by Lee Strobel
“The governor’s right — you need to resign,” he said. “Otherwise, I’ll have to ask the elders to fire you.”
II
Garry Strider shifted in his chair. He crossed his legs, uncrossed them, then repositioned them again. He rubbed his temples, fidgeted with his glasses, stroked his chin — and he wished that he had shaved that morning.
If there was one thing Strider hated, it was being interrogated. He preferred to be the one posing the questions, pressing for answers, demanding details. He didn’t relish John J. Redmond, the Examiner’s much–feared editor and the paper’s former chief investigative reporter, turning the tables on him.
Redmond had caught Strider in the hall and beckoned him into his glass–walled office. Strider flashed back to being summoned by his high school principal for skewering the gym teacher in the student newspaper.
Redmond took his place behind his steel desk, clad in his usual white shirt and dark tie, the sleeves neatly rolled up to his forearms. His left wrist bore an expensive gold watch — the newspaper’s gift for snagging a Pulitzer. It was his subtle way of reminding everyone in the newsroom that whoever they were and whatever they did, he was better.
“The editorial board is going to have to endorse Snow or McKelvie for the Senate,” he began. “If you’ve dug up something on Snow, we need to know. We don’t want to pat his back on the editorial page and then spank him the next day on the front page.”
Again, Strider felt like he was back in high school — this time caught without having his homework. “Well, I’ve been interviewing a lot of people, checking records, looking at court cases — “
“Yeah, fine, but what’ve you got?”
Strider had been in similar predicaments before. Sometimes he would spend weeks on an investigation that would yield no results. He had learned to feed his boss just enough juicy tidbits to allow him to continue his probe, buying enough time to actually come up with the story he was after. It was worth a try. Then again, Redmond knew a bluff when he heard one.
“Nothing incriminating yet, but I just interviewed a woman who says she’s going to sue Snow for sexual misconduct during a counseling session.”
“How solid is she? Is this one case or part of a pattern?”
“Let’s just say I’ve got some, uh, reservations about her. But her lawsuit might flush out some other victims who haven’t come forward yet.”
Redmond tilted his head. “So let me get this straight: her case is weak and you don’t have any others — is that what you’re saying?”
“For now.”
“Does she have any kind of corroboration?”
“Um, I’m not sure yet.”
“Have you heard any rumors about Snow ever crossing any sexual lines?”
“Actually, no.”
Redmond gave an exasperated sigh. “What else have you got?”
“Looks like negligence at the church’s camp resulted in a kid drowning a couple of summers ago.”
“Does that directly involve Snow?”
“Uh, no, not personally. It’s the subject of a lawsuit; I’m in the middle of reading the depositions.”
“But it’s not part of a pattern of negligence, is that right?”
“Apparently not.”
Again, Redmond exhaled loudly. “Strider, what do you have?”
“I’m still checking some leads — it’s possible Snow discouraged the state’s attorney’s office from filing charges against one of the church’s accountants when she was caught embezzling. I’ve heard the SEC investigated his software company when he cashed out — something about insider trading. Lots of possibilities.”
Redmond was running Strider’s words through a mental grid — Is this a scandal or not? “Sounds like you’ve got a long way to go. Unless he was embezzling from the church, who cares if he’s dragging his feet to help some former employee? The SEC never took any action against him, right? I’ll give you two more weeks to come up with something.”
Relieved, Strider started to get up. “Two weeks,” Redmond repeated. And with Redmond, a deadline is a deadline — period.
Strider walked to the door, then hesitated. There was one topic he hadn’t broached. He knew if he failed to mention it and Redmond found out about it later, he’d be in trouble. But he also knew he had to use caution.
“Um, there’s one other possibility,” he said.
Redmond had already swiveled in his chair to face his computer screen. “What is it?”
“Miracles,” Strider said, uttering the word so softly that Redmond had to strain to hear him.
“What? Did you say miracles? What are they doing — running a faith–healing circus out there?”
“There have been some, well, anomalies lately at their prayer services. It looks like a little girl may have been healed of blindness and deafness.”
Redmond stared at him, incredulous. “Well, hallelujah and pass the collection plate! I hope you’re not wasting too much time on that — unless you’re going to reveal how they’re manipulating people into thinking if they give more money, they’ll get healed in return.”
“I’m not sure that’s their strategy,” Strider replied. “And there are rumors of another healing. People are starting to flock to the place, looking for a miracle.”
Redmond sighed. “Okay, go ahead and write a story on that. It’s colorful, if nothing else — and besides, I don’t want to see it first in the Trib. But don’t focus on the miracles themselves as much as the reaction — you know, desperate and gullible people flocking to the church and the implications for Snow’s candidacy. After all, you can’t prove a miracle, can you?”
With that, he waved Strider away and turned again to his computer. “I can’t believe this may be our next Senator,” the editor was muttering as Strider walked away. “Then again, he’ll probably fit right in with that freak show in Washington.”
III
Transcript
Telephone interview with Arthur Bullock, May 15
—Art, thanks for taking my call. It’s okay for me to record this, right?
—Sure, Strider. I’m taping it too.
— No problem. Hey, we’ve received the results of the genetic test on Hanna Kaarakka.
— Uh–huh.
—And frankly, the docs are astounded. There’s no genetic abnormality whatsoever.
— Is that right?
—Yeah. There was before — no question about it. But now, the results are perfectly normal.
—Well, thank God, then!
—So you’re officially calling this a miracle?
— Listen, Strider, you should really talk with Eric about this.
— I’ve tried, but there’s just no way to get through to him. He’s isolated — probably playing it safe because of the Senate thing.
—You’ve tried?
—Multiple times. He’s got Debra Wyatt gatekeeping for him. And you know how tough she can be.
— [Hesitant laugh] No comment on that.
—When I first mentioned the Hanna incident to Eric, he downplayed it. He seemed allergic to the word miracle. So now I’m asking you: what’s the church’s official position on this?
— [No response]
—Art?
—You’re really putting me on the spot, Garry.
— I don’t see why. Just tell me what you think.
— [Pause] I should really talk with Eric first.
—Art, I’m asking you. Certainly you have an opinion.
— [Pause] Um, Garry—
— Is this a miracle or not?
— [Sigh, pause.] Yes. [Pause] It is. [Pause] She was provably ill with a genetic anomaly, our elder prayed for her, she was spontaneously healed, and now tests show the abnormality is fixed. I think the most logical conclusion is that God healed her.
— So it’s a miracle?
—Absolutely.
—Can I quote you on behalf of the church?
— [Pause] Yes, by all means.
/> —Will you let me interview Dick Urban?
— Sure.
—And you’ll tell her family that it’s okay to talk with me?
—Yes, I’ll do that.
— Great, I appreciate it. But something has been bothering me: why was Hanna healed and others not? Did her parents give more money?
— I don’t know if they’ve ever given a dime. We’re not selling miracles to the highest bidder.
— So why her?
—Maybe you should ask God.
— [Chuckles] Well, we’re not exactly on speaking terms.
— Look, Garry, I don’t know God’s mind — no one does. Some mysteries will never be fully understood in this world. Maybe he’ll heal some of the others, only not so suddenly. Maybe he knows it’s best not to heal someone right now; sometimes tough times are the only way to shape us and bring us fully to him. Like I said, I don’t have all the answers. But I know he’s always there to comfort, to encourage, to strengthen.
— Do you think God is trying to say something to people through this? Like, it’s a sign of some sort?
— [Pause] I’m not sure. Maybe it’s his way of reminding people that he’s ultimately in control, that he’s active and loving and wants the best for people. [Pause] Maybe he’s reminding people that there’s no greater adventure than following him.
—Could he be sending that message to Eric Snow?
— I didn’t say that, Strider. Let me make that clear.
—Okay, I get it. So, tell me about how people at the church have responded to this.
—Well, the next Elders Prayer service was packed.
— Is that where the second healing took place? I heard something else happened.
—That’s right. A retired teacher who had polio since he was a kid came in with post–polio syndrome. Dick Urban prayed for him — and then, immediately, he was able to walk for the first time since he was, like, nine years old. Not only was the post–polio syndrome gone, but his muscle tone was actually restored.
—Were there witnesses to this?
— Dick and the man’s wife were right there and others were around. We’ve already had calls from medical researchers who want to study him. It was astounding, like with Hanna.
—Would you let Dick give me the details?
— By all means.
— So has word of this second phenomenon —
—Miracle, Garry. It was a miracle, plain and simple.
—Okay, miracle. Has word of this second miracle leaked out?
—Our switchboard has lit up. We had to add extra volunteers to handle the calls.
—What are they asking?
—When the next Elders Prayer service will be. We may move it to the main auditorium to accommodate everyone.
—Well, Art, this is really an amazing story. Are you surprised by all this?
— [Pause] I’ll be honest, Garry: it’s one thing to believe that God can do miracles, but when they actually occur, especially in such a sudden and dramatic fashion — well, it’s breathtaking. It takes faith to the next level.
— Do you think that was God’s intention? To strengthen people’s faith?
—Well, it certainly has had that effect.
— But sometimes people’s faith gets damaged when they find out that stuff like this isn’t real. Some televangelists have staged or faked or exaggerated this sort of thing.
— I acknowledge that. What makes our situation different is that we weren’t out promoting this or trying to raise money from it.
— But when I do the story, even more people are going to flock to your church. And they’ll be ripe for contributions, won’t they? The church’s revenue will go up. So you do have a vested interest in this.
— If that were our motivation, Garry, then I’d be calling you about this. But unless I’m mistaken, you’re the one who called me.
—Yeah, well, that’s true.
—We haven’t been trying to capitalize on it; if anything, we’re just trying to react appropriately. By the way, what’s your reaction, Garry? Has this challenged your skepticism at all?
— [Pause] It’s suspicious, I’ll admit that. But for the story, all I need is you guys claiming it’s a miracle. I’ll just report the facts and I’ll interview some atheist doctors to see if they’ve got alternative explanations. The article doesn’t depend on what I think personally.
— But you asked earlier if maybe this was a sign from God.
—Yeah, so?
— Have you ever considered the possibility that the sign is for you?
— [Chuckle] If God does exist, then he would probably have a lot more on his mind than orchestrating something like this for a person like me.
—You were there, weren’t you?
—Yeah, well, thanks for the interview, Art. If you can turn me over to your secretary, I’d like to get phone numbers for Dick Urban and this guy with the polio.
—You mean, the guy who used to have polio.
— Okay, right.
End of recording.
IV
“What is this?”
Bursting in unannounced just before 8:00 a.m., Eric Snow slapped the Examiner onto his associate pastor’s desk. Art ignored the paper and instead made eye contact with his boss, offering him a transparently insincere grin.
“Well, Reverend Snow — I mean, Senator Snow — I can’t remember the last time I saw you,” he said, extending his hand in a mock gesture as if to a long–lost friend. “How’ve you been? How’s the wife?”
“Don’t pull that with me!”
“Eric, you’ve been incommunicado for more than a week. You haven’t returned my calls, you’re dodging the media, you’ve left us high and dry. What’ve you been doing all this time — working on your acceptance speech?”
Snow thrust a finger toward the article just below the fold of the front page. “Have you seen this?” he demanded, pointing to the headline: SNOW’S CHURCH CLAIMS ‘MIRACULOUS’ HEALINGS. And the subhead: DESPERATE CROWDS FLOCK TO SENATE HOPEFUL’S WEALTHY MEGACHURCH.
“I know you don’t believe in my new direction, but to outright sabotage it? You’re better than this, Art.”
Art slowly rose to face his boss. “Sabotage? I’d say the story is pretty accurate — except this isn’t really your church anymore, is it? You don’t have an office here. You don’t even attend services anymore. This place is just an afterthought to you — a stepping–stone to Washington.”
“Last time I checked, I’m still the senior pastor. So why did you give this interview to Garry Strider?”
“Because you wouldn’t talk to him. Because we ought to be telling the world about this instead of guarding it like it was some sort of a national secret.”
“Really? Sure looks like sabotage to me.” Snow picked up the paper and read an excerpt aloud:
Chief Criminal Courts Judge Reese McKelvie, Snow’s main rival for the Senate appointment, was skeptical of the supernatural claims of Snow’s church. In an interview, he said:
“Reverend Snow may think he has an exclusive pipeline to God, and he may be profiting from more people putting money in the offering basket, but I’m staying focused on down–to–earth, practical issues that affect everyday people.”
Art grimaced. “Yeah, I read it online already,” he said, slipping back down into his seat. “But I can only be responsible for what I said to Strider — and I merely told him the truth. He was going to write this story with my help or not. Should I have lied to him? Or misled him? I’m not a politician, Eric.”
With a weary nod of his head, Snow tossed the paper back onto Art’s desk. He shrugged his shoulders and rubbed his eyes, which were cupped by dark circles. “You know — we sound like an old couple bickering,” he said. “This isn’t how we operate.”
“You’re the one who charged into here ranting about sabotage.”
There was a hesitant knock at the door and then Dick Urban, arriving for a meeting on how to handle the next Elder
s Prayer service, walked in. The head elder’s presence was enough to calm the nearly palpable tension between Art and Eric. After exchanging greetings, the three of them rustled chairs into a rough triangle.
“I saw the Examiner article this morning,” Dick began. “I didn’t like the tone, but what do you expect? This isn’t Christianity Today. I’m not sure the story did you any favors in terms of the Senate race, Eric. But I’m glad the word is getting out about the miracles. I have to tell you, this has been the most amazing experience of my life.
“When little Hanna and her parents came up to me, I was glad to pray for them. That’s what we do, right? But after thousands of prayers for sick children over the years, I was getting a little jaded. I’d begun to question whether all these words were really making a difference. I was praying because I was supposed to, not because I was anticipating a direct and unambiguous response from God.
“Then I prayed for Hanna. When her face lit up and I heard her squeal, ‘I can see; I can hear!’ — honestly, a shock went through my body. It was the most immediate and clear–cut intervention of God I have ever witnessed. I was stunned, I was confused — but deep down inside, I knew I’d never be the same.
“And then, Harold Beamer. As I prayed for him, guess who was lurking in the back of my mind? Little Hanna. I was wondering if I’d ever experience something like that again. And sure enough, when he began to walk and run — on legs, mind you, that haven’t supported him in fifty years — well, I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.
“I’ve seen answers to prayer before, even though they haven’t been as instantaneous and dramatic. I’ve seen a lot of lives transformed at the church. And now this. When you see God work in such a demonstrable way, it can’t help but bolster your faith.
“And I’ve been thinking: this is the greatest experience in the world — to be the conduit through which God brings hope to broken people and changes lives and eternities. I’ve come to realize that there’s nothing more important, nothing more rewarding, and nothing more urgent than reaching one person at a time and seeing them spring alive in their faith.”
Dick’s eyes engaged them both as he spoke, lingering on one and then the other, but then he turned to look squarely into the senior pastor’s face, a subtle smile forming on his lips. He reached over to nudge Eric’s knee.