Until Tomorrow (14 page)

“Boy, do I feel like a bunch of fish guts the ‘baboons' dragged in,” Katie said under her breath.

“Ciao!” Marcos greeted them, kissing the girls on the cheek and shaking hands with Todd. “You are here! This is good. I have finished my lunch meeting. Your timing is
perfecto
. I have one small problem, though.”

“You're embarrassed to be seen in public with us,” Katie quipped.

Marcos looked surprised at her comment. “No, of course not. My problem is that I must return to Venezia tonight. I can only show you around Roma for a few hours.”

“That's okay,” Katie said. “We'll take what we can get. Where do we go first?”

“Would you like to leave your luggage at the hotel?”

“We haven't checked in anywhere yet,” Todd said.

“And I can tell you this place is a little over our budget,” Katie added.

“Then at least leave your luggage here with mine,” Marcos said, motioning to the bellhop.

Christy knew then that no more soaks in sunken bathtubs were in her near future. Their luggage could stay at the hotel for free, but they couldn't.

Back in a taxi they went. Marcos directed the driver, and they darted about like a drunken hornet through unbelievable traffic. Hundreds of noisy motor scooters zipped in and
out around the cars as if they were in a race with death through a gauntlet of motor vehicles. The noise was deafening. Christy closed her eyes. She didn't want to see how they were getting across town. All she cared about was arriving in one piece—preferably still breathing. Marcos pointed out fountains and statues, and Christy only opened her eyes long enough to catch a glimpse of each before squeezing her eyes shut again.

The taxi came to an abrupt stop, and they climbed out while Marcos paid. “Follow me.” Marcos briskly led them past several small shops and cafés and up a wide set of stairs. At the top they saw a long line of people wrapped around one of the many gray stone buildings in the area.

“This way,” Marcos said. He directed them past the long line of tourists at the building's front and took them around to the side. A guard, dressed in a purple-and-gold-striped uniform that was so colorful it looked like a Mardi Gras costume, stood at the side door. The guard recognized Marcos immediately. The two men greeted each other and spoke in rapid Italian.

“Where do you suppose we are?” Christy asked Katie.

“Like I would have any clue,” Katie said. “Does any of this resemble pictures in your tour books?”

The guard motioned for them to come closer. He opened the side door with a key and greeted each of them heartily as they walked past him and into the ancient building.

“Welcome to the
Cappella Sistina
,” Marcos said. “Come, I will take you to the room with the most famous painting.”

“This is the Sistine Chapel?” Katie asked.

“Yes, Cappella Sistina.”

They entered a main hallway, where a thick line of tourists shuffled forward. Most of them wore headsets and held brochures as they glanced at the paintings and statues on the walls. Christy noticed the spectacular tapestries that hung
from the floor to the ceiling. She fell behind her friends when she stopped to admire a particularly striking wall hanging.

Katie turned and motioned for Christy to catch up. She hurried, and as soon as she reached Todd, she linked her fingers with his. “I can't believe we just got in here the way we did,” she whispered to him. “This is the Sistine Chapel.”

“I know. Cool.”

Marcos stopped walking and motioned for them to look up. Above them on the ceiling was the famous Michelangelo painting of God's outstretched hand giving Adam the spark of life as their fingers touched. Seeing the actual ceiling of the Sistine Chapel didn't amaze Christy the way she thought it would. As a matter of fact, her neck got sore staring up at it while so many other tired, perspiring tourists bumped into her in the crowded area.

Christy heard a tourist with a British accent say to her companion, who apparently was her husband, “It says here Michelangelo started in 1508, and it took him only four years to paint this ten-thousand-square-foot ceiling. How long do you suppose it will take you to finish painting the kitchen?”

“Look, Christy,” Todd said, pointing to another section of the large ceiling. “It's the story of the whole Bible.”

Katie pulled out her camera and was about to snap a photo when a guard reached over to block her view with his hand. He spoke to her in French and then repeated his demand in English. “No flash photography.”

“Sorry,” Katie said, slipping her camera back into her day pack.

“Come,” Marcos said. “If you want to take pictures I will take you to the top of the
Basilica di San Pietro
. I will show you the seven hills Roma is built on. Come. It is not far.”

Christy had read a lot about this gigantic cathedral in Vatican City. Saint Peter's Basilica was one of the largest churches in the world and could hold one hundred thousand people.

They entered through the massive main entrance. Christy felt overwhelmed by the basilica's size and its ornate decor. Marcos took them first to the famous sculpture, the “Pieta.” He told them that Michelangelo was only twenty-two years old when he sculpted this statue of Mary holding Christ after the Crucifixion. That bit of information seemed to stick with Todd.

Marcos walked them past the breathtaking altar and past a huge statue of Peter seated, holding the keys to the kingdom. Peter's left foot was positioned forward from his right foot on the five-foot-high, thick base. Marcos told them to stand back and watch.

Soon a short woman with a dark scarf on her head approached the statue. She rose on her tiptoes and kissed Peter's marble foot. That's when Christy noticed that Peter didn't have any toes on his left foot. She looked at Marcos with a surprised expression, indicating that now she knew why he had them stop to watch.

“For centuries people have kissed his foot,” Marcos said. “And now it is rubbed smooth.”

Katie wanted to see who else came up to kiss Peter's foot, but Marcos persuaded her to go on to the elevator that would take them part of the way to the top of the basilica's dome.

“He was only twenty-two,” Todd mentioned again after they got off the stuffy elevator and climbed the endless winding stairs on their way to the top of the dome. “Can you imagine being able to direct all your talent and passion into something like that when you're our age?”

Christy only said, “Amazing, huh?” in response because she was beginning to feel light-headed. They had to tilt to the side as they climbed the rounded dome. The heat rose along with them. Even though the view of Rome was spectacular from the top, and all of them took as many photos as they wanted, Christy felt as if she couldn't appreciate it fully because
all she could think about was finding something to drink.

The refreshment she was hoping for came after they took the subway to the Colosseum. Marcos directed them to a
gelato
cart across the street. Christy soon discovered that gelato was the best ice cream she had ever tasted. It came in cups, filled by a metal spatula instead of a scoop. Her two flavors of choice were strawberry and chocolate, which tasted especially good together.

“We will take a quick tour of the Colosseum, and then I will go to the station,” Marcos said.

Todd had been studying a small sign near where they were standing. “Hey, check it out. This was a prison. The Mamertine Prison. It says Paul was held prisoner here.”

The prison was almost level with the sidewalk and appeared to be a maze of subterranean prison cells.

“Do you suppose Paul wrote his prison letters from this cell?” Todd asked.

Marcos shrugged. “It is possible.”

Christy noticed that Todd's eyes had lit up with wonder over what appeared to her to be an insignificant discovery. He looked at her and said, “Can you imagine? Paul could have written his letters to the Philippians while looking out this very window.”

Todd and Christy had a special verse from that book of the Bible. He had written Philippians 1:7 on a coconut years ago and mailed it to her from Hawaii. She still had the coconut in a box at home. The verse simply said, “I hold you in my heart.”

Christy stood next to Todd and stared at the gray rock structure with the narrow slit for a window. “Do you think Paul was actually sitting in there when he wrote, ‘I hold you in my heart'?” Christy asked.

“Possibly,” Todd said.

Christy felt the hair stand up on her arms. She shivered at the thought of Paul's writing such beautiful words while in such a dismal place. “That astounds me,” she told Todd. “I mean, it isn't as if I had pictured Paul writing all those letters in a hammock while sipping pineapple juice, but here? Right here?”

Todd held her gaze, equally amazed. “I know. It gives new meaning to Paul's New Testament letters, doesn't it? Paul knew what it meant to suffer for what he believed.”

Christy couldn't shake the feeling that came over her as she looked into the dilapidated cell window with Todd. The taste of sweet strawberry and chocolate gelato lingered in her mouth, making a sharp contrast to the realization that many who walked these same streets centuries before had been persecuted for their Christian faith. Many had even been martyred.

They moved on to the Colosseum, which was massive, overwhelming, and fascinating. Yet Christy felt as if she couldn't take in any more sights or information. She stared down into the remains of the underground compartments beneath the Colosseum, taking pictures and listening to Marcos describe how the first-century Romans had kept the lions in those cells. She could see the ramps used to bring up the lions to face the gladiators.

“Weren't the lions set loose on the Christians, as well?” Todd asked. “I know I've heard about Christians being fed to the lions while Emperor Nero watched. Was that here?”

“It is possible,” Marcos said. “They burned Christians alive on poles to light the garden parties for Nero.”

“You're kidding!” Katie exclaimed. “That's awful! I can't believe civilized people would torture and kill other humans over their faith in God. It's barbaric.”

“It still happens today,” Todd said. He leaned against one of the stone pillars.

“Where?” Katie asked.

“All over the world. We just don't hear much about it. People are martyred all the time for putting their trust in Christ. There may come a point when we'll be challenged to take a stand. If that day comes, I want to know that my relationship with Christ is so solid I'd be willing to die for Him,” Todd said.

Christy felt like sitting down. This was all too much for her. She had never seriously considered the possibility that one day she might have to make such a choice. Her eyes swept across the Colosseum's vast ruins.

What she saw with her mind's eye wasn't the Hollywood glamour of a Ben Hur–style chariot race. As deeply as the light of the Blue Grotto had pierced her soul that morning, an image came alive inside her mind under the pounding afternoon sun. She saw the rows and rows of Colosseum seats that now circled her filled with a wild, cheering crowd. Starving lions were about to be let loose. All she had to do was denounce Christ, and she could go free. If she remained steadfast in her commitment to the Lord, the lions would maul her.

Oh, Father God, with all my heart I hope I would be true to you in such a situation!

11

In the cab on their way back to the hotel, Todd and Marcos discussed what they believed about Christianity. Christy had her eyes closed again to avoid seeing all the near-accidents their driver barely skirted around. She also was glad to avoid the heavy discussion. Her head and heart felt overwhelmed with all that she had seen that day.

“But that's not enough.” Christy listened to Katie as she jumped into the discussion with Marcos. “You can't just be a good person and try to live a good life and think God will let you into heaven. Have you ever heard that verse in Romans 10:9? That if you confess with your mouth Jesus is Lord, and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.”

“Romans?” Marcos questioned.

“Oh yeah, Romans! Hey, cool!” Katie said. “I didn't realize it until this minute. The book of Romans was written to the people that lived in this very city! That is so amazing!”

“This is in the Holy Bible?” Marcos asked.

“Yeah,” Katie said. “There's a whole book written just for the Italians.”

Christy smiled. The coincidence of Katie's choosing to
quote Romans while they were in Rome was definitely a God-thing.

“No one can get to heaven on their own efforts,” Katie continued. “It says that in the book of Romans, too. ‘All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.' And what's that other verse in Romans about the gift of God?”