fifty-two different books predicting the imminent return of Christ, some of these works over a hundred years old and tucked into forgotten corners of used books stores, others recent enough to be gathering dust in Christian bookstore discount bins.

She had presented the stack to David in dramatic fashion, demanded to know how he could make decisions based on such prophetic mumbo-jumbo. Here it was, she had insisted. All the evidence a believer needed to adopt a long-term mentality. David refused to open a single book. This time is different, he had insisted. Jesus is coming back any day. That had been twelve years ago.

It occurred to Rebecca that her disagreement with David went beyond eschatology. David believed Christians should make decisions based on the Bible’s predictive passages. Rebecca did not. She believed the Scriptures contained predictions, certainly. And she believed those predictions would all come true. But she differed as to why God had shared his plans for the future. To her way of thinking, decisions should be based on the teaching portions of the Bible, not the predictive sections. The basic question was not, What is going to happen? Rather the basic question was always, What has God commanded? And the command in Genesis 1 seemed pretty straightforward to her: the human race was to fill and subdue the earth. When Christ did return, she wanting him finding her hard at work doing exactly that.

Rebecca shifted focus to thank God for the future-oriented Christians who sat with her now. What would she have to start calling them? Co-workers? Politicians? Governors? Likely she would end up defaulting to American terminology, and simply call them cabinet-members.

Two were diplomats. Reverend Ching Yu, elderly pastor from Mainland China, beaten, imprisoned and slandered by the Communist government more times than anyone could remember. His age and fame brought the Bethel venture instant respect throughout the Chinese Diaspora. Megumi Abigail Uehara, the tiniest of women, insisted on English-speakers calling her Abby. Gifted musician, endlessly irritated at the absence of Japanese Christian men, perfectly connected: her father owned the largest import/export business in Yokohama.

Two were scientists. Grame “Trimarine” Hudson, Australian naval engineer, drawn to Bethel’s radical patent laws like a vampire to blood. He purposed to design a new generation of ocean-going vessels. Jonathan Cheung, computer genius from California. Had sold his company for forty million dollars, was looking for bigger challenges.

On the theory that the government’s task was to bear the sword, Bethel’s president retained authority to wage war and administer justice. Effectively that made Sean Secretary of Defense and Attorney General. But it also made him “Supreme Court” in a sense distinctly Thelan. Unlike in America, the president would be able to judge the actual merits of cases decided by courts of original jurisdiction. Bethel would still maintain a separate Supreme Court for evaluating questions of constitutionality. Appointing and approving those justices was a high priority. But that couldn’t happen until ships elected congressional representatives.

So much to do. And what was keeping Sean, anyway? With a sinking feeling she realized her brother really did intend for her to start without him. She gave in at last and had Pastor Yu offer an opening prayer.

“The church is supposed to transform culture,” Jonathan began. “It’s almost like he was saying if we create a new culture, we can thereby transform the church.”

“I do not believe that is what he meant,” Pastor Yu said.

“I don’t understand why he didn’t focus on the Creation Mandate,” Grame noted. “I can’t find a single bloody Christian assistant to help with my research. Where’s the vision for subduing the earth? Isn’t that what we’re trying to recapture?”

“Yes,” Jonathan added. “Anti-intellectualism. Escapism. The seemingly impossible combination of moralism with antinomianism. Here’s his prime-time chance to expose Evangelicalism’s mediocrity, to make the world realize we’re not the typical Christians. And what does he end up emphasizing? Something few people understand and even fewer care about.”

Rebecca agreed. “I wanted him to talk about lawsuits. That’s something a large audience would have related to. Recidivism rates, too. Really lay out the weakness of America’s justice system. Explain how Thelans will not live in constant fear of crime or being sued.”

“I had hoped for an attack on Keynesian economics,” Abby said. “Japan has bought into the idea of deficit spending just as badly as the United States. If only young adults in Japan realized that by joining Bethel, they could escape the foolish promises made by their parents. Let those dumb enough to stay be forced to pay.”

“Recapturing America’s vision,” Jonathan said, his voice rising. “That’s what sold me. The Puritans’ desire to create a polity based on Biblical Law. The Founding Fathers’ desire to form a nation with small, decentralized government. Say it! We are more American than America. We’re doing this because we’re the only ones who still understand what America was all about.”

“When I say I’m a Christian Scientist,” Grame lamented, “people assume I’m part of a cult. The irony is that I’d actually have a better chance at getting hired. They don’t care how good I am. If you don’t believe in evolution, you don’t get a seat at the table. But are any Christian schools trying to compensate? Where is the commitment to serious scientific experimentation? It makes me sick.”

This is our first cabinet meeting, Rebecca thought. This isn’t how we should be spending it. She had lost control. No. She had never been in control. She was letting them vent. And even worse, she couldn’t resist joining in.

“Why can’t people see what is happening with Social Security?” she complained. “Why do they bury their heads in the sand? We’ve got the good sense to get out before the whole house of cards comes crashing down. And people say we’re the idiots. What happens in a generation when everyone realizes they can’t retire? The people laughing at us today will end up trying to emigrate to Bethel! Anywhere to escape the inflation. Anywhere to find a job. I want…” She paused, gaining a painful understanding of her motives. “I want Sean to say it today so I can rub the words in their faces thirty years from now.”

Jonathan began counting off (though he quickly ran out of fingers): “Welfare state. High tax rate. Sense of entitlement. Money taken from conservatives to fund liberal causes and buy liberal votes. Violations of sphere sovereignty. No longer being a republic. No longer being free from the government. Incorrect definitions of justice. Political correctness. Acceptance of Modernist thought. Additional acceptance of Post-Modern relativism. God raising up monsters in the land. Lack of repentance in the midst of crises. Humanistic worldview controlling schools, media, and entertainment. Becoming a debtor nation. Abortion. Homosexuality. Divorce. Promiscuity. Preoccupation with the vapid. Church fixated on the suburbs. Church fixated on transfer growth. Christians letting their mortal enemies train their children. Individualism. Conflict avoidance. Rise of the cult of nice. Concentration of power at the national level.”

As Rebecca listened to Jonathan’s rant, she couldn’t help but silently add her own beefs: Americans were so embarrassingly preoccupied with sports and fashion. With cutting their grass. With virtual worlds. As Sean would say, how had the home of great pioneers become enraptured with things so utterly meaningless?

Rebecca noticed that Yu had not joined in criticizing Sean’s speech. That, in turn, made her suddenly realize that Sean’s nonattendance at this meeting had been deliberately planned. What were they all really doing instead of getting on with the business of government? Giving the speeches they would have uttered if they had been in Sean’s place. Sean had known his aides would not approve of his address. He had given them time to express their annoyance. But why?

If Yu were to speak, Rebecca guessed what he might say. He would criticize the racial segregation of the American church. He would deny the legitimacy of the entire parachurch movement. He would lament America’s refusal to serve as a refuge to many oppressed people yearning to escape tyranny. Granted, the United States allowed huge numbers to enter every year. But Rebecca’s homeland could welcome so many more. Yu might even highlight American’s complicity in the Holocaust: the U.S. had denied millions of Jews safe haven, condemning them to die. And the U.S. continued to do the same today. Americans were too busy watching TV and playing video games to realize the multitudes who begged God on their knees every day for the freedom America offered.

But Yu kept his thoughts to himself. Rebecca exchanged looks with the elderly man. He had understood from the start that Sean had absented himself for a reason. That much, at least, was now clear to her. Rebecca was reminded yet again that the lack of impressive degrees behind Yu’s name really didn’t mean a whole lot. The new Secretary of State was still wiser than the other four cabinet members put together.

Sean entered the room suddenly, without fanfare or escort. He stood next to Rebecca and placed a gentle hand upon her shoulder.

“We all have things we don’t like about the countries we’re leaving behind,” he explained. “Australia, Japan, America, China. Their failures are many and glaring. But disgust with our previous cultures can’t be what unites us, most obviously because we are coming from different cultures. Even Thelans who do come from the same country will differ as to what they think is really wrong about their former homeland.

“The only way for Bethel to become a united people is for us to focus, not on what God has saved us from, but on what he has saved us unto. I appeal to you: leave your country, your people, and your father’s household. Leave it mentally and emotionally as well as physically. Do not think about where you came from, but about where you are going. A common vision, a common goal for the future – that is what unites us. That is what gives us a chance to succeed.”

“Let the dead bury their own dead,” Yu quoted.

“Yes,” Sean agreed. “You must shake the dust from your feet. This exhortation I extend to all Thelans, but especially to those of American origin. Ironically, you seem to possess not only the most patriotism for your original country, but also the most anger against her. Forget America. Forget her. She is no longer your home.

“There is to be no more talk from this government of the troubles we leave behind. Such was necessary during the time of recruitment and preparation. That time is over. The City On a Sea exists at last. Go therefore and proclaim the kingdom of God.”

Rebecca marveled. She wondered how Sean and Pastor Yu had come to possess that allusive shrewdness so rare among Christians. Certainly Rebecca performed her administrative tasks with admirable excellence. But Sean and Yu possessed a cunning that went beyond mere skill.

The mystery of Rebecca’s inferiority baffled her. Was it simply privilege? New England prep school, Princeton undergrad, Harvard MBA. While she had been attending the most elite parties for up-and-comers, Yu had been suffering in prison. Sean had been cleaning bilge tanks. They knew of other hardships, too. Yu’s wife had been martyred. The wife of Bethel’s founder put on a good face in public, but she hated the idea of living at sea. That was likely part of it, Rebecca thought. Sean and Yu were tough men. They knew how the world worked.

But there was more. Some basic form of wisdom that God had granted them but not her. She did not understand it. And that was the point, of course. To understand it would be to possess it.

One thing, however, Rebecca Billings did understand.

She loved her little brother.

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