After a good minute of silence, Galen’s posture relaxed. He looked back at his friends and said, “Come on, guys. We’re going to miss the bus.” Breaking eye contact with Brent, Galen walked around him and headed for the door, Tim and Joey following.
Brent heard the door close behind him. His fingers tingled like they did the first time he had a Holy-Spirit led confrontation with Galen. He took a deep breath and slowly released it with a word of thanks to God. Another clash had been dealt with by the Lord, and again he had come out of it untouched.
He crouched and picked up his books, then walked over to the stall in which his notebook lay. Picking it up, he wondered how long his luck would hold out when it came to Galen.
Luck?
Brent realized immediately that his word choice had been a discredit to the Lord. Luck didn’t exist, and even if it did, luck would never again get the glory for the good that happened in his life. He was going to be grateful only to God.
He’d been called a wimp for believing in God. Let everyone think so. Let them throw words at him. He knew better. He just loved his Savior.
“Because he loves Me, says the Lord, therefore I will deliver him.” Those words from Psalm ninety-one—Brent’s ‘message from the Lord’—were certainly proving prophetic.
Amazing. Simply amazing.
Brent tried to digest what had just happened.
He stood in the hallway in front of the school’s auditorium. Thirty seconds ago, someone that he still did not know had walked away from him heading, presumably, to his next class.
God, thank you for using me.
Truly amazing.
Brent had been heading to history class when he’d been approached by someone he did not recognize. Probably a freshman, he thought.
“You’re Brent … right?” asked the kid with a look of nerve-racked resolve.
“Yeah, that’s right. What’s up?”
He looked edgy, unsure of himself. “Umm … I hear you’re pretty tight with God. I … umm…” His voice trailed off.
Brent placed his left hand on the kid’s shoulder and directed him toward the doors of the auditorium where they would be out of the way of the other students walking through the halls.
“What’s going on?” Brent asked. “You okay?”
The kid took a deep breath and slowly released it before continuing. “Yeah … I, uhh … no. No, things aren’t okay. Someone told me you’re a Christian. Is that right?”
I guess my Christianity isn’t a secret to anyone anymore. The past year and a half, apparently, had been bearing fruit. “Yes, that’s right,” said Brent, acutely aware that he was about to hear a plea for some sort of help.
“I was hoping… I mean, I am hoping that you can say a prayer for me.”
“You bet. Happy to.”
“Thanks.”
And that was it. Brent had thought he’d at least learn the kid’s name, but that was apparently not to be. His “thanks” was all he’d said before turning and rapidly walking away.
Uhh… yeah. Okay.
Brent walked to his next class, whispering a prayer as he went. “Lord, I don’t know who that was, or what that was about, but you do. Something’s bad wrong in his life, Father, and I’m asking for your help.
“God, I don’t know if he’s a believer or not. But something’s got him shook up. Something’s eating at him, and I remember exactly what that’s like.
“Protect him, Father. If he’s in some sort of danger, move in and protect him with your angels. If he’s not in danger, then please, help him to find his answer in you. Take care of this situation that is tearing at his heart and win the battle for him. Let him know how big you are and how much you love him. I pray this in the name of Jesus. Amen.”
Looking back over the past year and a half since his salvation, he’d realized that life was going to be filled with unexpected happenings; blessings that came right out of left field.
At the beginning of this, his senior year, he was just as determined to let his walk with God shine. To his surprise he saw that someone else had also become as determined.
Laura Tucker, that gangly friend of his ex-girlfriend, Michele—Strike that. Formerly gangly friend—was apparently just as determined as he to construct a new reputation in the school. When he’d seen her for the first time this new school year walking through the halls, he was immediately struck by her appearance.
She was walking between two of her friends with a bright smile on her face. Instead of looking like the timid girl he’d known the previous couple of years, she now exuded a never-before-seen confidence. Her shoulders were squared, her head was up, and she didn’t avoid looking into people’s faces.
Laura hadn’t seen Brent as she approached, not until he said, “Laura?”
All three of the girls turned to look at him. Laura stopped, raised her eyebrows, smiled her metallic smile, and said, “Yes?” She apparently knew that Brent was sizing her up, and he could see the twinkle in her eyes.
“Wait, who are you, and what did you do with Laura Tucker?” teased Brent.
She didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, I’m sorry. You must be referring to that unsure, shy little girl that you knew last year.”
“That’d be the one.”
“Well, I’m sorry, Brent, but you’ll just have to deal with the new version.”
“Happy to,” he had said through a laugh. “Umm… Wow. Okay, so what caused…”
“Jesus.”
“Now you’ve really got my attention.”
Laura stepped from between her friends and walked up to Brent. Before he could brace himself, she wrapped her arms around him, hugged him, and kissed him on the cheek. Then she whispered into his ear, “Thank you, Brent. Thank you for being an example of Christ to me.”
Brent returned the hug and said, “I’m glad you saw that in me.”
The embrace ended and she’d stepped back.
“So,” Brent continued, “this new you is all about your relationship with God?”
“Yes,” she began. “It was the relationship part that had been missing all the years that I’ve been a believer.
“Watching you in class and in the hallways made me realize that I was more ashamed of my faith than happy about it. And when I got honest about that, I had to admit to God that I had really been ashamed of him.
“I asked him to forgive me and to put in me the same resolve that I saw in you. I told the Lord that it was now going to be all or nothing and that I’d really like to do the ‘all’ option.”
“Wow,” Brent said again.
“Yeah, wow. From the day that I made that decision this summer, I started carrying my Bible everywhere that I went. When people asked if I was ‘religious’ or a Christian, I didn’t flinch. I proudly told them that I was.”
“That’s amazing.” Brent was realizing that amazing was becoming a common exclamation in his life. Who’da thought it?
“Better than that,” she had continued. “God gave me the boldness to share Christ with my two friends.” She’d stopped suddenly, realizing that Brent probably didn’t know them. “Oh! Brent, this is Denise, and this is Dori, two of my closest friends.”
“Hi. I’ve seen you two around. Good to meet…” Brent began, but was cut off by the amazing words that followed.
“… My Christian friends,” Laura concluded.
“What?” replied Brent, stunned. “The two of you are Christians?”
“Yes!” came an emphatic, shared response.
“That’s amaz—” Brent caught himself. “That’s awesome! Welcome to the family!”
The girls’ smiles were as full of life as Laura’s.
Denise said, “We’ve known Laura for years. We’ve hung out together, slept over at each other’s houses, but we didn’t know anything about her faith.”
Laura produced a look that bordered on embarrassment and shrugged.
Dori then spoke up. “Well, we didn’t know anything about her faith until this su
mmer. One day she’s just another nerd like the two of us…” All three of the girls laughed. “…the next she’s Bible Girl!”
That last comment wasn’t lost on Brent. But unlike him, Laura wore the euphemism like a badge of honor.
“Laura, I’m proud of you. I’m proud of all of you!”
“Thank you, Brent. The three of us have begun praying for Michele. We’re hoping she’ll be the next one to join this party.”
Michele Atwell and he had not parted on the best of terms, unfortunately. He was glad that she wasn’t present at the moment. Awkward would have been too weak a term for how the encounter would have felt. It was difficult enough having to pass her periodically in the school’s hallways.
“That’d be great,” responded Brent. “I hope she will be.”
The bell sounded the beginning of the next class period. All three girls let out a surprised little yelp.
“We’re late!” exclaimed Dori. The three began to move quickly down the hallway.
Just after the girls turned the corner into an adjoining hall, Laura called back to him, “I’ll talk with you later!”
Beyond amazing.
THAT EVENING, TEN miles away, hidden on the outskirts of the Village of Pittston, a young couple began setting up their new home. To any that might have known about them, they would appear to be just another pair of giddy newlyweds. That was the illusion they hoped to convey and maintain.
But they weren’t newlyweds. Their union went far beyond the “natural” order of things, and they had a plan; a plan that would envelope their lives for many years to come. With steady patience they would bide their time and do what was required of them.
It was now their turn in the succession of generations past; their turn to accomplish what had failed each time it was attempted over the past eleven-hundred-and-thirty-nine years…
The reestablishment of a dark and powerful ancient religion.
Would they be the chosen ones? Until they knew for sure, they would simply blend in. Blend in and search.
Brent circled the parking lot a third time. He was going to be late now, but there was nothing that he could do about it. He refused to get another ticket.
Parking Nazis. That’s what everybody on campus called those who funded the college’s coffers by way of little yellow pieces of paper slipped under windshield wipers. Faced with being late yet again, he was beginning to agree. Why couldn’t he have gotten a pass for a lot that was closer to his classes? The question often asked and never answered.
He peered down each row of cars praying for someone to leave. Wait, was that movement? He backed his car up just a few feet to see better down the parking aisle. Yes!
Giving the steering wheel a hard turn to the left, he pulled down the narrow lane. Backing lights lit up as a car began pulling out of its spot.
Brent parked his car, a blue 1985 Pontiac Grand Am and, upon exiting, threw his black book bag over his shoulder and ran toward the campus quad area to get to Hallis Hall.
It was a warm day. He’d misjudged the temperature again, and the sweatshirt he was wearing was starting to live up to its name. Sweat began to trail down his back, causing the t-shirt underneath to stick to his skin. He ignored it.
Summit State College was a small liberal arts school located about an hour away from Millsville. Brent had battled back and forth in his mind about staying on campus for the semester. He’d opted for the long commute rather than missing out on his mom’s home cooking. Besides, it also got him out of the party-oriented dorms. He’d been required to spend his freshman year in the dormitories, but despite the benefit of not having to drive to class, he couldn’t tolerate the din that was so pervasive in dorm life.
Now approaching the end of his junior year, he was beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel. One more year. Only one more year, Brent consoled himself.
He reached Hallis Hall and approached the closed door of his classroom in the hallway of the second floor. Brent paused before pulling the door open. He knew what was coming and gave a slight shake of his head.
Opening the door, he was greeted with the friendly, albeit sarcastic, voice of his professor.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Lawton! Nice of you to join us,” voiced Professor Bauer.
Brent took his embarrassment in stride. It wasn’t the first time, and probably wouldn’t be the last.
“Sorry, Professor.”
“Have a seat, Mr. Lawton. You’re still first on the agenda. Get prepared. You had better dazzle me.”
A chorus of laughs rolled through the class of thirty-plus students. Brent took a seat near the back of the classroom, put his bag on the floor, opened it, and grabbed his outline. He was to present his argument that the U.S. Constitution was not a living, breathing document, but rather one that said what it meant and meant what it said.
With the maturing of his Christian walk, he’d come to see the wisdom of America’s founding fathers. They had created a nation based on unyielding truths, to which the majority of them held dear; chief among them, that the Bible was indispensable for proper governance of the new nation, a belief that Brent also shared.
That belief had become the source of ridicule by many, from his classmates in high school to his dad, who still refused to take his faith seriously. He’d been faced many times with the argument that the Bible was out of date and that God wouldn’t confine people living today with such archaic rules as no sex outside of marriage. The liberal mindset had tried to take the truth out of the Bible and replace it with pure grace—no consequences for one’s actions.
He had found that the same thing happened all the time in politics.
Brent’s fascination with political debate was tied to his love for God’s Word. If the U.S. started as a God-fearing nation founded by godly men—men who wanted the nation to remain that way—then what had happened to allow such ungodly laws to reshape the country?
To figure out the answer—or maybe to inject one—he had decided to take on a double major in college. Initially it had been just one: English. But in his freshman year he had taken an American Government class that made him both angry and determined to speak openly to a classroom full of listening ears. He was rewarded by his instructor with the opportunity to speak his opinions freely. Very unexpected.
He found that he enjoyed debate and that he could do it passionately and with well-put-together, cogent arguments. He didn’t always win—in some people’s opinions—but he had a voice that was getting heard.
Now he would present an argument showing that the same watering down that was happening to the teachings of the Bible was happening to the Constitution of the United States.
“Mr. Lawton.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Dazzle.”
1:25 P.M.
TARA BAKER LEFT her dorm room, walked down the hallway, and entered the elevator that would carry her down five stories to the lobby below. She pressed “L” and watched the door close before her. She stared passively as the numbers changed, indicating each floor. With a soft ‘ding’ the doors opened and she walked out.
She paid no attention to the people mingling in the lobby as she proceeded to the glass doors to exit the dormitory. Pushing the doors open, she felt the heat of the unusually warm day envelop her. Confronted by the daylight, she pulled down the brim of her hat to block out as much of the sunlight as possible.
She hated the day.
Once upon a time, though, she would have jumped at the chance to be outside amongst the blue sky, the flowers, the trees. It seemed a lifetime ago. Now she enjoyed the darkness.
Thinking about it now, she corrected herself. She didn’t really enjoy the darkness. The darkness was more … comfortable. More known. It was where she belonged, where she could concentrate, where she could cultivate her powers.
Walking briskly, her long, strawberry-blonde hair trailing in the breeze, she entered the quad area. She needed food. Not having enough time before her next class to find a hea
lthy alternative meant that she had to ingest more greasy fast food. She hated that, too.
She walked up the steps to the student union and plowed through a crowd of people with barely a notice. She even took a little pleasure in throwing a slight elbow into the ribs of an obvious goodie-two-shoes academic. The looks of surprise on his face, and that of his prissy-looking friend, were sure to have been priceless. She opened the door and exited the sunlight.
1:31 P.M.
“OUCH!” BRENT KEPT his voice down, but conveyed his annoyance toward the girl in black who rushed past him and into the student union. “Did you see that?”
Marta Rosales, a friend and classmate of Brent, dropped her mouth open as she, too, viewed the audacity of the girl. “Not even a word of apology! You all right?”
“Yeah,” he said with a smirk, “I’m okay. Trust me; I’m no stranger to being elbowed.”
“Oh, that’s right. Basketball.”
“Yep. No biggie.” He turned back to fully face Marta, her olive skin and long, thick, almost-black hair dropping below her shoulders. The two of them had met freshman year at an off-campus Christian event and quickly became friends, though periodically he had wondered if more than a friendship could evolve. Lately, though, the idea faded from his thoughts, regardless of how attractive she was. “You were saying?”
“I was saying,” she began again, her faint Guatemalan accent paving the way, “that I wouldn’t have thought to draw a parallel between how the Bible is being ‘modernized’ and taken out of context by atheists and anti-Christian religious sects, and how the same thing is happening to the U.S. Constitution.”
“It’s a beautiful world, isn’t it?” joked Brent, shaking his head. “Christians, and conservatives in general, are losing strategic ground to the demonic realm—the Enemy—in the name of tolerance. We’re supposed to ‘tolerate’ shacking up, same-sex lifestyles, and abortion. We’re supposed to tolerate atheistic attacks on our beliefs.” Brent motioned for Marta to follow him down the steps. “Well, I, for one, am sick of it, and I fully intend to let people know, especially other Christians, that we’ve got to stand our ground. There is nothing wrong with intolerance. We’ve been lied to! Intolerance is not anti-American. Intolerance is not anti-biblical, and intolerance is not mean...” He stopped and turned again to look Marta in the eyes. “…as long as there is either a constitutional or biblical mandate for the stand one takes and it’s done without hate.”
Deliver Us From Darkness Page 9