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The Newton Chronicles: Soldiers, Temples, and Crystals

By Terry Overton

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Foreword


All things are possible.
Adventure awaits you in these pages, propelling you through this story, and then back into your own story. Dream with your heart, question with your mind, and when you’re ready to believe, with God, all things are possible.


Joe Basile Host of The History Channel’s The Jesus Strand
and Author of The Last Qumranian













Chapter 1
Isaac Newton
The truth is, I wish I had never found it. Or at least, I wish I had found it along with a set of instructions. It started in church. Not that I fancied going every week like my mother. But I go. I am not crazy about talking to the old ladies each week who still want to pinch my cheek and tell my mother how much I have grown. I am not wild about the church windows, the candles, and all of that. There is not much to look at during church except the backs of people’s heads and the preacher. Thankfully, I figured out how to sneak my phone in church by tucking it inside my zippered Bible. Paying attention to a longwinded preacher—even if it is Nathan’s father—is a lot to ask when you are not yet fourteen. So, pretending to listen while looking
at my phone was a skill I had mastered.

I sit there calmly, pretending to listen while disguising the moves I am making on my phone. And then, I hear the name “Isaac Newton” in the middle of the sermon. That is when it really started. If I had known the length and complexity of what I was about to begin, I might have changed my mind. I guess I could ignore the name Isaac Newton and continue playing Fortnite on my phone. But my curiosity is alive with the name Isaac Newton ringing in my ears.
So, it begins.

***

I sit straight up in the pew to see what Nathan’s father would say next.

“Science and religion are related. Isaac Newton wrote more papers on the subject of God than he did on the subject of science. Better yet, Isaac Newton believed that God imparted all knowledge to man, including science and mathematics. So, we turn to God for guidance and knowledge . . . ”

And then he rambled on about faith.

Science and God?

A quick search on my phone, and there it is. The door has been opened. For the first time since I can remember, church is over too soon. I can hardly get my phone placed inside my zippered Bible before my mother catches me. She gives me the look. I search the room to find Nathan so I can escape the next words that I know were about to emerge from my mother’s lips.

Just in time, the old lady who sits in front of us grabs my mother’s arm and says, “Mrs. Alexander, my, your Luke is growing into a fine young man.” She smiles through her glasses and adjusts her blue-gray hair and hat.

My mom smiles and nods her head. Maybe I got away with playing Fortnite.

“Luke, you weren’t on your phone, were you?” my mom asks with a scornful tone.

Busted, I think.

“Nathan,” I call out as I walk to the next row, ignoring Mom’s question.

“Hey, man,” Nathan says.

“Luke, don’t forget about lunch with the Orgels,” says Mom, reminding me of something I was hoping wouldn’t happen. Lunch with the Orgels on Sunday is our new routine.

“Okay.” I’m relieved that Mom has forgotten about my phone.

“Bet you are looking forward to that,” Nathan says rolling his large, green eyes.

“Oh, Mrs. Orgel is a good cook, so it’s not so bad,” I reply.

“I wasn’t talking about the food,” Nathan teases.

“Aw, she’s not so bad,” I argue, knowing that Nathan is referring to Lydia.

“Not bad? What are you talking about? Lydia is . . . well, she’s, she’s . . . ” He hesitates.

I look up at Nathan, who has grown nearly eight inches in the last year. His noticeable growth spurt is the reason for the sudden disappearance of his nickname “Short Stack,” which has haunted him since first grade. The increase in height didn’t do anything to reduce the number of freckles on his face or the thick, orange hair on his head. I am thankful that I am an ordinary-looking guy with brown hair.

“I know. She is,” I agree. “But she doesn’t act like she is pretty. That’s the good thing.”

“Yeah, I’m afraid to talk to her,” Nathan admits.

“Why? She’s nice.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I’m not sure if I should talk to her in French, Spanish, German, Latin, or whatever other language she speaks.”

“So, you think because she has taken classes in different languages and traveled all over the world, she’s too smart for you to talk to?” I ask.

“Pretty much,” Nathan says. “But you shouldn’t have trouble talking to her with all your math brains. I mean you have all that statistics and math knowledge. I only ever take extra Bible study classes because my dad makes me.”

“And my mom made me take those advanced classes because—”

“I know. Because she teaches statistics at the college,” Nathan interrupted. “I guess Lydia figures she can talk to anyone taking advanced math classes.”

“She’s got way more brains than me,” I acknowledge. “Hey, what was your dad talking about?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, at the end of the sermon.”

“I wasn’t paying attention,” Nathan says.

“Why?” “He was talking about Isaac Newton.”

“Really? Who knows,” Nathan replies. “I kind of tune him out on most Sundays. I mean I hear all that stuff at home.”

“Luke,” my mother yells from across the parking lot.

Nathan waves at Mom. “Hi, Mrs. Alexander.” “Hello, Nathan,” she says.

“Coming, Mom. Hey, Nathan, why don’t you come over later?” I ask.

“I’ll check with my parents. You know how it is, Sunday and all . . . if we don’t have to go visiting a church family.”

“Okay. Just text me.”

Walking out of the church, I realize for the first time I am excited about learning a subject not taught in school. Who would ever think someone my age would want to investigate Isaac Newton?

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