10-28-2013, 10:11 AM
John got right to it. There was no beating around the bush with him. Jensen appreciated it. Unfortunately, it was a rare pastor that didn't find himself politicking more than preaching half the time. So John knew what he was about, and Jensen leaned in to the surprising story that followed.
John admitted to being gifted with visions from the Lord, but it wasn't disbelief that solidified Jensen's reaction. It was shock.
Men were chosen by the Lord throughout the entirety of the Bible to carry out His will. Followers and faithful spanned all seven of the Bible's dispensations; though perhaps the first dispensation was subject to interpretation regarding whether the first man, Adam, was chosen or created. Either way, the seven delineations of the history of the Lord's will often selected men to become standard bearers of His will. Jensen believed without a shadow of a doubt that they were worthy of such honors. Was John one of them? He listened on, gaze drawn downward to the mark on John's arm. Doulou. A thin line drew itself across Jensen's lips. Doúlos was a bondslave in Strong's concordance, but the significance of the word was not as western culture would translate it. In the New Testament, the Greek origin merited doúlos with the highest dignity, namely believers in Christ that willingly live under His authority. They were His devoted followers.
And John claimed to have the mark given to him in a vision.
He suppressed the urge to graze fingertips across the flesh. This was no Virgin Mary floating in a bowl of Cheerios. It was real. Though whether self-inflicted or not remained to be seen. If it were a brand of God, why Greek? Why not the language of Israel? Was he reaching to the Gentiles?
John smoothed his sleeve to his wrist, and led Jensen on a stationary tour around the room, pointing out the copies of priceless items he'd discovered in his travels. Which explained why they were so haphazardly kept. They were not the originals as Jensen assumed: a measure of the quality of their copies to trick him though he were only an amateur at such things. Needing a gun on his person to undertake these studies, and although Jensen understood the realistic dangers John was in to do so, he still wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea. Violence breeds violence. It was better to let a man rob you of material possessions than take the life of a creature made in God's image. However, Jensen revealed none of these inner thoughts.
He was soon given a copy of writings that appeared to be a photograph of the tablet described in the articles he'd read about John's recent works. He stared down at the image in his palms, blinking across the shapes of words he'd not studied in years. In fact, if the text had been in Hebrew, Jensen doubted he'd been able to make out much more than a familiar word here or there. His languages were rough around the edges.
Finally, he laid the text in his lap and peered up at John, unsure how to react. But the thoughts flashing through his mind were clear in his gaze: That you think I can read this tells me you know who I am.
But he wasn't ready to confront John about it . He turned back to studying the words. He wasn't a master linguist, and his education about such things was dulled by the passage of time.
He started shaking his head. "You're saying a tablet dated to 3000 BCE and written in Greek was found on an Egyptian vessel sunk in the Gulf of Mexico? It makes no sense." He looked up as a student to his professor, seeking the answer he felt must simply be beyond him. Jensen knew which of them was the authority. It was a deference he respected.
"That predates Koine Greek by 2700 years. Even the Myceneans' Linear B isn't old enough. The only thing close enough is Pre-proto-Greek, but that's still 500 years too late. And this..." he ran fingertips across the letters. "This looks more like the dialect of the Septuagint than Homeric script." At least, it did to Jensen's untrained eye, and even if it was Homeric, the timelines didn't add up. This couldn't possibly exist. Yet he was staring right at it.
His history of the Egyptians was not as sharp as that of the Greeks, but even Jensen knew no vessel belonging to either nation could possibly have ventured so far across the Atlantic. Never mind the prophecy the tablet was clearly describing. That was a whole other, rather terrifying, subject.
John admitted to being gifted with visions from the Lord, but it wasn't disbelief that solidified Jensen's reaction. It was shock.
Men were chosen by the Lord throughout the entirety of the Bible to carry out His will. Followers and faithful spanned all seven of the Bible's dispensations; though perhaps the first dispensation was subject to interpretation regarding whether the first man, Adam, was chosen or created. Either way, the seven delineations of the history of the Lord's will often selected men to become standard bearers of His will. Jensen believed without a shadow of a doubt that they were worthy of such honors. Was John one of them? He listened on, gaze drawn downward to the mark on John's arm. Doulou. A thin line drew itself across Jensen's lips. Doúlos was a bondslave in Strong's concordance, but the significance of the word was not as western culture would translate it. In the New Testament, the Greek origin merited doúlos with the highest dignity, namely believers in Christ that willingly live under His authority. They were His devoted followers.
And John claimed to have the mark given to him in a vision.
He suppressed the urge to graze fingertips across the flesh. This was no Virgin Mary floating in a bowl of Cheerios. It was real. Though whether self-inflicted or not remained to be seen. If it were a brand of God, why Greek? Why not the language of Israel? Was he reaching to the Gentiles?
John smoothed his sleeve to his wrist, and led Jensen on a stationary tour around the room, pointing out the copies of priceless items he'd discovered in his travels. Which explained why they were so haphazardly kept. They were not the originals as Jensen assumed: a measure of the quality of their copies to trick him though he were only an amateur at such things. Needing a gun on his person to undertake these studies, and although Jensen understood the realistic dangers John was in to do so, he still wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea. Violence breeds violence. It was better to let a man rob you of material possessions than take the life of a creature made in God's image. However, Jensen revealed none of these inner thoughts.
He was soon given a copy of writings that appeared to be a photograph of the tablet described in the articles he'd read about John's recent works. He stared down at the image in his palms, blinking across the shapes of words he'd not studied in years. In fact, if the text had been in Hebrew, Jensen doubted he'd been able to make out much more than a familiar word here or there. His languages were rough around the edges.
Finally, he laid the text in his lap and peered up at John, unsure how to react. But the thoughts flashing through his mind were clear in his gaze: That you think I can read this tells me you know who I am.
But he wasn't ready to confront John about it . He turned back to studying the words. He wasn't a master linguist, and his education about such things was dulled by the passage of time.
He started shaking his head. "You're saying a tablet dated to 3000 BCE and written in Greek was found on an Egyptian vessel sunk in the Gulf of Mexico? It makes no sense." He looked up as a student to his professor, seeking the answer he felt must simply be beyond him. Jensen knew which of them was the authority. It was a deference he respected.
"That predates Koine Greek by 2700 years. Even the Myceneans' Linear B isn't old enough. The only thing close enough is Pre-proto-Greek, but that's still 500 years too late. And this..." he ran fingertips across the letters. "This looks more like the dialect of the Septuagint than Homeric script." At least, it did to Jensen's untrained eye, and even if it was Homeric, the timelines didn't add up. This couldn't possibly exist. Yet he was staring right at it.
His history of the Egyptians was not as sharp as that of the Greeks, but even Jensen knew no vessel belonging to either nation could possibly have ventured so far across the Atlantic. Never mind the prophecy the tablet was clearly describing. That was a whole other, rather terrifying, subject.