The Sacrifice (61 page)

Scott arrived a few minutes early at the school. He didn't want Kay to wait for him. As he sat in his vehicle, he looked at the school building. The most remarkable thing about the brown rectangular structure was its utter ordinariness. There was nothing that set it apart from thousands of other school buildings that dotted the American landscape— except the fact that it had faced destruction and been spared. That made it special.

He looked in the rearview mirror to see if Kay was pulling into the parking lot. When he did, he saw his own face. It, too, was ordinary. With his brown hair and square-shaped head, he was a lot like the school building. There was nothing about him that set him apart from thousands of other young men in America—except that he had faced destruction and been spared. Not once, but twice. Two men had sacrificed their lives so that he could live. Steve Robinson and Tao Pang were gone. He remained.

Why?

It was an important question. Scott wondered if there was an answer.

In the late afternoon sunlight the flagpole in front of the school cast a long shadow that stretched across the edge of the parking lot toward him. Near its top, an intersecting shadow caused by a stop sign crossed it. Scott noticed the configuration.

It was a cross. The sign of ultimate sacrifice.

Scott's heart beat a little faster. He could name two people, Steve Robinson and Tao Pang, who had placed themselves in harm's way for him and paid with their lives. Suddenly, he realized there were three.

“Jesus,” he whispered.

The name of the Son of God spoken in recognition of his redemptive purpose opened heaven. Tears appeared at the edges of Scott's eyes, but more importantly, he knew the answer to his question. There was a sacrifice that transcended all others. Its origin was in unfathomable love. It was the ultimate sacrifice given for him.

And in a moment of divine intervention the burden of responsibility Scott Ellis felt to justify his existence rolled away from his soul. He had made mistakes in the past. He would make more in the future. But his worth as a person was based not on his actions but on the sacrifice of the Son of God. A weight heavier than any barbell lifted from his chest, and a tear escaped from the corner of his eye. It wasn't his code of honor or self-discipline that justified him in the sight of God; it was the sacrifice of Jesus that made him clean. He exhaled and drew a deep breath of freedom.

“Thank you,” he said louder.

Scott didn't notice Kay's car until she parked beside him. He wiped his eyes and opened the door. She got out and saw his face.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He remembered something he'd heard from Kay's lips. Now he understood what she'd meant.

“Better than okay.”

Kay looked in his eyes, and they experienced what only the children of God can share—the recognition of spiritual life in another person. Kay put her hand over her mouth.

“Scott! Something has happened to you!”

He nodded. Then, in a level voice, he told her. By the time he finished, she had soaked two tissues.

Through her sniffles, she said, “Hearing you restores my own hope. I'd wondered if it could ever return. You've done it again.”

“What have I done?”

“You've helped bring me back to life. Thank you.”

He stepped forward, and they embraced.

When they parted, Scott asked, “Are you ready to go inside?”

Kay looked up the sidewalk toward the front doors of the school.

“Yes.”

Scott reached out and took her hand. They walked into the future. Together.

EPILOGUE

The light shines in the darkness, and
the darkness did not overcome it.

J
OHN 1:5 (NRSV)

T
he blood that flowed from Tao Pang's body was removed from the hallway in front of the supply room door. The floor was cleaned and waxed, and Larry Sellers hired another janitor. However, in the ways that mattered most, no one could fill the void left by Tao's absence.

No one with a rag in one hand and a bucket of soapy water in the other stood vigil over the students who prayed in the cafeteria each Tuesday. No one carefully studied an old yearbook and asked the Holy Spirit to reveal young people and teachers who needed special prayer. No one prayed for lockers or praised God while operating a buffing machine. Tao was gone.

But Tao's prayers remained.

True intercession endures beyond this earthly life.
Amen
is not a word of ending but an affirmation of faith for the future. Tao's prayers didn't die when he took his last breath. They remained alive like unseen banners suspended from the cafeteria ceiling and hidden signs posted along the hallways where he'd worked. Nothing God inspires is lost. Nothing his servants do in obedience is wasted.

The Tuesday group continued to meet. Janie healed slowly from the horror of her experience in the hallway. As she did, her compassion and concern for those on the fringes of the student body increased. Alisha's willingness to be a bold witness to her faith became stronger.

The angels who surrounded the table maintained their unwavering watch. Faith in God by human beings who cannot see into the spiritual realm is one of the greatest marvels of the universe, and the heavenly guardians considered it a high honor to serve those who believed in prayer. The light burned brighter than ever. The darkness had not overcome it.

One Tuesday the students in the group were sitting around their usual table.

“Thank you, Lord Jesus, for protecting us from evil,” Janie prayed. “Please reveal your goodness and glory in this school. Let each person know how much you love them.”

“And thank you for your presence,” Alisha continued. “We want you in every part of our school. Touch the lives of all the students and teachers.”

A cool breeze blew across their faces.