Solomon's Porch (14 page)

“Yes ma’am. It says, ‘Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for his friends.’”

The first word Peter spoke when he awoke was “no.” While he was asleep, God ministered to his spirit with lucid dreams. He desperately wanted to stay in that world. Compared to where he’d been, the earth was hell.

“That’s a fine way to say good afternoon to your warden, Mr. Carson,” Gail said, a broad smile beaming across her face. “But I can relate. If I were waking up after what you’d been through, the last thing I would want to see is my old, ugly mug.”

Actually, seeing Gail McCorkle was marvelous.
Nothing could be better if I have to be stuck in this world,
Peter thought to himself. He managed a smile that rivaled hers.

“Larry, is he okay?” Peter asked.

“Fit as a fiddle. He’s an interesting one, that Coleman. Quiet as a mouse. Ought to hang a sign around his neck saying, ‘Beware: Extreme Humility Present.’ Know what else?”

“What?”

“The man is innocent. I don’t mean innocent by the Blood, servant of Christ innocent, I mean literally not guilty. The poor guy was railroaded.”

“That so. How’d you find out so fast?”

“We wardens, you know, have this clandestine network. Every other Wednesday a few of us secretly get together to decide the fate of prisoners everywhere.”

“And they call me crazy.”

“An old friend of mine is tight with Coleman’s attorney up in Maryland. One phone call later and I get the lecture of my life from this guy swearing that if I let anything happen to that “sweet, gentle man” before he can spring him on appeal he would, well, let’s just say non-voluntarily rearrange my anatomy.”

“In other words, kick your butt.”

“Basically.”

“Can’t wait to meet him, let me get up and … ” Peter’s head felt like it was filled with wet cement, and he was certain that two guys with paddles were whacking his skull enthusiastically. Gingerly, he laid back down.

“What’s it going to take for you to slow down, Mr. Carson?” Gail asked, placing some aspirin in Peter’s hand. “The world can wait a few minutes while you get your bearings back.”

“Guess you’re right, my head … ”

“Feels like you’ve been kicked by a mule, I’ll bet.”

“Something like that.”

Gail McCorkle was looking at Peter differently now. He could sense the change. Their relationship had rapidly evolved from jailer-prisoner to spiritual siblings and now, Peter perceived, to something more.

“Gail, if you don’t quit doting over me people will talk.”

“And what would they say, Mr. Carson?”

“That the Warden is in love with one of her inmates.”

“So? You know that I love you. Don’t get nervous now, it’s not a physical love. Although you are a little stud muffin, got to admit that. What I feel for you is far more real and permanent. You are a very special man, Peter, perhaps the most special man to grace our little globe in a couple of thousand years.”

“Gail, please. Stop that kind of talk right now. I am only a vessel, an obedient servant. Nothing more.”

“If you say so, you wouldn’t be who you are if you had an ego. But I know the truth and that is sufficient.”

“Are you trying to tell me something, Miss McCorkle? What happened while I was asleep?”

“Nothing, Peter, nothing. It’s just that I, well, for the first time in my until recently useless life I know what my purpose is, what God really wants from me. I know that you know what I’m talking about. Once you find your purpose, life becomes much easier. Peace sets in.”

Peace. Peter did know exactly what Gail was talking about. Despite the trials he was enduring (or was it because of them?), he did know a peace that went “beyond all understanding.” As long as he walked in God’s will, he knew that he could face any challenge, conquer any foe. Such confidence can only come from Above, and no earthly thing can shake it.

“Okay, Gail. Don’t keep me in suspense. What’s your purpose?”

“Hold on there mister! Who said I have to tell you? Mighty presumptuous aren’t we?”

Peter thought she was kidding, but he was still taken aback. “Of course, Gail. Forgive me. I should not have assumed … ”

“Oh, will you stop it,” she said, gently kissing his forehead. “You are my purpose, Panos. I’m to be your protector here, as you said, but I guess I never really knew exactly what that meant until yesterday.”

Peter felt no need to delve further into Gail’s comment. It was powerful enough standing on its own.

“That’s pretty heavy stuff, Miss McCorkle. You don’t give a fella much of a choice, now do you?”

“No sir. You have no choice and neither do I. Isn’t that wonderful! Praise God!”

“Praise Him indeed.”

Standing off in the corner of the cube, so quiet and unobtrusive he almost seemed invisible, was Lawrence Coleman. When Peter saw him and made eye contact Larry looked down at his shoes and gave a sheepish shrug as if to say, “Ah shucks, maybe I should come back later.”

“Mr. Coleman. Warden McCorkle was telling me all about you. Come over here so I can shake your hand.”

Without saying a word, Larry did as he was told.

“Well, don’t keep us in suspense, Mr. Coleman. For heaven’s sake speak up! It isn’t everyday we get the opportunity to talk to someone who has crossed over and returned.” Peter hoped by being upbeat and a bit boisterous he might make Larry more comfortable, draw him out some.

“Yes sir. If you say so, Mr. Kallistos. I’m afraid I can’t tell you much about what happened, but I will do my best.” When Larry spoke it was always in a soft, even fashion. If you didn’t listen closely to what he was saying, you’d miss it. The volume and cadence of his speech were indicative of a man who was far more adept at listening than he was talking.

“Miss McCorkle and a couple of the guards gave me a tour of the camp. I saw Kenneth over talking to you guys and I was going to join you, but suddenly I got sick to my stomach and very tired. My plan was to shower, take a nap and then catch up with you.”

“Saul’s little friends?” Gail asked.

“Don’t ever let him hear you calling them his friends, but yes, Larry was attacked,” Peter explained.

“Yes sir, I’m sure you’re right. I was attacked. Once I got in my bunk, I felt like someone had strapped me down and I couldn’t move or speak. Next thing I remember is waking up on the floor and you were kneeling over me with that white glow all around you.”

“That’s it? What happened after you passed out?”

“I don’t remember anything. Sorry I can’t be of much help. Kenny says I was dead. Is that true, sir?”

“Yes, Larry, it’s true. You had probably been dead for awhile before I arrived.”

“Then the proper thing for me to do is to thank you, Panos. My, My.”

“Larry?”

“For many years, sir, I have waited patiently for this day, for the time when God would send his heavenly messenger back to earth and show His mighty hand to His people. I knew this would happen, but actually living it is a joy beyond description. You are blessed, Saint Peter, as am I to be in your presence.” Larry dropped to one knee, took Peter’s right hand and kissed it.

“And you thought I was going too far,” Gail said, barely able to control her laughter.

“Larry, Larry. My friend, we need to talk.” Peter was getting more uncomfortable with each passing moment. “First of all, I’m not a saint. As I understand it, you don’t get to be one of those until long after your dead, and I’m still very much alive. Please, don’t ever call me that again.”

“But Panos, I was … ”

“Larry.”

“Yes sir. I only called you that because Gabriel does. I meant no offense.”

“Ha, ha. Got you on that one. You’re gonna love this.” Gail was obviously amused by knowing what Larry was going to say next, he having already told her and the brothers his story earlier in the day.

“Lord have mercy.” Peter positioned his head on the pillow where it throbbed the least and settled in as Larry began to share his testimony.

“For many years, Peter, I’ve run missions in Baltimore and D.C. for the homeless, the Open Arms Ministries. We feed and clothe who we can as God provides, help the poor get services and shelter, and spread the Gospel.”

“Tell Peter what you did before you ran Open Arms, Larry.” Gail wanted to be sure every detail was covered.

“Since I was sixteen, when I dropped out of high school, I’ve been working with the homeless in one way or another. Started volunteering in a soup kitchen, now I run ten of them. Oh, sorry. I used to run ten of them.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Peter said.

“Oh, it gets better. Believe me,” Gail added.

“One day, I guess it’s been nearly twenty years ago, a homeless man sought me out after dinner. He was a Caucasian, about thirty, with light brown, curly hair. Had the most captivating quality about him, he radiated goodness.”

“This will blow your mind, Peter.” Gail was as giddy as a little girl on Christmas morning.

“Gail, please. Let the man speak.”

“He tells me his name is Gabriel and that he is an angel. Now I know everyone thinks I’m the easiest mark around but, honestly, I thought the guy was probably mentally ill. I see so much of that. Still, like I said, he had this aura that’s really hard to describe in words. It has to be felt, it can’t be explained.

“This man tells me Christ is very proud of me. Says I ‘shall see God.’ Now I know what that means Biblically. It was a very nice thing to say. In my mind, I’m thinking, this is really a good man, how can I help him? I swear to you I didn’t take him seriously. That is until he touched me.”

“It’s a good thing you’re lying down, Peter. Stay there.” Gail held Peter’s hand, as if to offer him support against some immanent shock.

“The moment he does, touches me that is, I get transported far away. Not physically mind you, I somehow knew that I was still standing in the dining hall, but I was gone nevertheless. You want to know where I came first? Right here, right now. I saw you, Kenny, Malik, Saul, even Miss McCorkle as you all look today. I knew where I was and when it was.

“My visions came in a series of short bursts, portions rather than complete events. I’ve talked to the other guys and I can tell you, I too saw all of us praying in a circle on the porch, tongues of fire shooting from our heads.

“But my visions didn’t stop there. I saw you, Peter, speaking to what seemed like a hundred thousand people in some enormous stadium. Your picture and your words were being broadcast all over the earth. We, well some of us, were there with you.”

“After you were done, many of the people were angry with you, started calling you names like traitor and even demon. They wanted to kill you, Peter. There was so much love in that arena, and also so much hate. Like two worlds colliding, two armies at war.”

“I don’t know what happened next, because I got transported somewhere else. I was in the midst of thousands of people, all of them asking about you. Is Peter alright, when will he be here, will he bless us, and so on. Why they were asking me in particular these questions I never knew. Until now, I guess.”

“Then a flash of light bursts right in front of my eyes and I’m back in the mission. Gabriel is standing right in front of me.”

He says, “Lawrence, you are worried and troubled about many things, but one thing is needed. Choose that good part and it will not be taken from you.”

“Sounds like the story of Mary and Martha, but I don’t get the connection,” Peter said.

“Yes, Panos, that’s it exactly. I knew what Gabriel meant. Martha was ‘distracted with much serving’ and she wanted Jesus to order her sister Mary to help her take care of the guests. Christ said no, because Mary was sitting at His feet hearing His Word, and this was a greater duty than serving others. Simply put, God’s will must always be our first and only priority.”

“Don’t you see? Gabriel didn’t want me to miss it, to pass on my calling of being your disciple because I was busy serving others, running my missions. Since then I have always known that when you called, I must go. God has taken care of my missions anyway; they no longer need me around to get things done.”

“Tell him why you’re locked up, Larry. This is nuts, Peter. I think God does have a sense of humor after all,” Gail said, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Tax evasion.”

In between snorts of laughter Peter managed to get out a, “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“No sir,” Larry answered. “What happened was I made some people in D.C. very mad when I refused to move two of my missions. They wanted to build condos or something on the properties. I publicly chastised them, said they should be ashamed of themselves for trying to take away what few things the poor had, when they had been blessed with so much.

“Rich people don’t like being called names or challenged, I know that, but I felt strongly something had to be done. So I spoke out and the city council backed me and the missions stayed.”

“A couple of months later, two federal agents, IRS men, came looking for me. They asked me about two parcels the mission owned on Jones Street down by the RFK. I said we sold those lots two years back and used the money to support the ministry. Then they said they knew that, but they wanted to know why I never declared the income.”