The Faithful Steward

Contents

1. The Wicked Sinner Collects

2. The Wicked Sinner Falls into a Pit

3. The Lord Protects the Son

4. The Mystery of the Resettlement

5. Happiness on the Verge of Death

6. The Miraculous Deliverance

7. The Faithful Steward

8. The Gift of the Father

9. The Fruits of the Prayer Room

10. Good Stewards

Chapter 1

The Wicked Sinner Collects

"To the person who pleases Him, God gives wisdom,

knowledge and happiness, but to the sinner he gives

the task of gathering and storing up wealth to hand it

over to the one who pleases God. This too is meaningless,

chasing after the wind."

– Ecclesiastes 2:26

The car in front drove loudly through the tall grass that covered the barely visible road. Two cars followed behind. There was almost no trace of dust. The group of cars finally came to rest in the middle of a large field. Two people climbed rather clumsily out of the middle car and slowly began to move away from the armored giant. The evening was approaching, but the sun still warmed the uncovered heads of the men who were no longer in the prime of life.

It was immediately clear who was to start the conversation: the elderly, grey-haired man radiated power – his gait and his slightly raised chin and eyes betrayed a man accustomed to being obeyed by those around him.

"I have lived in Zurich my whole life, but I can't remember a heat like this… I want to come to an agreement with you, Mr. Okrog. I have a few questions," the white-haired man began.

His companion, a respectable-looking man who, clad as he was in an expensive suit and tie, was clearly not dressed for this weather and could barely conceal his indignation.

"I have been under investigation; your people keep me under constant surveillance; my clothes have been handled, and I was thoroughly searched. I am not used to being treated this way! I could hardly restrain the bank's security service. Mr. Kinsherg, you know that the heads of our bank are constantly under protection."

"Yes, I know. I beg your pardon. I'll double your fee. You must understand that the sum of money I am going to put into the account is substantial, so I am cautious. That is why we are here – so that no-one can overhear us."

"OK, I understand. Everything is in place to accept your deposit." The banker had pulled himself together and his voice was now calm and confident. "Only three people have the information, one of whom is me. But your requirement…! It completely violates the rules of the bank!"

"It is impossible to alter that condition," Kinsherg snapped, his look hard and cold, a gaze which could easily have crushed the banker.

"Now look here!" The banker didn't give way. "If you lose your key, we will not be able to refund your money!"

"That's not going to happen! The key will be in a safe place."

"Have it your way!" muttered Mr. Okrog; then, loosening his tie with a trembling hand, he let his final shot fly: "We will be forced to give all the money to any old Joe who happens to put his name on the papers! It's completely unthinkable!"

"I know." Mr. Kinsherg had clearly decided to end the conversation. "At ten o'clock tomorrow morning a car will come to the bank vault with its cargo. Once all the formalities have been settled, come and pay me a visit. Now it's time to go back. Let's go!"

***

The following day, at the appointed time, several enormous trucks vanished through the gates of the silent bank vault. Of the few passers-by, who happened to see this event, none could ever have imagined that one of the largest fortunes in Europe had just been driven by.

"I should have found some pretext not to come to this meeting," thought Mr. Okrog as he entered the lavish fortress belonging to his wealthy client. He was determined to get away as soon as he could.

The owner of the castle met his guest personally at the magnificent doorway and cordially welcomed him into his office. "I am very grateful to you, Mr. Okrog. The fee has now been credited to your account. I should like to propose a toast to a mutually beneficial partnership!" With these words, Mr. Kinsherg flicked open the bar with a swift movement and took two glasses out. "Purely symbolic, I assure you – I know that you are driving," said the host courteously, smiling broadly.

Sparkling wine filled the glasses quickly.

"Thank you!" said the guest, blushing slightly. "Let's drink to the successful completion of a rather complicated case."

"Come on, I'll show you my garden," the rich man said invitingly. In this way, he indicated that after the short excursion Mr. Okrug's visit was at an end.

***

As the banker's car slowly vanished behind the alley of trees, Mr. Kinsherg thought, "Poor fellow. I feel a bit sorry for him really. The poison is very strong – I should wash the glass thoroughly."

A week later, Mr. Okrog died unexpectedly. A heart condition. Over the following six months, all the people who knew anything about this strange transaction passed away, in one way or another.

Chapter 2

The Wicked Sinner Falls into a Pit

"Whoever digs a hole and scoops it out, falls into the

pit they have made. The trouble they cause recoils on

them; their violence comes down on their own heads.

I will give thanks to the LORD because of his righteousness;

I will sing the praises of the name of the LORD Most High."

– Psalm 7:15-17

Kinsherg's secretary barely had any time to report that the chief of security needed to see him, when the door to the office opened abruptly, revealing a tall, athletic and intellectual-looking man standing on the threshold.

"You wanted to see me? What's happened?" Kinsherg, who was visibly nervous, stood up from the table.

"Yes, boss!" The eyes of the wide-shouldered, intelligent man flared with a less than benevolent fire. "I have served you faithfully for many years. Six months ago I personally carried out your orders, committing a crime in the process! A sin against God at that!" The voice of the chief bodyguard gradually became louder and more threatening.

"And I am very grateful to you. What do you want me to do?"

"I now feel poisoned in the same way that you poisoned the others!" The enraged lackey rushed at his master… but a shot to the chest stopped him dead in his tracks.

***

The guards, who soon arrived running, were witnesses to a dreadful sight: the chief of security was lying in a pool of blood, his face still contorted with rage, while his boss was staring in a rictus, frozen forever in shock at a weird spike sticking awkwardly out of his neck. Moreover, this same spike was clutched in the hand of the dead chief of security.

Chapter 3

The Lord Protects the Son

"When they were but few in number, few indeed, and

strangers in it, they wandered from nation to nation,

from one kingdom to another. He allowed no one to

oppress them; for their sake he rebuked kings: 'Do not

touch my anointed ones; do my prophets no harm.'"

– 1 Chronicles 16:19-22

Twenty Years Later…

The head of one of the largest banks in Switzerland rarely had the need to visit this conference room, and such stringent security measures were almost never necessary. This, however, was a special case. It was also clear that the bank manager, usually such a calm, even-tempered man, was very nervous today. When he spoke, therefore, the small group of people listened to him in silence.

"Sirs, I have managed this bank for over fifteen years, and most of you are not that new here either…" It was painfully obvious that the banker did not know where to start. "Well, you know that a significant portion of the assets of our bank consists of this unusual contribution."

The listeners nodded in approval.

"I won't hide the fact," continued the director, "that I wanted to find out more about the contributors. Nothing was forthcoming. Careful consultation with lawyers over different possibilities…"

"Can you tell us openly and honestly what you want?" a confident man in his fifties asked, speaking for many in the group.

"Honestly?" The manager leapt up from behind the table. "For many years, the person who made the deposit just wasn't forthcoming, and then, unexpectedly, we were approached by this strange Russian man. He came alone, without any form of protection, as a regular visitor, to declare his right to the contribution." The head of the bank collapsed into his chair, exhausted, dabbing at his brow with a spotless handkerchief and rolling his eyes in exasperation.

"Listen to me!" interjected a large man with a fierce expression. "You all know that in the interests of the bank I'm ready to cut anyone's throat! It is not for nothing that I am the boss of the bank's legal department! Come on, you all know me! I had decided to destroy this Russian guy. He came with his family – that wouldn't usually stop me! – but then…" His voice suddenly faltered, and his grey eyes brimmed with tears. "Three days ago, my mother died suddenly." He looked around, but nobody seemed to make the connection. "I am sure that this is a punishment. Don't you see? I am also constantly haunted by the idea that, if I do something awful to this Russian guy, then everyone will die. Everyone! My family, my children…" The now sobbing man rocked back and forth uncontrollably.

"Yes, yes! I, too, have had a warning," whispered the head of the bank in great agitation. "I had a dream last night in which someone commanded me very forcibly to not harm that Russian!"

"So…" The brooding silence was broken by the youngest amongst the bankers who were gathered there. "I suggest that we play along with him. Let him withdraw any amount he wants from the account, and let's pray to God that he doesn't touch the vast majority of the deposit. Personally, I thought that this Russian guy seemed quite an unassuming man; I don't believe he'll start flashing money around."

"Well, let's leave it at that," the bank manager signed off the meeting with great relief. "I have heard that this, our most important client, lives with his family in a hotel, denying himself everything – because he has no money."

Chapter 4

The Mystery of the Resettlement

"This is what the LORD says, he who made the earth,

the LORD who formed it and established it – the LORD

is his name: 'Call to me and I will answer you and tell

you great and unsearchable things you do not know.'"

– Jeremiah 33:2-3

Eighteen Years Later…

On a beautiful evening in May, everyone was getting ready for a celebration in the leafy grounds of a small family home in the centre of Zurich. A small courtyard in front of the house and the pavement adjacent to it were full of parked cars, the cars of newly arriving guests, who were being loudly and joyfully welcomed by the host and his sons. Pleasant music wafted out of a half-open window into the street outside.

The celebration began at seven o'clock in the evening. All of those gathered in the large hall on the ground floor were bowed before God in prayer, after which they began singing Christian hymns, quite harmoniously. When, after several hours, the guests began to disperse, each of them, in turn, attempted to approach two of the young men, in order to embrace them.

"Peter and Nikita!" exclaimed a shortish, balding man, squeezing each of the brothers in turn in his powerful embrace. "Yet again, I wish you both a very happy birthday! Twenty-one years old – it's a very important milestone in your life's journey, you know. I am sure that the Lord has already revealed to you what you are going to do after your university graduation? After all, it's only a year away."

"We are still praying!" the brothers answered in unison, gracefully accepting the congratulations of their guests.

***

A beautiful young woman, who was helping the hostess to clear dishes from the table, asked softly, "Mama, have you prepared Papa for the conversation?"

"Masha, why does it need to be today? It's already late and everybody's tired. Your father's also tired."

"You know your sons! They will ask even today. Have you told Papa?"

"Yes, I have. You know, dear, it's not that simple…"

"Then let's do it this way: you and Papa go up to the second floor. I think you need to prepare for the conversation, and pray, of course. My brothers and I will bid farewell to the guests. We will be up in about twenty minutes."

"And what about your children and your husband?"

"It's all been dealt with; Ted has already taken the kids home, and he'll put them to bed. I'm staying here for the night in order to help you out."

***

The owner of the house and his wife did not agree, and went to the second floor, closing the door behind them. In total silence, they fell to their knees and started praying.

Still on his knees after prayer, the husband whispered, "Anastasia, I feel strengthened by the Lord now. I'm ready to have that conversation with our sons."

"Yes, my dearest. I'm here to help you."

A few minutes later, footsteps were heard, and the door opened. Their children entered, somewhat flushed, and rather anxious and overawed by the significance of the moment.

"Papa, you promised that when we turned twenty-one you would tell us the secret of why we moved away from Russia. Today is our twenty-first birthday; are you going to tell us?" Peter, the bravest of the sons, asked his father.

"Speaking two languages has had quite an impact on how our children build sentences," thought the father to himself, smiling inwardly.

As you may have guessed, dear reader, I am the father. "Yes," I said, "it's a long story so it is probably best if you sit down. It is late and we need to sleep, so I'll get started today but finish another time. Your mother and older sister Masha can help me to tell the tale. And, I should add, this story is for your ears only."

When all the listeners had settled into their seats, I solemnly began.

"This all happened eighteen years ago. You were three years old, and Masha was twelve. It was May, like it is now, the end of the school year. Did you know that my mother and I worked at the school?" My voice cracked, and I shed a barely noticeable tear.

"Don't worry, I'll continue the story." My wife came to my aid. "My sons, you were in the kindergarten, and Masha had just finished the fifth year. Do you remember, Masha? You were a very good student!"

"Oh yes, Mama! I remember in the fourth year we had to choose which foreign language we wanted to study. We prayed for a whole week! The Holy Spirit said, 'German,' so that is what I chose, but everyone in the class was really surprised! I was the only one in the class who chose German, and everyone else chose English. How handy German turned out to be here in Switzerland! How wonderful is our God!"

"Indeed! Well, I'm happy to continue the story from here," I said, returning to the conversation. "In the Urals, where, as you know, we lived then, it's very light during the summer nights. Do you remember, Peter, how we went to Russia in June?"

"I remember, Papa. Are these details really so important?" Peter asked, somewhat irritably.

"Certainly. I want you to imagine everything that happened that day in vivid detail as if it were happening right now!"

And so my story began…

Chapter 5

Happiness on the Verge of Death

"Then I heard a voice from heaven say, 'Write this:

Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on.'

'Yes,' says the Spirit, 'they will rest from their

labor, for their deeds will follow them.'"

– Revelation 14:13

"Semyon Petrovich! Yet again you are the last to leave the office!" Anna Ivanovna, the caretaker of the school, looked at me with sympathy as I made my way to the door.

"Bye-bye! Have a good evening!" I bade her farewell, and hurried into the fresh air, feeling unwell from both hunger and tiredness.

Remembering that I needed to buy some food, I came out through the gate in the fence that surrounded the school and walked to the nearest shop. I took off my glasses to rest my eyes, and I was therefore not able clearly to distinguish the objects around me. My hearing, though, was unimpaired, and I clearly heard the characteristic sounds of a fight, shouting, swearing, and the cracking of twigs under falling bodies. Careful scrutiny revealed that a fight had indeed broken out not far from where I was standing. An elderly man, surrounded as he was by a large group of bullies, was fighting back with a degree of success. In defense, the young lads deftly fell to the ground and then jumped up again and rushed at the old man with renewed fury.

I ran over to the fighters. Why? How on earth could a near-sighted man hope to be of any assistance? As I ran towards them I jettisoned my briefcase and grabbed some kind of metal rod. Where had that come from? Running up to the elderly man, I stood back to back with him and shouted out hysterically, "If someone harms me, my God – Jesus Christ – will punish that man!" The hooligans hesitated for a moment, at a loss for a few seconds, after which they moved in closer for the decisive attack. Why did I grab this wretched rod? I'm not going to beat people! O Lord, please help me! These thoughts flashed momentarily through my mind.

"Stop! Wait a moment! He was my friend's teacher," one of the hooligans suddenly shouted.

"So what?" said a drunken guy of twenty-five, not however visibly in a hurry to approach the rod I was brandishing.

"Enough! He taught my friend! That's it!"

"Why do you need to beat this old man up?" I shouted, trying to attract the attention of passers-by. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that a few young men had separated themselves from a crowd of onlookers that had gathered to watch what was going on. They made their way over to us.

"OK, lads, time's up! Time to go. I'll find this old goat again and have him myself." One of my former students, although I didn't recognize him without his glasses, turned tail and hurried away. The rest then followed him in a straggled line.

"Thank you!" the old man gasped, and, as he did so, he staggered, his strength clearly on the wane.

"I'll take you home!" I said loudly, trying to hide the wave of shock that was coursing through my whole body.

"Thank you. It's not that far away."

When we got to his house, the man, who was visibly more relaxed and cheerful, smiled and asked, "What's your name, my friend?"

"Semyon. What's yours?"

"Ivan Yakovlevich." He then explained, "It's my tongue that got me into trouble. I reprimanded them – I thought they would respect my age, but, you know… you risked a great deal! You fight very well, don't you?"

"No, in fact, I have no idea how to fight. I've never had to do so, except a little bit as a child, and in the army, of course. The Lord protects me!"

"You believe in God, then?"

"Yes."

"I, too, have recently come to believe in him. Where did you say that you worked? Oh, yes – I remember – you're a teacher?"

"Yes, I work as a teacher…" But I stopped short, remembering something the Holy Spirit had shown me when I was in the prayer room.

"You answer with uncertainty. Why? Do you want to change jobs?"

"Yes, I recently had a revelation from God. He told me that I should become a writer."

"Wow! Well, our meeting isn't an accident then! Come and visit me tomorrow. Tomorrow – that's Saturday. My life story would make a great novel. It has been like an action adventure – and it has a happy ending!"

"Well," I laughed, "I hope you haven't reached the end yet! I am sure the best is yet to come."

But Ivan explained, "I'm very ill. Doctors have given me a few months to live." Then, smiling, he added, "But I'm happy! If it hadn't been for the illness, I wouldn't have come to the Lord! See you, then. Apartment seven."

Half-concealed by the door to the main entrance of his apartment block, Ivan Yakovlevich thrust a piece of paper into my hands, on which was written a phone number.

***

"You're a born storyteller, Papa! I could completely picture how it was in those times!" Nikita complimented me with a disarming shyness.

But it was getting late. "That's probably enough for today. We'll meet tomorrow at seven o'clock in the evening, OK?"

"I'll come too, Papa," Masha promised, "if Ted has a free evening and sit with the children." She, too, was hearing this story for the first time.

"Masha," I replied, "I would like it very much if all the family were here tomorrow."

Chapter 6

The Miraculous Deliverance

"The Lord will rescue me from every evil attack and

will bring me safely to his heavenly kingdom. To him

be glory forever and ever. Amen."

– 2 Timothy 4:18

"Very good to see you all, my dear children! I am certain that the Lord has prepared something momentous for you," I began, continuing my story from the following evening.

My wife, Anastasia, seated herself next to me, in order that I should continue to feel her support.

"Right, well yesterday I finished at the point when Ivan Yakovlevich had invited me to see him. Let me carry on from there…"

After several weeks of hard work, I was so tired that on Saturday I wanted to relax rather than to go anywhere. Despite this, I was touched by the fact that, at death's door as he was, Ivan Yakovlevich was so happy to have come to know Jesus Christ.

I phoned him in the morning to agree a time to meet. Then, before I left, I blessed all of you, my family. You, Peter and Nikita, spoke words of blessing over your mother, and you, Masha, prayed by yourself and then kissed me on my balding pate.

Upon arriving at the apartment of Ivan Yakovlevich, my first impressions were very positive. The home was neat, tidy and generally inviting.

"Come on in, my dear friend," Ivan said. "You can wash your hands straight away – tea awaits us."

"Here," I replied, handing over a small gift. "My wife has been doing some baking. She sends her greetings, by the way."

"Thank you. Make yourself at home. So, where do you have your notebook and pen? Or perhaps your voice recorder?"

"Somehow I didn't think of that," I admitted. "I just came to get to know you, really."

"No, my dear friend," Yakovlevich scolded. "If you are a writer, you must always be armed and ready. Here, I shall give you these as a present." With these words, he gave me a remarkably stylish pen and notebook. I had never come across such beautiful stationery in any shop!

"That's a gift fit for a king!"

"You are the son of the King! It's something from my earlier life. It was brought from abroad. Well, first things first—listen to me and then write it down. Do you know that once I was as close to Yuri Gagarin as you are to me now? Shall I tell you about it?"

"Yes, of course. It sounds very interesting! What were the circumstances?"

"Well, it was like this… In April 1962, Moscow hosted the 14th Congress of the Young Communist League. Were you ever a member of Komsomol?"

"Yes, of course!"

"Well, I really wanted to attend the congress. It was going to be a great event, a wonderful celebration full of colour and music. Over and above this, the congress was taking place for the first time in the new Palace of Congresses, as they called it, in the Kremlin. The palace was so beautiful! And completely new—a year hadn't even passed since being built. So I started to try and find a way of getting an invitation to the event. I approached different leaders of Komsomol one after the other, but none of them could help me since they hadn't even been invited themselves. I was distraught—it was dreadful! And then, on the very eve of the event, I got a call from a friend who happened to be the secretary of the local Komsomol. 'There is an invitation for a member of Komsomol who is ill. Would you like to take it?' he said. "I agreed without a moment's hesitation and then asked, 'How can I get in on somebody else's invitation?' "'You'll do it,' he said. I arrived there early, and there was a circle of militiamen, as well as a group of us in civilian clothes. I don't think I have told you that I served as a Major in the KGB."

"And how did you manage to pass unnoticed through that kind of security on somebody else's invitation?" I said.

"Ah, it's a science called psychology. I approached and took a look around. In one of the passageways, a young police lieutenant was standing—it seems that his boss has gone off somewhere. I went up to this lieutenant with the invitation sticking prominently out of my pocket, but not taking it out. Being required to show my invitation, I said, 'Look, here's my invitation. I am here on duty, you know.' And what was the result—well he let me through! I waited quietly for it all to begin. Such a beautiful sight! German Titov gave a speech. And when it was all over, Komsomol members crowded around Yuri Gagarin and other celebrities in order to get their autographs. I didn't even try to get closer—such a huge crowd of people surrounded Yuri that it was impossible to do so."

"But you said that you saw him close up?"

"More than that — I even got to speak to him! In order to get a better view of the very first cosmonaut on Earth, I got up onto some kind of platform and stood and watched.

Gagarin was signing autographs, smiling all the time, talking, and joking. At that moment he seemed to suddenly remember something, and he raised his hands like this, put his cupped palms together and shouted out, 'Let me through, comrades!' He made his way through the crowd, and suddenly he was there in front of me! I immediately flashed my invitation at him and said, 'Would you be kind enough to sign this for me—I'm a major too, just like you.' "He looked at me, smiled and asked, 'What would you like me to write for you, Comrade Major?' "'Could you write "May one Major live long in the memory of another Major."' He took out a small, red pen and wrote what I asked him to. He shook me by the hand and walked quickly towards the door."

"Wow, you definitely had a memorable experience!" I said enthusiastically. "Do you think that Yuri was a believer?"

"I am sure of it, yes. Whom do you think he turned to when he was choking in the cramped spacecraft during the flight? To God, of course! Who else? And do you know why they chose him for the space flight? No? Well, I'll tell you. Do you have time to write it all down? This is what eye-witnesses told me…"

***

"A few days before the flight, when it still wasn't clear who would fly, Korolyov gathered together a group of six cosmonauts.

Approaching the first of them, he asked, 'How do you feel?'

The cosmonaut replied, 'I feel good. Ready for anything!'

He received almost the same answer from all the other cosmonauts.

With each answer, the mood of chief designer Sergei Pavlovich Korolev went from bad to worse. "Then he approached Gagarin.

'Well, I presume you also feel great and ready for anything?' Korolev asked, barely disguising his annoyance.

"'Actually, I have a dreadful headache, but I am ready to do anything you need me to do,' Yuri replied through his pain.

"'How is it possible?' Sergei Pavlovich cried out. 'At supper yesterday we gave each of you a tablet so that today you would all have a headache, and only Yuri here was honest enough to own up to it. All the rest of you have lied!'

"And it was this incident that decided who would be the first man to fly in space."

***

"Goodness, how many new things I am learning today!" I couldn't help but express my delight.

"I have another unusual story for you, my friend. More tea?"

"Thank you. I'd love some. Your tea tastes wonderful, I have to say!"

"Yes, it does! Have you tried this brand before?" My host poured out a cup before continuing. "You have probably heard all about the Cuban Missile Crisis? We were on the very point of going to war. And I was directly involved in all that."

"Tell me all about it, please, but not too quickly because I am going to write it down."

"OK," he smiled and told the following story…

***

I was thirty-five years old; I was already a major in the state security apparatus – a good job with an apartment in Moscow. I was married and had a seven-year-old daughter, who was just entering the first class. All was going very well… but it seems that my independence had annoyed somebody. I knew English and spoke it fluently – people were jealous, I guess. I was about to be set up…

At the end of August 1962, my boss, who was a general, called me into his office. Rising from his chair, he went to shut and lock the door behind me. In a low voice he said, "I am going to promote you to the next rank, and you'll be head of the department. But only after a short business trip to Cuba. Everyone knows that you aren't stupid; the situation in the world is complicated at the moment. The ship will be carrying valuable cargo for our military base. You will be traveling incognito as a representative of the Ministry of Foreign Trade. There is a risk that the cargo will be captured. A submarine will accompany you, but – you know – it is better to have our man on board. If at any point you believe that capture of the ship is imminent, you must send a telegram, for which you'll be given a special transmitter. We hope that nothing will happen, of course. You'll get detailed instructions from Semyonich about how to return – then you'll report to me. That's all. Dismissed."

By that time I already had a lot of experience of successful participation in many operations. (I may tell you someday of some of the things I have gone through.) So I had somehow developed a special flair for smelling out the danger. It was this sense that signaled to me that something very serious was taking place. During the conversation with the general, he had not been able to look at me, even to the point of looking away from me most of the time. With his last words, he had literally propelled me out of the chair and nudged me gently towards the door. I thought this to be a very odd behaviour.

As I was making my way to the reception area of Semyonich's office, I was desperately trying to think of a way to get out of going on this business trip. Nothing sprang to mind, so I found myself entering the domain of the most experienced colonel in the Service. He, too, was behaving in a very strange manner.

After some rather meagre instructions, he retrieved an object about the size of a small briefcase from the next room. "This is a portable radio, but a slightly modified version of the one you are used to using. Once you have transmitted the necessary message, you must destroy it. The main advantage of this piece of kit is that the signal is sent straight to the right person quickly and efficiently."

"But we usually undergo training so as to get used to the technology," I protested.

"There's nothing to learn!" snapped the colonel, rudely. "The transmitter will be sealed, only to be used in dire emergency! Here are some pills to keep you awake. All your things are already on board of the ship. Now, goodbye!"

My suspicions increased. It was impossible to negotiate with these men. What could I do? Maybe I could cop out? No, there was no way I could do that. I had a family to consider, and my parents wanted to come and live in the suburbs. The new position and rank and therefore better wages were just what I needed at that time.

So a few days later, in the early morning, I boarded a large merchant ship. I learned later that the cargo, which consisted of several containers, had been loaded only the night before. According to the documents, they contained equipment for a sugar factory. There were over a hundred other people on board, mostly men. This pleased me because I was, therefore, unlikely to attract attention.

When Sevastopol disappeared over the horizon, I began to familiarize myself with the surroundings. Officially, the cargo was being accompanied by a large, stocky man, traveling with a woman – who, I was told later, was his wife's sister – and two boys, each six years old. This man was called Ippolit – rather an unusual name, which is why it sticks in my mind. He talked non-stop, and in a rather loud voice, which makes me think he was slightly deaf.

I had studied a map before the trip in order to pinpoint potential hotspots, in order to know on which day and at what time I needed to be especially watchful. I slept little, but I did not touch the tablets: I knew that they would have a very strong effect, probably some kind of drug. On several occasions, I tried to approach the cargo, but I was always prevented, either by the security guard or the stocky man shouting at me or continuously checking whether the seals were secure.

Those days on the ship consisted largely of a lack of sleep, walking around in a daze like a zombie, yet, at the same time, constantly alert for danger. I must say that I was well fed though!

One morning, to prevent myself from feeling queasy, I thought I could go and get some fresh air. For some reason, I began to climb the stairs very quietly, almost stealthily. This turned out not to be in vain, because I found myself witness to a very interesting conversation, or, more precisely, the tail end of the conversation. What did I see, but the captain standing there… and can you guess with whom he was talking? Ah, well… only the sister of Ippolit's wife herself!

"Why are you looking so down?" the woman was asking.

The captain, as if had been waiting for this question, started speaking. "Are you a member of the party? Well, as one Communist to another I can say that the worst thing in life is when people don't trust you anymore! I fought through the entire war, and this is where I have ended up; this is my last voyage!"

"But what are you so worried about?"

"Do you know that I, as the captain of the ship, am not allowed into the cargo hold?"

"Yes, I know."

"Goodness me! How?" Even though it was dark, I realised from the tone of his voice that the captain was puzzled.

"I am a member of the Committee." The woman flashed him her ID. "And even I don't really know what we are carrying, even though I am accompanying the goods undercover."

Since the captain remained silent, as if depressed, she continued, "I have a big favour to ask of you. If you happen to receive any telegram that alarms you, or if anything out of the ordinary occurs, please let me know."

"OK," replied the captain, and every aspect of his appearance belied a deep unwillingness to continue the conversation further.

The putative 'sister' disappeared quickly into her cabin, and I was left in a state of quite some excitement. So, there are at least two of us, perhaps more. I wonder what her particular job is. What should I do next? Thoughts such as these raced through my mind at lightning speed. A little later, when I was performing the breathing exercises that we have been taught to do, I came to the conclusion that everything was going to plan, and that I would watch this 'sister' closely to see if I could pick up any other useful information. I calmed down and slept deeply for a long time.

Over the next few days, I watched my colleague like a hawk, never taking my eyes off her. I probably overdid it a bit, since several times I caught her looking at me with an inquiring gaze. Every day I spent hours just staring at the ocean, trying desperately to see the submarine, but of course, I saw nothing. The tension increased as we got ever nearer to Cuba, the backyard of America.

Cuba was still fifteen hours away, and the night was dark, the sky studded with very bright stars. I took a tablet because my strength was already on the wane. A sudden burst of energy! Boy, it felt good!

Then it starts! One minute I am out on the deck looking at the stars, and then all of a sudden I hear a noise. I see a dim light which is getting steadily brighter – a gunboat coming to intercept us! The spotlights are turned on us, and which flag do you think they are flying? American, of course!

So I run towards my cabin, and I see something in the corner of my eye – at least I think so – a shadow darting away. But of course, I have other things on my mind at this point. I practically fly into my cabin, slam the door and flick the latch closed. Then I open up the transmitter, breaking the seals in the process.

For a moment I just sit there listening, figuring out what to report. My cabin is on the same side of the boat from which the American gunboat has approached us. I watch as an enemy officer runs up the ladder, followed by four sailors carrying a stretcher. What is on the stretcher? I can't make it out, as my heart is practically in my throat!

I hear voices of our people, and amongst them shouting – in English – the voice of the ship's doctor. "Quickly! It's urgent!"

"Yes," says an American, and adds, "Thanks a lot!"

Why such tenderness in the mouth of our enemy? I listen further, straining my ears to hear.

The American lights a cigarette and turns to the captain. "We figured that we wouldn't get him as far as the coast, and we don't have a sufficiently skilled specialist on board to perform such an operation. We, therefore, turned to you."

"Yes, it's true, we do have a very good doctor," replies the captain in a dull voice.

***

I am sure you are aware, Semyon, that the American officer was going to get into big trouble when he returned to base. And as for our captain… The mind numbs at the thought of what would have been awaiting him upon his return! Helping the enemy! But, despite all this, these two sailors acted bravely in order to save a human life!

***

With trembling hands, I closed the transmitter, without even turning it on. I understood that our cargo was not in danger.

After about an hour, the Americans stretchered their colleague back to their ship. It was beginning to get light, so it was clearly visible how our enemies, as I believed them to be then, saluted the ranks of Soviet seamen on board. There was a startled silence, for a moment! But the engines were still running! It seemed to me that perhaps I saw tears in the eyes of one of the American officers.

***

"How do you now perceive Americans, being a true believer in Jesus?" I interrupted the story of Ivan Yakovlevich.

"Well, that is quite another matter. I do know that among the inhabitants of the United States there are a lot of true believers in Christ. They are my brothers and sisters in him!"

"I'm glad, Ivan, that the Holy Spirit revealed the truth of the universal Church to you as well!"

"Praised be the Lord!"

And with that, Ivan continued his narrative…

***

We arrived at the port of destination later than our schedule demanded. According to my instructions, I was to meet one of our officers – Semyonich had shown me a photo of him. I had met this officer several times at Head Office, and once we had even eaten dinner at the same table. So I recognized him immediately, and we embraced as though we were the best of friends. He picked up my bag, glanced at the passengers and took me to a car.

My colleague seemed somehow rather bloated and bruised. "Your room is next to mine. Have a rest and get some sleep, and tomorrow evening, at seven o'clock, get yourself down to the bar. I'll tell you everything that is useful to you for your report," Gregory, as he was called, said in a quiet voice as we drove through the poorly lit streets of the harbor town, the name of which now escapes me.

When I was just about to enter my hotel room, my colleague handed me a small, white box, saying, "Oh, I quite forgot, there are some instructions inside. Now get some rest!" He proceeded to disappear into a nearby room still clutching my suitcase.

The box contained some tablets, no doubt to normalize bodily functions after having taken tablets that deprive you of sleep. I had something to eat, took the pills and ended up sleeping for twelve hours. I woke up quite refreshed, did my exercises, and even went for a swim in the saltwater pool. Absolutely delightful! Cuba had recently adopted Capitalism; it was certainly a very posh hotel. But I really wanted to go back home to Moscow, so it was with impatience that I waited for the evening, and my trip to the bar.

***

"Have you managed to write all of this down?" Yakovlevich's stare grew darker with each passing second. "Next comes the most important part, so listen carefully." It was quite evident that the old man had been trying, without success, to suppress some horrible experience.

***

"I went down to the bar, and there, in the far corner, sitting in the half-light, was Gregory. There were a few people, and some light music was playing quietly. It was only as I came closer to him that I noticed that my colleague was quite inebriated. His face was red, and he had tears streaming down his cheeks – he was clearly suffering great sorrow.

"Uh… I think… comrade… I'm in a real mess! I don't think that a serious conversation is possible today!"

"What's up?" I asked, approaching him.

He looked up at me, the tears still flowing incessantly. "Will you have a drink?" he suggested.

"I don't drink. I think this is highly unprofessional," I replied coldly.

"OK, OK. Well, take a seat. You asked me what's up?"

"Yes."

"The thing is that I found the seals broken."

"I can explain everything."

"No, the second agent has told me everything."

"What? She knew about the transmitter?

"She, too, had one."

"A similar transmitter?!" I was taken aback.

"Yes. Only it wasn't a transmitter. The device was a remote control – the ship was mined!"

"So, I could have…" I caught my breath, not able to finish the sentence. I could have single-handedly blown myself up along with all those people! The thought passed through me like a bullet.

"Well, maybe you'll have a drink now?"

"Yes, OK," I consented absently. "Did you know that the ship was mined?" I took a swig. The liquor, to which I was quite unaccustomed, burned my insides.

"I had guessed. The second agent is my wife, you see."

"What were we carrying?"

"Nuclear warheads."

"What?! And your wife… She could also have destroyed the ship?" I gasped, barely able to breathe.

"Yes, indeed! She had the same console and the same instructions. We were all saved by a miracle!"

I have little recollection of the subsequent days, the days prior to my departure. There was a trip to Havana, and some meetings. I felt terrible, devastated somehow. As soon as I arrived in Moscow, I immediately went to report to the general. I became hysterical and began to beat on the table in his office with my fist, shrieking at him. What a complete idiot I was! The security guards ran in and restrained me. I was sent to a psychiatric hospital and then fired. Then I was thrown onto the streets without a penny.

My wife left me – she was urged to do so. I moved far away from Moscow, to the Urals where I neglected my teeth and became sick. But that's another story…

***

Suddenly, the eyes of my companion blazed with a kind of joyful fire, and he cried out, "Thanks be to God! I am only just beginning to understand how the Lord saved and blessed me at that moment! They gave me a passport, and documents proving my educational credentials. I got a job without a problem. And, believe me, that was a real miracle! In such cases, if they allowed you to stay alive and gave you your freedom, you just starved because no-one was willing to give you a job."

"Yes, I can imagine. It really is a miracle. Our Lord is perfect! But what happened then?"

"What happened then? Well, I worked until retirement. I happened to visit one of my friends here in your town, and I liked it here. So I moved and I have spent the last five years here, on the banks of the Kama River. Recently I have repented of my sins and turned to Jesus Christ!"

"And what about your illness?"

"The disease is a result of the resentment and evil that I have carried in my heart all these years." It was clear that the memory of these events laid heavily on Ivan Yakovlevich.

"You must be tired?"

"Yes, I think I am. You must come again and we can chat some more."

"Thank you! Your story is a fascinating one." I packed up my things quickly, bade him goodbye, and hurried out onto the street.

I was overwhelmed with emotion! How much had I learned that day! I flew home, eager to bury my head in the task of becoming a writer! But when I saw your mother, dear children, I realised that a rather difficult conversation would be necessary.

Your mother was worried about the financial implications, as we were already struggling. "I have prayed," she said emotionally, "and I have read many books on the subject of finances. I have even asked for advice from financial experts. Now at work, they have offered me the post of Teacher of Fine Arts."

"Anastasia," I said, managing to control my temper, "we have discussed this many times. The salary you have been offered is a small one, an insignificant contribution to the family budget. And you will be tired all the time and therefore unable to keep the house in the wonderful way you do at the moment."

But she was anxious. "At the moment, I'm tired of constantly being short of money! I can't go on like this!" We were talking in the kitchen, after having closed the door securely.

With the last words she had uttered, your mother was already in tears. I tried to hug her, but she pulled away and went to the window. Her slim and defenseless figure aroused in me a pity that stilled the anger that had been rising up in me.

"What do you suggest, then?" I asked.

"I think we should pawn the apartment to the bank," she said. "I have worked it all out – we would have enough money to live properly for four years."

"And then?" I asked.

"I don't know!" she cried. "You are supposed to be the head of the family! Look at the way we eat, how we dress! The children are all suffering from vitamin deficiency!" She sat down on a stool and began to cry.

"Why do you torment me?" I said. "It would be even better to sell the flat and move somewhere else!" I was beginning to shout, but I suddenly remembered you, my children, and stopped.

"Excellent!" your mother exclaimed. "We can rent a three-roomed apartment and live like other people!" Her tears dried up instantly, and she spoke suddenly in a business-like tone.

"I am going to pray," I concluded. "I shall give you my decision tomorrow, after the church meeting." I hurried out of the kitchen and ran to the little room in which we used to pray, although it was rather stuffy in there.

I prayed and cried out to God in my anguish, crying bitter tears, all the while forgetting that you, my children, could hear everything. I have no idea how long I spent in there. When I came out of the prayer room, you were already fast asleep. Since it was quite warm, I laid down on the floor and fell asleep instantly.

It was then that I had a dream. I was sitting at a desk, and a figure, probably an angel, clad in white, shining robes, approached me and said, "Write!"

"What should I write?" I asked.

"I am going to give you an address in the Swiss city of Zurich. There is a key there. Sell the apartment, and take your family there. On the first night in Zurich, I'll give you instructions as to what to do next. Be of good cheer!"

The angel vanished, and my hand began to write something of its own accord.

In the morning, I awoke earlier than anyone else, and I remembered my dream clearly. I had a shower, still pondering what my dream might have meant. I got out of the shower and went to stand at my desk.

Then I froze.

On a sheet of paper was what I had written down in my dream. I hid the message. At this point, the rest of you started to wake up and make yourselves ready for church.

I cried throughout the meeting, during the service, and during the sermon. (Ever since then, by the way, I have been somehow very sensitive.) Benjamin, our pastor, had noticed my unusual behaviour and, after the meeting, asked me if anything had happened. I told him everything, about the revelation, about the writing, about the conversation with my wife, and about the dream. Immediately Benjamin shared this prophecy with several of the brothers and sisters gathered there.

We shut the doors of the pastoral room and began a lengthy prayer session. As soon as we had finished praying, all of the brothers and sisters exclaimed, almost in unison, "This has been sent from the Lord!"

I went to tell Anastasia everything, and we prayed, the two of us, with the laying of oil on our hands. Then together as a whole family, we blessed the church.

And then miracles started happening! Nowadays, in Russia, it is quite easy to get a passport to travel abroad, but it was quite difficult in those days. I met up with Yakovlevich and told him everything. He got in touch with his friend, who was some kind of big boss, and within two months we received passports completed with visas! During that period, we sold the flat successfully, giving some tithes to the Lord as well. I remember well that after paying for a tourist trip to Zurich with my family for a month, there wasn't much money left over. We began distributing our furniture and other things. A week later, the pastor came to visit us, bringing with him some money with the blessings of the church. When I left the school, the director put his hand on my shoulder and began to literally bless me, although we had never seen eye to eye on the matter of faith.

So, we were soon changing trains in Moscow, and then arriving in Zurich, a place both large and quiet.

***

"Dad, I can understand why do you call Zurich a quiet town, but to call this city large…" Nikita exclaimed, getting his sentence structure wrong in his enthusiasm. He couldn't hide his surprise since over recent years my children have traveled to many capital cities in Europe.

"Well, Zurich is at least much bigger than our hometown in the Urals," I clarified. "Anyway, we arrived at the hotel extremely tired and went straight to bed. The angel then came to me again in my dreams."

"Papa, as a believer, I know that angels exist, but your story sounds rather like a fairy story!" noted Peter grimly.

"It is God-given miracle, not a fairy tale," I replied, upset. "If you don't believe my story up to this point, how will you be able to believe the greater wonders that I am about to share with you, my precious son? So I think that is enough for today; I won't accept an atmosphere of unbelief. Ask the Lord about this in the prayer room, my children, and He'll reveal you the truth."

Chapter 7

The Faithful Steward

"The Lord answered, 'Who then is the faithful and

wise manager, whom the master puts in charge of his

servants to give them their food allowance at the

proper time? It will be good for that servant whom

the master finds doing so when he returns. Truly I tell

you, he will put him in charge of all his possessions.'"

– Luke 12:42-44

In the morning, as soon as my sons came out of the prayer room, they came to me and begged for my forgiveness. I hugged and kissed them, fully confident that they would now be ready to hear important words from the Lord.

After the first evening, God had revealed to me the purpose of our family gatherings, and now we met every evening.

"Please believe me that I am very grateful for the patience with which you have listened to me for two evenings," I began our third meeting. "I am sure that these times together will bear fruit that is pleasing to the Lord! Yesterday, I concluded by telling you that the angel appeared to me once again in a dream, on our first night in Zurich. I listened very carefully to everything that he said because I never doubted for a moment that I was receiving instructions from God. When the angel finished talking, I woke up immediately and wrote down everything he had said.

"God-given miracles filled every day of our lives! We were granted the right to live in Switzerland; we bought a house, and the quality of our lives improved greatly. For three or four years we learned the language and took an active part in the life of the local church. You yourselves know that your mother organized a Christian kindergarten, and then an art studio. I wrote and published several books, or – more accurately – God wrote them through me. Glory be to our Lord Jesus Christ! And you have grown up here, and Masha has married a true believer, and they have provided wonderful grandchildren for Anastasia and me!"

"This is all well and good, Papa…" Peter's tone indicated that he was unhappy about something. "But maybe you could tell us for exactly what purpose God has brought us to Switzerland?"

"Yes, Papa," his brother chimed in, in support. "You're not telling us the most important thing: what money did you use to buy a house?!"

I glanced questioningly at Anastasia.

"OK," she nodded, "your father will reveal the secret… but you must understand that no one, except for the five of us, must know anything of this – including your future wives, and your husband and children, Masha." Anastasia gazed piercingly at her children.

There was a silence. It was clear that these children, brought up in an atmosphere of love and acceptance, and in which nothing had been hidden from them, were trying on the responsibility that comes with knowing a secret.

"Well, I will not tell a soul. I accept your condition, Mama and Papa." I have never seen Nikita as serious and courageous as at that moment.

"Tell us, Papa," Peter and Masha agreed, with determination.

"God entrusted me," I said, "with an unusual duty. I was appointed the manager of funds held in an account in a bank in Zurich. Following God's directions, I took a certain amount and sent it to people in need."

In their excitement, the children seemed to almost stop breathing.

"On the first night of our stay in Zurich," my voice rang out in the resounding silence, "I received instructions from the angel that I saw in the dream. To be specific, I had to do the following. On a street in Zurich, I was to find a particular house. In its courtyard, I would find a hiding place in which a key was located. You would never guess where, in the outer wall of the house, the hiding place was located. But even more fascinating is how it came about that God arranged for me to find the key…

"I went up to the house, and I was standing in front of a high metal fence. How on Earth am I going to get in? I prayed. Suddenly, the door of the house opened, and an elderly lady came out with her dog. When they had passed through the gate, the dog lunged forward, and its lead dropped out of the woman's hands. The dog, apparently sensing freedom, ran barking down the street, and the woman ran after it. The gate had been left unlocked! I jumped at the chance, even though it wasn't strictly legal…"

The children were not used to hearing this kind of confession from their father and looked surprised.

"To continue, though… In the bank that the angel had shown to me, with the help of one of the bank staff, I opened the safety deposit box. Did you know that two keys had to be turned simultaneously? Inside the safety deposit box were some documents. The Holy Spirit helped me to fill them in correctly since I would never have understood how to do so in a million years! I took the documents to the Bank Manager. For some reason, he started to panic. He said, 'Come back in three days' time; I need to do a lot of paperwork.' So I returned after three days to open arms; it seems that I was the owner of a very large sum of money."

"How does it work?" Peter asked, eyes unblinking. "How do you know whom to send money to?"

"Every time, I receive a revelation, as well as the exact address of the recipient."

"Amazing! How on earth can that work?" wondered Nikita, hardly able to contain his excitement.

"I know… And yet it does work! The first amount I took was used to set us up here. And now I only take money to send to other people."

"Do you somehow keep track of who has received money, and how they use it?" In front of my very eyes, I saw how the Holy Spirit had blessed the heart of my Peter to great effect; he now clearly believed me!

"No. I am not allowed to do so. After sending the money I have to delete all the information."

"And these people, Papa, do they thank you?" my beloved daughter chimed in.

"I send the money anonymously, using a special system through which they can never find out who sent them the money. I'm the servant, you understand; it is God himself who helps them."

"But you could ask the Lord whom this money is helping!" It was evident that Nikita's former disbelief had also evaporated.

"In the beginning, I didn't ask, but seven years ago I did ask Jesus Christ to show me."

"And what happened?!" cried the children in the chorus.

"I was blessed with several visions…" There was no need to ask if the children wanted to hear about them; it was enough to see the tense anticipation in their bodies. "I have never in my life seen such visions as these – they were much more real than any dream. It was as if I was in the thick of things, I understood a foreign language, but I was invisible to others. Yet that wasn't all – I felt and experienced everything that those people felt and experienced; I knew their thoughts; I even felt when they touched the door and other such things! They were unforgettable visions! I will describe a few of them to you. The third one that I will come to is particularly special – but let's start at the beginning… In the secret prayer room, I asked our Lord to show me whom I served. I was sprawled on the floor in the office on the second floor. Anastasia wasn't at home, so I was alone. Then, suddenly, it was as if I had been transported to another place…"

***

It was late in the evening in some kind of medical ward, immediately after an examination, and I was transported to the bedside of a little girl who was connected up to some kind of medical apparatus. The girl was sleeping. I was accompanied by a tired man who was in his forties.

"What do you say, Doctor, has her condition improved?"

"Let's sit down, Mr. Letizhuls," the doctor sighed, and continued, "It is complicated. On the one hand, I now have a clear picture of the situation. I know what to do and how to treat your daughter. On the other hand, if she doesn't have an operation in the next couple of days, then…"

"Well, what's the problem? I have very good health insurance!"

"Yes, but we can't perform such operations in our country. In fact, there is only one country in the world in which they perform them. We have a contract with them, so it's possible to organize everything, but a large sum of money is required. Look here, I have printed out all the relevant information from their website, and the amount is shown here."

"But, Doctor! This sum of money is impossible for me! Even if I sold everything that I own, it wouldn't even be a tenth part of this sum! And it's required urgently too!"

"Very urgently! In order to be on time, you need to book this operation before midday tomorrow, and also order some plane tickets. You need to pay the full sum upfront… Unfortunately, I have come across this situation before." The doctor, realizing that the father's case was a hopeless one, lowered his eyes so as not to see the man's suffering.

"Can I be near my daughter?" the father asked through his tears, and he fell to his knees beside the bed on which lay, motionless, the pretty little girl.

"Yes, yes, of course," agreed the doctor, turning promptly to leave.

I have already told your mother everything, so she knows. But you, my children, you can't even begin to imagine how this man's heart was torn bush, as was my own since I felt the same as he did. It was as if we shared the same heart!

The doctor hurried out of the room with tears in his eyes, constantly muttering to himself, "Well, what can I do?! What can I do?"

The father shook with sobs until I could bear it no longer, and I cried out something like, "Lord! Help us! Heal this girl in your mercy!" Although I don't remember my exact words, I do remember being aware of an overwhelming sense of helplessness and hopelessness. Where had wisdom and faith gone?

Meanwhile, the man, through complete exhaustion, had stopped crying and somehow calmed down. I realised that he had fallen asleep. Then I understood that it had not just been me who had implored Jesus for help, but the man himself as well.

After many hours of prayer, we went to sleep together and dreamt that a person was approaching the front reception desk of the hospital, in which we were located and asked how to find Mr. Letizhuls. He was given instructions on how to find the place but was warned that Mr. Letizhuls was probably now asleep by the bed of his dying daughter and that it would be better not to bother him, especially at night. The man nodded but nevertheless started to make his way, with a large rucksack on his back, along the specified route.

"At least you could leave the rucksack here," suggested the duty nurse, in the dream.

"I can't do that – it's for Mr. Letizhuls," replied the strange visitor.

"But how can we allow you to pass? Do you have papers?" demanded a nearby security guard, joining the conversation.

"Oh, yes, of course." The man with the rucksack lifted his head up. Up until that point he had been bent over, an easier position in which to carry the rucksack. He now held out some papers.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you," said the nurse upon seeing the documents; she jumped as if she had been scalded.

Standing behind her, the guard stood sharply to attention, when he glanced at the papers too.

"Don't worry, it's OK," the man with the rucksack reassured him. "Can I go now?"

There was no need for an answer. All the people who were standing in the lobby at that moment were struck dumb. With haste, the man immediately followed the directions he had been given. He couldn't walk very fast because the rucksack he was carrying appeared to be rather heavy. As we were sleeping we observed how this man, who must have been a very important company director in this country, went up to the second floor, entered our ward, and began to wake the girl's father up.

At this point, the dream I was sharing with Mr. Letizhuls ended, and he and I woke up in the ward to find the visitor from our dream right there with us! He was calling, "Mr. Letizhuls! Mr. Letizhuls!" as he took the rucksack off his shoulders. "Wake up!" he cried. "Here is the money for you. I did everything that I was told to do!"

"Oh, thank you!" The father grabbed the rucksack as a drowning man grasps at a lifeline. "I will give it all back! I shall try to earn enough!"

"Goodness me, no! What are you thinking? It's not my money! It appeared in my account from out of nowhere. And then I heard a voice, a voice telling me what to do, the voice that brought me here," the director explained. "May I be excused now?" he added with relief.

"Oh yes, of course. Thank you so much!"

"You don't need to thank me," the senior figure murmured distractedly, "but him." He raised his index finger heavenwards and then disappeared quickly behind the closing door.

And then Mr. Letizhuls and I began to praise the Lord Jesus Christ! He began loudly singing songs of thanksgiving! Actually, I thought he would wake up the entire hospital! I jumped and danced around him, all the time glorifying God!

***

"And what happened next?" All those listening to my story, except my wife, were gripped with a terrific sense of anticipation. Even Anastasia succumbed to the general mood and became flushed all over. Tears shone in the eyes of all.

"In the morning, the doctor entered, or rather came rushing into the emergency ward in great excitement. The girl's father told him everything and wanted to lift the rucksack up, but was unable to due to its weight. Immediately, the doctor rushed off somewhere.

"Two hours later, the little girl was whisked away in a special medical car. I heard someone saying, "To the airport!" But a very interesting thing happened in those two hours! (I hope you haven't forgotten that during the vision I was experiencing the same feelings as those people around me?) All the people who were in that room during the two hours opened their hearts and from their hearts cried out, 'Glory be to God! What a miracle!' And faith in Jesus Christ entered their hearts; I just felt it! Many people came into that ward: nurses, the Chief Hospital Doctor, the attending physician, and two guards, who removed the money-filled rucksack. Then suddenly the vision disappeared, and I woke up on the carpet, with the clear realization that it hadn't been just a dream."

***

Nikita, normally quite reserved, jumped out of his chair. "You are telling us incredible things, Papa! I can't find words to say how I am feeling right now!"

"Papa, I believe!" Peter agreed, excitedly. "I believe everything you are saying! But I can't quite get my head around it!"

Both my wife and my daughter – 'my ladies' – were crying and smiling.

"I will tell you the next story tomorrow," I announced quietly. "I'm going for a walk…"

No one objected.

Chapter 8

The Gift of the Father

"However, as it is written: 'What no eye has seen,

what no ear has heard, and what no human mind has

conceived' – the things God has prepared for those

who love him…"

– 1 Corinthians 2:9

The following evening, Masha complained that throughout the day she had been reliving the last meeting and anticipating the next one.

"Is it necessary for me to say," I began our now traditional evening of stories, "that in the subsequent visions I experienced the events as vividly and strongly as in the first?"

***

One day, the Holy Spirit took me to a place unknown to me, and I witnessed a conversation between two servants of the Lord.

One of them was a pastor, and he was saying, "Michael, the Lord sees into your heart. You have served him faithfully for many years. God said in his Word that he wouldn't leave or forsake you. Be of good courage. Pray to him, and hope for a miracle from God."

"I am trying, but I haven't been able to find a job for over four months! Please ask the brothers and sisters not to stop praying! The situation is very serious!" Then Michael sighed, "Well, I shall be off."

The brothers in Christ embraced.

"God be with you!"

Michael and I arrived at his house in an old car. (By the way, it can be rather awkward when people around you are not aware of your existence!) Before we could drive into the yard, a shiny car drew up by the gate, out of which stepped two men wearing some kind of uniforms. The weather was wet and windy, but due to the excitement caused by the arrival of these people, neither Michael nor I were bothered by it.

"Mr. Silom, good evening!" one of the men hailed him. "Would you allow us to enter your house, please? Here are the requisite documents."

"Hello… Yes," Michael nodded, "please come in!"

"Will you allow us in, Mrs. Silom?" they also asked Michael's wife as they crossed the threshold.

"Hello!" she responded. "What's happened?"

It was clear that there was trouble. The husband and wife embraced each other, for support.

"The fact is that you have long ago stopped paying the mortgage on the house. You will have to leave. It's the decision of the court, you understand?"

"Yes, but I made an appeal," said Michael calmly.

"It was rejected," the uniformed man replied flatly.

"So what happens now?"

"You just need to sign these documents, please. After a week, the house will need to have been vacated."

"But where can I go with my family? I have five children!" Anger and confusion laid siege to Michael's spirit. "My youngest child is not yet a year old!"

"Personally, I have the greatest sympathy for you. But I am just doing my job, you understand," said the man, clearly in earnest. "For around six months you will be accommodated in special housing, and after that…"

"But I lost my job, you know. Even casual work stopped about four months ago. I even sold the car."

"Yes, I know about your situation. I'm on your side and would be happy if you were able to pay for the house. By the way, if you deposit the whole of the outstanding amount immediately, without delay, then you won't be evicted. In fact, the house will become your own property."

"Where can I hope to find such money?"

"If I knew, I would help you," the official frowned. Then he added, "Please make sure that you pack your things carefully. Goodbye!"

The men disappeared quietly behind the door.

"Calm down, dear," said his wife. "I have already started to pack some things. The Lord won't desert us!"

"That's right! He won't desert us, and you don't need to pack anything!" said Michael decisively, "Let's call a family meeting."

The children responded immediately to the call, especially the smallest boy who, in my opinion, was very happy when he was picked up and carried into the living room.

Michael and I together conquered our spiritual anxieties! The belief that the Lord would soon solve the problem with a miracle grew in our hearts like a rolling snowball! We felt that we began to soar above all our shared problems! There you have it – true confidence in unseen forces!

But let's return to that living room. When we were all gathered together, the father adjusted his mustache and began his speech. He spoke so earnestly that I felt broken inside!

"My dear children! Your mother and I have some bad news for you. In a week's time, if we don't finish paying the mortgage on the house, then it will be taken away from us, and we will be relocated somewhere else. But this isn't going to happen! You older children will know that when we were choosing the house we tried to find the cheapest one in which we could live happily with our big family. I am certain that our Lord Jesus Christ will help us. Let us pray without a break, from this evening until such time as we get an answer from God. I am sure the entire church will be supporting us!"

They all fell to their knees and began praying. The smallest boy – I can't remember his name – folded his arms and closed his eyes, just like everyone else. And what a prayer meeting it was! It lasted for five days, with short breaks for sleep and food! And people tell me that children can't be true believers!

After dinner on the sixth day, a violent thunderstorm began; lightning flashed as if flying into the very room itself. There was a knock on the door, and there, on the threshold, stood a friend of Michael's, a brother in Christ, with an umbrella in one hand and a piece of paper in the other. Even without entering the room he exclaimed loudly, his astonished eyes blinking, "Look what my hand has written on this paper!" Everybody ran towards the visitor and began to embrace and kiss him, even though I, and especially the children, had no idea what was written on the paper. But everyone felt that it must be an answer from the Lord! In the spirit realm, we were all assured the problem had already been solved!

Michael grabbed the document and hurried to the car, whilst the whole family, including the visitor (and of course me), carried on praying fervently.

Upon his return, the head of the family loudly explained what had happened after his departure. He had gone to the bank which had given him a mortgage on his house, and when he had arrived there he had found out that the outstanding amount had been paid in full by an unknown foreigner. Documents were handed to the astonished Michael which showed that he was the rightful owner of the house. Right there in the bank, Michael had immediately fallen to his knees and begun to praise God in a loud voice. And do you know what happened? Several employees of the bank had come and knelt beside Michael, tearfully accepting Jesus Christ as their Lord and Saviour! It had been an incredible moment!

When Michael finished speaking, the phone rang. After the conversation, the father, for some reason in a whisper, said that there was a vacancy at his previous place of employment and that they were waiting for him on Monday. Everybody jumped for joy!

I was gasping with delight… and then I found myself back in my room, sprawled on the carpet.

***

"Well, now it's time for the third, the special, story," Peter exclaimed with excitement, after a long pause.

"Maybe we should finish there for today?" I suggested, but my last words were drowned out by a unison: "NO!"

"OK, you're right," I smiled. "Let's finish it today, as there is still time. As I have told you, the third vision was special. And I saw it quite recently." I began explaining the circumstances that had led up to the vision.

***

I had never sent money to the local church in our hometown in the Urals, even though I knew that they were in dire need. (They didn't even have a prayer house.) Moreover, the city had begun persecuting the church: it was forbidden to gather in any of the major halls in the city, and all the company directors had been intimidated and refused to lease out space. I turned repeatedly to the Lord in prayer, but there was no answer.

The brothers and sisters began to gather together in small groups in their homes. The spirit of the church was infested with gloom, and for a long time, the believers felt disconnected from the larger Body of Christ. The pastor prayed constantly, as did the whole church with him. But nothing happened.

One day, I was instructed by the Lord to send a large amount of money to Russia, to a city which is a two-hour drive away from our own. I did as I was instructed by God. A few weeks later I got a call from my friend Alex in Russia – you all know him – and he broke the news that the Lord had performed a miracle! The church had purchased a large building, formerly a cinema, which was located in the very centre of the city! As soon as the phone conversation was over, I closed my eyes, leaned back in my armchair, and… suddenly found myself in our home city, on a clear, frosty day, amongst our brothers and sisters.

Along with a few other people, Pastor Benjamin and I once again walked around the premises of the former cinema, according to a revelation received from the Holy Spirit. For some reason, I wasn't cold, although all the others were. As we were watching, a man, accompanied by some other people, approached us from out of the main entrance of the building.

"Who are you?" he asked. "And what are doing here?"

"We are believers in Jesus Christ, and we are praying for these premises so that God will give us the opportunity to gather here on Sundays."

"And are you willing to pay the rent?"

"Yes, but no one will sign a contract with us."

"I don't understand. Why don't you come in and we'll talk in the warmth?" said the owner of the premises invitingly.

While the brothers and sisters warmed themselves, the owner went to talk to his manager. The Holy Spirit revealed to me that this man had come to our city precisely in order to resolve the issue with the room because he urgently needed a large sum of money. After speaking with the manager, the cinema owner returned and said, "Yes, you are right. I cannot rent the place to you. There is too much pressure from the authorities; I can't go against the system! But," he added, after a pause, "I'm willing to sell you the property."

"Name your price!" said the pastor, covering his mouth with the palm of his hand. He later said that the words had dropped out of his mouth, seemingly by themselves.

The owner named a sum of money.

The pastor wanted to say, "We don't have that kind of money!" but instead, he replied, "We'll get the money to you by tomorrow afternoon. Prepare all the necessary documents. I will send over the secretary of the church in the morning!" The words tumbled from his mouth miraculously.

In amazement, the brothers and sisters followed the pastor out onto the street.

"Pastor! Do you have such a sum?" the believers shouted over each other loudly.

"Yes, I think so… I believe," the pastor mumbled vaguely. "I have to go. Goodbye! God bless you!"

When the pastor was out of sight, one of the officers asked, "Where are we going to pray? We need to all be together!"

Benjamin went to his house, with me by his side. He told the extraordinary story to his wife and children, and we began to pray fervently. Meanwhile, the entire church, which consists of more than a thousand people, was informed of what had happened – and they all stood in prayer! Exhausted, Benjamin and I eventually fell asleep.

When I woke, I was still seeing the vision.

The doorbell sounded. One of the brothers entered, saying that he had received a phone call about an hour ago and had arranged a meeting with the caller. He had met some unknown brothers in Christ from another town. Smiling, they had given him a large box, got into a car and driven away.

"What's in the box?" asked Benjamin, although he already knew the answer.

"I don't know. I came to you first of all. I myself haven't looked. The brothers said, 'You should tell the pastor!'"

We prayed and then opened the box. There was money inside!

***

"I'm not surprised by anything anymore, Papa!" said Peter. "So, there was enough money to purchase the premises?"

"Indeed, yes. And there was also enough to do the place up as well."

"But, Papa, the story doesn't end there, does it?" asked Masha in a soft voice.

"The documents were signed on that very day," I continued. "The new church building, which was huge, became the place for weekly services and various other church activities. But equally important is the fact that when the incident reached the attention of relatives of believers, it became a crucial testimony; whole families started to come to Jesus Christ and accept him as their Saviour!

"What about the city authorities?" asked Nikita, not having joined in the conversation for some time. "Did they continue in their opposition?"

"Oh, that's a very interesting question!" I beamed back. "Within a few weeks, the local church started to play a decisive role in the life of the city. The mayor of the city met and consulted frequently with representatives of all the Christian churches in the city, with all the different Protestants as well as with the Orthodox. This process became particularly active before the election."

"And you saw all this in your vision?"

"Absolutely! A vision encompasses not only the present but also the future! That is one of its key features…"

"Did God show you anything else?"

"Yes. I momentarily felt the anxiety and suffering that God goes through about the fact that there are so many divisions and disagreements amongst Christians. My heart ached so! Seeing that I was still unable to bear it, the Lord removed those feelings from me."

There was a silence. But someone had to break it, and that person was my beloved wife. "Now, children, you know what service your father is undertaking, and you can support him in your prayers," she said, wisely.

"Well, my dear children," I concluded solemnly, "I have fulfilled my promise to you, and revealed the secret of why we moved from Russia."

Chapter 9

The Fruits of the Prayer Room

"'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the

Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you,

plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will

call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen

to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek

me with all your heart.'"

– Jeremiah 29:11-13

The next day, after the final installment of my story, something significant happened. It was something that I had been praying for, for more than twenty years; that is, from the day that I received understanding from the Lord concerning the value of the prayer room. For over twenty years, at a certain time of the morning, I had gone to my Father in the 'secret place'. Having tasted the bliss of standing in front of the face of God, from the first week of my individual relationship with him, I had begun to ask Jesus Christ that all my relatives and friends would believe in him and find happiness in communion with the Father in the prayer room. I asked the Creator to open the prayer room up to them, for that is the place where a believer in Jesus Christ seeks his face and drinks of the Holy Spirit.

The first heart to respond had been that of my wife, Anastasia. Both her life and our relationship had changed dramatically after that. When the children had grown up a little bit, they too had been happy to enjoy communion with God at a certain time every day. But, after a few months, I had realized that our children had not yet met with the Lord in their prayer rooms; they did everything I told them to do and prayed fervently, but they did not feel the presence of Jesus Christ.

Since then, I had implored the Lord every day to reveal himself to my children. Many years had passed. And, on the day when our sons had turned twenty-one, during our first evening of stories, the Lord had spoken to me in my heart, saying that from that day He would begin to reveal himself to my children. Throughout all our evening meetings, I had seen that the Holy Spirit was changing the hearts of my sons and my daughter.

Therefore, when my beloved daughter phoned me in the morning, I knew what had happened. Masha, in her prayer room, had broken through to the place of seeing the throne of God! Jesus Christ had revealed his loving arms to her! Through her tears, my daughter agreed to meet up with me. I waited for her in my office on the second floor of our house, reading the Bible.

At first, I heard the barking of our friendly dog, followed by the voices of my wife and daughter. Then silence. A few minutes later, 'my ladies' entered my office. I stood up to greet them, and we hugged each other and began to cry. Oh – these were tears of joy! No words were necessary. I realized that my daughter had met with her Heavenly Father that day!

Two hours later, my sons arrived. They had learned from their mother that I was at home.

"Papa, we need to talk to you," said Peter, taking the initiative as ever.

"Carry on, I'm all ears."

"After the prayer room this morning, Peter and I met up, and we have spent the whole day together," said Nikita, in excitement.

"Yes, both Nikita and I, in our prayer rooms, felt the tangible presence of God today!"

"I'm so happy for you, my beloved sons." We embraced. "Now do you understand what I've been telling you about for all these years?"

"I think so," Nikita began talking excitedly, waving his arms about. "Just imagine, I was swept up by a warm wave, and inside myself, I heard a voice saying, 'My son!' I couldn't even pray; I just cried and praised God!"

"Continue to break through in prayer!" I encouraged my sons. "Just don't stop! The relationship with God is the foundation of our lives. It's life itself."

Then I took oil, and blessed my already adult children; my whole body began to shake when I considered what I would say. I realized that God, with my help, had anointed my sons – His sons!

Getting up from our knees, we shared, for a long time, all the experiences and revelations that we had received directly from the Lord. I showed them my notebooks, in which I had written down everything that I had received from God over the years in the prayer room.

Suddenly, there was a quiet knock on the door. There was no time to answer before it opened, to reveal Anastasia and Masha standing on the threshold with a huge cake in their hands! How pleasant it is to drink sweet tea with the family!

I was so happy! Even so, throughout the evening, my spirit was waiting for something else. I lived in anticipation of something very important! I waited in humility. And then it happened!

Masha left to go home with her husband, and Nikita and his mother went into the kitchen. Peter and I were alone.

"I didn't want to say anything in front of Nikita," said Peter quietly, "but the fact is that I haven't quite told you the whole story…"

"OK? I'm listening."

"What I have to say may surprise you greatly!"

"Go on!"

"Well, when I was in communion with the Lord in my prayer room today, I heard the call."

"The call?"

"Yes, Jesus Christ has called me to be your helper and to receive the ministry," Peter told me solemnly.

"And you have decided to respond to the call of God?"

"Yes."

My heart was elated. "This is a very serious step. May Jesus Christ bless you! And may you be a faithful steward in the house of the Lord! Amen."

Chapter 10

Good Stewards

"Above all, love each other deeply, because love

covers over a multitude of sins. Offer hospitality to

one another without grumbling. Each of you should

use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as

faithful stewards of God's grace in its various forms."

– 1 Peter 4:8-10

Those memorable evenings in May took place almost two years ago. A few months ago I received a commandment from God to write the book that you, dear reader, are now holding in your hands. To those things that I was not a witness, the Lord opened up to me in a vision.

Anastasia and I, with our children, are blessed and given wisdom by God. Nikita has started his own business, setting up a small cinema. Our entire happy family, including the grandchildren, have been there on several occasions. It is comfortable, and most importantly, it offers a wide range of films. Good films. One session every day is free entry, and in this session, Nikita shows Christian movies. It's very good — I like that!

Peter has become my faithful helper in my unusual ministry. I have taught him and have passed on my own experiences. I spend every day in prayer with him. I am also delighted that Peter has followed in my footsteps with regard to literary creativity — a Christian publishing house has recently released his first small book of stories for children.

Masha is entirely devoted to her home and family. She helps her husband in every way, as the Lord has commanded women to do with their husbands. When we look at our beloved daughter, both Anastasia and I are very pleased.

Now, dear reader, I am writing the last lines of this amazing story. The Lord is prompting me to go to my prayer room, where I am sure that I shall again hear God's command to send help and blessings to somebody.

My brother! My sister! Do you find yourself in a difficult situation? Do you kneel before the Lord Good and cry out to him? Believe in the miracle of our Lord Jesus Christ!

Recently, I have found myself going to the bank quite often…