by Reed Summers
(Part 2 of the Messenger’s Journey to Iran. Part 1)
A tapping sound entered my dreams and I labored in my sleep to make sense of it.
There was a man standing in the dark shade of fir trees. Behind him was a hillside of gold aspens and up between the branches I could see white rocky peaks against the sky. Snow was everywhere.
He stood looking at me, tapping his ringed finger on a wooden post at his side. I didn’t see his face and could only concentrate on the metal ring, tap tap tapping on dry wood.
In an instant I was up in bed. The tapping was behind me, on the door, not hard but urgent: tap, tap…tap,Tap, Tap.
I laid there for a moment. The room was dark and shadowy and the hum of Tehran’s early morning streets permeated the background.
I opened the door and my father was there. “Reed, I need to record.” Honestly, in that second, I had no idea what he meant.
But then it all returned to me: where I was and who I was with. I was in Tehran with my father, The Messenger. He had been awoken by the angelic presence to be given a revelation for humanity. It was the first of many nights in Iran and the next stage of God’s New Message was about to begin.
I looked out the door to watch him walk wearily down that brashly lit hall.
Back in the room, Darlene lay awake, looking up at the ceiling. “Does he want us to be there?”
“Yes we can be there.”
“I need to get the recorder ready.”
In the dark I pulled it all together and went back to the door. Darlene followed me but more carefully; she had to cover herself with hijab – the law, even at 4:45am in the empty halls of a hotel.
I entered his room. It was lit only by a candle. Marshall sat in a chair in the far corner, his head bowed and his eyes closed. Hearing us come in he peered up, wanting to know who had entered the room. Then he relaxed down again. Patricia sat ten feet away, looking at him steadily.
I set up the recorder next to Marshall. And then I checked to make sure it worked. It did. I left it there beside him and took my place with Patricia and Darlene.
We sat in quiet. A gray light was in the window behind the curtains. Somewhere a sun was rising over the deserts to the east. Tehran was awakening. And then the revelation began:
“God watches over the world, for the world is a troubled place.
It has always been so.
That is why you have come to the world.
It is a place where God has been forgotten, and your true nature has been forgotten.
It is a place of competition and conflict, where life is difficult, where you must constantly solve the problems of your daily existence.
It is a place where people seem foreign to one another and foreign to themselves, as God has created them.”
It is a place of appearances.
It is a place of sensation.
It is wonderful and dangerous, beautiful but confusing.
It is where the separated have come to live, to learn how to give again and to bridge the gap so that the separation may be ended in time.”