Brother Word (22 page)

“I don’t know. I was just trying to—” The words seemed to catch in his throat. “Nina
died
believing God had healed her through my hands! You know what kind of a guilt trip that will put you on?”

“Hold on a minute. You’ve said that it takes
faith
to believe God for divine healing.”

“Faith activates the hand of God, sure. But God can do anything He wants to—there are aspects to Him that we’ll never figure out, no matter how many seminaries we attend or Bible classes we take. That first healing God did through me—the man with the bent-over back in Vicksburg—I don’t really believe my faith had anything to do with it. Like I said, that old man had more faith in God for the miraculous than anyone I’d ever met. After that healing, when I started studying the Word more and praying for more people . . . my personal faith for divine healing became stronger.”

“Well,
however
your gift developed, the truth is that you now have it. You have it like the disciples in the book of Acts had it. And the Bible says that when just two of those disciples went to a city, they turned that city upside down! Look what you did to Columbia and Sumter—and you were only there for a few weeks!”

“Yeah, but it was different back in the biblical days,” Chance said, gazing out over the water. “The church was in its infancy then, and the signs and wonders the disciples performed helped in adding new converts to the movement. But the culture here in America is different. Now performing signs and wonders will get you the front page of a newspaper and tabloid media coverage instead of new converts. Plus, you’re competing with psychics, black magicians, tarot card readers, Yoruba followers, and New Age spirituality. People aren’t moved anymore by walking on water, because they’ve probably seen it on David Copperfield.”

“Do you honestly think Eddie Everett wasn’t
moved
? Or Pastor Smallwood? Or
me
? Chance, what you did by faith in God forever changed our lives and the lives of those who witnessed it! The difference between some street magician doing tricks and the power of God is so huge; the two can’t even be compared.”

“That may be true, but the facts of my life haven’t changed. I didn’t ask for—”

“You didn’t ask for this gift,” Lynn finished for him. “Yes, I know that. But to whom much is given, much is required.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

Lynn looked away for a second. “God called me into the ministry when I was just a teenager.”

Chance’s expression lightened a bit. “Tell me about that.”

“Tell you about what?”

“What it was like to hear the call . . . learning to make decisions based on the Spirit of God . . . the whole nine yards.”

Lynn recognized this as her golden ministry opportunity, especially since Chance had now turned completely around to face her. She had his undivided attention.

“Well, growing up, I was sort of a loner. Not shy, just quiet. I would rather read a book than do much of anything else. I always had these questions, you know? Normal questions like why is the sky blue? If a tree falls in the forest, and there’s nobody around to hear it . . .” She stopped when she saw Chance smiling. “What? What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. It’s just that those aren’t normal questions for a kid to ask.”

Lynn felt herself blushing. “Th-they are, too!”

“Fine, fine,” Chance responded, showing the palms of his hands. “If you say so.”

Lynn cleared her throat. “Like I was
saying
, I had all these questions, especially at church. One of my Sunday school teachers, Sister Imogene, took time every Sunday not only to answer them for me but also to share God’s love with me. Of course my parents did that, too, but there was something about the
way
Sister Imogene talked about God—it was like talking to someone who knew God as a best friend. I can remember getting saved and baptized when I was eight, and a few years after that . . . I had a dream.”

“A dream?”

Lynn nodded. “I was in a small room, surrounded by fifteen or twenty people singing my favorite worship song at that time, “Oh Come Let Us Adore Him.” The way the people were singing, and the small, intimate confines of the room—it was all just so . . . breathtaking. It was like Jesus Himself was in the room, giving each of us a great big hug. There was so much love in that room—more love than I could’ve ever imagined, and I remember thinking,
If only everybody else could experience this kind of love.
And that’s when I heard Jesus’s voice—it was no louder than a whisper, but even now, when I recall it, chills run up and down my spine. What does the book of Revelation say about His voice? That it’s the sound of many waters? That description using plain old English doesn’t do it justice. Anyway, He whispered to me,
I want everyone to experience this kind of love. Will you be my voice to share it with them?
Right when I said yes, I woke up. My radio alarm clock was on, playing ‘Oh Come Let Us Adore Him.’ Now, you have to understand—I’d
never
heard that song played on that particular FM station. So either someone called in and requested it, or . . .”

“Or your dream meant something much more,” Chance finished for her, softly whistling. “That’s . . . that’s some call to the ministry.”

Lynn nodded. “It was that and so much more. It affirmed who I was, and more importantly, who I was supposed to be. And I needed that affirmation, because there weren’t any other women around whom I could emulate in my own ministry calling.”

“What about Sister Imogene?”

Lynn looked away, shaking her head. “She became sick during my first year of high school and was sent away to live with her eldest son in Florida. I never saw her again . . . She went home to be with the Lord a few years later.”

Chance was quiet, watching the sun slowly rise on the distant horizon. Lynn was watching the sunrise, too, remembering how not long ago, she was unable to behold such a beautiful sight. And then, a revelation of how she might reach Chance opened up in her spirit.

“Chance, you know that Nina, like Sister Imogene, is home with the Lord now, right?”

He nodded. “Her faith defined every aspect of her life. People might’ve thought she was crazy, but if there was one thing I know for sure—that woman loved the Lord.”

“In no way am I trying to diminish your loss, even after two years, but if she
has
gone home to be with the Lord, isn’t that . . . better for her? I mean, when a believer goes home to be with the Lord, it’s cause for a celebration. Here on earth, we can only imagine what it must be like to be in heaven, in the wonderful presence of the Lord forever. There’s no cancer there. No sorrow. No tears.”

“It
is
better for her,” Chance admitted after a few minutes. “And maybe I’m too selfish to let go of her, but that’s not what keeps me up at night.”

“What is it that keeps you up at night, Chance?”

“If God is using my hands to heal, then why didn’t they work for Nina? Why didn’t they work for the one person who believed with every bit of faith in her—even against the opinions of everyone else—that God would heal her of cancer?”

“But God . . .
did
heal her of cancer,” Lynn said quietly, the words coming from her mouth without her realizing what she was saying.

“What?”

Oh my God, what did I say?
“Well, He did heal her. You said it yourself. She’s in heaven right now. There’s no cancer there; only peace and love. So . . . much . . . love.”

Chance shook his head. “But that’s not what Floyd Waters prophesied. He said . . . he said . . .”

“He said
what
, Chance? He said that if you laid hands on Nina, she would be healed, right? And he also said that many people shall be healed and testify to God’s healing power through your hands.”

“You’ve got a good memory,” Chance muttered, still looking at the sunrise.

“I’m just saying that Floyd Waters didn’t prophesy anything that didn’t come true. Many people
are
testifying to God’s healings through your hands. And Nina was healed, just not how you or anyone else expected it. Perhaps it was . . . her time. We don’t know why God does what He does—His ways are higher than ours. But we have to trust in His sovereignty. We have to trust that His perfect will comes to pass every time.”

“Why are you defending Floyd Waters all of a sudden?”

“I’m not defending him. But from personal experience, I . . . well, I do know that he’s a man of God, and not the con artist some portray him to be.”

“Personal experience, huh? Like what?”

Lynn proceeded to tell him about the time she contracted pneumonia when she was nineteen months old, and how Floyd Waters had been contacted to come pray for her. Though the doctors had given up on her, saying her immune system was too weak to fight off the disease, the man of God had prayed for her and she was miraculously healed.

“I haven’t been sick a day in my life since,” she said in conclusion. “Now, you tell me—after an experience like that, what am I supposed to think about Floyd Waters?”

“I don’t know; you can think what you want. But God must have something special for you to do. He’s miraculously healed you
twice
after doctors had given up on you.”

“Chance, God has something special for you, too.”

Chapter Thirty-six

B
Y DAYBREAK, TRAVIS HAD GROWN
as restless as a milk-deprived newborn. His initial excitement over getting another picture of Chance Howard had transformed into anxiety as the one o’clock deadline neared for e-mailing the story to Ryman Wells. He wasn’t panicking, though—even if he couldn’t get a picture or a quote from Chance, he still possessed a fantastic story. He had connected enough pieces of the mystery together that the readers of the
State
would soon know exactly who Chance Howard was.

Travis had concluded that South Carolina’s mystery man was nothing more than a religious phony. While there were some unexplainable healings surrounding this man, most notably that of his nephew Eddie, there were equally enough questions and deaths surrounding him to cast a gloomy pall over the scope of Chance’s overall activities. The one documented death of Nina Howard had left a distraught, vengeful mother who’d driven Chance out of town. Who knew how many other people’s lives Chance had damaged, but they just hadn’t come forward yet?

Tired and starving after a night of only a dozen stale doughnuts to snack on, Travis climbed back in the rental truck and steered back down the path. Halfway along the trail, he saw a Jeep coming in his direction, sending out a plume of dirt and dust in its wake. Though his stomach was growling and he longed for his comfortable waterbed back home, his reporting instincts quickly kicked in—was this . . .
Chance
?

The Jeep pulled over into the weeds and grass, presumably to let Travis’s truck pass, but Travis had no intention of passing. He killed the truck’s engine, got out, and started walking toward the Jeep.

“Hello! Hey there!” he called out.

The Jeep’s door opened and a middle-aged man in overalls stepped out. Travis’s heart sank just a bit when he realized the lone occupant of the Jeep was not his mystery man.

“Whatsa matter?” the man called out.

“Do you know Chance Howard, the man who lives in that house?” Travis asked, pointing back down the trail.

“Yep.”

“You know where I can find him?”

The man shook his head. “Mr. Howard don’t like nobody askin’ about him.”

“I can understand that. But I just flew in from . . . from . . .” Travis racked his brain, trying to think of an excuse, though in the end he settled once again for the truth.

“I just flew in from South Carolina, and I was hoping to speak with Mr. Howard before noon today. I’m a reporter, and I need to get a few quotes from him on an important story.”

The man continued shaking his head. “Only way you gon’ talk with Mr. Howard today before noon is if you a fisherman.”

“Why is that?”

“Ain’t really s’posed to tell. Mr. Howard don’t like nobody ask—”

“I understand that. But this is really important. Listen, Mr. . . . ?”

“Name’s Telfair. I cut the grass round here.”

“Uh, Telfair, listen, are you
sure
you can’t tell me where Mr. Howard is right now? I can make it worth your while.”

Telfair dug his hands into his pockets and spit on the ground. Travis could see he was chewing a wad of tobacco. “How you gon’ do that?”

Travis grinned. “Name your price.”

Telfair grinned right back at Travis. “A hunnerd bucks.”

“How many—oh, you mean a
hundred
bucks?”

“That’s what I said. A hunnerd bucks.”

A hundred dollars was all the spare money Travis had on him. But he didn’t hesitate to reach in his pocket and part with it, since he was convinced he was getting the better end of the deal.

Chapter Thirty-seven

R
EEL HIM IN, POP!
That’s gotta be a six-pounder, at least!”

As Chance and Lynn watched, Pop began reeling in the line, periodically pulling back on his pole for leverage against the weight of whatever was hooked underwater. Within seconds, the telltale thrashing of a fish’s tail broke the water’s surface.

“That’s it, Pop!” Chance yelled again. “Bring him on home, now.”

When the ensnared fish was a few feet from the boat, Pop planted his one good foot firmly against a water cooler and yanked backwards on the line, bringing aboard a two-foot-long largemouth bass.

“Whoo-ha!” Pop shouted. “Whoo-hee! Bass like that’ll bite like crazy this time of morning.” He picked up the flopping fish by its gills and proudly raised it up like a trophy.

“Pop’s like a fish magnet in these waters,” Chance explained to Lynn. “He’ll bag seven or eight of these before the sun gets high in the sky.”

“Bass fish are just like humans when the temperature gets too warm,” Pop added. “In warm water, they won’t so much as nibble even if the bait is right in front of ’em.” He gestured with his free hand. “Come over here, Nina, and have a look at this beauty.”