Deliver Us From Darkness

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Deliver Us From Darkness Page 6

by W. Franklin Lattimore

“Hello, Mrs. Lawton. It’s George Chamberlin, Brent’s basketball coach.”

  “Oh, hi, Mr. Chamberlin. What can I do for you?” Sharon asked, already preparing herself for another dose of bad news from the school.

  “Is Brent available?”

  “I believe he is. Will you hold for a moment?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Happy to,” the coach replied.

  Sharon set the phone down on a chair beside the kitchen counter and walked into the living room. As she approached the foot of the staircase leading to the second story of their large suburban home, she could hear Lydia laughing. Brent was saying something to her, but Sharon couldn’t make it out. For all of the conflicts that periodically raged through the family, she was grateful that her children, at least, had a good relationship. Looking up the stairs she called out, “Brent!”

  “Yeah?” Brent called out.

  Miffed, Sharon put her hands on her hips. “Brenton Nathaniel, do you mind stepping out of your room when you answer me?”

  Brent stepped from his bedroom and walked to the top of the stairs. His face had a look of indignation, with a trace of humor about the eyes. “Yes, Mom. What is it, Mom?”

  “You’re asking for it,” Sharon threatened lightheartedly. “Coach Chamberlin is on the phone for you.”

  Brent’s eyes changed; the humor fading. “What does he want?”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  She watched as Brent took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then proceed down the stairs. Turning to follow Brent as he passed, she returned to the kitchen and her food preparations.

  “Hello?” Sharon heard him say after taking up the phone. “Hi, Coach.”

  Pause.

  “Yes, I remember.”

  Pause.

  “I don’t know. Besides, like I said,” Brent turned to look at his mom, “I’m grounded. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t go anyway.”

  Pause.

  “No … I didn’t ask.” Brent sighed. “Okay. Hold on.”

  Brent covered the mouthpiece of the phone with his left hand, pursed his lips for a moment, then said, “Mom, Coach wants me to go to some church-like thing with him and his wife tonight. I told him I doubted that I could go, but he wanted me to ask you anyway.”

  Sharon finished cleaning the seeds out of a bell pepper and then turned to look at her son. “Brent, even if you weren’t grounded I don’t think I’d say yes to something like that. Your coach seems like a decent man, but I don’t know him well enough to say yes to you going to some religious meeting. I don’t want you to get mixed up with some sort of cult-like group.”

  4:57 P.M.

  THE IRONY OF his mom’s statement caught Brent short. Cult, Mom? If you only knew what I’m already involved in. He could have laughed if things hadn’t become so serious.

  “So, I should tell him no?” Brent asked.

  “I’m afraid so,” she replied as she began to slice the pepper into long strips.

  Brent put the phone back to his ear. “Coach, my mom says I can’t go.” There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, then his coach responded.

  “Okay, Brent. I’m sorry to hear that, but I will be praying for you.”

  Not knowing exactly how to take that, Brent replied with, “Thanks, Coach.”

  “Have a good evening, and I will see you…”

  “Brent?” His mom interrupted.

  “Coach, can you hold on a sec?”

  “Sure.”

  Turning to look at his mom, Brent saw her wiping her hands and stepping toward him. “Can I speak with him for a moment?” she asked as she reached for the phone.

  Brent didn’t reply. He just relinquished control of the phone and listened.

  “Coach Chamberlin? It’s Mrs. Lawton again. Exactly what is it that you’re wanting Brent to attend with you tonight?”

  Brent cringed. He wasn’t at all sure that he wanted to go to the meeting tonight, and his mother had been the perfect excuse not to. Now, completely out of character, his mom seemed to be taking away a perfectly legitimate excuse. In a million years, he couldn’t have fathomed that his mom would have stepped out of her introverted nature like this, taking the initiative to talk with someone she didn’t really know.

  “And where is it?”

  Pause.

  “Mmm-hmm. Yes, I know the area,” she replied. “And what time would he be back home?”

  Oh no, Brent thought. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

  “Okay,” she said into the phone. “He said that your wife will be going as well, is that right?”

  Pause.

  “Mmm-hmm.” She laughed at something that Coach Chamberlin said. “Sure, that’d be great. I’d enjoy meeting her sometime.”

  Pause.

  Another laugh. “I’m sure we will.”

  Pause.

  “No, no problem at all. He’s free to go if he’d like. I’ll give him back to you right now. Have a good night, Mr. Chamberlin.” Brent’s mom handed him the phone. “If you want to go, you can.”

  With utter lack of enthusiasm, Brent responded, “Great. Thanks, Mom.”

  Taking back the phone and putting it to his ear, Brent said, “Coach, it looks like I can go. What should I wear?”

  “What are you wearing right now?”

  “Umm … a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt.”

  “That sounds good to me,” was the response.

  Confused, Brent replied, “To church?”

  Coach Chamberlin let out a small laugh. “It’s not church. I already told you that. My wife and I are going to eat a quick meal, and then we’ll head out to pick you up. We should be at your house a little bit after six o’clock.”

  Brent let him know that would be fine, then they said their goodbyes. Hanging up the phone, he walked back through the living room and went back upstairs.

  What had just happened? And what had he gotten himself into?

  Hi, Brent. Good to meet you,” said Mrs. Chamberlin as she stepped out of the car, allowing Brent to crawl into the backseat of the two-door, olive-colored Ford LTD Brougham.

  “Good to meet you, too,” said Brent as he climbed in. The car was warm compared to the forty-degree temperature from which he came. “Nice car, Coach. What year is it, a ’71?”

  “Close,” came the reply. “It’s a ’70. And, thanks. It’s the only toy that my wife allows me to have and tinker with in my spare time. How’re you doing?”

  “Nervous.”

  Coach Chamberlin smiled. “I can understand that.” He put the car in gear, pulled away from the curb, and they were on their way.

  About twenty minutes later, they entered the parking lot of a large church called Forest Acres Community Chapel. The parking lot was nearly full, and Brent could see a half-dozen people standing outside of the main entrance wearing suits. An uncomfortable feeling stirred within him.

  “Umm, Coach, I thought you said we weren’t going to church.”

  “We’re not. Not exactly. Like I told you earlier today, we started off small. But, since we’ve gotten so big we’ve had to find larger places to meet. This church graciously allows us to use their facility every Thursday evening. Don’t worry, Brent. I’m not throwing you to the wolves,” he said with a snicker.

  “Good,” said Brent, not so sure he could count on that.

  After the car was parked they proceeded through the dipping temperatures to the entrance. They were met at the front door by a man in a three-piece suit with short, well-groomed, blonde hair. “George! Good to see you! And Cheryl, I’m glad you could make it.” After shaking their hands, the man turned to Brent and extended his hand.

  Brent took it and began to shake it when the man said, “God bless you, brother! It’s good to see you, also!”

  Unsure how to respond, Brent said, “Uhh … yeah. You, too.” What have I gotten myself into?

  Once inside the church they hung up their coats, crossed through the foyer, and entered the large sanctuary. Brent had never seen
such a large church before. If his coach had been right, and there actually were close to seven hundred people attending this meeting, then it was obvious that this place could easily hold a thousand. What kind of church draws a thousand people? Brent wondered.

  He was glad to see that there was a lot of available seating toward the back of the large room. He started for one of the back rows, but his coach stopped him dead in his tracks. “Brent, looks like there’s some seating available up front, about the fifth row. How about we sit up there?”

  “Oh. Okay, that’s fine.” It wasn’t fine. And how was it that a building could make him feel so edgy? He had a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach and the mental image of a warning sign with flashing red lights. Part of him definitely did not want to be here. Strike that. Most of him did not want to be here.

  They found seats in the fifth row in the right-most section of the church. As Brent looked around, he noted the breadth of the two center sections, a wide aisle that stretched the width of the sanctuary, and two equally impressive side sections, also separated by aisles.

  On the stage were several people preparing instruments for play. Brent was taken aback as he saw electric guitars, an electric bass, drums, a piano, and several microphone stands. In a church? This is weird!

  His attention was pulled away from the stage when he heard a man’s husky voice to his left. “George! God bless you, man!”

  Coach Chamberlin stood up, crossed in front of Brent, and stepped out into the aisle. Brent watched as his coach grabbed a burly, bearded man, also in a black t-shirt, and hugged him. There were tattoos the length of both of his arms and a long chain that extended from his wide, black leather belt to a wallet in his back pocket. This guy looked like he was part of the Hell’s Angels.

  “Chuck! It’s good to see you, buddy! Man, it’s been a couple months. Where’ve you been?” asked George.

  In a voice that sounded like it had been distorted by years of smoking, he said, “Went down to the Dominican Republic with some brothers and did some church reconstruction. Hurricane Samuel devastated that island. But, man, did I have a blast! Saw sixteen people come to Christ while I was there! It was awesome!”

  Did he just hear this guy right? Brent was struck by the fact that a man, whose appearance could scare away his entire basketball squad, was all about doing church stuff. He doesn’t look the part, Brent’s mind retorted.

  “That’s great!” said George. “Praise God! That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?”

  “Yep!” Chuck looked down and studied Brent for a moment. “Who’s your young cohort in crime?”

  George turned to look at Brent and waved for him to join them in the aisle. “Brent, I’d like you to meet another of the original twelve … or thirteen … I can never remember which…”

  “Thirteen,” said Chuck. “Remember how Tina used to say, back then, that we were like a coven for Jesus?” He laughed heartily, his thick baritone voice causing people around them to turn and look. “But, then, your mind was still a little fried from all those drugs you used to do.” He laughed again.

  What? Drugs? Coach Chamberlin? Brent could scarcely take it in.

  “Oookay, Chuckie. That’s a little bit too much information to be released to the general public,” said George with an ever-broadening smile. “But, yes, now that you mention it, I do remember Tina saying that. Anyway, this young man is Brent Lawton, one of the star players on my basketball team this year.”

  A thick calloused hand extended toward Brent. Brent took it, expecting his fingers to be broken in his vice-like hands. But, instead, he was greeted with a firm, friendly handshake and a big smile. “Good to meet ya, Brent. Your coach is a good man and an even better friend. Probably wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for him.”

  “Good to meet you,” responded Brent in mild bewilderment.

  “You give me too much credit, Chuck. Besides…”

  The conversation was cut off by a loud drum solo onstage. George and Chuck simply raised hands toward each other, smiled, and parted ways. George and Brent stepped back to their seats and sat down. George put his arm around his wife, a gesture that wasn’t lost on Brent.

  That’s pretty cool.

  The drum solo was loud, and Brent sat glued listening to it. Then it segued into music that could have been heard on any of the local rock stations. What in the world? Brent’s mind kept getting blown away. In a church?!

  Once the singing started, he realized the difference. This music was rock-n-roll, but the lyrics were about Jesus. They spoke of his power, of his love, of his forgiveness.

  I’ve just entered the Twilight Zone.

  9:20 P.M.

  TIME PASSED QUICKLY. Brent was still sitting in the pew, and he couldn’t believe what he was about to say. “Coach, that was incredible! I’ve never heard anybody talk about the Book of Revelation before.”

  “Trust me; I know what you’re experiencing. I’ve been listening to Bob share messages like this for years, and I’m still captivated.”

  There was no opportunity to discuss things further, because soft music began to play in the background as Bob Naze began to speak again. “Friends, we’ve had a good time tonight. At least I have.” There was a ripple of laughter in the crowd. “But, the sole purpose of these meetings is not to have fun, but rather to let you know that there is a God who loves you. Jesus Christ is real, he is alive, and he really does care.

  “I’m going to ask that everyone in the sanctuary stand up.”

  There was a soft rumble of people standing, Bibles being placed down, people preparing themselves for what was next.

  “Thank you. Now I’m going to ask that everyone hold still. It doesn’t matter where any of us have to be in the next few minutes when you compare it to making sure everyone in here knows where they’re going to be for eternity.

  “There are a lot of Christians in here—most of you, in fact. Many of you came to know Christ by coming to these meetings over the years. It is for those who do not yet know our Savior that we dedicate the remainder of our time together this evening.”

  Brent felt queasiness return, and perspiration began to form on his brow and in his hands. What’s going on?

  Bob continued, “I’d like for everyone in this room to bow his or her head right now; eyes closed.”

  Brent glanced quickly to his right to see Coach Chamberlin and his wife bow their heads. He did the same. He was getting increasingly nervous. And now he understood why.

  He recognized the awful presence, and he heard a confirming whisper in his mind. “Brent, don’t listen to this. This is foolishness.”

  Brent forced his mind to focus on what Bob Naze was saying.

  “Christians, I want you to begin praying for those in this room who do not know Jesus. Pray for barriers to be broken through and lying tongues to be quieted, in the name of Jesus Christ.”

  Suddenly the nagging voices were silenced! Brent’s heart pounded. He was beginning to experience an entirely different power now. A power that could muzzle the mouths of his dark adversaries.

  Muzzle? Wait...

  His thought was cut off by the preacher’s next words.

  “All of you here who aren’t quite sure what all of this is about, it is you that we are here for. It is you that we are praying for right now. And we pray for you because we know what Jesus Christ has done for each of us.

  “Some of you here tonight are caught up in drugs and alcohol. Others of you are stuck in a rut of sexual addictions and perversions. And others of you are involved in some form of the occult—demonism, witchcraft, sorcery, divination, and the like. And there are also some of you here who have been struggling with the idea of suicide.”

  Brent’s eyes shot open. He stared straight down at his feet, then chanced a look to see if his coach was looking at him. He wasn’t. He and his wife were visibly praying, their lips moving silently. Had his coach told this preacher about what he’d been going through? No. How could he? He didn’t know
.

  “Many of you men and women all over this church building have been going through such private hells that you’re scared to reveal the darkness behind your torment. But, listen to me. Jesus knows. He knows!

  “He knows ... and ... he loves you still. There is nothing that you have done, and there is nothing that has been done to you, that has stopped him from loving you and wanting you to be his brothers and sisters, not to mention his friend.

  “Jesus, himself, said that those who ask him to come into their lives will have a friend that sticks closer than a brother.”

  Brent’s mind was trying to take this all in.

  You want me? How could you? My life’s a mess!

  “I’m going to extend to you an invitation in a moment. An invitation to ask Jesus Christ to come into your lives. But first, I want all of you to know what the Bible has to say about all of this. And to do that, we’ve got to start at the beginning.

  “You see, the earth as we know it wasn’t always broken. When God first created it, it was utterly perfect. A perfect Adam & Eve had a perfect relationship with God. They all shared a perfect love. There was also no death, no sickness, and no sin.

  “God had told Adam that if he ate the fruit of a certain tree that he would die. Later, Satan tempted Eve and told her that God was holding back on them and that if they would eat that fruit they wouldn’t die, but that their eyes would be opened and they would be like God. She fell for it and got her husband to fall for it, too.

  “That first sin caused the whole of God’s perfect creation to shift. Death was introduced, both spiritual and physical. Chaos erupted in, and through, the first family. Every succeeding generation has perpetuated that chaos. Every murder, every misuse of sex, every false religion, every war, and disease … all of it … is a result of that original sin.

  “Remember, I said that spiritual death was also introduced. You see, Hell was not created for man. It was created for the devil and his angels. However, God cannot allow sin to do to Heaven what it first did to Earth, so no man or woman, boy or girl, will ever be allowed to bring it in.

 

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