The voice stopped, and Micah didn’t know where to start.
“But the verse on the door—”
“Easily taken out of context and often distorted. Those verses are talking about Israel and God’s people taking the land and God subduing the nations. It is not a personal message to those of us who have hit some bumps along the road of life. I’m sorry. I wish it was a message the way you’ve interpreted it, but it isn’t.”
Micah’s mind spun as confusion poured down on him. It felt as if the air in the room had thinned, the remaining oxygen refusing to enter his lungs. The dream had brought him more freedom, built more faith, and given him greater hope in the love of Jesus than he could have imagined. And it was wrong?
“You’re saying we shouldn’t feel at all? C’mon.”
“No, no, no, of course we should feel.” The voice laughed. “All I’m saying is we need to admit feelings are what they are. Just feelings. Not reliable, solid evidence of God. As it says in the Word, we have been given a sound mind and must live out of that sound mind. We take ‘every thought captive’ with our minds, not our emotions.”
Micah sighed and turned to leave.
“You’re going so soon?”
“There’s a lot for me to think about.”
“I love you, Micah.”
Micah slammed the door to the room and walked down the hall.
He was beginning to hate himself.
||||||||
Late that Thursday afternoon Micah took a long run to clear his head. Turmoil over his conversation with the voice still swirled in his mind, and he played both sides of the argument back and forth without resolution.
The evening, however, held a ray of hope. He’d intentionally not read Archie’s letter the day before. Now he was glad he’d waited. He needed a good one.
August 28, 1991
Dear Micah,
Today I must let the Word of God speak for itself so this will be a brief correspondence.
“Look among the nations! Observe! Be astonished! Wonder! Because I am doing something in your days—You would not believe if you were told.” (Habakkuk 1:5)
He is beyond imagination, Micah, and He is drawing you to Himself.
Trust Him. Seek Him.
Archie
Instantly the confusion from his talk with the voice vanished like fog retreating under a blazing morning sun. Peace rushed in, and an image of what he called the brilliant room—where light seemed to pour out from under the door—filled his mind.
Yes. Time for another try.
He took his spiral staircase two stairs at a time and in seconds stood before the door. He sat on the other side of the hall and closed his eyes. Peace floated off the door like snow slightly heavier than the air around it. It settled on him and eased into his heart.
Images filled his mind—times as a child playing in a park full of lush maple trees with his mom somewhere nearby, allowing him to soar with no cares, no worries except for how high he could swing or how fast the merry-go-round would spin.
Sunshine streamed through those maples, making the emerald leaves of summer a more vivid and striking green than he thought possible. The image shifted and he stood in a cathedral of towering redwoods, a deep cold river sliding in between them, dwarfed by their silent majesty.
Every time he came to the door, the same stunning sensations surrounded him, and every time he’d tried to enter without success.
Micah stood, reached out, and pushed on the door. He jerked back. Astonishing. There was no resistance. After recovering he pushed again and watched as his entire hand eased into the door till the wood surrounded his wrist, as if the door were water. He laughed.
He moved his hand all over the door but couldn’t push in any deeper than his wrist. As he moved it, sweet freedom swept through him.
Seconds later the door changed into ordinary wood again, and Micah’s head rested against it. He longed to enter. “When, Lord?”
Soon.
||||||||
The next evening around 10:00, Micah met Rick at Haystack Rock, and they headed south down the beach, watching the glow of August campfires and breathing in the smell of burnt marshmallows. He desperately wanted to tell Rick about the dream, but it meant telling about the voice as well, which he still wasn’t ready to do. Instead Micah asked his friend for his latest theory on what was in the brilliant room.
“In trying to get to the bottom of what the brilliant room—and for that matter, what the entire home—is all about, I think you’ve overlooked a fundamental question,” Rick said.
“Which is?”
“The history of the house.”
“What history? The thing is barely six months old.”
“I mean, who built it.”
“Archie, you know that.” Two runners, a guy and a gal, whizzed past them heading north up the beach. Micah needed to go for a run with Sarah. They’d gone for one a few days before, but he felt like he hadn’t seen her in months.
“Archie built it? Fascinating. You’re saying a man dead for twelve years built a home nine months ago? Now that’s what I call strange.” Rick winked at him. “Sure, Archie left the money and instructions on how it was to be constructed, but if he wasn’t alive, someone carried out his guidelines. And unless that person died in the last six months, it’s a pretty safe bet you could track him down.”
“Agreed. But the title and escrow records don’t give a clue. So how do I find this mystery man?”
“Pretty obvious, isn’t it?”
Micah shook his head.
“You said the letters were mailed to a Chris Hale, right?”
“Sure.”
“Well, I’m guessing Archie wrote the letters and mailed them to this Chris character so he would dump them in your house when it was finished. So since Archie’s gone, I’d sure be looking up ol’ Chris Hale to see if he’s still alive. If he is, bet he could shed some rays of light on the whole thing.”
Micah tilted his head back with what he imagined was a stunned look smeared all over his face. Of course. Why hadn’t he thought of that?
The next morning, as soon as the clock crept past eight, Micah would try to get Chris on the phone and find answers to why this home had buried his world in an ocean of chaos.
CHAPTER 30
The phone rang four times on the other end of the line Saturday morning, and Micah readied himself to leave a message on Chris’s voice mail. But on the fifth came an answer. “Hello, Chris here.” The voice was relaxed, warm, and just a notch above deep.
It put him at ease immediately. “Hi, Mr. Hale. My name is Micah Taylor, and I think we have a mutual friend. My great-uncle was Archie Taylor.”
“Hello, Micah. It’s wonderful to hear your voice.” Chris didn’t sound surprised.
“You expected my call?”
“Well, I can’t say I was expecting it. But I hoped you would call one day.”
“You knew Archie.”
“Ah yes, knew him well. And he knew me. One of the best friends I ever had, without a doubt. He died not long before my wife did. Whew, was that a year. By far the toughest one of my life.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It was more than twelve years ago.” Chris chuckled. “And odds are I’ll be joining them soon. Some days I still miss Archie terribly. Sarah even more so.”
“Your wife’s name was Sarah?” Micah choked the words out.
“Yes, is that unusual?”
“No, it’s just that I . . . Mr. Hale, could we meet?”
“I’d enjoy that. As long as you can refrain from calling me Mr. Hale.”
||||||||
Three days later Micah stood on the porch of Chris’s North Seattle colonial home. The chime of the doorbell had long since faded with no
answer, and Micah looked at his watch. Four o’clock. Right on time. He reached up to ring again when a voice inside called out, “Thanks for your patience. Almost there now.”
Chris greeted him with a broad smile and grabbed Micah with both hands. “Welcome, Micah! Welcome.” He looked like Norman Rockwell. He even had a pipe.
“Thanks for having me over, Mr. Hale.”
“As much my pleasure as hopefully it will be yours, Mr. Taylor.”
“Right.” Micah grinned. “Thanks for having me over, Chris.”
Chris guided him into the sitting room of a home old enough to have one. The wicker chair Micah sat in was aged but restful, and the black-and-white pictures on the walls and old books that lined the shelves made him comfortable immediately.
Chris excused himself to the kitchen and returned with two glasses of iced tea along with more in a pitcher. After a few minutes of banter, Chris raised his voice a pinch. “Well, I can see you have the personality to make small talk as long as necessary, but why don’t we get to it since you’re probably bursting with questions about your great-uncle.”
“Yeah, I have a few.”
“A few?” Chris raised his eyebrow, a mock frown on his face.
“A few dozen. Three or four dozen.”
“I’ll answer as many as I can, but before that, tell me about your experiences in the house so far.”
Although he trusted Chris instinctively, Micah wasn’t sure how much to tell. He decided to touch on some of the supernatural aspects of the home without telling too many of the details. When he finished, the sunlight on the old leather couch had moved more than two feet. It made him realize how significantly life had changed since the day Archie’s letter showed up.
When he’d finished, Chris merely nodded his thanks.
“So what’s the secret of the house . . . my house?”
“Secret?”
“Why is it so supernatural? What’s the connection between it and me? Why did Archie have it built for me? Did he know strange things would happen there?”
“First question: God is God. Second question: everything. Third question: because God told him to. Fourth question: yes.”
“Touché.” Micah laughed. “All right, I’ll put the question-six-shooter away.” He mimed placing a gun in a holster at his side. “How ’bout starting with how you and Archie met?”
“Fine.” Chris patted down the tobacco in his pipe with his pinky finger, lit it, then settled back in his chair. “I met Archie in the navy. He was the most popular aboard ship, even though no one could figure him out. He told jokes with the best of them. When the other guys brought out the jokes with a blue tint to them, Archie didn’t laugh, but he didn’t condemn those that did.
“He wasn’t the best at the physical demands of being on a naval vessel, but no one ever tried harder, and of course most of his shipmates respected him for that. I was pretty shy then, so I was taken aback when he sat next to me one day in the mess hall. He looked me straight in the eye and asked, ‘You want more out of life?’”
The smoke from Chris’s pipe curled toward the ceiling, and Micah watched Chris relive the memory.
Chris chuckled and gave a little shake of his head. “I stared at Archie. It was pretty forward, and I wanted to laugh but was too self-conscious. There was no, ‘Hello, how are you doing, my name is Archie.’ The first thing out of his mouth was, ‘You want more out of life?’ A lot of answers popped into my mind, but I decided on the simple truth. ‘Yes, I do,’ I told him.
“So right there in the middle of a mess hall full of guys, he starts telling me Jesus came to Earth to bring me back to God and to set me free. ’Course I’m staring at him like he’s just come out of the loony bin, but I can’t help asking the follow-up question, ‘Free from what?’ And you know how he answered? He didn’t. He just smiled at me. Archie probably knew I already had the answer. There were so many things I needed to get free of I didn’t know where to start. My chains had chains.”
Chris paused and looked right at Micah. “You know what I mean, don’t you? Archie worked on me, and I guess I helped him a bit, too. During the four years we served together, we became best friends. More than best friends. Brothers.”
Chris’s eyes moistened a little. “But I have monumental doubts you came to watch me get sentimental.” He patted the arm of his chair. “Archie carved out a solid career in architecture. Did very well. They still use a couple of his designs at the University of Washington to show students how to infuse a sense of freedom in the structures they design.”
“Everything about Archie pointed toward freedom, didn’t it?”
“If you’re going to focus on one thing, it’s a pretty good choice, don’t you think?” Chris leaned forward and clasped his hands. “And he loved to show people how to live for something bigger than the next ball game or vacation. Help them find their destiny and glory.”
“I wish I’d known him.” Micah let the regret settle. “So, if it wasn’t Archie, who oversaw the construction of the house?”
Chris smiled and realization washed over Micah. Why hadn’t he figured it out sooner? He shook his head. “You did an awesome job.”
“You like it?”
“Feels like it’s part of me. I’ve never felt so at home anywhere.”
“Ah, I’m glad. Archie would be so pleased. These days, Hale & Sons Construction is 99 percent Sons, but I got pretty involved with your home.”
“It’s perfect for me.”
“Good, good, good.” Chris gazed at Micah for ten seconds before continuing. “Archie never had kids of his own, as you probably know. Just didn’t work out that way, although I know he wanted a wife and children. But this life isn’t perfect, is it? So when your dad married and had you, Archie prayed in earnest. Couldn’t talk about much more than you most of the time.”
Chris repacked his pipe and lit it again. “Don’t exactly know why, but God built quite a love inside Archie for you.”
Micah shifted in his chair. “It doesn’t make sense. If Archie had this great love for me, why didn’t I ever meet him?”
“You did. Only once though, shortly before he died.”
“What?” Micah lurched forward in his chair.
“Regretfully, the time you met, he didn’t tell you who he was as he wanted to see you again. He feared you might tell your dad about it without thinking. And you know how your dad feels about followers of Jesus, and especially about Archie.”
“I asked my dad once what he had against Christians. Last time I made that mistake.”
Chris pulled off his glasses and rubbed them on his pants. “After your mom’s accident, some religious acquaintances of your dad invited him to an evening Bible study. Out of respect for your mom’s beliefs, he went. At first it was okay. They let him talk through the pain, but soon they started asking him for money to support their church. He said no, but they argued with him, telling your dad if he gave a certain amount, he’d meet God and it’s what Jesus would want him to do, what your mom would want him to do. Not exactly true Christian behavior.” Chris sighed.
“That incident soured him on Christians. Then it got worse.” Chris held up his glasses and squinted through them. “Yep, clean. You want to hear this, Micah?”
“I need to.”
“Shortly after that, Archie made a trip back from Europe—where he was living at the time—to see if he could do anything for you, your dad, and your brother. Well, he came to one of your baseball games—”
“Not that game?”
“Yep, one and the same. The next day Archie confronted your dad about how he treated you. About the choices he was making. Then they talked about the Lord, your dad saying God had stolen your mom and Archie trying to explain that that wasn’t God’s heart, along with a lot of other things. Suffice it to say, it didn’t go well. Yo
ur dad hated Archie for speaking the truth and has despised all Christians ever since.”
Micah sat squeezing his knees, trying to assimilate the revelations Chris had just given. It explained so much. And Archie had tried to rescue him from his dad.
“You knew my dad?”
“No, no. Only through what Archie told me. Now you know why anyone who walks with God is on Daniel’s do-not-disturb list.” Chris leaned over and refilled Micah’s glass of iced tea.
“The puzzle pieces are falling into place.”
“That’s why your dad never let Archie near you once he moved back to the States. Shame. Shame.” Chris sighed. “If he had found out Archie was spending time with you, your dad would have made sure it didn’t happen more than once.”
“But you said Archie did meet me one time.”
Chris sat up and nodded. “One day Archie said, ‘I’m going to do something crazy and try to meet Micah.’ I said, ‘How?’ and he didn’t really answer. Just said God would help him with it.”
“How old was I?”
“Oh, you must have been around sixteen or seventeen. Archie came back and said he knew you had it in you, whatever it was. He was proud of you for taking the risk. Said you talked about laying up treasures in heaven.”
Micah’s heart pounded as a question sputtered out of his mouth. “What did Archie do in the navy?”
“Oh, he was in communications so he worked the radio and helped with letters and memos; he was a pretty good writer.”
“Did he do anything else?”
“Not for the navy.” Chris looked at the ceiling. “Only other activity of note during those years was his jumping out of all those airplanes, doing that parachuting thing with his buddy in the army. He loved it, got pretty good.”
“Did Archie ever speak with an Australian accent?” Micah felt like his heart must be hammering away at two hundred beats a minute.
Chris’s face lit up. “Now, Micah, tell me, how in creation did you know that?”
Micah’s mind reeled. So what really happened in that room in Cannon Beach? Was the skydiving real? If so, when did it happen? Did he go back in time when he went into that room, or did it all happen in the Spirit and Archie had experienced it outside of time as well? Certainly God is outside of time, but . . . Just when Micah thought nothing else could shock him about this journey he was on, something did.
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