Brother Word (10 page)

“He pointed the gun to my chest and demanded money,” Brother Michael had recounted. “But I didn’t have any cash on me, only credit cards. And this kid—he couldn’t have been older than fourteen—starts screaming and cursing at me, waving that gun back and forth to try and scare me. But I wasn’t scared. I kept praying in the Spirit the whole time, loud enough for him to hear what I was doing.”

Alonzo had been impressed by Brother Michael’s boldness, and he personally wondered if he would have possessed that same spirit of boldness. He preached it behind the pulpit, but to pray in the Spirit with an actual gun to your face?

“This kid started screaming louder at me once he saw he wasn’t scaring me,” Brother Michael had continued. “But that wasn’t too smart, because a surefire way to draw attention to yourself while waving a gun is to start yelling. And then the kid puts the gun to my head . . . and . . . and he pulled the trigger.”

“Oh my Lord,” Alonzo had whispered.

“But the gun
jammed
, Pastor,” Brother Michael had said, with tears now rolling down his face. It had taken him almost a minute to regain his composure.

“It wouldn’t fire. And not five seconds later, a police car rolled around the corner. It turned out that someone had heard the kid yelling, saw what was going down, and called the police. But God saved me that night—I know that just as sure as I know my name.”

“Praise God,” was all Alonzo could whisper.

And then there was the miracle involving Sister Margie, one of the key members of his current intercessory team. Sister Margie’s daughter Latriece had gone swimming in Stevens Creek one hot summer afternoon while Sister Margie was at work. Latriece, fourteen years old at the time, had swum in Stevens Creek several times, and was an excellent swimmer. However, on this particular day she had dived into a section of the creek and had not seen a rock jutting up from the bottom. After the dive, as she was straightening out underwater, the right side of her head collided with a sharp plane of the rock. Latriece had instantly been knocked unconscious.

“Pastor Gentry, I just
knew
something was wrong,” Sister Margie had later recounted, with tears rolling down her face. “I was sitting at my desk at 3:23, and I felt in my spirit that something had happened to Latriece. I started praying in the Spirit, and then I called my next-door neighbor, Etta, and told her to go in my house and get Latriece. Then the Lord showed me a vision of my baby in Stevens Creek, behind our house, and I told Etta to get my baby from that creek bed.”

Etta Rosedale was in her late forties, and had probably never swum a day in her life. But like Sister Margie, she was a praying woman of God and she sensed the urgency of the request. While all this had been going on, Sister Margie had told one of her coworkers to call 911 and get the paramedics to her house.

“All because you sensed this in the Spirit,” Alonzo had interrupted, just shaking his head. He would never cease to be amazed at the greatness of the God he served.

“That’s right, Pastor.”

Etta Rosedale, amazingly, had been able to quickly locate Latriece at the bottom of the creek and pull her to the shore. By then, the paramedics had arrived and were able to administer CPR, reviving Latriece. The local media outlets had wanted to credit either the fast-responding medics, the heroics of Etta Rosedale, or the quick thinking of Sister Margie as being responsible for saving Latriece’s life, but Sister Margie was adamant about who received the glory.

“The
Lord Jesus
saved my baby,” she had stated unflinchingly to all who would hear.

In addition to these unforgettable miracles, Alonzo had witnessed other miraculous events in his congregation. Various members had had their debt supernaturally canceled; others had been healed of numerous diseases; others had received incredible promotions in their businesses; and still others had seen unsaved loved ones come to know the salvation of Jesus Christ.

But the miracle of witnessing Lynn Harper’s blinded eyes being opened had literally taken his breath away. He’d believed that it could happen, sure. And he’d wanted it to happen. But to actually
witness
it? After personally knowing and sympathizing with Lynn’s desire to see, and then feeling the frustration of hearing the doctors report that Lynn would never see again?

“God, You are such an awesome God,” he breathed, closing his Bible and leaning back in his chair. After the healing crusade, he’d gone back to his office, needing time and space to reflect on what he’d just seen. He felt a little like how Moses must have felt after the parting of the Red Sea, or Daniel the morning after spending the night in the lion’s den. Like those biblical giants of the faith, it radically stirred his faith to know he served a God who could do
anything
.

Chapter Sixteen

T
HE MORNING SUNRISE
greeted Lynn’s eyes, transforming her daily devotional time into one of her most powerful experiences ever. Never again would she take for granted the small blessings in life—having all five of her senses working, being in her right mind, and being able to walk and move around without depending on someone else.

Lord, You are so good . . . thank You for restoring my sight . . .

She had spent all morning devouring the scriptures that spoke of divine healing, eager to understand more of the amazing phenomenon she had experienced. If God’s Word empowered Christians to lay hands on the sick and heal them, then why weren’t more Christians walking in the fullness of that power? All her life, she had read the awesome miracles chronicled in the Bible and subconsciously assumed they were for the biblical times. Some theologians even went as far as to say the miracles in the book of Acts were necessary in the days of the fledgling church to bring more believers into the fold. But once the church had grown and prospered, they said, such amazing miracles had no longer been necessary.

Yet Lynn read in her Bible that Jesus promised “greater works” from the disciples that were to follow Him. And Lynn could not discard the apparent healing power that mysterious man had walked in—just look at all the incredible testimonies that had resulted from his demonstration of faith, herself included!

God had given her a glimpse of a greater dimension of the power of His resurrection, and no matter how strong her faith had been before, she was compelled to increase it.

She checked her watch and saw she had another two hours before she was scheduled to meet with Pastor Gentry at Faith Community. In light of the healing miracles that were taking place in Sumter and Columbia, her pastor had felt a need to restructure their outreach program. What greater way to reach the lost than as Jesus Himself had declared in the power of the gospel—that signs and wonders would follow those who believed?

Faith was stirring in the souls of Christians who were witness to the acts of God’s power, which pointed to only one outcome.

Revival
.

TRAVIS WAS INFORMED
of his nephew’s healing over the phone that afternoon as he typed another boring article on his computer’s keyboard. But a yarn about a man walking around healing people was too incredible for him to believe. He was beginning to think his sister was losing her mind.

“You’re tellin’ me Eddie can now
hear
and
walk
?” he questioned Andrea, suspiciously, as he guzzled down the last few drops of his diet Pepsi. “All because someone laid his hands on him and chanted some abracadabra magic over him?”

“It’s not abracadabra,” Andrea retorted. “You’ve never believed in Christianity, but this is one of the benefits all believers in Jesus have—divine healing.”

Travis snorted. “Oh, Andrea, you were always the gullible one. Remember the time you thought your Barbie doll was talking to you? Giving you advice on what clothes to wear?”

“Travis, I was just a kid then. But this thing with Jesus is real. Alright, you don’t believe me?”

“No, I—”

“Then listen for yourself.”

Seconds later, a little boy’s voice spoke into the phone. “Uncle Trav?”

Travis almost dropped his can of diet Pepsi into his lap. He’d heard Eddie’s voice many times before, but always with that echo-type lisp accompanying the voice of someone unable to hear any sound. But Eddie’s voice was now clear in tone; there was no lisp at all.

“Ed-Eddie? That’s you? And you can
hear
me?”

“Sure, Uncle Trav. And get this—I can walk and run, too. I’m real fast!”

Travis was speechless. “Um, can you p-put your mom back on the line, Eddie?”

“Sure, Uncle Trav.”

“Do you believe now, Travis?” Andrea asked.

Travis didn’t know
what
to believe. “I . . . I don’t know. Listen, I’m going to stop by the house later on, okay?” He hung up the phone, visibly shaken. Andrea had said someone was walking around healing people of sicknesses and deformities in the name of God. Like any other reasonable, sane human being, he had dismissed the idea as ludicrous. Such people came on television from time to time, boasting about being able to cure people with a touch of their hands. Travis had never believed them—he figured people like that were con artists looking for gullible folk to finance their religious charades.

But his own
nephew
? A child he had personally seen born deaf and having ankle bones doctors had said would be deformed for as long as he lived? How in the world was he supposed to explain something like that?

Reaching for his trusty Clemson Tigers cap, Travis stood and walked out of his cubicle. If it was a good story Ryman Wells wanted, then Travis might finally be able to make good on that delivery.

“LOOK AT ME, UNCLE TRAV
!” Eddie exclaimed, jumping up and down like he were a pogo stick. “Look at me! Look at my legs! I can walk . . . and run, too!” As if to demonstrate, Eddie took off like a lightning bolt down the hallway, his little legs scampering faster than Travis had ever seen them move.

“Th-that . . . is . . . unbelievable,” Travis commented, half turning his head to glance at his sister. Andrea was leaning against the kitchen doorjamb, wiping tears from her eyes with a handkerchief as she watched the miracle of her son running.

“But it
is
believable, Travis. That’s why I can’t stop crying these tears of joy. James and I have been praying to see this day for almost seven years now. What God has done . . . what God has done . . .” Her words trailed off as she continued shaking her head.

“Hold it, now. Wait just a second, Andrea,” Travis began. The stubborn agnostic that he was, he wasn’t ready to accept his nephew’s healing as an act of God. “What proof do you have that this was the work of your Christian God?”

Andrea’s jaw dropped open. “My
Christian
God? Proof? Travis, will you listen to yourself? We were all raised in the same church growing up. But why you didn’t accept the Lord as your Savior like Maynard and I did remains a mystery to all of us. What more
proof
do you need? James and I have been praying and fasting for Eddie’s physical healing for the last seven years—you’ve watched how we’ve prayed. We attended a healing crusade, where everyone there was believing God for the healing of their bodies, and through the power of God, Eddie was miraculously healed. You want proof? The proof is the joy written all over Eddie’s face. Go ahead, Travis. Ask your nephew what happened.”

Travis looked at Eddie, who had now run back to them and had obviously overheard the last part of the conversation.

“Jesus healed me, Uncle Trav!” Eddie blurted out, not waiting for Travis to ask a question.

Travis offered his nephew a pitying smile, feeling more awkward than ever around the kid. He wanted to tell Eddie all this Jesus-talk was a bunch of nonsense, but he dared not in front of Andrea. It was a shame, though. They were probably teaching Eddie to believe in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny as well. Sooner or later, though, the kid’s imaginary bubble would burst and he would have to face the cold, hard realities of life.

“Did He, now?” Travis said instead. Better to keep this dialogue neutral.

Eddie vigorously nodded, in the rapid-fire way only an energetic seven-year-old boy can move his head. “Yep! Jus’ like Mommy and Dad said—Jesus opened my ears and fixed my legs. Isn’t that cool?”

Travis shifted his weight back and forth between his feet. It was one thing to have to listen to Andrea and Maynard talk about Jesus. But to hear this kind of talk from his seven-year-old nephew?

I don’t have to take this . . .
“Listen, sport, Uncle Trav’s gotta run, okay? I got some things I need to do.”

“Okay!” Eddie turned on his heels and bounded back down the hallway. Travis offered a pitying smile to Andrea as well, as he headed in the opposite direction toward the door.

“Travis, I know you can feel the Lord drawing you,” Andrea called out behind him.

Travis didn’t break his stride until he reached the front door. “Yeah, well, if He’s calling me, He’s gonna have to speak a little louder. It’s great what happened to Eddie, though.”

It’s gonna make a great story, too . . .

Chapter Seventeen

T
HE MAN STARED AT NINA’S PHOTOGRAPH,
once more overwhelmed by the physical similarities to that blind woman he’d encountered at Hope Springs Church.

Same eyes, same hair, same everything . . .

He’d tried repeatedly to get over Nina’s loss and somehow move on with his life, but the tragic irony of the whole situation tormented him daily. If God could use him to heal people now, why hadn’t He used him when it mattered
most
?

“What do You want from me?” he suddenly cried out, staring upward at a cloudless sky. The heavens were quiet. In his mind, they were silently mocking him. “This isn’t the life I was supposed to have. I lost everything that mattered to me. And for what?”

The tenor of his rising voice began to shake as he wiped a hot tear sliding down his cheek.

“Everything was going great with my life. Everything was going great with my family. What did I do wrong? I loved You! I served You! How could You have allowed this to happen!”