“Yes, as long as it takes.”
Dana sank to her knees. Brandon prayed and did not stop. For courage for Dana. For truth to permeate the forest, the meadow, the depths of her soul. For the Holy Spirit to erupt with fire and burn away the lies the enemy had planted.
Seconds, or maybe days, later Dana stood and stared at him, her face stoic. Then, without speaking, she staggered toward the water, the stick hanging low in her hands as if she carried a mammoth bag of stones. When she reached the river she didn’t hesitate. Dana tossed the stick into the air with both hands. It rotated twice, then struck the water, which exploded, sending spray in all directions. The river churned and foamed as if boiling, then settled as quickly as it had been stirred up.
Brandon’s shoulders sagged. It was over. He trudged over to Dana, but she didn’t look at him. Her gaze was fixed on the river, her face morphing from relief to horror. He whirled around and as his eyes took in the scene, he struggled for air.
The stick had transformed into a purple-black snake, its mouth open and hissing with the force of a blowtorch, its onyx eyes fixed on him. It swam toward the shore like lightning, and when it reached the bank, it reared up like a cobra, its fangs bared. Smoke poured off its hide as if it had been scorched by the river. Laughter seemed to come from the ground and the snake rocketed toward them.
“We have to get out of here!” Brandon grabbed Dana’s arm and raced for . . . where? Nothing but open field. There was nowhere to go. Twenty yards away a scream from the snake reverberated through the air. They sprinted, feet slipping in the soft soil. He glanced back. Fifteen yards.
“Come on!”
Another glance back. Ten.
Brandon spun to face the onslaught and shouted, “The blood of Jesus Christ and the power of his resurrection and ascension against you!”
The snake reared up three feet from them and circled to their right and hissed. Now closer. Brandon scoured the ground for a rock, anything to defend themselves. Nothing. The snake flicked its tongue and hissed—low and guttural this time. Closer.
Brandon stepped in front of Dana so she was at his back, his arms out to his sides. As he did a verse shot into his mind. “I have given you authority to trample on snakes and scorpions and to overcome all the power of the enemy; nothing will harm you.” Yes. He spoke the verse and stepped forward. No fear. No fear.
“You have no power over us. I bind you in the name of Jesus.” He spoke the name again, just above a whisper. “Jesus.”
The snake quivered and veered to the right, the gaze of its black eyes darting back and forth between Dana and him.
“You have to finish it, Dana.”
She leaned into his back and shuddered. “I don’t know how.”
“Yes, you do.”
“You do it, please.”
“I can’t. It has to be your choice.”
He felt her rapid breath on his neck. “I’m scared.”
“You haven’t been given a spirit of fear, but of power.”
She took a labored breath. “I break you. I renounce the vow to protect my heart above all else. I renounce the agreement that I’ll always be alone. I let go of my anger and I bring the blood of Jesus against you. Be gone by his power.”
Instantly the snake froze, then shrank in size and thickness till it was the size of a piece of straw. Then it vanished without any evidence it had ever been.
When Brandon’s eyes shot open, Marcus sat next to him and Reece sat next to Dana, prayers pouring out of both their mouths. Dana’s face was covered in sweat. Brandon raised his hand to his forehead and realized his face was the same. Her eyes fluttered open and widened as she stared at Brandon, tears spilling onto her cheeks.
“What happened in there? I feel . . .” She gazed at her shoulders, clutched them with both hands, and rubbed them slowly.
“Something has broken off or been . . .” She looked up and again stared into Brandon’s eyes. “I can forgive you.”
He nodded and tears filled his eyes. Reece put his arm around Dana and pulled her close. She closed her eyes and plastered her head against his massive chest. He’d done it. She’d done it. The Spirit had set her free.
Dana raised her head, opened her eyes, and looked at Brandon a long time before speaking. Her gaze moved down to his hands. She lurched out of her seat and clutched Brandon’s arms. “Tell me what happened in there!” She touched his palms with the tips of her fingers. “Where did these come from?”
He looked at his arms and hands. Thin cuts lined them. They weren’t deep but they stung like alcohol had been poured into them. “There was a bit of a battle. It’s okay.” He smiled at her. “It was worth it. You’re worth it.”
For the next half hour Brandon explained what had happened inside her soul. Dana’s face switched from amazement to deep gratitude to wonder and back again.
“This is a beginning, Dana. There is more work to be done. Complete healing rarely happens all at once. But it is a significant start.”
After a few more minutes of conversation, Reece said, “An extraordinary night. I can’t explain how proud I am of both of you.” He spread the remaining coals of the fire, then stood. “It’s late. Time for all of us to get some rest.” He glanced at Dana. “Is there anything you want to say before we go?”
She shook her head. The peace radiating from her face said enough.
“Brandon? Marcus?”
Brandon shook his head and imagined his smile was as big as the one Marcus was displaying. As they sauntered over the hundred yards back to Reece’s house, he said, “Can we get together again five nights from now? I have something special for each of you. A kind of graduation present.”
“Are you saying we’re done with our training?” Dana said.
“Almost.”
“What’s left?” Marcus asked.
Reece kicked at the grass, the toe of his boot sending up a small spray of night dew. “One final exercise.” His countenance darkened.
“How involved?” Brandon said.
“I’m not sure.” Reece sighed. “But I get the feeling it will be your most difficult path yet.”
FORTY-FIVE
“WHEN DO YOU MEET WITH THEM AGAIN?”
Doug’s voice was softer than usual. Reece sat on the front porch of his home on friday afternoon, the western hemlock trees waving in the breeze. “Tonight.”
“For what purpose?”
“To celebrate them. To tell them how proud I am.”
“How are they holding up?”
“Strong. each of them has had a breakthrough. They’re seeing in the Spirit, they’re starting to war for others . . .” Reece paused.
“But it’s not over yet, is it?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What is Jesus telling you?”
“That they have one final challenge to go through. I don’t know what it is, but I do know it will be difficult.” Reece stood and sauntered down his wooden steps toward the pond in his front yard stocked with goldfish. “What about you? What are you hearing?”
“The same. And that your part in it will be different than what you expect.”
“I see.”
“How is your heart?”
“Weary and strong at the same time, if that makes sense.”
“Yes, it does. Stay true, Reece. You are close to the end.”
“Anything else?”
“What is the truth?” Reece tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and let the Spirit speak to him. “That we have been seated with Christ in the heavens. That we have his authority, his power, his strength.”
“Yes. What is the truth?”
“That the powers of darkness have been cast down and we are demolishing strongholds in every place.”
“What is the truth?”
“’Blessed be the Lord, my rock, who trains my hands for war, and my fingers for battle.’” Reece heard the turning of pages through his phone.
“Contemplate those truths, friend, and this on
e as well: ‘Pushed to the wall, I called to God; from the wide open spaces, he answered. God’s now at my side and I’m not afraid; who would dare lay a hand on me? God’s my strong champion; I flick off my enemies like flies.’”
Reece ended the call and looked at his watch. They would be here in two hours. He bent his head and began to meditate on the verses.
FORTY-SIX
ON FRIDAY NIGHT AN ELECTRICITY IN THE AIR—DANA couldn’t tell if it was the Spirit or the rush of their victory—told her this evening would be special. She walked around the side of reece’s home, and by the time she reached the back corner of the house, the familiar glow of his fire pit beckoned her closer. Marcus and Brandon were already there. Brandon.
She smiled. The pain was gone. Was there a dull ache still lingering? Maybe. But if so, it was so minor she couldn’t feel it. certainly not tonight. The past month had changed her life forever. And this was just the beginning. Reece had said their training would last three months. Tonight might be graduation, but graduate school was coming and she could hardly wait.
After their greeting of each other settled down, reece brought out four flute glasses and handed one to each of them. Then he pulled a bottle of Taittinger out of a bucket of ice sitting behind him and handed it to marcus. “Will you prepare the champagne?”
“With certainty.”
He looked at each of them and tapped the air with his glass. “Even though the taste of champagne isn’t my favorite adult refreshment, I told myself I would toast you with it when you’d learned to go into each other’s souls and fight for each other. To start the healing process. To set each other on the path of freedom. And you’ve done so. With brilliance.
“And now that you’ve learned how to do so, you will begin to do it for others. You will enter into the souls of many. War for them. Begin the healing of their wounds. And show them the path of freedom.”
Reece bowed, and as if choreographed, when their leader rose back up, the cork shot out of the bottle Marcus held. The professor poured each of them a glass, then filled his own. Reece put one foot on the bench surrounding the fire pit and lifted his glass.
“To you. For being willing to follow a crazy mystic to Colorado, for expanding your spiritual mind, for taking into your heart all God has for you, for embracing each other”—Reece tipped his glass toward Brandon and Dana—“even when it wasn’t easy, and for jumping off cliffs and building your wings on the way down.”
They raised their glasses and drank. A sense of peace settled on Dana, and from the looks in the eyes of the others, she wasn’t the only one feeling it. She stared at the chaos of the dancing flames and marveled at how far she’d come. How far each of them had come. And now there was only one more lesson.
“Last Sunday you said there was one more part of our training we needed to complete before we were finished with this phase of our journey,” Dana said.
“Yes, one final step.” Reece leaned forward.
“What and when will that be?” Dana asked.
Reece’s eyes darkened for a flash, then lifted. “This one is not mine to schedule. The Spirit will. When it comes, I’ll know it. We’ll all know it, I think.”
“When will we gather together again?” Marcus said.
“I’m not sure. I feel the Spirit is saying wait. But tonight is not for trying to figure out the future or plan our next steps. It is for celebration. And as your glasses touch, look in each other’s eyes. It’s a moment to be savored. And it isn’t truly a moment unless you gaze into the window of the other person’s soul while you do it.” He lifted his glass again. “To freedom.”
As Dana’s glass rang against Brandon’s, she looked into his eyes and saw . . . what? Certainly acceptance. Friendship. It seemed so. And she hoped he read in hers a confirmation of the forgiveness she’d offered five nights ago.
Reece tossed another log on the fire, then sat and grabbed a brown paper bag at his feet. “It’s time for your gifts.”
He reached into the bag and drew out three small leather-bound books and placed them on his leg. “I told you about the prophecy—how you were chosen when you were young. And that I was charged with training you. I’ve been friends with all of you for at least a few years, but I’ve been praying for you all your lives.
“I asked the Spirit what you were going through. And I recorded in these journals what I would have told you if I’d known you at each stage of your life.
“I’ve written down the things I’ve shown you over the past four weeks as well as many other things for us to study together and on your own.”
He held the journals in the air. “And I recorded the things I have learned during forty-five years of exploring the deeper things of the Spirit. In other words, any wisdom. I didn’t make a copy, so if you come to value them, guard them well.”
“Come to value them?” Brandon said.
“They’re gold.” Dana scooted closer to him. “You’re gold.”
“Twenty-four karat,” Marcus added.
Reece smiled.
“What?” Brandon leapt to his feet and pointed at Reece, then hopped over to Dana and Marcus. “Did you see that?”
“I saw it. It happened. The most amazing miracle we’ve seen. Ever. Reece Roth smiled.” Marcus laughed and Brandon and she joined him.
“Stay true to each other. Fight for one another. Go after the hearts of others and set them free. Fulfill the prophecy. Be strong in his wild love for you, for that is where your strength comes from.” Reece held out a journal to each of them.
“This is for you, Restorer.” He handed the journal to the professor and kissed him on the top of his head.
“This is for you, Maximus.” Reece laughed, sat next to Brandon, and threw his arm around the shoulder of the musician.
“And this is for you, Arwen.” Reece held the journal out to her, but she stood, pushed it aside, and grabbed the big man in a hug as tight as she could give. When she pulled away, tears were in both their eyes. After he handed her the journal, Dana ran her fingers over the leather. Creamy soft. And embossed with two sets of gold letters: Dana. And underneath that, Arwen.
“These past four weeks with you have been the most significant of my life.” Reece smiled again. “You’ve exceeded my expectations. You are truly Warriors Riding.”
For the next hour they talked about the past month, and the conversation was full of laughter. Dana stared at Reece. His smile lit up the night and she wished the moment could last for eons. But soon Reece stood as he had two nights before and bid them farewell.
“You three go ahead. I’m going to stay by the fire for a while. I need some time alone with the Trinity.”
Reece watched the three shuffle off into the night. He had a feeling their final test would come soon. Sooner than he wanted it to. And sooner than they were ready for.
FORTY-SEVEN
AS THEY LEFT REECE AT THE FIRE PIT AND WALKED THE hundred or so yards toward his home, Marcus saw what looked like a blanket made of iron settle onto Dana’s shoulders. She shrugged as if to throw it off, but it only seeped deeper into her back. Her gait slowed and her body drooped.
“How are you feeling, Dana?”
“I’m fine, why?”
“Because I think I saw something that would indicate you are not fine.”
Brandon and Dana stopped and turned to him.
“Just now?” Dana said.
Marcus hesitated. “This might sound incongruous given our jubilation tonight, but I saw a heavy blanket made of iron land on you.”
Brandon rubbed his neck and looked at Dana. “So I’m not the only one seeing things.”
“You too?” Dana stared at Brandon.
“I saw a blanket of dirty snow.”
She blew out a slow breath. “It’s true.”
“An attack?” marcus stopped next to the back corner of Reece’s deck.
“No, it doesn’t feel like that.” Dana frowned and looked up to her left. Seconds later her gaze locked onto Marcus
. “I think I know what it is. I think it’s a message, and a warning. But it’s not about me.”
“Then who is it for?”
“Reece.” Dana looked back toward the fire and then at them. “Do you think Michael Jordan ever had to battle doubts about his ability? Do you think Billy Graham ever needed to have friends tell him he was having an impact for God? Did Charles Dickens ever need anyone to come alongside him and offer encouragement?”
Brandon nodded as if he understood what she was driving at.
Marcus nodded as well. “In other words, Reece Roth needs friends and encouragement and people to believe in him just like everyone else.”
“Exactly.” Dana pointed at him. “But let’s take it a step further. How much do you pray for Reece?” Dana turned to Brandon before Marcus could answer. “How ’bout you?”
Marcus shook his head and looked at Brandon, whose face was as blank as Marcus imagined his was.
“Obviously about as much as I do.” Dana folded her arms. “He pours his life into us, and we’re so focused on ourselves and each other, we miss the guy standing right in front of us with a gaping wound that needs to be healed.”
“What’s he carrying? What’s his wound?” Brandon asked.
She glared at Brandon. “The death of his wife and daughter.”
“You discussed this with him?” Marcus said.
“I didn’t talk to him about it. That’s the point. I’ve tried a few times and it’s a subject he won’t go into, and from the look of the pictures, it was ages ago. But he still can’t let it go.”
“Let what go?” Brandon said.
“I don’t know. I can see it in his eyes. This deep regret. Guilt. Remorse. Sorrow. All of the above.” She shifted on the lawn. “Don’t you wonder what happened that made him Roy Hobbs? The thing that took him out of the game? Yes, we know it has to do with his family, but what happened?”
“I have wondered about that.” Marcus glanced back at the fire pit, a soft red glow visible, and against it, Reece’s silhouette.
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