Soul's Gate

by James L. Rubart

  “One more thing.” Reece held up his forefinger. “There is no time limit on this exercise. If you’re ready to come back in three minutes, fine. If you need three hours, take three hours. But I would be surprised if you came back in three minutes. Do not rush this process. Take the time you need to hear the Spirit speak to you. And don’t listen for the answer in your mind. The mind gets in the way of the Spirit. Listen for it in your heart.”

  Two hours later Brandon stepped to the edge of the trees at the edge of the waterfall and stared down one hundred yards below at the spot he’d set out from. Light laughter bounced off the water. Dana’s. Then Marcus’s low laughter followed. Brandon massaged the left side of his chest with his knuckles as if that would make the ache in his heart vanish.

  The bounce in Dana’s step as she walked back and forth along the edge of the water picking up stones told him God had given her some kind of name. Obviously a good one. Marcus was almost as animated as she was—gesturing with his hands to Reece, probably telling about the vast number of new names God had bestowed. Brandon wasn’t upset about them getting names—he was happy they’d gotten something—but was it so impossible for him to share in the wealth?

  Brandon clutched his walking stick and held it up like it was a Louisville Slugger. “Batter up.” He swung it against the pine tree to his right. Hard. The stick snapped into three pieces and disappeared into the underbrush. “You’re out.”

  He fell to his knees onto sharp rocks. He didn’t care. “Give me a name, Jesus, please,” he whispered. Still nothing. He waited another five minutes. Silence.

  “Give me a name!” He stood and shouted, then listened to the echo spring back to him.

  The others stared up at him from the edge of the lake, but he didn’t care. Why hadn’t God spoken to him? Given him at least something to take back to the group? Reece said people sometimes got multiple names. Dana and Marcus probably got three each. Brandon would have been happy with one. Even half a name. Should he go back to the spot he’d sat in for an hour and a half and try again?

  Brandon looked at the sun. Three, maybe four hours of daylight left. And while the hike down to Well Spring would be faster than coming up, he didn’t think any of the others would relish the idea of hiking the last few miles in the dark. Besides, what was the point of staying here? Either he was deaf or God didn’t have a name for him. Brandon massaged his eyes with the heels of his hands and let out a sigh. Might as well go down and greet the others.

  When he reached them, none spoke. Reece walked up to him and slung one arm around his shoulders. Brandon glanced at the others. “That’s cool that God gave you names.”

  Reece turned him from the others and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  “No worries. It’s all good.”

  Dana approached like a spooked doe. Did she care? Or was there a part of her secretly happy he hadn’t gotten anything? No, he couldn’t think like that. That wasn’t her heart and he knew it.

  “No names were spoken by God to you?” Marcus said.

  Brandon pulled away from Reece, stepped up on a boulder, and threw his head back and his arms out. “That is correct! Marcus Amber wins the Well Spring Ranch State the Obvious award!” He kicked at a small stone sitting on the boulder and sent it whizzing into the lake.

  “Do you want to tell us what happened?” Reece said.

  “Nothing. That’s what happened. Didn’t you hear me up there?” Brandon jabbed a finger in the direction he’d come from. “There was a lot of silence. Then more silence. Then I came back. End of story.”

  “Nothing good came out of your time?”

  It was a lie to say there was nothing. There was some good. He stepped off the boulder and glanced at Marcus. “Sorry, Professor.”

  “It isn’t a problem.”

  “Tell us.” Reece’s face was as serious as Brandon had ever seen it. “It’s important you speak it out.”

  Brandon grabbed a long stick off the ground and drew a circle in the dirt at his feet, then made lines one under the other. “I wrote down all the names I could think of that I’ve been called over the years. It was a good-sized list.” He continued to draw lines in the dirt.

  “After I’d gotten ’em all out, I decided to rank them in order of the pain they caused me. Then I prayed through each one and then burned them.”

  “Excellent,” Reece said. “Anything else?”

  “Enough of the self-pity.” Brandon looked at Dana and Marcus. “I’d love to hear your new names.”

  Marcus hesitated, then nodded. “All right. I heard two names. The first was—” He stopped and laughed. “Ebenezer.”

  “Ebenezer? As in Scrooge?” Dana asked.

  “Okay.” Brandon snorted. “God is calling you Scrooge. Not exactly the most inspiring name.”

  “Definitely not at first glance. But I felt God say there is great healing in that name for me, once I acquire the understanding of why he gave it to me. So I’ll reserve judgment till I receive the answer.”

  “And the second name?”

  “Restorer.”

  Reece nodded. “A powerful name. Did he tell you what that one means?”

  Marcus shook his head. “Once again, no indication. But as before, I know the meaning will come in time.”

  Reece nodded again. “Without question it will.”

  Marcus frowned at Reece. “You know what my names mean, don’t you?”

  “I have an idea. But it’s not for me to say.” He turned to his right. “Dana?”

  She glanced at him, then looked at Reece. “One name. Arwen. From The Lord of the Rings.”

  Brandon smiled. It was perfect. A warrior. A princess. A leader. A queen. Full of beauty and compassion and fire. “So true.”

  She met his gaze again, then looked away. “Thanks.”

  Just before the moment grew awkward, Reece picked up his daypack and hefted it over his shoulder. “The sun won’t wait for us to get back. We should move.”

  When they reached Well Spring, Reece gathered them in a circle in the spot they’d left from. “I’m proud of all of you. That was not an easy hike. The physical portion was meant to test your character, and you all showed strength and tenacity.

  “The spiritual part was up to God and he always comes through. Marcus, Dana, I suggest taking time tonight to journal about what God spoke to you and the deeper meanings of the name or names he gave you. You’re right, Marcus, the full meaning might take awhile to come—it might be days, it might be months—but the answer will come.

  “The enemy would love to steal what was given to you today. Don’t let him. Capture the truth and the emotion on paper while it’s still fresh. Do you understand?”

  They nodded.

  “After that, I want the three of you to relax and get to bed early.”

  The three moved to go inside.

  “Hang on, Brandon.” Reece beckoned the musician with his fingers. “Can you join me at the listening post for a few minutes?”

  “Sure.” He glanced at the paved path leading to the listening post and back to Reece. “Why not?”

  “Good. I’m going to suggest a reason why you didn’t get a name.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  WHEN THEY REACHED THE FIRE PIT, REECE SAT AND motioned Brandon to sit in the chair next to him. The big man didn’t speak and Brandon was grateful. Something about sitting in the silence with reece gave him hope. They sat for two minutes without speaking, the rush of the river providing a grand score for their combined solitude.

  Finally Reece turned to him and broke the silence. “How are you feeling?”

  “Great.”

  Reece scooted his chair closer to Brandon’s. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine.”

  “Am I going to have to ask you three or four times to know the real answer?” Reece leaned in till his head was inches from Brandon’s.

  “Probably.”

  Reece settled back in his chair. “I’m going to ask you again how you’re do
ing. And you have two options. Either stay silent and keep your own counsel, which is perfectly acceptable. We’ll go inside, join the others, and have a peaceful evening. Or you can tell me about the brutal thoughts you’ve been sparring with since earlier today that have you almost to a ten count. And you’re the one on the mat.”

  “How do you know I’ve been sparring?”

  “Really?” Reece raised his eyebrows. “Are you kidding? Like anyone with half a heart couldn’t tell the whole name thing ripped you up inside? You put out quite a bit of convincing evidence up at the lake.”

  “You have a heart, Reece?”

  Reece laughed. It startled Brandon so much he laughed himself. It was the first time he’d heard any kind of mirth pour out of the big man’s mouth. “I did at one time, son.”

  “That’s good to know.” Brandon uncrossed his legs and smiled at him.

  The silence returned and this time Brandon spoke first. When he did it was just above a whisper. “I wanted to hear a new name.” He glanced into Reece’s piercing blue eyes. “So bad. I wanted something to replace the names I burned.”

  “I know.”

  “A replacement for the name at the top of my list.”

  Reece nodded. “What was the name?”

  “Worthless. Exactly what you wrote in the sand. It’s like you knew.”

  “Where does it come from?”

  A scene flashed into Brandon’s mind before he could stop it.

  Three years, two months, and fourteen days ago. There he’d sat with his biological mother in the Macaroni Grill in Alderwood Mall, just north of the Seattle city limits, trying to make a connection.

  Brandon nibbled on flatbread and poked his spoon into a bowl of pomodorina soup, which the waiter finally took away less than half eaten. His mom picked at a plate of calamari fritti. The mother he’d only seen twice since he was eight years old. Up till the moment his mom walked out the door of their brick rambler, she had been his best friend. She walked out without a reason, without a good-bye—without even a note. He didn’t hear from her again for nineteen years, till he started making money and getting famous.

  “Your singing career seems to be going well.” His mom lobbed out a vanilla statement and Brandon lobbed back.

  “Yeah, I’m making it okay.” He spread butter on a piece of bread he knew he wouldn’t eat. “And you’re liking retirement?”

  “Yeah, it’s good. I’m spending a lot of time making jewelry for fun.”

  Silence settled over the table. Brandon glanced at his watch. They’d made small talk for twenty minutes already, and it was obvious both were running low on things to say.

  He pushed his plate toward the center of the table. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  “Do you want to know why I asked to see you?”

  His mom took renewed interest in her calamari. “No.”

  Here we go. On the high dive now. Take a deep breath and jump. The water will be there. I hope.

  “I just want a chance to get to know you. And see if you have any desire to get to know me. We live an hour from each other and we barely know each other. And I need to know why you left me.”

  His mom’s eyes grew moist as Brandon continued.

  “If I was your dad and you were my daughter, I’d want to know who you are, what makes you love life, what makes you hate life, what the joys and sorrows of your life have been. Not because of what I’ve achieved in the world of music, but just because it’s me.”

  Brandon’s mom pushed back from the table and rubbed her face with both hands.

  “Aren’t there questions you want to ask me? I’m a decent person and I’m your son. Don’t you want to tell me what happened? Why you walked out without ever letting me know why?”

  Tears streamed down his mom’s face.

  Say it! Tell me it tore your heart out to leave, tell me you’ve missed me every day for the past twenty-four years, tell me you’ve been dying to know who I am!

  “I don’t know what to say.” She picked at her pink fingernail polish.

  “I want a relationship with you. Not with your husband. Not with my half brothers. With you. I want you to call me periodically. I want to get an e-mail from you on occasion. I want to hear what’s good and what’s hard in your life. I want you to know more about my music than what’s playing on Spirit 105.3.”

  His mom wiped her eyes with a napkin, then grabbed another one.

  “I’m not asking you to be a mother to me—that day is past. I’m just asking to have a relationship that’s not based on me giving you money or you telling your friends your son is famous.”

  Brandon took a drink of water to buy time to think. “I want to know if I matter to you at all.”

  Tears continued to spill onto his mom’s face—the second napkin was soaked. Brandon was out of words. What more could be said? Had he hurt his mom? The tears meant something, but what? Sorrow? Regret? A breaking that would mean hope for the future?

  He leaned in on the table and held his hands out to her. “Grab my hands, Mom.”

  But she didn’t. Brandon slowly slouched back in his chair.

  “I’m sorry,” she said and continued to stare at the table right in front of him. “So sorry.”

  Enough. Brandon pulled a piece of paper out of his back pocket and slid it across the table. “That’s my e-mail address. And my cell phone. Maybe we could talk every now and then. Get to know each other if you want to. I know I do. It’s up to you.”

  She continued to cry, from what, Brandon couldn’t tell. And he didn’t ask. He spilled his guts on the table as well as his kidneys, spleen, and certainly his heart. But all his mom could do was glance at him with a face of sorrow.

  The meeting ended awkwardly, with Brandon offering to pay for the meal and his mom insisting she pay. In the end they split the bill. Before walking to their cars it looked like his mom was going to reach for him, but her hands stayed at her sides.

  She called Brandon one week after their lunch. It was a minute-and-a-half conversation that was forced and awkward. Three weeks after that, an e-mail arrived talking about the weather. Brandon wrote back and that was their last communication.

  He clasped his hands together and stared at Reece. Brandon was shocked again, this time to see tears in the man’s eyes.

  “I’m so sorry, Brandon.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “No. It most certainly is not.”

  The rush of the river seemed to grow and Brandon let its song wash over him.

  “Do you have any hope she’ll call?”

  “No. I’m over it.”

  Thankfully, Reece didn’t challenge the lie. The last vestiges of the sun fell behind the cliffs to the west and twilight crept up on them. Neither of them spoke till the river below faded from sight into the shadow of early night.

  “Your mom has her own wounds, her own reasons for not pursuing you. Her tears meant something. Maybe a longing to know you but no idea how to start.”

  “She’s not my mom.”

  “Did you hear anything else I just said?”

  “I heard it.”

  “Try to believe it, son.”

  “I can believe what you’re saying, but I’m tired of making excuses for her.”

  “I understand. And history has repeated itself.” Reece rubbed his hands on his pants. “At least we now know why.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  The big man turned and stared at him. “You don’t know?”

  An instant later he did know. “Dana.”

  Reece nodded.

  Heat rose into Brandon’s face as shame filled his heart. He’d done the exact thing to her that his mom had done to him. Why had he never seen it?

  Lord, forgive me.

  Brandon sank forward, head in hands, and let the tears come. “I gotta talk to her.”

  “Yes.”

  “When?”

  “When the time is right. When the Spirit tell
s you to.”

  “I need to tell her now.”

  “No. Not now. Wait. Tell her when the time is right.”

  Brandon turned to the sky, pinks and reds mingling across it. Reece tossed a small stick into the fire pit. “Why did you break up with her?”

  “I honestly haven’t known why.” Brandon shook his head. “But now it’s obvious.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Because if my best friend left me once, she could leave me twice, and when I was eight years old, I vowed I would never, ever allow myself to be put in a position to go through that kind of pain again.” Brandon settled his head in his hands for the second time, and again the tears flowed.

  “Do you see how this vow shut down your emotions toward your music?”

  “No.” But a moment later he did. Worship was all about opening one’s heart—exposing pain to God’s light. Facing the wound and allowing healing to begin.

  He looked at Reece. “When I locked Dana out, I locked God out as well.”

  “Yes.” Reece drew close and wrapped his massive arm around Brandon’s shoulder. “Maybe you didn’t get a name today, but I’d still say there was a huge step toward healing and freedom. It will take time, but it’s coming.”

  A few minutes went by before either spoke. Brandon finally turned and smiled. “I think this will stay with me even longer than the idea of beaming across the country.”

  “The Father’s desire for restoration and truth in the innermost being will always be more powerful than signs and wonders. The signs and wonders only serve to point us to him and his unfathomable love for us.”

  Brandon glanced toward the cabin, its warm, golden glow inviting him back. “I know we should go in, but before we do, can we shift gears back to the name thing?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why didn’t I get one? You said you knew the reason.”

  “I don’t think up there was the way you needed to hear it. The Spirit is rarely on the same schedule we are. But sometimes it’s because he wants to give it to us in a way that is completely unexpected. A way that will make more impact. I could be wrong, but that’s what I’m sensing will happen with you.”