Brandon said, “No.”
“Good. Let’s roll.”
The pace Reece set wasn’t a jog. At least for him. With legs seven feet long he probably thought he was taking a leisurely stroll through the Colorado backcountry, but for Dana it was close to a jog.
“Hey . . . are you trying . . . to kill me?” Dana panted out as she shifted her daypack higher on her shoulders. When it settled down, it squished her sweaty T-shirt into her back. Good thing she’d brought an extra shirt.
“Yes.”
“I don’t see the humor in that statement.”
Reece didn’t slow his pace. “It wasn’t meant to be funny.”
Two hours into the hike Reece stopped. “Lunch break.”
There was little talk while they ate. It was enough to eat and recover from the hike so far.
The drought of conversation continued after they set out again on the trail. Dana supposed Brandon and Marcus felt the same as she did. Spent. Body maxing out. But a part of her—her spirit maybe—was exhilarated, which seemed to give her a reservoir of endurance.
The things Reece spoke of about a relationship with God were far beyond what she’d ever imagined. At the same time it felt like she was crossing a suspension bridge three hundred feet above a raging river with slats missing every few feet.
The trail now wound alongside the river, sometimes hiding the stream, other times giving them unobstructed views. But there wasn’t time to savor the beauty at the pace Reece continued to set. After an hour of steady hiking, Reece called out from his position in front. “Everyone doing okay?” He stopped and looked at Brandon. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m having a fabulous time.” Brandon leaned forward, hands on his knees, drops of sweat dripping off his thick blond hair, sucking in breaths like he was a Kirby vacuum cleaner.
“Thank you for the sarcasm, Mr. Scott. It tells me you haven’t hit your exhaustion point yet.” Reece glanced back at her. “What’s your condition, Dana?”
“Fine.” She wiped the sweat off of her forehead.
“Are you lying?”
“Maybe.”
But she would survive. She would faint before she’d let Brandon outhike her.
“Talk to me, Marcus.”
“You’re a thoroughbred.”
Marcus panted but looked the least winded of the three of them. Who knew the prof would turn out to be a mountain man?
“Let’s take a break,” Reece said.
“I thought my condition would handle this hike with more aplomb.” Marcus set his daypack at his feet. “But it isn’t. At least not compared to you.”
“Every summer I climb a fourteener—one of Colorado’s fourteenthousand-foot peaks. Now that’s a workout.”
“How many have you done?”
“Twenty-seven. Only twenty-six to go.”
“You want to do them all before you die?” Dana took a long drink of water.
“Who says I’m going to die?” Reece lifted the bottom of his T-shirt to wipe off his forehead. The guy had the abs of a thirty-year-old.
“Are you not?” Marcus said.
“I don’t know. John the apostle didn’t die. Enoch didn’t die. Why should I have to?”
A cloud seemed to pass over Reece, but as she glanced at Brandon and Marcus, it seemed they didn’t notice it.
“What do you mean John didn’t die?” Marcus asked.
“Some people think he’s still walking around the earth based on Jesus saying, ‘If I want him to remain alive until I return, what is that to you?’”
“Do you think he’s still alive?”
“No, that would be crazy.”
The promise of a smile once again flitted across Reece’s eyes but vanished an instant later. The man had to have a history of pain and had probably built a steel wall around his heart three feet thick and fifty feet high. Kind of like she had done for her own.
Brandon poured half a bottle of water on his head, then slicked back his hair. She hated when he did that. Made him look far too appealing.
“I suppose you’re going to float off into the clouds when your time comes,” Brandon said.
“Maybe.” Reece took a long drink of his Tropical Mango Gatorade. “I believe that Bible stuff.” He winked at them.
Two minutes later they were off again. The air was thick with the scent of pine, and a breeze wicked away the midday heat that would have made the trek unbearable without it.
“We’re almost there.”
Apparently “almost there” meant another grueling quarter mile. Fifteen minutes later the trail flattened. Five minutes after that, flashes of a sea-green lake showed through the pine trees. After fifty more yards the trail took a ninety-degree turn and led them down a narrow path straight to a small lake.
The water was like glass except for the far end where the river poured into it from a waterfall thirty feet above. So pure. The bottom of the pond looked like it was two inches down and twenty feet deep at the same time. Dana panted for what felt like ten minutes before she could breathe normally. “The curtain might not be thinner up here ”—she sucked in a deep breath—“but the air certainly is.”
Reece studied them. The ones of the prophecy. The ones who would change the world. Would they? Did it matter that Tamera wasn’t with them? He’d asked the Spirit about that again, but again there had been no answer.
No one spoke for three or four more minutes. Reece was grateful for the reprieve to soak in the peace of the place. He hadn’t been up here in years. The trees were certainly taller. And the lake seemed even more crystal clear than the last time he’d made the trek. Fifteen years. He blew out a long breath. Had it been that long? Yes. It had been on the tenth anniversary of their deaths.
You killed them.
No.
“Jesus.” He pushed the memory and the voice of the enemy from his mind.
He would live in this moment, not the ones from his past, no matter how vivid they might be. Live in the past and you allow the past to control the future. He closed his eyes and soaked in the overwhelming love of the Spirit. Of Abba. Of Jesus. There was forgiveness for what he’d done. Someday it would reach his heart. And now with these three, a chance for redemption.
He opened his eyes and glanced at them. Marcus was almost laughing—eyes closed, arms raised, and what seemed like a conversation with God pouring out of his mouth. The professor’s spiritual sensitivity was increasing almost by the hour. It surprised Reece. He expected the man of science to be the last to open himself up and tune in to the spiritual world Reece was showing them. It was Brandon, the artist, whom he’d expected to tap into the spiritual the fastest, but he seemed to be resisting the most. Reece watched Dana spin in a slow circle, taking in every view. The smile that filled her face took a year of stress and two years of age off her.
Brandon sat at the edge of the lake. He’d taken his shoes and socks off and lay back in the silky sand—arms spread wide, a soft smile on his face. The beauty of the place had captured all of them.
After ten minutes Reece called them together. “I’m tempted to simply let you soak in the peace and beauty of this spot . . .” He took a long look at the lake and the mountain that rose behind it. “But I want to give you enough time.”
When each of them had settled into a circle, Reece said, “Okay, let’s get started. Gather round and get comfortable.”
He waited till the three sat, Marcus and Dana on a fallen log, Brandon leaning against a small flat boulder near the lake.
“The next hour or so will be one of the most critical parts of your training,” Reece said, “so listen closely.
“In Revelation it says, ‘He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To him who overcomes, I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give him a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to him who receives it.’”
Reece stood and glanced at them. “There is great power in a name. To heal. Or to destroy. And somet
hing so sacred about the name Jesus will give us when we get to heaven that no one else will know what it is.”
He went to the lake and stood with his back to them, arms held out to his sides. “I believe the God who created this lake and waterfall and sky and trees wants to give you names right now.”
“I think our parents took care of that for us at birth,” Brandon said.
Reece spun around and pointed at Brandon. “Did you hear what was done recently in India? How young girls rejected the names they were given at birth and received new names?”
“No,” Brandon said.
“Did you?” He looked at Marcus and Dana.
They shook their heads.
“I believe it will transform the lives of these young women.”
“What happened?” Dana asked.
“Officials in Mumbai gathered hundreds of girls who had been given names that God would never have given them. Names like Nakusa, which means ‘unwanted’ in Hindi.”
Reece squatted down, picked up a thin stick, and wrote–worthlessin the brown sand.
“In a public ceremony these girls were given the right to rename themselves. Some girls named themselves after Bollywood stars like Aishwarya, or Hindu goddesses like Savitri. Some just wanted a traditional name, such as Vaishali, which means ‘prosperous, beautiful, and good.’
“A fifteen-year-old girl was in tears as she told how her grandfather gave her a name that means ‘unwanted’ when she was born and that she will now be called Ashmita, which means ‘very tough’ or ‘rock hard’ in Hindi.”
Reece swiped his hand across the sand, erasing worthless, then wrote in the grains a second time: Tough. Hard. Unbreakable.
“They received certificates officially changing their names. You think that won’t make a difference in their lives? I believe that one act of choosing a new name has the power to shatter the past.”
Reece wiped the sand off his hands and strode to his daypack. He reached in and pulled out a stack of blank note cards, three pens, and three boxes of matches.
“Now we’re going to do the same thing. Take two cards and a pen. Only you’re not going to name yourself. Jesus is going to name you, just like he did with people in the Bible.”
Reece pointed to his left, then his right. “I’m going to send you off to spend time alone. To sit in the silence and ask the Spirit for a new name.”
“My comprehension is lacking, Reece.” Marcus turned the card over and looked at the blank side. “What do you mean Jesus is going to give us a name?”
Reece looked at Brandon and Dana. Their blank stares said they had no idea either.
“Marcus, did you have any nicknames growing up?”
He nodded.
Reece lifted his hand and wiggled his fingers toward himself. “Care to share with the rest of the class?”
“Not really.” He scraped the heel of his boot into the ground. “But I will.”
“Thank you.”
“In high school my nickname was Brainiac.” Marcus’s face flushed.
“Like from the Superman comics.” Brandon struck a Superman pose, arm and fist thrust high. “The guy who had super intelligence.” “Yes.”
“But your face says the name wasn’t a compliment.”
“No.” Marcus looked away. “It wasn’t.”
“Explain,” Reece said.
“It’s not important.”
“You’re right. It’s not important. It’s critical.”
Marcus tilted his head back and sighed. “I was the brain in school. Tests showed an IQ of 150 by the time I hit seventh grade. The other kids resented me because studying wasn’t necessary, and the teachers did as well since I was smarter than they.”
Marcus stared at the dirt. “However, I preferred Brainiac over Runt. Skipping a grade was bad enough, but when my classmates grew and I remained the same size . . . not achieving puberty till my late teens was not beneficial to my social life.”
“How long did you carry that name around in your head?”
Marcus turned and stared at the lake and hesitated before he answered. “I still carry it.”
Brandon took a gulp of water from his bottle and leaned forward on his rock. “How can you still carry it? What are you? Six one, six two?”
“Six one.” Marcus turned back and tried to laugh, but the sound sputtered out of his mouth and fell to the ground. “The reasons still aren’t clear in my own mind, but I decided to attend my ten-year high school reunion.” He laughed and this time the sound rang true. “I walked in and people stared at my wife, trying to recall her from high school. They assumed she was their classmate as no one recognized me due to the six inches of growth and fifty pounds I put on since graduation.”
“Sweet.” Brandon gave a fist pump. “So you put a stunned look on their faces and buried the name.”
“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if it worked that way? Yes, they indicated how well I looked. But somehow having them say that didn’t make the memories vanish and the scars heal.”
“The files still play, don’t they?” Reece said.
No one answered. No one needed to. Reece knew he’d just pressed Play on all of their mental digital players.
“Dana?”
She shook her head and waved her hand. “I’m standing on the fifth.”
“Okay.” Reece turned to Brandon. “Nicknames?”
“I’m standing on the fifth as well.”
“Sorry, that defense has already been taken.”
“Fine.” Brandon glared at Reece. “I had more than a few.”
“What was the first one that came to mind?”
“Why are you going for the throat, Reece?”
“Because the throat is where we swallow things. Good and bad. And I think you’ve been swallowing lies. Out with it. What’s the name?”
“One I’ve tried to forget my whole life.” Brandon tossed a rock into the water. “Thanks for dragging it out of the dungeon.”
“You’re welcome. Are you going to tell us?”
“No.” Brandon threw another rock into the lake.
Reece stayed silent. Marcus and Dana took his cue and said nothing.
“X-Cree.”
“X-Cree? What’s that, like a comic book character? We seem to have a superhero theme going here,” Marcus said.
“Not exactly.” Brandon shifted to his left so his face was turned from the three of them. “As I kid I loved comic books. Devoured them. But for whatever reason my stepmom didn’t like me reading them. She was always tossing them in the trash, and my dad never stood up to her. One day she forbade me from reading any more.
“So I snuck them into the house and read them with a flashlight in the back of my closet after she and my dad went to bed.
“One night the closet door flies open and smacks against the wall. I can’t move. I’m sitting there with a flashlight in one hand and an issue of the Green Arrow in the other.
“She rips the comic out of my hand, shreds it into quarters, and throws the pieces up in the air. As they’re floating down on my head, she says, ‘You want to be a superhero? Fine. I’m going to call you X-Cree, short for excrement, because that’s what you are and always will be.’
“My dad tried to get her to stop, and she finally did—three years later—but wonder of wonders, somehow that name still bounces around my mind from time to time.” Brandon tossed a third stone into the lake. “All the time.”
No one spoke. Brandon stood and moved away along the west side of the lake, then slowly came back.
Reece folded his hands. “As I already said, words are powerful. Names are powerful, as we’ve just seen. Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words will never hurt me?” He broke a branch over his leg. “It’s a lie from the pit. That’s why we’re here. We’re going to do something about it. Now.
“Throughout your life you’ve been given names by the people who surround you. You might have been given names of affection or names of deep pain as we saw with Mar
cus and Brandon.
“So the first thing I want you to do is bring those names to mind. It will be painful. But don’t back down. Those names have been weights around your necks long enough. Write down every one of them. Then you’re going to burn those names and break the power you’ve given them to control your life and your destiny.
“I want you write down every name that has been an arrow into your soul. Ugly, stupid, fat, manipulator, lazy, X-Cree, Braniac . . . whatever they are.
“When you’re finished and every foul name from hell has been written down, I want you to pray over those names, bring the blood of Jesus over them, renounce them, destroy them, burn them. Then I want you to ask God for a new name. The names that are the true you. The real you. The ones God destined from before time for you. Abram became Abraham. Saul became Paul. Jesus nicknamed Peter The Rock. James and John were nicknamed The Sons of Thunder.
“This”—Reece raised his arms again and turned in a circle—“is a place where you can hear from God. Where you can be alone. Where you can pour your heart out to him without any fear of interruption or distraction. Are you ready?”
The three nodded.
“Good.” Reece pointed to his right. “Brandon, I want you to go in the opposite direction of the way you wandered a few minutes ago. Yes, of course that is a symbolic move. Dana, I want you to hike up to the top of the falls and find a place there. That leaves you, Marcus, to go in the way Brandon went earlier. I want all of you to hike away from here for at least ten minutes. I want you to be completely alone. Any questions?”
They each stayed silent. Reece reached in his pack and grabbed three Ziploc bags and tossed them onto the ground. “You might want to take one of those as well.”
Brandon bent down and picked up one of the bags. “Kleenex?”
Reece winked. “I’ve heard it can get awfully dusty out there. Even for guys.”
Brandon hesitated, then reached down, grabbed one of the plastic bags, and stuck it in his back pants pocket. Reece was right—at least when it came to him. Tapping into his deep emotions was one of the things that helped him write songs that changed people.
Or used to help him. Nowadays the well was bone dry at the bottom. But he felt it. Lingering not far below the surface was his heart. He wanted it back. And this would be the moment God would speak a name to him, and his heart would return.
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