by Ted Dekker
“Then tell me what you remember,” Helen said.
Shannon hesitated and looked away.
“I remember what happened. It just seems like a whole different person did those things.” He paused. When he spoke, it was introspectively.
“When my parents were killed by the Brotherhood, something snapped. I went to the cave . . .”
“Sula,” Tanya said after another pause. “The witch doctor’s grave.”
“Yes. And I . . . I changed there.”
“What changed?” Helen asked.
“Things went fuzzy. I could hardly remember what Tanya looked like, or what my parents looked like. I became obsessed with death. With killing. Mostly with killing whoever had ruined my life.”
“Abdullah and the CIA,” Tanya said. He’d told her everything already, but hearing him tell Helen, it sounded new. Somehow different.
“Yes. But more than that.” He shook his head and his eyes went moist. “Things got cloudy. I hated everything. When I learned about the CIA’s involvement, I just began to hate everything that had anything to do with the CIA.”
“But if you were driven by evil, why would you want to destroy Abdullah, who was also evil?” Tanya asked.
He shrugged. “Evil isn’t so discriminating. I went back into the jungle within a year of my parents’ death, intent on killing Abdullah. But while I was there, I learned that the CIA had done it as much as Abdullah had. Then I learned about the Brotherhood’s plan to take a bomb into the U.S. I decided then to become Jamal and destroy both of them in one blow.”
“Why didn’t you just kill them and then expose the CIA?” Tanya asked.
He looked at her. “That wasn’t enough. I think I could have blown up the whole world and not thought it was enough.” He swallowed. “You have to understand, I was very . . . I was consumed with this thing.”
“He was possessed,” Helen said.
The simple declaration silenced them.
“But the powers of darkness forgot something,” Helen said. “Or perhaps they’ve never really understood it. The Creator is the ultimate chess master, isn’t he? Why he allows evil to wreak havoc, we can hardly understand. But in the end, it always plays into his hands.” She paused. “As it did this time.”
“It’s hard for me to accept,” Shannon said. There was a deep sadness in his eyes, and Tanya reached her hand out to him. “I did so much . . . damage. It feels impossible now.”
“I’ve been there myself, Shannon,” Helen said. “Believe me, I’ve been there. Evil is great, but not as great as God’s love and forgiveness. You are freed, child. And you are loved.”
Tears pooled in Shannon’s eyes and one broke down his right cheek.
Tanya leaned forward and cupped his hand in both of hers. “Listen to me,
“And the love I have for you is only a fraction of the love he has for you.”
His shoulders began to shake and suddenly he was sobbing silently. Tanya looked at Helen in desperation. She smiled, but there were tears in her eyes as well.
Tanya looked back at Shannon, and it struck her then that there was more than sorrow in those tears. There was gratitude and relief and there was love.
She pushed her chair back, stepped around to him, and put her arms around his shoulders. His head rested on her shoulder and he shook like a leaf as he cried. He suddenly reached over and encircled her with his arms.
“I love you, Tanya.”
“I know. I know. And I love you.”
They held each other and wept. But it was most definitely a good cry. The kind that cleansed the soul and bound hearts as one. The kind that healed deep wounds. Tears of love.
At some point Tanya saw that Helen had left them. She could see the older woman standing by a large window, staring out to the blue sky. She was smiling. And if Tanya wasn’t mistaken, she was humming. It was an old tune she had heard a hundred times before.
Jesus, Lover of my soul.
In the end it was always about love, wasn’t it?