Like Sheep Gone Astray (24 page)

“God, how did I end up in this place?” His eyes were dry, his voice a hoarse whisper. He could not stand feeling this low. He needed a break, a change in thought, something, anything, to give his hurting head a reprieve. He grabbed a stack of unopened bank statements and clicked on a table lamp. Usually, a sense of peace would settle on him as he reviewed the balances of his accounts. But this money was not legally his. He knew it, and there was no peace in that knowledge. Most of his savings were what had been left of his share of the bribe money.

In the dimly lit room, Anthony kept flipping through the papers, the statements. There had to be something in here that he could claim as his own. Did he really have to lose it all? He stopped at a statement from his old employer, Shaw Enterprises; a pension fund that had started long before he got involved with the bribery scheme. This money was safe, legally his. Anthony-sighed, feeling a small rush at the sight of the current balance. He could cash it in, if necessary. And it more than likely would be necessary. Even after taxes and the penalty for early withdrawal, it was a good balance, a very good balance.

Too good a balance. Anthony noticed for the first time that his former employer had contributed more money to the fund than it was supposed to; not a whole lot, but enough to make a small difference. It was an error, a glitch, Anthony was sure, but an extra two hundred dollars or so nonetheless.

He'd worked hard for Shaw, he assured himself. For all he was going through and for all he was about to lose, there was no reason to worry about correcting a computerized error. It was only two hundred dollars. Shaw was a multi-million-dollar agency. The company would never miss such a small amount. He would even tithe the overpayment, give God back some of the overflow.

Anthony thought of all these reasons and more why he was entitled to keep this money, accept it as a backhand blessing from God, but uneasiness tore at his mind.

“Why, Lord?” As Anthony suddenly lunged to his feet, the table lamp crashed to the floor and the room was plunged back into darkness. “Why can't I keep this money? It was their error, not mine! All the overtime I put in there, I probably earned this much and a hundred times over! You know me, Jesus. You know my heart. I can't take this anymore!” His words were sobs and groans as he fell to his knees, steadying himself with a hand pushing down on a nearby coffee table.

“What's wrong with me keeping this money? They'll never miss it. It's not illegal. I haven't done anything wrong. It was their fault. This one ain't on me. I'm not breaking the law!”

What about My law?.

Anthony quieted at the question that was spoken somewhere in his spirit. He pulled a Bible from the bookcase and found his way back to his knees.

“I need to see.” He stood up one more time, flooding the room with the light of a wrought-iron chandelier. Blinking, he remembered standing onstage just a few hours earlier, the spotlight on him, blinding him from everyone but Terri. Terri. Where was she?
She looked angry last night and tonight at the banquet.
Maybe her not being home meant nothing. Maybe it meant everything.
How much does she know?

He ran his fingers over the dark blue leather cover of his favorite study Bible. It had been a gift from Terri, given to him for his birthday the year before they married.

“A spiritual book for a spiritual man,” she'd said then. He took it as a sign from God that she did indeed have some kind of Jesus-connection, a question a few members of his church family, including his Aunt Rosa and Sister Porter, had raised when they saw her frequenting the congregation with him during those days. He found out much later, during a post-honeymoon spat about him “reading that Bible too much and taking it too seriously,” that the gift had been Cherisse's idea, a device to get him to see that Terri had an appreciation for the spiritual.

It is one thing to know about Me, and a completely different thing to know Me.

Anthony knew that God had spoken those words to him about Terri long before he bought the one-and-a-half-carat engagement ring he gave her on Valentine's Day. He knew it, he'd heard it directly from Him, but he hadn't listened. What he'd listened to was the other voice in his head telling him that if she continued attending Second Baptist, she would get to know Him as he did. And that she was a fine sister from a good family with the drive and desire to help him reach his lifelong goal of being a millionaire by age thirty.

“I gained the millions, but at what cost?”

Anthony was quiet, reflective, as he bowed his head. “Lord,” he prayed, his voice barely a whisper, “I need a word from You. Talk to me. I can't think another thought, or take another step, until I hear a clear, practical word from You. How much have I missed You saying already?” He glanced over at the pension statement.

Anthony sat on the floor next to the sofa and began flipping through the thin pages of his Bible. Highlighter and pen marks zigzagged through verses, colored entire chapters. He stopped at a few random Psalms for encouragement, a couple of Proverbs for wisdom. An hour passed with him reviewing previous notes he'd made in the margins, reading and rereading study commentaries at the bottom of the pages.

It was not until his fingers landed on a familiar Old Testament chapter that he heard that gentle voice speak somewhere inside of him.

Read.

And so he read, underlining words that stood out to him, praying for a clearer understanding of the passage. It was the sixteenth chapter of Judges, the story of Samson and Delilah. Although he was not exactly sure what this late-night Bible study was going to teach him, he was already beginning to feel the excitement of a coming revelation, a truth, a turning point that would get him back on track.

His eyes raced through the story of how Samson, the promised and purposed son of a barren Israelite couple, fell into the traps of the seductress Delilah. He had been born destined to deliver his people from their enemies, the Philistines, and had supernatural physical strength to accomplish that purpose. His strength was promised from God as long as he did not cut his hair, for he was under a special Nazirite vow.

Anthony slowed down when he got to the description of how Delilah pestered him into telling her the secret behind his strength, and then schemed to have his hair cut off when he fell asleep on her knees. Once asleep, the Philistines overtook him, put out his eyes, bound him, imprisoned him, and forced him into menial labor.

Reaching for a legal pad, Anthony continued to read, sensing a message for him about to break through the sacred words.

Samson was called to perform before the Philistines during one of their religious celebrations at a temple for their god. None of them took notice that Samson's hair had regrown. Blind and humiliated, he asked the young boy who was attending him to place him between the pillars that held up the temple. He prayed and asked God for one last burst of strength, which he used to push the pillars heroically, causing the temple to fall and end his life and the lives of three thousand high-ranking Philistines.

Anthony read the chapter once more before laying his Bible beside him.

“Okay, Jesus, what is it that You want me to know from this?” He sat there twiddling a pen between his fingers for a few moments, and then a deluge of thoughts poured through his mind. He could not write it all down fast enough.

Samson's passions led him. away from the power and calling of God for his life. I've done the same. Money has been my seductress, and I've given it a place and position in my heart that should have been reserved only for God. Like Samson, my temptress lulled me to sleep through deception, trapped and stripped me of my strength, my common sense, and my dignity.

I am awake now and find myself bound, my reasoning and abilities shackled by my sin. I haven't been able to think clearly, decide clearly, and, like Samson, I was blinded so that I could not see clearly, letting others lead me around in circles for the past six months. My sight, my vision, was taken from me. My vision for my life, for my ministry, for my relationship with my wife have all been darkened ever since I fell for the bait.

When Samson's hair was cut, he lost his supernatural strength and was imprisoned. His identity as a Nazirite was forfeited. My identity was blurred and weakened when I left my First Love to pursue another; my identity as a man, and most importantly as a child of God, was washed out by my willingness to be led astray by dollar signs.

My sin wasn't getting the money; it was loving money to the point of leaving Him, and leaving Him led to weakness, a loss of identity, a loss of sight, and a loss of freedom.

Anthony stopped to look at what he had written. He read it a few times, circling the words
weakness, identity, sight,
and
freedom.
He picked up his pen again.

But just like Samson who still fulfilled his pre-birth purpose, my God-given destiny is not gone. I've been imprisoned mentally, physically, spiritually for the past six months, but regaining strength the entire time.

Sin made me weak, but now in repentance to You, Lord, I am strong. Strong enough to reclaim my purpose in You, Jesus. Strong enough to step back into my God-given place to be the man of God You called me to be.

No more confusion, only confidence. Confidence that You have forgiven me and given me enough supernatural strength to get through all of this. Confidence that even if I still can't see exactly who my enemies are, You will show me how to feel and push my way to victory.

Tonight, the real Anthony Michael Murdoch—the strong, decisive, clear-headed warrior for God—is standing by the pillars, ready to topple the whole scheme of corruption that has taken over Shepherd Hills. All for Your glory, all in Your name.

“Father, I repent. I'm sorry. It wasn't the bribe that hurt You. It's been me wanting money more than wanting You. Lord, You know my heart, my desires. Forgive me, cleanse me. You said in Your Word to seek You first, and Your righteousness, and then everything else will be added unto me. So, Lord, right now, I am chasing after
You first.
I receive Your forgiveness, and I trust You to provide my every need, material and otherwise.”

Anthony laid down his pen and stood, his arms raised up in praise to the One whose loving kindness has relieved many burdened souls. For the first time in months, he felt genuine joy and peace.

“I'm free.” The words themselves released a new wave of hope, a clear view of direction. He sat back down and tore out a clean sheet of paper. He felt truly right with heaven; now to get right on earth.

“Let's start at the beginning.” He followed the urge to map an outline of the past six months, starting with the day the first note showed up in his mailbox at Shaw Enterprises.

That's not the beginning.
Anthony's pen froze in mid-air as a new thought came upon him. He had been snagged by the bribe money half a year ago, but that was just the end result of a lusty relationship he'd been having with money. He'd been flirting with the narrow focus of getting rich for years. A verse from First Timothy came to his mind: “For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows.”

“Ain't that the truth.” Anthony shook his head. “It's not
money,
but the
love
of money that's at the root of my problems.” Even as he spoke, the word root jumped out at him.

Start at the beginning.
Anthony closed his eyes and began trying to remember when he'd started craving wealth insatiably. He thought about his career at Shaw Enterprises, when he'd accepted promotion after promotion, focused not on adding to the quality of his relationship with Terri, but on adding to the quantity of his bank accounts. He remembered a few times when he'd used his tithe money to buy some new suits he knew he looked good in. At the time, he justified it by wearing them to church. “I'm wearing my offering to you,” he'd prayed as he dropped a buck or two into the church collection plate.

And then there were his college days when he'd picked a major not based on a consulting session with Jesus, but on a quick check of the salary data in the
Occupational Outlook Handbook
from the U.S. Department of Labor. In his high school yearbook, when asked what he wanted to be when he grew up, his answer was there in black and white: Rich. Even then, he'd determined the purpose of his life with no thought of going about it God's way.

“The blessing of the Lord, it maketh rich, and He addeth no sorrow with it.
“ The proverb was underlined in his Bible, but had he really lived by it? If he had embraced God's definition of being “rich,” could he have had God's best, without all the baggage?

Anthony stood to stretch. It was nearly five A.M.; he'd been up all night. He left the family room just as the first fingers of the sun began prying through the drawn shades. He set a pot of coffee to brew. Although it was Saturday, he knew a long day was ahead of him. He needed to call Councilman Banks soon.

Start at the beginning.
The words still pressed within him.

“How far back do I have to go?” He asked aloud. “My teen years, my childhood?”

And then he remembered.

It was the night before his mother's wedding to his stepfather. Anthony had stayed with his Great-Aunt Rosa as his mother flurried with last-minute details. She'd had a low budget to work with, greatly impeding her dream of a bigger, fancier event. He remembered asking Aunt Rosa why his mother was so mad when she dropped him off, complaining about someone “not even leaving her with a pot to pee in.” He could still smell the soft scent of Aunt Rosa's powdery perfume, feel the silk warmth of her housecoat as she pulled him close to her wide bosom.

“Your momma's just mad 'cause your daddy didn't give her the world in a silver-plated basket before he left. For all his promises, he never did provide her real wealth and riches.”