Brother Word

by Derek Jackson

  “Pastor Gentry, I just knew something was wrong,” Sister Margie had later recounted, with tears rolling down her face. “I was sitting at my desk at 3:23, and I felt in my spirit that something had happened to Latriece. I started praying in the Spirit, and then I called my next-door neighbor, Etta, and told her to go in my house and get Latriece. Then the Lord showed me a vision of my baby in Stevens Creek, behind our house, and I told Etta to get my baby from that creek bed.”

  Etta Rosedale was in her late forties, and had probably never swum a day in her life. But like Sister Margie, she was a praying woman of God and she sensed the urgency of the request. While all this had been going on, Sister Margie had told one of her coworkers to call 911 and get the paramedics to her house.

  “All because you sensed this in the Spirit,” Alonzo had interrupted, just shaking his head. He would never cease to be amazed at the greatness of the God he served.

  “That’s right, Pastor.”

  Etta Rosedale, amazingly, had been able to quickly locate Latriece at the bottom of the creek and pull her to the shore. By then, the paramedics had arrived and were able to administer CPR, reviving Latriece. The local media outlets had wanted to credit either the fast-responding medics, the heroics of Etta Rosedale, or the quick thinking of Sister Margie as being responsible for saving Latriece’s life, but Sister Margie was adamant about who received the glory.

  “The Lord Jesus saved my baby,” she had stated unflinchingly to all who would hear.

  In addition to these unforgettable miracles, Alonzo had witnessed other miraculous events in his congregation. Various members had had their debt supernaturally canceled; others had been healed of numerous diseases; others had received incredible promotions in their businesses; and still others had seen unsaved loved ones come to know the salvation of Jesus Christ.

  But the miracle of witnessing Lynn Harper’s blinded eyes being opened had literally taken his breath away. He’d believed that it could happen, sure. And he’d wanted it to happen. But to actually witness it? After personally knowing and sympathizing with Lynn’s desire to see, and then feeling the frustration of hearing the doctors report that Lynn would never see again?

  “God, You are such an awesome God,” he breathed, closing his Bible and leaning back in his chair. After the healing crusade, he’d gone back to his office, needing time and space to reflect on what he’d just seen. He felt a little like how Moses must have felt after the parting of the Red Sea, or Daniel the morning after spending the night in the lion’s den. Like those biblical giants of the faith, it radically stirred his faith to know he served a God who could do anything.

  Chapter Sixteen

  THE MORNING SUNRISE greeted Lynn’s eyes, transforming her daily devotional time into one of her most powerful experiences ever. Never again would she take for granted the small blessings in life—having all five of her senses working, being in her right mind, and being able to walk and move around without depending on someone else.

  Lord, You are so good . . . thank You for restoring my sight . . .

  She had spent all morning devouring the scriptures that spoke of divine healing, eager to understand more of the amazing phenomenon she had experienced. If God’s Word empowered Christians to lay hands on the sick and heal them, then why weren’t more Christians walking in the fullness of that power? All her life, she had read the awesome miracles chronicled in the Bible and subconsciously assumed they were for the biblical times. Some theologians even went as far as to say the miracles in the book of Acts were necessary in the days of the fledgling church to bring more believers into the fold. But once the church had grown and prospered, they said, such amazing miracles had no longer been necessary.

  Yet Lynn read in her Bible that Jesus promised “greater works” from the disciples that were to follow Him. And Lynn could not discard the apparent healing power that mysterious man had walked in—just look at all the incredible testimonies that had resulted from his demonstration of faith, herself included!

  God had given her a glimpse of a greater dimension of the power of His resurrection, and no matter how strong her faith had been before, she was compelled to increase it.

  She checked her watch and saw she had another two hours before she was scheduled to meet with Pastor Gentry at Faith Community. In light of the healing miracles that were taking place in Sumter and Columbia, her pastor had felt a need to restructure their outreach program. What greater way to reach the lost than as Jesus Himself had declared in the power of the gospel—that signs and wonders would follow those who believed?

  Faith was stirring in the souls of Christians who were witness to the acts of God’s power, which pointed to only one outcome.

  Revival.

  TRAVIS WAS INFORMED of his nephew’s healing over the phone that afternoon as he typed another boring article on his computer’s keyboard. But a yarn about a man walking around healing people was too incredible for him to believe. He was beginning to think his sister was losing her mind.

  “You’re tellin’ me Eddie can now hear and walk?” he questioned Andrea, suspiciously, as he guzzled down the last few drops of his diet Pepsi. “All because someone laid his hands on him and chanted some abracadabra magic over him?”

  “It’s not abracadabra,” Andrea retorted. “You’ve never believed in Christianity, but this is one of the benefits all believers in Jesus have—divine healing.”

  Travis snorted. “Oh, Andrea, you were always the gullible one. Remember the time you thought your Barbie doll was talking to you? Giving you advice on what clothes to wear?”

  “Travis, I was just a kid then. But this thing with Jesus is real. Alright, you don’t believe me?”

  “No, I—”

  “Then listen for yourself.”

  Seconds later, a little boy’s voice spoke into the phone. “Uncle Trav?”

  Travis almost dropped his can of diet Pepsi into his lap. He’d heard Eddie’s voice many times before, but always with that echo-type lisp accompanying the voice of someone unable to hear any sound. But Eddie’s voice was now clear in tone; there was no lisp at all.

  “Ed-Eddie? That’s you? And you can hear me?”

  “Sure, Uncle Trav. And get this—I can walk and run, too. I’m real fast!”

  Travis was speechless. “Um, can you p-put your mom back on the line, Eddie?”

  “Sure, Uncle Trav.”

  “Do you believe now, Travis?” Andrea asked.

  Travis didn’t know what to believe. “I . . . I don’t know. Listen, I’m going to stop by the house later on, okay?” He hung up the phone, visibly shaken. Andrea had said someone was walking around healing people of sicknesses and deformities in the name of God. Like any other reasonable, sane human being, he had dismissed the idea as ludicrous. Such people came on television from time to time, boasting about being able to cure people with a touch of their hands. Travis had never believed them—he figured people like that were con artists looking for gullible folk to finance their religious charades.

  But his own nephew? A child he had personally seen born deaf and having ankle bones doctors had said would be deformed for as long as he lived? How in the world was he supposed to explain something like that?

  Reaching for his trusty Clemson Tigers cap, Travis stood and walked out of his cubicle. If it was a good story Ryman Wells wanted, then Travis might finally be able to make good on that delivery.

  “LOOK AT ME, UNCLE TRAV!” Eddie exclaimed, jumping up and down like he were a pogo stick. “Look at me! Look at my legs! I can walk . . . and run, too!” As if to demonstrate, Eddie took off like a lightning bolt down the hallway, his little legs scampering faster than Travis had ever seen them move.

  “Th-that . . . is . . . unbelievable,” Travis commented, half turning his head to glance at his sister. Andrea was leaning against the kitchen doorjamb, wiping tears from her eyes with a handkerchief as she watched the miracle of her son running.

  “But it is believable, Travis. That’s why I ca
n’t stop crying these tears of joy. James and I have been praying to see this day for almost seven years now. What God has done . . . what God has done . . .” Her words trailed off as she continued shaking her head.

  “Hold it, now. Wait just a second, Andrea,” Travis began. The stubborn agnostic that he was, he wasn’t ready to accept his nephew’s healing as an act of God. “What proof do you have that this was the work of your Christian God?”

  Andrea’s jaw dropped open. “My Christian God? Proof? Travis, will you listen to yourself? We were all raised in the same church growing up. But why you didn’t accept the Lord as your Savior like Maynard and I did remains a mystery to all of us. What more proof do you need? James and I have been praying and fasting for Eddie’s physical healing for the last seven years—you’ve watched how we’ve prayed. We attended a healing crusade, where everyone there was believing God for the healing of their bodies, and through the power of God, Eddie was miraculously healed. You want proof? The proof is the joy written all over Eddie’s face. Go ahead, Travis. Ask your nephew what happened.”

  Travis looked at Eddie, who had now run back to them and had obviously overheard the last part of the conversation.

  “Jesus healed me, Uncle Trav!” Eddie blurted out, not waiting for Travis to ask a question.

  Travis offered his nephew a pitying smile, feeling more awkward than ever around the kid. He wanted to tell Eddie all this Jesus-talk was a bunch of nonsense, but he dared not in front of Andrea. It was a shame, though. They were probably teaching Eddie to believe in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny as well. Sooner or later, though, the kid’s imaginary bubble would burst and he would have to face the cold, hard realities of life.

  “Did He, now?” Travis said instead. Better to keep this dialogue neutral.

  Eddie vigorously nodded, in the rapid-fire way only an energetic seven-year-old boy can move his head. “Yep! Jus’ like Mommy and Dad said—Jesus opened my ears and fixed my legs. Isn’t that cool?”

  Travis shifted his weight back and forth between his feet. It was one thing to have to listen to Andrea and Maynard talk about Jesus. But to hear this kind of talk from his seven-year-old nephew?

  I don’t have to take this . . . “Listen, sport, Uncle Trav’s gotta run, okay? I got some things I need to do.”

  “Okay!” Eddie turned on his heels and bounded back down the hallway. Travis offered a pitying smile to Andrea as well, as he headed in the opposite direction toward the door.

  “Travis, I know you can feel the Lord drawing you,” Andrea called out behind him.

  Travis didn’t break his stride until he reached the front door. “Yeah, well, if He’s calling me, He’s gonna have to speak a little louder. It’s great what happened to Eddie, though.”

  It’s gonna make a great story, too . . .

  Chapter Seventeen

  THE MAN STARED AT NINA’S PHOTOGRAPH, once more overwhelmed by the physical similarities to that blind woman he’d encountered at Hope Springs Church.

  Same eyes, same hair, same everything . . .

  He’d tried repeatedly to get over Nina’s loss and somehow move on with his life, but the tragic irony of the whole situation tormented him daily. If God could use him to heal people now, why hadn’t He used him when it mattered most?

  “What do You want from me?” he suddenly cried out, staring upward at a cloudless sky. The heavens were quiet. In his mind, they were silently mocking him. “This isn’t the life I was supposed to have. I lost everything that mattered to me. And for what?”

  The tenor of his rising voice began to shake as he wiped a hot tear sliding down his cheek.

  “Everything was going great with my life. Everything was going great with my family. What did I do wrong? I loved You! I served You! How could You have allowed this to happen!”

  He closed his eyes in a futile effort to stem the onrushing wave of painful memories bombarding his mind. Anything was better than having to face the memories of the past.

  “Oh God,” he whispered, sinking to his knees and falling headfirst into the soft grass. But God didn’t seem to be presently helping him. This was his cross to bear. Alone.

  In a choice that was not entirely his own, he had been given a gift—healing hands used by God, which had wonderfully restored health to so many. Through his hands, broken bones had been instantly fused back together, cancerous tumors had dried up, blinded eyes had been opened, and deaf ears had been unplugged. But for all the good he had done, he was nevertheless paying an incredible price. It was a contradiction of the worst sort; an oxymoronic, cruel twist of fate that threatened to forever define his existence. Not a day went by that he didn’t ask himself if it was worth the loneliness and the life of utter obscurity. The nights upon nights spent reliving nightmares, weeping until there were no more tears left in him to shed.

  Lying in the grass now, he remembered how excited and ready he and Nina had been to consummate their vows on their honeymoon night. It had been the first time for both of them, and with each new discovery of sensual ecstasy, their mutual love had soared to new heights.

  “I’ll never love anyone the way that I love you,” he had whispered in her ear afterward, gently cradling her in his arms. The scent of their lovemaking was the aroma of sweet honey and wine.

  “And I’ll never love anyone the way that I love you,” she’d whispered back, kissing him softly. “Right now, right here—I’m so happy. You make me . . . so happy.”

  “I live for nothing else, Nina. I want to know what makes you smile and what turns you on. I want to know what makes everything about you come alive.”

  She’d smiled at him coyly. “Well, I’m a pretty complex woman. Finding all that out about me might take a while.”

  “We’ve got all the time in the world,” he’d answered. “We’ve got . . . forever.” He’d pulled her closer to him then, ready to make love again.

  How was he to know forever would be so fleeting?

  He rolled over in the grass now, eventually rising to a sitting position with his back resting against a cypress tree. He turned the old black leather Bible over in his hands, slowly rotating it between his thumbs and forefingers. He never went anywhere without it—despite its old age, the spine remained in relatively good shape, as did the gold-leaf pages. It had been the only item of note passed down from his late mother, Jacqueline, a woman who’d probably read every single page of this book a dozen times.

  “I want you to grow up to be a man of the Word,” Jacqueline had told him when he was seven years old. She had been softly stroking the top of his head, the way she always did when she wanted him to know how special he was.

  “Things in this world are fleeting, baby. I want you to always remember that. The grass withers and the flowers will fade away, but the Word of God will stand forever.”

  His seven-year-old mind hadn’t grasped the depth of this statement. “Whaddya mean, this Word will stand forever?” he’d asked. “It’s just a book.”

  “Oh, it’s more than just a book, baby. It’s alive, living and breathing. It reveals our hearts like a powerful mirror. And it’s how God talks to us—through this holy Word. Do you want Him to talk to you?”

  He’d nodded his head, his eyes growing wide with thoughts of God actually talking to him.

  “Well then, He will . . . You just keep your heart ready.” She’d turned to a bookmarked place in the Bible. “Jeremiah 29:13 says, ‘And you will seek Me and find Me, when you search for Me with all your heart.’ He’s up there, baby. God is all around you. And one day, you’re going to hear Him whisper such special things to your heart.”

  He shook his head again and came back to the present. The constant flashbacks to the special moments in his past were driving him crazy. Looking down, he opened the Bible, and the pages automatically fell to the book of Jeremiah. The passage his mother had spoken to him over twenty-five years ago remained highlighted in yellow marker.

  “I called to You, God,” he began, his voice trembli
ng. “Don’t You remember? I called to You and prayed that You would bless my family. I prayed for You to watch over Nina and me, and give us the abundant life Your Word promises us in John 10:10. So what happened? I know I have no right to question You, but why did it all go away? If I could just know . . . why, then maybe I could move past this. Tell me why, God. Tell me . . . why.”

  But the heavens—and likewise, his spirit—remained quiet. No answers seemed to be forthcoming, and he began to fear that none ever would.

  Chapter Eighteen

  ANDREA’S GOING TO KILL ME FOR THIS, Travis thought as his nimble fingers flew over the keyboard, typing the words of the best article he’d ever written.

  But so what? This is gonna be a front-page story . . .

  During the past two days, he’d convinced himself that he was not exploiting Eddie’s miraculous healing in any way; he was merely placing attention on some unexplained medical phenomena occurring in the region. Any self-respecting journalist worth his or her salt would do the same. At least, that was the mantra he’d repeat to himself until the story was completed.

  Instead of researching background information online and over the telephone, as he’d done in previous articles, Travis had physically gone to every place where he needed a quote. Eddie’s pediatrician at Toumey Hospital in Sumter confirmed the boy’s ankles had been completely healed and his hearing restored one hundred percent.

  “Never seen anything like it,” Dr. Erickson had said, shaking his head. “The bones in Eddie’s body were strong and miraculously transformed; almost as if they’d never been fused together. I wouldn’t have believed it, but X-rays don’t lie. And his once withered leg muscles have gained strength as well.” Though Toumey’s entire medical staff had been baffled as to what had happened, the proof of healing had been undeniable. To say nothing of the fact that Eddie could now hear!