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Mike shuffled through the lines to pay
his entrance fee for the “county fair by the sea”.
“What am I doing here?”, he
thought.
Still, he continued forward. He idly
ignored the happy family of four with the two year old, laughing in
her daddy's arms. Her mother held their four year old son. He ignored
the obviously in love couple flirting behind him.
He stared straight ahead with a grim
look on his face. He couldn't watch. It reminded him of what he'd
once had and lost. The anonymity of the crowd, he hoped, would ease
his loneliness.
“That'll be eight dollars, sir,”
said the girl in the booth. He paid the fee and meandered off into
the fair.
As he watched the nearby ocean,
memories assaulted him. His beautiful Evon and little Marie. He could
see them playing in the surf. More scenes played across his mind.
Laughing at Marie's three year old antics. Evon and he throwing water
at each other. Holding Marie on one arm and Evon's hand with the
other.
A weary smile crossed his face, only
to be replaced by a wince of pain as other memories invaded his
reverie. The frantic phone call from Evon. The car parts strewn about
the freeway. The angry policeman yelling at him as he slid to a halt
near the wreck. Firemen using the jaws of life trying to cut Evon
out. He was told, but didn't remember, that he'd kept yelling their
names. The terrible feeling of doom that had fallen over him as he
saw them lifted from the wreckage. They weren't moving.
He physically ached whenever he
thought of them. He quickly averted his eyes from the surf and moved
further into the fairgrounds. He took deep breaths and let them out
slowly, trying to regain control of his emotions.
“Pastor Moody?” he heard a voice
say.
Surprised, he looked up to see two
young couples. Aaron and Heather Sinsley and John and Erica Brown. He
remembers their courtships and their weddings. Then, the young
couples had moved away. The Sinsleys to his North Carolina Marine
base. The Browns to Florida. He shouldn't have been surprised to see
the sisters and their families together here on the coast.
“Just Mike, please. I haven't
pastored for more than a year.”
An awkward silence fell. Some small
talk. Some offerings of prayer. Then, the group parted ways. They
didn't say it, but they obviously wondered how he could've walked
away from his calling. Mike wondered how he could have stayed.
“How could you take them?” he
asked God for the millionth time.
Again, no answer came. So, he'd
trudged on through the neon lit booths and rusty rides. Leaving his
ministry behind, he'd started driving a truck. He made a good living
and he wasn't bothered. How could he tell people about the love of
Jesus anyway?
A piercing scream caused his blood to
freeze. A thousand memories resurfaced. He forced them down and
tried to walk away, but the press of the crowd gave him no choice but
to move toward the cries of help. Soon, the sirens blared and the
police had come, followed shortly by an ambulance. Curiosity overcame
him and he made his way to a clear vantage point.
From there, he could see the scene.
The young couple that had been ahead of him in the entrance line lay
on the ground, their bodies twisted. Their screaming and confused
children were being held back by the young couple that had been
behind him. One glance told Mike that the couple was dead, having
fallen from the top of the roller coaster, somehow.
Renewed rage at a God who would allow
this to happen filled him. He tried to leave, but the crowd had him
hemmed in.
“How could I have been so blind?” he inwardly
screamed. “I told people for all those years how God loves them and
he allows this kind of stuff to happen.”
A movement caught his eye.
An old man stepped from the crowd. He
had gray hair, carried himself with authority, and used a shepherds
staff- of all things.
“Is he trying to look like Moses?”
Mike thought.
The man walked right past the officers
trying to control the crowd. His attention was focused on the bodies.
An EMT tried to block him, but, something about him caused the EMT to
allow him access.
The crowd went silent. Hundreds
watched as the old man stepped forward, knelt down, layed his hands
on the corpses, and closed his eyes. After a few moments, he simply
said, “In the name of Jesus, arise and be made whole.”
“Moses” (as Mike now had him
dubbed in his mind) got up. Suddenly, the breath entered back into
the bodies. The bones that were broken were now straight. The skin
that had been opened and pouring blood, was now as smooth as a
newborn's. The couple stared at each other in confusion. The other
couple, who now had tears rolling down their faces, released the two
children. Immediately, the kids ran to their confused and healed
parents. The family embraced.
The crowd stared at “Moses” in
awe. He ignored them all and headed straight for Mike. A strong hand
reached out and rested on Mike's shoulder.
“My name's not Moses, it's Dewain.
I've come a long way to see you. We need to go somewhere where we can
talk.”
Shock displaced anger, and Mike
allowed himself to be led away. They walked right out of the park and
down the road.
“Why am I following this guy?” he
asked himself. “He could be just out of the psyche ward, for all I
know.”
Yet, for all the reasons he could
think of to walk away, the memory of those two bodies coming back to
life kept his feet moving. As much as he wanted to leave, he wanted
answers more.
Dewain suddenly turned left down a
well worn path into the woods. The night was dark and the humidity
and temps were high. As they walked, Mike kept being hit by tree
limbs and palm leaves. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, an
opening appeared.
A fire with two tents nearby greeted
Mike's vision upon entering the clearing. The tents were little more
than white pup tents. A circular row of rocks surrounded the fire.
Around this, sat three small canvas chairs. Mike hears the sounds of
running water nearby.
“Won't you have a seat, Mike?”
Dewain said as he motioned toward the chairs.
“Why are we way out here? You said
we needed to talk. We could've talked anywhere. Why here? Wait. For
that matter, how'd you know my name?”
“I cannot answer all your questions
at once. Perhaps if we were to sit, we could have a better
discussion?”
Begrudgingly, Mike sits, as does
Dewain.
“Now, I suppose you need answers.”
“Answers to what?”
“To why your life fell apart, of
course.”
“And a man who lives in a tent and
dresses like Moses is gonna give them to me?”
“Things aren't always what they
seem, my friend.”
“It seems to me they are. You want
to answer all my questions about life, and you don't even have your
own place to live?”
“Like my Lord before me, I have no
place to lay my head.”
“How can you possibly understand
what I've been through? I suppose you call yourself a prophet. Truly,
you're a vagrant psychologist!”
The old man's face reddened and his
countenance grew fierce. With authority in his voice, the man stood
and faced Mike. “If you won't ask your questions, then maybe I
should ask some of my own.”
The authority in his voice and the
fire in his eyes caused Mike's angry retort to stick in his throat.
The prophet continued. “Who do you think you are? How could you
just walk away from the lives that the Holy One intrusted to your
pastoral care?”
“How did you know...?”
“I know far more than you could
possibly imagine, boy! Life is hard. Sin ravages the land right down
to its roots. Souls die and face eternal flames every hour of every
day. Some of those that trusted God have walked away because of your
lack of a backbone. Did you think that the world revolved around you?
Did you think that you had control? Only one being in the universe
has control, Mike, and you certainly ain't him! How could you just
walk away from them?”
Mike angrily stands. “Evon and Marie were my life! I'd
die a thousand deaths for them at any time. Yet, God saw fit to take
them from me. What did they ever do to deserve that? How could a
truly loving God allow them to die- mangled in a car like that? How
could I tell people about a loving God after seeing that? What
testimony could I possibly give them that could ever compare to the
loss of my family?”
In the past, on the few occasions someone had questioned him for leaving his ministry, Mike's angry retort had
shamed them and turned them away. Not now.
Dewain got nose to nose
with Mike, his eyes glared and veins extended on his forehead. “How DARE you! How dare you stand
here in your arrogance and blame your loss and your own lack of
intestinal fortitude on the almighty.”
“But, he...”
“HE is always right,” Dewain
screamed. “HE is righteous. HE is Holy. HE knows all and sees all.”
“If he's so righteous, then WHY did
he take my family?” Mike's hands shook with his pain.
The prophet now spoke in a softer
tone. “Evon had cancer, Mike. She was going to die a slow and
painful death. Marie's life would've went in a downhill spiral from
losing her mom.”
Shocked, Mike asked, “How did you
know about her cancer? We'd just found out.”
Dewain gently placed his hands on
Mike's shoulders. “I am his emissary, Mike. I spend my life going
where he sends me. He gives me tasks and messages. He tells me what I
need to know.”
When Mike looked up, he saw tears
rolling down Dewain's cheeks.
“I've walked in your shoes, Mike. I
lost my son. I wrestled with the very things that are tearing you
apart now.”
“So...” Mike paused to get his
composure, “God took my family?”
“No.”
“But, you just said...”
“I told you what God knew. God
didn't take them, though. The enemy of your soul caused their deaths
in order to destroy your life and ministry. The Lord simply allowed
it, because it suited his purposes.”
“How?”
“It showed mercy to both Evon and
Marie. They are both in eternity, happily engaged with their savior
and the many that have gone on before. They have no more pain or
suffering.”
“That's fine and wonderful for them,
but what about me?” Mike said. “How can I.... How can I continue
without them?”
“By giving it to him, Mike. This
experience can either break you or make you. He longs to hold you in
his arms. He desires to ease your pain and comfort you.”
“I walked away in anger.” Mike
said- as he shook his head in defeat. “He won't have me.”
“Yes, he will.”
“But, the Bible says 'No man, having
put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of
God.' He wouldn't want me.” Mike started to walk away.
Before he could leave the clearing,
Dewain responded, “Mike, it also says 'If we confess our sins, he
is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us of all
unrighteousness.”
Mike froze in mid-stride. Could it be?
He looked back at the old prophet.
Tears flowed down his face. “Yes,
son. He is willing and able to forgive you. He is ready to use you
again.”
Mike remembered his wife and daughters
deaths. Yet, now he could almost see... Wait! This isn't in his mind.
Suddenly, as if through a window, he could see them! They were
running towards the clearing. His clearing! They were laughing and
smiling. They ran right up to Dewain.
Dewain was now facing away from him
and hugging Mike's family. Yet, his clothes were changing texture and
color. His skin darkened and, as the prophets robes slipped down his
arm, Mike could see a nail scar on his wrist.
“What in the world....?” Mike
whispered. He tried to step forward, but it was as if an invisible
barrier were there. He lifted his arms and tried to reach for them,
but his hands could go no farther than his feet. He screamed their
names, but they couldn't hear him. Tears rolled down his face. He
balled his hands into fists and dropped his head, his eyes closed
against the sight.
“Why, Lord?” he asked. “Why show
me this? Are you trying to taunt me? Haven't I felt enough pain?”
Gentle hands gripped his shoulders
again. “I show you this to help you see where they are and what's
awaiting you on the other side- IF you return to me. They truly are
in a better place. Walk with me down the path's I choose for you. You
will see them again in glory.”
Mike's knees lost their strength and
strong hands guided him to the ground. Strong arms embraced him, as
he began to pour his heart out. All his pain. All his hurt. All his
anger. All lain at the master's feet. When he finally reached the end
of himself, strength infused his being.
Mike stayed there, engulfed in love
like he'd never felt. When he finally opened his eyes, the old man
smiled.
“Dewain, I....”
“Shhh, son. What you have seen and
felt, go and tell. Others need to hear your testimony. Go and tell
them what great things God has done for you.”
“But, I'm not worthy.”
“You've been made worthy, son.”
Suddenly, as if a mist were being
blown by a gentle breeze, Dewain and the rustic camp site began to
disappear. The voice repeated, as if on the air, over and over,
“You're worthy, son. You're worthy .”
A sharp raven's cry broke the spell.
Mike looked around in surprise. He stood in the same clearing- alone
in the sunshine.
“Was it a dream?” he wondered.
Immediately, a familiar “still small
voice” inside him answered, “look down”.
He could see two sets of footprints-
his own boots, and a set of bare feet that looked as if there was a
hole in the middle of each foot. A soft smile appeared and fresh
tears ran down his face .
“Thank you, Lord. Thank you.”
In response, he heard, “I love you,
son.”
As he turned to leave, the old
Shepherd’s staff was still there against an old oak.
“Take your staff, and go tell them
of my love.”
Mike picked up the staff and headed
back into the rest of his life and ministry. He'd been gone too long
already.
