The Earth Is Full (Child of Deliverance Series Book 1)

by B. D. Riehl

  Lydia imagined that he bent at the waist slightly, stomping up and down the line of them, arms waving wildly, exaggerating his words with loud calls to heaven. Did he straighten and cup his weathered hands around his face, beard jutted out as punctuation as he called, “Wake up!”

  She enjoyed the image.

  When it was Elijah’s turn to call on God, she envisioned a much more somber prophet. He had ordered his altar built with stones and wood, with a deep trench dug around the base. Then he had ordered that it all be doused in water. Three times they’d poured water over the altar, the liquid running down over the sides and into the trench, filling it to the brim. Did he stand stoically by, hands clasped behind his back, eyes firm as he watched to be sure it was done as surely as he’d said?

  The wood, fully saturated, must have been soggy. Did he reach out to poke it with his sandal, emphasizing the waterlogged state?

  She wished she could remember what Elijah had prayed, but she knew that the instant he called on God’s name, fire fell on the altar and incinerated it, rocks and all.

  She imagined his eyes; alight with the fire of God, trained on the priests of Baal, mocking, challenging, triumphant.

  What a frightening, wonderful, steamy, sizzling pronouncement of power that must have been to behold.

  The people had fallen on their faces and said, “The LORD, He is God; the LORD He is God.”

  Funny that she remembered that. She’d been in class, bored, mind wandering as usual when Mr. Gooding taught that lesson. But something about that portion of Scripture had captured her and now it rose again, swirling in her mind like cream in an old-fashioned ice cream maker. It went round and round, thickening and looking more like it should the more it turned over.

  She rolled gently to her side, curled in the fetal position sometime in the hours she’d been locked away.

  Day fourteen.

  When she began to feel panic rise in the thick, dark air, she took deep breaths and pictured the fire slamming down upon the altar of the Lord. She found peace in that display of His power. The more she pictured it, the more she could feel it, as if she was there. And like those that were knocked to their faces in the face of God’s power, she whispered, “The LORD, He is God” over and over and over again.

  Until she began to cough.

  The music came on—nighttime. Loud and menacing, it taunted her. She imagined the music, black and penetrating, curling around her, mocking her, much as she pictured Elijah doing to the priests of Baal.

  Lydia thought so much of Elijah and God’s altar, she had gone without rest or adequate food for such a long time, she began to hallucinate.

  The loud bass choked her, burned her throat, and engulfed her, as if the small room was filled with smoke.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Kiet walked to the festival with Paul by his side, the Deliverance staff and girls behind him. A few careless locals attempted to make comments about his following, but his steely gaze stopped them short.

  Kiet had instructed the staff to surround the girls at the festival, and they prayed unceasingly that God would protect each one. All of the staff, Paul and Kiet included, felt an overwhelming peace that they would be fine, that they needed to be there.

  The group walked to the edge of the river to meet Chanarong and his entourage of men and women and trainers, all wearing shirts that advertised the many bars he owned as well as his training centers.

  Chanarong gestured to the volunteers and young women behind Kiet and chuckled. “Quite a group behind you, hey, Kiet?” He turned and gestured to the crowd, mocking Kiet with his movements, the spectators laughed with him.

  “We fight in one hour!” Chanarong called to the crowd. A great cheer arose from them, as he turned to speak privately with his opponent. “Follow me.”

  Paul watched Kiet disappear into the crowd and took a deep breath. He turned to Pim and Jane and the others, smiled broadly at the girls and helped them all step forward to release their boats in the water.

  In spite of Paul’s concern for Lydia and Kiet, he watched with great affection as each one made their way forward to release the demons of their past into the capable hands of Christ. He knew the locals viewed this ceremony as a tribute to Buddha and even more paid respects to Phra Mae Khongkha, the goddess of water, this way.

  What a delight it was to watch these precious ones, once lost and without hope, souls beaming brighter than the candles on the water, stepping forward to release their fears and heavy past over to their Creator God in a symbolic gesture of their faith. Privileged to have been personally involved in many of their rescues, Paul rubbed their heads, mussing their hair like a proud Papa. And like normal girls their age, they would protest and immediately slick their hair back down.

  Women, he thought, happily.

  One small girl that had been introduced to Paul yesterday finally stepped forward with her boat. It was made with banana leaves like the others, stuffed with flowers and a candle, like the others. She shyly squatted next to the river and held out her boat, watching with tears in her eyes as it drifted away, the candle bobbing with the grace of the rippling water. When it mingled with the rest, she clapped in delight. “Stars!” she said in a thick accent.

  Paul smiled at her, looped a fatherly arm around her small shoulders and bobbed his head in agreement. The boats mingling together and did dance like stars on the water. He couldn’t wait for this young child to see the sky when the lanterns were released.

  ***

  First Bible Church had been one large rotation for over twenty-four hours. When every attempt to go to Thailand to be close to Lydia failed, Bryan and Stacey separately came to the conclusion that God did not want them to go; that He had Lydia in His hands, and that He was at work.

  For the following weeks, they had fasted, eating only one small meal a day, and did their best to trust in the Lord. When they first tried to get her story on the news, Kiet had called them and told them of his plans. Kiet spoke with Bryan for hours on the phone, explaining his conversations with Lydia, telling them of her faith, and going into great detail about his past and own conversion. Kiet apologized profusely, tears choking his voice across the thousands of miles, upset that he had exposed Lydia to those that wanted him to fight.

  Bryan trusted Kiet almost immediately and was amazed at the mark of God’s hand on the young man. He expressed to Stacey that they needed to hold back their pursuit of involving the media. Bryan spoke with Pastor Greg, who reminded him of Moses and the Israelites.

  “They had been delivered from Egypt and were face to face with an ocean, the army of Pharaoh breathing down upon them. What did Moses say? ‘Do not fear! Stand by and see the salvation of the LORD which He will accomplish for you today.... The LORD will fight for you, while you keep silent.’”

  Pastor Greg reached out to squeeze Bryan’s shoulder in brotherly encouragement. “I don’t know why, Bryan, but the Lord has closed every door for you to get to Lydia. He has allowed you to know that she has accepted Him as her Lord and Savior. For whatever reason, He sees fit to be her only Savior in this situation. Be still, Bryan. The Lord Himself is fighting for Lydia. I can’t imagine how difficult it is to face this ocean, to have the fear of her well-being breathing down your neck. Our church is standing beside you, lifting up our voices with you.”

  Bryan had wept tears of frustration and anger, then repentance.

  Charlotte had watched her parents in amazement. Giving up Noah had been inexplicably difficult for her, and remained painful; she thought of Noah and prayed for him constantly. Now her anxiety to get to Lydia, to save her from the world they had only glimpsed, threatened to overtake her. But her mother and father’s quiet, solid assurance in the faithfulness of the Lord was astounding.

  Since the first day that Bryan and Stacey learned of Lydia’s capture, the church had arranged to have someone praying in shifts every minute that she was gone. A glowing light shone in a front room of the church at all times, signifying that
someone was there, praying for Lydia, for Kiet, and the evil they faced. The day of the fight was upon them, and the church rallied, much like that very first day. From the early morning hours they had met, interceding together, imploring the Lord to be watchful of Lydia, to deliver her from captivity.

  People came and went, prayed and encouraged, as they could. Charlotte had left and returned a few times to take the girls home for naps, praying in the quiet of her room when she did.

  The girls were anxious to be near their mom after her time away, and Charlotte was just as anxious to hold them close, then release them to Sam and be surrounded by the murmured prayers of her church family. Prayers for Lydia. For Kiet. For those that would be affected by the outcome of this fight.

  For Deliverance.

  They prayed; their pleas rising like incense before the Lord. Charlotte had never experienced anything so beautiful.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Paul looked up as the crowd began to cheer. Business owners placed elaborate floating rafts on the Ping River for the festival, as they usually did. Each time he’d witnessed the festival of lights, the floats reminded him of the Venetian Boat Parade in Chicago. Rafts in the shape of flower buds and large krathongs adorned with thousands of lights would drift slowly on the water.

  Tonight, the crowd cheered and parted as a large floating dock that had been somewhat blocked off by Chanarong’s followers, suddenly lit up near the banks of the river. An elaborate light display was strung across the sides, forming hundreds of beautiful flowers. And on top of the dock was a boxing ring, inside it, Kiet and Chanarong.

  Paul narrowed his eyes. He could see that cameras were anchored high on each corner of the dock, pointed toward the center of the ring.

  Surely Chanarong had come up with this elaborate plan. He proudly strutted back and forth to the cheers of the people. From the looks of it, he believed they were his people. The move to make the festival about him was bold, even for a man such as Chanarong.

  Kiet stood back, arms hanging at his sides, still dressed in his own clothes. Paul knew from speaking with Kiet that he had been uncomfortable to wear the traditional boxing shorts or bare his chest. Paul knew the girls they’d rescued would be uncomfortable to see him that way, and Kiet was concerned with their hearts. Instead, Kiet had chosen jogging shorts and a Deliverance T-shirt.

  A loud announcement in Thai came from the float, and Paul could now see the referee behind the boxing ring.

  “At last, Chanarong and Kiet, matched. A fight to end all fights!”

  The announcement came in English this time, to appease the Western reporters Paul imagined. He could see them all on the bank of the river closest to the dock, their lackeys keeping the crowds back so as to not ruin their view or shot of the fight.

  Chanarong took the mic and paid tribute to Buddha, to the goddess of the river, to the people of Thailand. He promised them a good show, with an arrogant wink.

  Kiet was handed the mic, and he stood looking onto the crowds—silent for a full minute. Finally, he gestured to his shirt. The words “Until Every Last One Is…” were written on the front, he turned to let the crowd see the back. “Delivered” was inscribed in both Thai and English.

  The crowd buzzed with whispered questions. They didn’t understand.

  Kiet spoke in Thai. “Years ago, I was a champion boxer, set for a match with this man.” He gestured to Chanarong who struck a playful boxing pose. The crowd cheered, unaware of the direction Kiet would take his announcement.

  Kiet waved his hands, indicating for them to be silent before he continued. “Back then I was arrogant, selfish, full of concern for only myself and boxing. But then God the Creator found me, and I have been working for Him. My life is changed from within, and I don’t care about boxing anymore. This match holds more at stake than you know. On this night, during this festival, you honor Buddha; you honor the goddess of water.”

  The crowd fell silent. Chanarong slowly dropped his hands, his face hard in the neon light.

  “But I ask, as you release your krathongs and light your lanterns, where was Buddha when the foundation of the earth was laid? Did he set the earth’s measurements? Did Phra Mae Khongkha? Do they watch over you and care for you and lead you into the light? You who cast your lights upon the water, do you worship the God that made the light? The God that sees our deeds that we hide in the darkness?”

  Paul expected the crowd to rise up in anger and shout, but they stood silent, mystified.

  Kiet pointed to his shirt, looked into the cameras surrounding him. “I work with a group called Deliverance. God’s hand is on this organization. He goes before us, makes a path for us to rescue girls entrapped by sexual slavery…”

  And there on a brightly decorated dock in the middle of Loi Krathong, Kiet told the audience in front of him, as well as the ones at home in front of their TVs, about the Lord, about the trafficking problem in that country and others. About the work of Deliverance to prevent slavery, rescue those entrapped by it, restore them to full lives of success and peace and joy. All through the Lord’s mighty hands.

  Deliverance had been working hard to spread the word for years, and God Himself had seen fit to provide a way to get the word out. He had been given a platform on a silver platter.

  In that instant, God stretched His hand across them and told the world.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Lydia choked on the heavy smoke. Now she knew it was no hallucination. She tried not to breathe, but her lungs would burst and her body would grasp for breath, then choke and cough as the black burn filled her lungs instead of clean air.

  Jesus, she whispered in her heart.

  She could form nothing beyond that, as her mind clouded over. She would die in this closet, and all she could think about, the only sound that rose above the roar of fear was a small voice:

  “Mistah, what our room number?”

  ***

  The sanctuary was full.

  Members of the congregation, believers from around the valley that had heard of Lydia through prayer chains and friends, gathered around Bryan and Stacey, Charlotte and Sam, in prayer.

  Praising, praying, pleading.

  They all felt it: the urgency to be on their knees, arm in arm, shoulder to shoulder.

  Hundreds more, shut-ins at nursing homes and in hospitals, any and all that knew the Lord felt an urgent calling to pray.

  And they did.

  ***

  Lydia felt it more than she heard it. A deep vibration in her chest.

  Loosen your binds.

  She squinted through the smoke; saw a man illuminated by light.

  “Quick! Get up! ” he said.

  When Lydia hesitated, he repeated the command, “Quickly! Get up!”

  She moved her hands and the binds fell away. She stood on strong legs, the binds at her ankles also falling to the floor in a heap. She stared at them in amazement. She had been tugging and twisting them for days upon end, shredding the skin at her wrists, but the knots proved too tight. Her frame, sore and weak from the cramped quarters, now stood firm before this strange man.

  She had to be dead.

  “Many of the chosen are in great distress over you, Lydia Gray.”

  He led her through a door into a dim hall then down a flight of stairs. Smoke filled the stairwell; heat pressed her from all sides. Where was the fire? With each step down the smoke increased, the heat pressed harder, the music pulsed louder.

  When she reached the next level and pushed open the door, she heard a roar behind her. The fire must have been behind her, now it shot through the floor, just six paces behind her. She turned down the hall and fled, knowing she had to find another way downstairs.

  The music started again somewhere in the distance, but was close enough to rattle her.

  She looked for the man.

  He was gone.

  There was another door in the far corner; one that she hoped led out and away. She started for the door and then hesitat
ed. Was she safe to leave? Where was she? Where could she go?

  Go quickly.

  Lydia had heard many stories in Cambodia and Thailand of the Lord’s leading. Her own family had claimed this trip was a divine plan.

  As she stepped through the door, she found herself walking in that same assurance of faith. She stepped into another dark stairwell. She scurried down the winding stairs, knowing the fire must be spreading closer, although the heat and smoke wasn’t as intense as before. She came to the bottom of the stairs and burst through a door into the bar.

  The music blasted her face. The bar was empty, but for one girl dancing on a stage with one older man sitting in the front row watching her. Lydia squared her shoulders and strode to the stage. The girl stared at her in amazement; Lydia could only imagine what she looked like without a shower or even a restroom more than the empty rice containers for days, hair dirty and matted, crumpled clothes. She didn’t care. She strode to the stage and offered her hand to the young girl, who had stopped dancing, eyes flittering between Lydia and the man in the front. Older, potbellied, and dressed casually in a loose tropical shirt and beige shorts, he began to shout something that Lydia didn’t understand; she thought in Russian.

  He looked between them, spittle forming as he chattered angrily. Lydia ignored him and held her hand out to the young woman again. She knew the fire would burst through any moment; how the building still stood, she didn’t know.

  Lydia locked eyes with her, trying to convey that she could help her; she only needed to walk away. The girl looked to the customer, looked past Lydia to the empty bar, and accepted Lydia’s hand. Together, they hurried past the man, whose mouth hung agape. Lydia smiled at the girl, who trembled violently next to her, looking over her shoulder again and again. Lydia prayed for guidance. Lydia squeezed the girl’s hand, turned a corner where she assumed the front door to the building would be, and smacked into an angry Thai man.