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you.”
    People in the room nodded solemnly, and many looked at their watches. Buck heard the rumble of chants and singing above and was as excited as he had ever been. “All these people are our brothers and sisters,” he told Chloe.
    Three minutes before seven, as Tsion stood apart from the others, head bowed, a young man rushed in. “The other venues are empty!” he said. “Everyone is here. Everyone had the same idea!”
    “How many?” someone asked.
    “More than fifty thousand surrounding the stadium,” he said, “at least twice as many outside as in. And they are not all witnesses. They are not even all Jewish. People are just curious.”
    Daniel raised his hands, and the room fell silent. “Follow me down this corridor, up the ramp, then up the stairs to the stage. You can watch from the wings, but translators go first and get into position at ground level in front of the platform. No one on the stage but Dr. Ben-Judah and me. Quiet please. Dear God in heaven, we are yours.”
    With one hand still raised, he and Tsion led the group toward the back of the stage. Buck peeked out to see every seat filled and people in the aisles and the infield. Many held hands. Others wrapped their arms around each other’s shoulders and sang and swayed.
    The interpreters slipped out and down the steps to get into position, and the crowd quieted. At seven, Daniel strode to a simple, wood lectern and said, “Welcome my brothers and sisters in the name of the Lord God Almighty, ...”
    He paused for the interpreters, but before they could translate, the stadium erupted in cheering and applause. Daniel was taken aback and smiled apologetically at the translators. “I’ll wait for you,” he mouthed, as the thousands continued to cheer.
    When the applause finally died, he nodded to the interpreters and they repeated his phrase. “No! No!” came the response from the crowd. “Nein!” “Nyet!”
    Daniel continued, “. . . maker of heaven and earth, ...” And again the crowd erupted. He waited for the translation, but they shouted it down again. “. . . and his Son, Jesus Christ, the Messiah!” The crowd went wild, and an aide hurried to the stage. “Please!” Daniel scolded him. “No one on the stage except―”
    “No translation is necessary!” the aide shouted. “Don’t use the interpreters! The crowd understands you in their own languages, and they want you to just keep going!”
    As the crowd continued to exult, Daniel stepped to the front of the stage and beckoned the translators to gather before him. “You’re not needed!” he said, smiling. As they dispersed, looking surprised but pleased, he went back to the microphone. “Shall we express our appreciation to these who were willing―”
    Thunderous ovations rolled out of the stands. Finally Daniel held up his hands to quiet the crowd. Every phrase from then on was greeted with resounding cheers. “You don’t need to be told why you’re here!” he said. “We’ve long been known as God’s chosen people, but how about this? Would you pray with me?”
    Silence descended quickly. Many knelt. “Father, we are grateful for having been spared by your grace and love. You are indeed the God of new beginnings and second chances. We are about to hear from our beloved rabbi, and our prayer is that you would supernaturally quicken our hearts and minds to absorb every jot and tittle of what you have given him to say. We pray this in the matchless name of the King of kings and Lord of lords. Amen.”
    A huge “Amen!” echoed from the crowd. Daniel directed the massive congregation as he began to sing quietly, “Amazing grace! how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me! I once was lost, but now am found, was blind but now I see.”
    Buck could not sing. “Amazing Grace” had become his favorite hymn, a poignant picture of his faith. But twenty-five thousand believers singing it from their hearts nearly knocked him over. The mass outside added their