There was no organ to guide them, nor was one needed. Voices lifted and rang out in the fresh spring air, mingling with the breeze and the light and the birdsong. Jeremy found himself unable to sing. He stood and listened and recalled the words, and felt their power reach down and touch something deep, very deep inside.
Just as I am, without one plea,
But that Thy blood was shed for me,
And that Thou bidd’st me come to Thee,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come!
Jeremy felt a weight lean heavy on his side. He lifted an arm, settled it gently across Bella’s trembling shoulder. He did not look down. He could not do so and keep control himself.
Just as I am and waiting not
To rid my soul of one dark blot,
To Thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come!
The power of the voices pressed gently against Jeremy’s heart, made his head ring like a Sunday-go-to-meeting bell. Nine hundred voices raising hearts and minds in unison, chiming words for two who could not hear them, singing and drawing close and filling the emptiness with song.
Just as I am, though tossed about
With many a conflict, many a doubt,
Fightings within, and fears without,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come!
Jeremy sought to escape the pressure in his chest by looking beyond the congregation, inspecting the encircling dogwoods. Their white blossoms floated on the breeze like earth-bound clouds. He took a shaky breath, decided he would never be able to hear that hymn again.
Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind;
Sight, riches, healing of mind
Yea, all I need in Thee to find,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.
The music pried with gentle fingers at that inner door Jeremy thought he had sealed tightly closed. Loving power reached within, stroked and calmed and showed that it was possible to let it out, let it pour and flow and heal. He raised his eyes to the unseen heavens, did not bother to wipe his face.
Just as I am, Thou wilt receive,
Will welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve;
Because Thy promise I believe,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.
Just as I am, Thy love unknown
Hath broken every barrier down;
Now, to be Thine, yea, Thine alone,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come!
After they were finished, Reverend Wilkins came to the podium. “Be seated,” he said, and the gathering became silent. “I have a letter here from Brother Case. He wanted his dear friend and brother in Christ, Mr. Jeremy Hughes, to read it. Brother Hughes asked me to do the honor. It seems that Brother Hughes lacks my experience in handlin’ the sorrows that this world tries to set upon us.”
His face set in a somber expression, Reverend Wilkins drew out the paper and unfolded it. “This is not a long message, so I hope you folks can pay careful attention. Real careful. It is the last gift of a man who gave his life in service to his Lord.” Reverend Wilkins looked up. “Are you people listening to me out there? Are your hearts good and open?”
“Say it, brother,” someone called.
Reverend Wilkins paused again to search the crowd. “Lord, Lord, I do pray you will open these people’s minds and hearts. Let them listen, Lord. Let them hear. Speak to them, Lord. Speak to them.”
The gathering became a little restless. Those who did not know the Washington preacher wondered about him saying a prayer with eyes wide open and glaring out at the people. Those who knew him wondered also, for there was a light in his eyes that few had ever seen burning so intensely.
Reverend Wilkins adjusted his reading glasses, flattened the page with his hand, and began, “‘Dear friends, dear gathered brothers and sisters. Last night I was taken up to the mountaintop and shown where I would be traveling to, and when. It was a divine vision, the most wondrous of all, and like all visions it only has meaning if it is used for the glory of our Lord.’
“‘I know of no way to give the vision more meaning than to share it with you here today. Why? Because I am going home, brethren. As you read this, I am standing in the presence of our beloved Lord. There is no need for grief, not for me and not for Catherine. We are home, the only home we have ever known.’” Reverend Wilkins stopped and stared out at the audience, said, “We’ll probably never know this side of Jordan why the Lord told TJ ahead of time. Maybe just so we would know the evildoers are not in charge. TJ and Catherine didn’t choose death—their choice was to simply rest in their heavenly Father’s strong arms.” Reverend Wilkins paused another moment then went back to the page in front of him.
“‘How many of you feel as if you do not belong? How many wish there were some way to know peace of mind and happiness? Brothers and sisters, I tell you that so long as you search only in this world, you will not find it. But it is there. Your home is waiting for you. Lasting peace is there for all of us to know. All we have to do is turn away from the things of this world and seek that which is unseen.’
“‘This, then, is my gift. It is the fervent prayer that each one of you will turn from your self-centered seeking and come to know the Lord. Ask Jesus into your hearts. I beg you from beyond the grave. There is nothing more important. Nothing more urgent. Seek the Lord with all your hearts, with all your minds. Your home is not here, the possessions of this world cannot satisfy your endless hunger.’
“‘Search along the false paths of what you see with your eyes and touch with your earthly senses, and you will know only bitterness and sorrow. Seek what is real. Seek what is eternal. And know that the Lord’s bountiful mercy is there, ever waiting for you to open the door.’
“‘I do not say goodbye, my brethren. For if we are truly united in Christ, we will be together soon. The time of suffering and sorrow is so short, the time of joyful reunion truly eternal. Think of that when the world tries to darken your heart’s eyes and draw you from the narrow path. Remember that reunion awaits you. I wish there were some way I could show you what that word means. Reunion with your Lord. Is that not an awesome vision? Reunion with the Master, the Supreme Being. He awaits you. He awaits you.’
“‘The peace, the joy, the love that you may know on earth is only a glimmer of that which will be yours once you are free of this world. So do not mourn our passing, I beg you. We are free. Mourn for the godless. Cry for all of those who are still trapped in the world of suffering and torment.’” Reverend Wilkins stopped, looked up, and gave extra emphasis to the final words, “‘Cry for all of those who will never know what freedom means.’” Reverend Harbridge stood, took his place at the podium, said, “Let us pray.
“O Lord, look down upon us, we pray, and open our hearts to your holy Word. Show us, Father, that our lives are not in vain. Let us learn what it means to see death as a passage, an open door into what is real. Help us to cling to this truth, O Lord, throughout all the lies and temptations and trials and sorrows this world of shadows tries to heap upon us. Let us hold fast to the truth. Keep our feet upon the Way, O Lord. Give us the clarity of vision to see what must be done, and the strength to see it through to the end. Right to the end, Lord. Right to the end, right into your open arms, into the palace of eternal light. This is our prayer, O Lord. We do not pray for Brother Case and Sister Catherine. We know they have gone home to their reward. Our prayer is for those they have left behind. Help us, O Lord. Help us to find our own way to you. This we pray in Christ’s holy name. Amen.”
Acknowledgments
The lessons I learned and the friendships I forged during the research and writing of The Presence continue to be a blessing. I would once again like to thank the officials and staff members of the many organizations involved, including the White House, the Old Executive Office Building, the Department of Education, the California Governor’s Office, the Prison Fellowship, the Community of Hope, the North Carolina Democratic Party, and many others.
A special thanks to Reve
rend Paul McCommon and his wife Ruth, whose wisdom and energy in doing God’s will is a constant source of inspiration.
Ten years on, my debt of gratitude to Bethany House Publishers and my admiration for its members grows ever deeper. Thank you, Gary and Carol Johnson, for showing early confidence in my writing. And thank you for this wonderful reaffirmation in the way of a new edition of my first novel The Presence.
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