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How God foretold the birth of
a son to a couple of believers in Kara Kala ( |
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I never
knew Grandfather Demos – he died before I was born – but I must have heard the
stories about him a thousand times. I knew each detail so well that as I sat
now looking out at the orange trees silvering in the moonlight, I seemed to
be seeing another landscape, far away and long ago. This isn’t hard for an
Armenian. We’re Old Testament people, the past and the present so woven
together in our minds that what went on a hundred or a thousand or two
thousand years ago is as real to us as the date on the calendar. |
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I’d heard it
described so often that I could actually see the little village of Kara Kala
sitting solidly in the rocky foothills of Mount Ararat – the mountain, so the
Bible tells us, where Noah’s ark came to rest. Closing my eyes I saw the
stone buildings, the sheds and barns, and the one-room farmhouse where my
Grandfather Demos lived. In that house Grandfather’s five daughters had been
born – but no son – and that was a disgrace among the Armenians, as much a
disgrace as it was among the ancient Israelites. |
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I could
picture Grandfather walking to the house-church each Sunday morning with his
five little girls. Although most Armenians were Orthodox, Grandfather and
many others in Kara Kala were Presbyterians. I could see him marching through
the village to the house where church was meeting that particular Sunday, his
head held high in the face of the silent reproach. |
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In view of
his great need, it has always seemed surprising to me that Grandfather did
not accept right away the strange message that had been trickling over the
mountains for nearly fifty years. The message was brought by the Russians.
Grandfather liked the Russians all right, he was just too levelheaded to
accept their tales of miracles. The Russians came in long caravans of covered
wagons. They were dressed as our people were, in long, high-collared tunics
tied at the waist with tasselled cords, the married men in full beards. The
Armenians had no difficulty understanding them as most of our people spoke
Russian too. They listened to the tales of what the Russian called ‘the
outpouring of the Holy Spirit’ upon hundreds of thousands of Russian Orthodox
Christians. The Russians came as people bringing gifts: the Gifts of the
Spirit, which they wanted to share. I could just hear Grandfather and Grandmother
talking late into the night after one of these visits. One had to admit,
Grandfather would have said, that everything the Russians were talking about
was Scriptural. |
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‘I mean,
healing is in the Bible. So is speaking in tongues. So is prophecy. It’s just
that the whole thing doesn’t sound …. Armenian’.
By which he would have meant trustworthy. Down-to-earth. Practical. |
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And
Grandmother, her heart forever heavy, might have said, ‘You know, when you talk
about prophecy and healing, you’re talking about miracles’. |
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‘Yes’. |
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‘If we
were ever to ‘receive the Holy Spirit’ in this way, do you think we could ask for a miracle?’ |
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‘You mean
like having a son?’ |
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And then
Grandmother might have started to cry. I know for a fact that on a certain
sunny morning in May, 1891, Grandmother was weeping. |
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Over the
years several families living in Kara Kala had begun to accept the message of
the Russian Pentecostals. Grandfather’s brother-in-law, Magardich Mushegan,
was one of these. He received the Baptism of the Holy Spirit and on his
frequent visits to the Shakarian farm would talk about the new-found joy in
his life. |
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On this
particular day – |
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Across the
room, next to the window where the light was good, Magardich Mushegan sat
with his Bible open on his knee, reading. |
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Suddenly,
Magardich snapped his Bible shut, got up and walked across the room. He stood
in front of Grandmother, his heavy black beard bobbing up and down in his
excitement. |
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‘Goolisar’,
Magardich said: ‘… the Lord has just spoken to me!’ |
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Grandmother’s
back straightened: ‘Yes, Magardich?’ |
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‘He’s
given me a message for you’, Magardich said: ‘Goolisar, exactly one year from
today, you will give birth to a son’. |
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When Grandfather
came in from the fields Grandmother met him at the door with the news of the
wondrous prophecy. Pleased, wanting to believe yet still skeptical,
Grandfather said nothing. He only smiled and shrugged his shoulders – and
marked the date on the calendar. |
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The months
passed and Grandmother became pregnant again. By this time everyone in Kara
Kala knew of the prophecy, and the whole village waited in suspense. Then, on
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It was the
first time our family had encountered the Holy Spirit in this personal way.
Everyone in Kara Kala agreed that the choice for the little boy’s name was
perfect: He was called Isaac, for he
was, like Abraham’s own long-awaited son, the child of promise. |
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I’m sure
it was a proud and happy man who paraded his family to church each Sunday
after Isaac was born. But Grandfather had a stubborn streak in him – all
Armenians do. He considered himself too tough-minded to accept without
reservation that he had witnessed a supernatural prophecy of the sort
mentioned in the Bible. Maybe Magardich’s prediction had been merely a lucky
chance. And then – all in one day – Grandfather’s doubts disappeared once and
for all. |
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From: The Happiest People on Earth. The long-awaited
personal story of Demos Shakarian as told to John and Elizabeth Sherrill,
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