Deliver Us From Darkness

by W. Franklin Lattimore

  “After that original sin was committed, God took the life of a spotless animal, shedding its blood in order to cover the guilt of Adam and Eve. Scripture makes it clear; ‘without the shedding of blood, there is no forgiveness of sin.’ By doing that, God was showing Adam and Eve that he still cared about them; that they still mattered. He also showed that there was a high price to pay for sin: The blood of an innocent.

  “For thousands of years, God accepted the blood of animals to cover the sins of people, but the sacrifices were only good for one year. Each year the people were again reminded of the high cost that had to be paid for what they had done. God, though, had a plan that would result in one final sacrifice; one last shedding of blood. This last sacrifice wouldn’t just cover sin for one year; it would wash it away forever.

  “Listen to Romans, chapter three, verse twenty-three: ‘All have sinned and come short of the glory of God.’ Romans, chapter six, verse twenty-three says that ‘the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.’

  “See? All of us—every single one of us—has fallen short. There is not one single person in this room, or on this earth, that deserves anything other than eternal punishment. No amount of doing good can save you. It is only through Christ, and the shedding of his perfect blood, that we can have salvation—the forgiveness of our sins that will allow us into God’s kingdom instead of Hell.

  “Some of you have been beat over the head with religious dos and don’ts. You feel like God is up there on his throne with a big hammer just waiting for the next time you do something wrong so he can make an example of you. But, that’s not how it is!

  “Listen to what Jesus, himself, said: ‘God loved the world so much, that he sent his one, and only, Son, so that whoever would believe in him would not know eternal punishment, but, instead, would know eternal life!’ He went on to say, ‘God did not send his Son into the world to condemn it, but that the world, through him, might be saved.’ Isn’t that great news?”

  God, Brent asked, is this true? Really? A hope rose within him.

  “Right now, those of you who want to know this God – this Jesus – I want you to raise your hands.”

  Before Brent could give himself time to think, his hand was in the air. He was so shocked by his response that he actually looked up at it. He closed his eyes again, returning his attention to the preacher.

  “That’s it. You, there, sir, God bless you. You can put your hand down.”

  Did he mean me, Brent wondered? He began to lower his hand.

  “And you, young man, you can put your hand down. Yes. God bless you. Young lady in the back, God bless. You can put your hand down.”

  One after another after another, hands went up and were acknowledged, for what seemed like several minutes. Brent was stunned by the realization that he wasn’t the only one whose life was messed up. But, then, Bob Naze had said that everyone needed Jesus, right?

  Finally, Bob continued. “I want all of you who raised hands to make a bold statement. I want each of you to slip out of your seat and come down here to the altar. Come on now, don’t be afraid. There’s nothing to fear from forgiveness and peace.”

  And with that, the band began to softly sing.

  Just as I am, without one plea,

  But that thy blood was shed for me,

  And that Thou bidd’st me come to Thee

  O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

  Brent couldn’t just stand there. He wanted to believe that all of this was true. But he was struck with a new fear: What if this didn’t work?

  What if I go down there... Tears developed in his eyes. What if ... Oh God ... what if this doesn’t work? There’s nothing else.

  I’ve got nothing else! God! I’m scared! Do you hear me? I am scared!

  Just as I am and waiting not

  To rid my soul of one dark blot,

  To thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot,

  O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

  With a resolve that came from desperation, Brent slipped out of the pew and walked the fifteen miles to the altar. He saw that others were kneeling, so he did the same. He looked down and saw a box of tissues sitting right in front of him. Good thing, he thought. But he was going to try not to cry.

  Just as I am, though tossed about

  With many a conflict, many a doubt,

  Fightings and fears within, without,

  O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

  The song—written just for Brent over a hundred years prior—came to an end. Dozens of people filled the front of the church. He could hear people, men and women alike, sobbing ... just like he wanted to do.

  Bob began to speak again. “I’d like for everyone down here at the altar to look at each other for a moment. Look the full length of the altar area. I want you all to see that you are not alone when it comes to trials and complications in your lives. Now look up at me. I’m going to lead all of you in a prayer. I’d like for all of you to repeat it, out loud, as I say it. But I don’t want you just saying it. I want you to pray it. Speak it to God. He’s listening. I promise you, He’s listening. You’re not joining a church tonight, or some organization. Rather, you are beginning a personal relationship with the Creator of the Universe who takes a personal interest in you.

  “Now, pray this after me: Father, in Heaven ... I come to you now ... broken and defeated. ... I know that I need you. ... I know that I’m completely lost without you. ... According to your Word ... all I have to do is believe and receive. ... Right now, I confess ... that I believe that Jesus ... was conceived in, and born of, a virgin, ... that he led a sinless life, ... and because of that sinless life ... He was able to take my place in death, ... suffering and dying for my sins, ... to make me right with you, Father God. ... Jesus, right now ... I ask you to come into my heart, into my life. ... Forgive me of all of my sins ... Clean me up inside; ... inside my heart, inside my spirit, inside my mind. ... Tonight I give you my life. ... I will serve you and love you for the remainder of my days. ... In your name, the name of Jesus, I pray ... Amen.

  ‘Amens’ sounded throughout the sanctuary. Brent found out that trying to keep back the flood of tears was futile. He grabbed at the box of tissues, buried his face in a handful, and he wept.

  He wept because God had accomplished in him what he had thought impossible.

  He wept because the fears and pains of his life were gently being washed away.

  He wept because he knew, now, that God really was good.

  He wept because he knew ... he was free.

  THAT EVENING

  HANNAH MOORE, LYING in the warmth of her bed, fell asleep, and enjoyed a full night of uninterrupted, peaceful slumber.

  It had been nearly a month since Hell had given way to Heaven in Brent’s life, and there was no going back. Indeed, that was the farthest thing from his mind. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to suggest that the past month alone had been worth all of the torment that he had gone through in the past couple of years. He wouldn’t trade in his new life for anything. That’s not to say, though, that life was perfect. Far from it.

  While his new-found faith was having a major influence in his own life, the same could not be said of others in his home. In fact, it appeared that his “religion,” as his parents began calling it, was having a negative impact, beginning with the night that he had accepted Christ.

  Looking back four weeks to the beginning of his new Christian walk, Brent could now see that those beings that had lost their grip on his life had been given a new mission: Discourage Brent Lawton right out of the shoot.

  After George and Cheryl—he was invited to call them by name now, as long as they were off school grounds—had dropped him off at home, Brent nearly exploded with the good news, explaining the events of the evening to his parents. That had apparently been a mistake.

  “You did what?!” his dad exclaimed.

  “I became a born-again Christian,” Brent responded, the smile on h
is face fading.

  With a curse, his father continued, “I thought we made it clear, before you left to go with that coach of yours, that we didn’t want you joining anything! Jesus Christ, Brent!”

  For the first time in Brent’s life, he had come to understand just how blasphemous that statement truly was. “Dad, I didn’t join anything.”

  His mom chimed in next. “Brent, how are we supposed to know what you’ve gotten involved in? Are we supposed to just be happy that you’ve joined some religious movement because your coach said it was okay?”

  “Then why did you let me go? You talked to Coach Chamberlin, yourself.”

  “Your coach assured me that he wasn’t going to allow you to get mixed up in anything that you shouldn’t. That’s why!” The tension in the room became palpable.

  “You don’t have a clue what I did. You don’t have a clue what I experienced tonight!” Brent was so angry, so crushed, so hurt, that the tears virtually crawled out of his eyes. “What I experienced tonight was not some cult. I didn’t join a church or some weird group of fanatics! I didn’t join anything!”

  His parents stared at him, slack jawed. In all of Brent’s sixteen years, they had probably never seen him so adamant about an issue.

  “You want to know what I did? I’ll tell you! It might sound crazy—in fact, I know it sounds crazy—but I ended up getting to know God tonight. I got to know that he’s real. I’ve never experienced anything in my life so good!”

  He was interrupted by a timid voice from behind him, “What’s wrong? What’s going on?” It was Lydia.

  Brent remembered how scared and big her eyes appeared when he turned around.

  “Honey, you’re supposed to be aslee…” The absurdity of what Brent’s mom was about to say had stopped her in mid-sentence. “Everything’s fine. I’m sorry that we got so loud. Go on back up to bed. I’ll come up to check on you in a little bit.”

  With that, Lydia gave a curious glance up at Brent and headed back upstairs.

  “All I’m saying…,” Brent began again, without the chance to finish his thought.

  “Brent, listen,” his dad interjected in a slightly toned-down voice, “I may be getting upset over nothing. I don’t know. You’re sixteen years old, and you’re capable of making some big decisions on your own. But Brent, there are a lot of crazies out there. Your mom and I don’t want you getting mixed up in anything that’s going to affect you in a negative way.”

  That last sentence shocked Brent. How well he had hid all of his dark practices over the past two years. His response was soft and contrite. “I understand. But you will see that this isn’t some hokey religious thing. All I’m doing is believing in what the Bible says. I mean, we go to church as a family at Christmas and Easter every year, right? Why? It has something to do with the Bible. And, Mom, your mom reads the Bible every single day and loves God.”

  “Yes, but that’s different.”

  “How?” Brent asked, on the verge of anger again. “Why is it okay for her to be a Christian, but it’s not okay for me?”

  “Brent, we’re all Christians in this house,” insisted his dad. “I was baptized as a baby. I think your mom probably was, and so was your sister. Don’t you dare create some story in your mind—or better yet—don’t try to convince us that we’re not Christians and only you are! That will get your butt in more trouble than it can handle.”

  At that moment Brent felt properly slapped around, and all he wanted to do was retreat. “I know that I can’t say anything right now to make you understand. I just know that what I did feels right. And I hope that you won’t stay angry at me.”

  Lowering his head, he turned around and walked slowly up to his room.

  Brent remembered clearly what happened next, and just the memory nearly broke his heart.

  When Brent had rounded the corner into his room, he came face to face with Lydia. Tears were streaming down her face, and it only took a moment before she asked a desperate question.

  “You’re not going to be fighting with them, too, now, are you? I’ll be all alone.”

  Brent knew all too well the anxiety that was behind that question, and upon hearing Lydia’s greatest fear verbalized, tears welled up in Brent’s eyes. Immediately he walked up to her, took her in his arms, and began to cry with her. After a minute he softly whispered into her ear, “No, Lydia. I will never do that to you. I’m sorry I scared you tonight.”

  Several seconds passed by and she reluctantly pulled back to wipe her eyes on the sleeves of her pajamas. “Is everything okay?”

  “Everything is going to be fine. Mom and Dad just don’t understand that something important happened to me tonight, that’s all.”

  Her voice became conspiratorial, and in a breathy whisper she asked, “What happened?” Her eyes became wide and curious.

  Brent remembered asking himself, How much is too much? How soon is too soon?

  “I don’t know if it’s a good idea if we talk about it now. You heard Mom; she’s going to come up here and check on you any minute.”

  With a pouty look on her face, she relented. “Okay, but tell me tomorrow.” She gave Brent a quick hug and walked off to her room.

  That had been quite the night. He had gone to bed exhausted from all the emotions that he’d had to deal with. It was the next eight or so hours that had ultimately convinced him that God had done an incredible work.

  No voices. No nightmare.

  This day, weeks later, Brent had tried again to get permission to go to tonight’s Freedom Rings meeting with George and Cheryl. As he’d expected, they’d said no. But it appeared that their resolve was weakening. His mom had said, “Maybe next time. We’ll see.” The miracle was that his dad had only given her a momentary glance without a contradictory word.

  So, maybe next Thursday, huh? “God, please continue to work on this for me,” Brent whispered. “I really want to hear more about you.”

  Pulling out his chair and sitting at his desk, Brent pulled out the New Testament that he’d been given at Freedom Rings. It looked more like a novel than a Bible, but most importantly, it almost read like a novel. He was excited about being able to read the Bible in today’s English. And, not only did it make sense, it fed him. He couldn’t get enough.

  He opened up to where he had stopped reading earlier in the day—Acts, chapter nine. He read about a religious leader named Paul—could that be Saint Paul?—who had gone off to harass and capture Christians in a city called Damascus. But on his way, he was thrown from his horse, made blind, and told by Jesus, himself, to go into the city and wait for a messenger to come to him. Brent was captivated by what happened next.

  When a man named Ananias came to where Paul was staying, he had “laid hands” on him, whatever that meant. And Paul was filled with the Holy Spirit and received his sight again.

  Verses nineteen through twenty-two went on to say:

  19 Then he ate and regained his strength, staying with the believers in Damascus for a few days.

  20 He went at once to the synagogue to tell everyone there the Good News about Jesus—that He really is the Son of God.

  21 All who heard him speak were amazed. They asked, “Isn’t this the very man who persecuted Jesus’ followers so intensely in Jerusalem? And we’ve come to understand that he came here to arrest them all and take them, chained, to the chief priests.”

  22 Paul became more and more passionate in his preaching, and the Jews of Damascus couldn’t effectively refute his evidences that Jesus was indeed the Christ.

  Something sparked within Brent, and he immediately knew what it was. “God,” he prayed, “Please, do in me what you did in Paul. What you did in my life a month ago was huge, and, just like Paul, I want to share Jesus with others. Teach me how to do that. Give me boldness like you gave Paul. Send me the people to talk with. I’ll do my best to share what I know. I know it’s not much, but I do know what you’ve done for me. I want others to come to know you like I have. In Jesus’ nam
e, I pray. Amen.”

  FRIDAY,

  APRIL 23 – 9:13 A.M.

  IT DIDN’T TAKE long before Brent’s prayer of the previous night netted results, but not exactly in the way that he was prepared for.

  Brent walked into his American History classroom. Inside there was already a smattering of other kids. A couple of them were sitting, but most were standing around listening to Galen Todd, resident jock and state wrestling finalist. He didn’t hear what they were talking about, but that needn’t have mattered, because as Brent made his way to the other side of the room to choose a seat, Galen stopped what he’d been talking about and focused his attention on Brent.

  Galen pivoted his body in order to put his right foot on the seat of a chair. At just about the same instant that Brent set his books and notebook on his desk, Galen spoke. “Yo, Brent. Heard you got religion. You one of those Jesus freaks like they were in the 60s?”

  His chiding question brought laughs from the rest in the room. A few more students walked in, and Brent saw in their expressions that they wanted in on the joke. But before they were given a chance to ask what was so funny, a surge of something akin to electricity rushed through his body causing a tingling in his fingertips. His heart started to beat harder, and with a boldness he didn’t think he had, he put his right foot up on the seat of his own chair, mimicking Galen’s stance. Looking him straight in the eyes, he answered, “Yo, Galen. No, I’m not. I’m a Jesus freak like they are in the 80s!”

  The look on Galen’s face was priceless. The other kids in the class cackled at Brent’s retort, some of them trying to hide that fact from Galen as hands were raised to cover smiles. Everyone was looking at the wrestler, but all he did was stare at Brent with a look that was a cross between bafflement and unsurity. Then he dropped his foot and took his seat. He didn’t say another word.