Joel Rosenberg - The Twelfth Imam

David sighed. She was right. He looked at the boxes.

“Tell me those are satellite phones,” he said.

“They are. Twenty. Government-issue. Military-grade.”

“And our friends back at Langley have toyed with them all a bit?”

“Actually, no. Jack was worried the Iranians would find any chip we put into the phones. These particular satphones are the product of a joint venture between Nokia and Thuraya.”

“Thuraya-the Arab consortium?”

“Based in Abu Dhabi, right. Long story short, I have people on the inside at Thuraya. They gave me the encryption codes and all the satellite data. I gave them a boatload of money.”

“And you’re sure the phones all work?”

“My team and I personally tested them this afternoon,” she said. “Langley heard everything, loud and clear. We’re good to go.”

“You’re amazing.”

“That’s true,” Eva said, smiling, “but that’s not all. I have another gift for you.”

“What’s that?”

“I booked you on the next flight back to Tehran,” she said. “I just e-mailed the itinerary to your phone. It’s time to pack, my friend. You’re going back in.”

Hamadan, Iran

“I am Jesus the Nazarene,” came the man’s deep voice.

Najjar felt the sound of it rattle in his chest, as though the words went through him.

“You have come?” Najjar cried. “The lieutenant to the Twelfth Imam has actually revealed himself to me?”

But at these words, the ground below Najjar shook so violently that he feared it would open and swallow him. Rocks skittered across the road from ledges above. The wind picked up strength. Najjar flattened himself on the ground, covering his head with his hands.

“ I AM first and last and the living One,” Jesus said. “I am the Alpha and the Omega, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty. I was dead, and see, I am alive forever after, and I have the keys of death and of hades. Come and follow me.”

The first sentences were uttered with authority such as Najjar had never heard before, not from any mullah or cleric or political leader in his entire life. Yet the last four words were spoken with such gentleness, such tenderness, that he could not imagine refusing the request.

Shaking, Najjar cautiously looked up. Though he was wrapped in a thick parka over his blue jeans and sweater, he felt completely naked, as if all of his private sins were exposed to the light and the elements. For as long as he could remember, he’d had a deep reverence for Jesus. Like his father and his grandfather and his great-grandfather before him, going back fourteen centuries, Najjar believed Jesus was born of a virgin. He believed Jesus was a doer of miracles and a speaker of great wisdom and thus a prophet. But not God Himself. Never. And yet…

Jesus stretched out His hands and motioned for Najjar to come closer. Part of him wanted to run and hide, but before he knew it, he was taking several steps forward.

As he drew closer, Najjar was astonished to see holes where spikes had been driven through Jesus’ hands. He looked away for a moment, but then, unable to keep his head turned, he looked back and stared at those hands. As a devout Muslim, Najjar had never for a moment in his life even considered the possibility that Jesus had been crucified at all, much less to pay the penalty for all human sins, as the Christians taught. He had never believed that Jesus had actually died on a cross. No Muslim believed that. It was sacrilege. To the contrary, Najjar (and everyone he had ever known) believed that at the very last moment, Allah had supernaturally replaced Jesus with Judas Iscariot, and Judas had been hung on the cross and crucified instead.

Questions flooded his mind.

How could Jesus be appearing to him as a crucified Messiah?

If the Qur’an were true, wouldn’t it be impossible for Jesus to have nail-scarred hands?

If the ancient Islamic writings about the Twelfth Imam were true, then how could Jesus, who was supposed to be the Mahdi’s lieutenant, have hands scarred by the nails of crucifixion?

Najjar kept staring at those hands. It didn’t make sense. Then he looked into Jesus’ eyes. They were not filled with anger and condemnation. They spoke of love in a way Najjar couldn’t even comprehend, much less express. And Jesus’ words echoed in his heart. He wasn’t claiming to be the second-in-command to the Mahdi. He claimed to be God Almighty.

“Forgive me; please forgive me,” Najjar said, bowing low. “But how can I know the difference between Muhammad and You?”

“You have been told, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy,’” Jesus replied. “But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”

The words cut into Najjar’s heart like a knife. This was an enormous difference between the two.

“Don’t be angry with me, O Lord,” Najjar stammered, “but I am so confused. All my life I was raised a Muslim. How can I know which way to go?”

“I am the Way. And the Truth and the Life,” Jesus said. “No one can come to the Father except through Me.”

“But my heart is full of sin,” Najjar said. “My eyes are full of darkness. How could I ever follow You?”

“I am the Light of the World,” Jesus replied. “Whoever follows Me will not walk in darkness. That person will have the light of life.”

Najjar knew he was experiencing something extraordinary. At the same time, he was genuinely in agony. Was Jesus telling him that everything he had ever been taught was wrong? that his life had been on the wrong path up to this very moment? that it had been completely worthless? It was too much to bear. He began to formulate sentences but could not find a way to finish them.

Yet as Najjar looked into the eyes of Jesus, he sensed deep in his spirit that Jesus knew every thought he had, every fear, every question, and loved him anyway. He wanted to move toward Jesus but could not. Yet at that moment, Jesus walked toward him.

“God loved the world so much that He gave His only begotten Son,” Jesus said. “Whoever believes in Him will never die but instead have eternal life. For God did not send His Son into the world to judge it, but that the world might be saved through Him. Whoever believes in Him is not judged; but whoever doesn’t believe has been judged already, because he has not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God.”

Najjar just stood there in the snow. He had never read any of this in the Qur’an. But he knew it was true. And suddenly, irresistibly, Najjar fell to the ground and kissed the scarred feet of Jesus.

“O Lord, open my eyes!” Najjar sobbed. “Help me! I am a wicked and sinful man, and I am undone-lost in the darkness, lost and alone. Open my eyes that I may see.”

“Do you believe I am able to do this?” Jesus asked.

“Yes, Lord.”

“Then follow Me,” Jesus said.

At that, something inside Najjar broke. He wept with remorse for all the sins he had committed. He wept with indescribable relief that came from knowing beyond the shadow of a doubt that God really did love him and had sent Jesus to die on the cross and rise from the dead, thus proving that He really was the truth and the life and the only way to the Father in heaven. He wept with gratitude that because of Jesus’ promise, he could know that he was going to spend eternity with Jesus.

He bowed before his Savior and Lord, weeping and rejoicing all at once for what seemed to be hours. How long it really was, he had no idea. But then he heard Jesus speaking to him again.

“If you love Me, you will keep My commandments. I have many more things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. Remember, I am coming quickly!”