by Donna Doyle
*John 8:11
Chapter Fourteen
Dora was quite familiar with the road that lead to Boulder Valley. They were making good time, and that was important, as they had an appointment at ten sharp in Boulder Valley's Federal Prison. The motor of her Kia Rio was humming happily along as Dora steered the car over the winding road leading into Boulder Valley. Papa Julian was situated on the back seat, and Molly Gertrude sat in her usual seat right next to Dora.
They were on their way to see Sharlan Tan, but they had no idea what the man wanted.
He had written a short note to Papa Julian, requesting that the pastor come. Sharlan Tan had not given any details, except he had written that it was urgent.
"Urgent?" Papa Julian had wondered when he had read the note, sent to him in the special grey envelope from the Federal Prison. "What can be so urgent?"
The false prophet had been sentenced to two years in prison, and had only served six months so far.
"Don't know," Molly Gertrude had replied. "Will you go down there to find out?"
"How can I not go," Papa Julian had answered. "If a man is asking for me, I have little choice, do I?" But then he had asked if Molly Gertrude would be willing to come along.
Molly Gertrude had grinned. "How can I not go?" she had said. "If a man asks for my help, I have little choice."
Thus it happened that early that morning, after Bella had served them a hearty breakfast, they all climbed in and Dora had started the engine.
Traffic was heavy in Boulder Valley and the prison was situated all the way on the other side of the city.
"Will we make it on time?" Papa Julian mumbled when they had to wait in a traffic jam. He was getting a little nervous.
Molly Gertrude chuckled. "I heard Sharlan Tan has another meeting at five past ten." She turned around and cast Papa Julian an encouraging smile. "Don't worry, Papa Julian. I don't think the man has a lot of appointments on his agenda today, so even if we are a bit late, it's not going to be a problem."
And Molly Gertrude was right.
When they finally arrived at the prison complex even though they were fifteen minutes late, they were ushered inside without any problems.
The grey concrete walls, all surrounded by razor wire, looked ominous and dark. What a lonely, dreadful and forlorn place it was. Molly Gertrude swallowed hard when she followed Papa Julian to the entrance and he pushed the button to announce their arrival. She was reminded of something she read once in a newspaper and that had made a deep impression upon her soul. "If you want total security, go to prison. There you're fed, clothed, given medical care and so on. The only thing lacking... is freedom." * It felt strangely true.
"Julian Maxwell?" the guard said while he checked his computer screen in the office near the entrance. "Yes, that is correct, you are expected." He glanced at Molly Gertrude. "I take it you must be his mother." He typed in something on his computer and then mumbled something about Dora being his wife, information that disappeared into the computer as well.
Dora wanted to object, but Molly Gertrude shook her head, and whispered, "Just let it be, for now."
"All right," The man looked up and pushed a button. An iron door in the hallway nearby opened up, and a guard stepped out. When he saw Molly Gertrude and Dora he winced. "Two women? I-I need to frisk you all."
Dora glared at him and waved her finger in front of his nose. "Don't you touch me."
The man hesitated, and walked over to a phone that was hanging nearby on the wall and took the receiver off the hook. He spoke a few words into the receiver and hung it back up. "We've got the kitchen lady coming. She can frisk you," he said with a scowl.
Dora was not pleased, but Molly Gertrude gave her a smile and said, "Come on, Dora, this is how life in prison goes. Just be happy you don't have to spend your days in here. This is the place where seconds gradually turn into hours, and hours into days, all without you making any progress."
Soon, the kitchen lady appeared. She was a curvy, buxom woman, and her arms could almost be compared to sturdy sledgehammers, but she was good at her job and minutes later they were led all three into the visiting area where they had to wait for Sharlan Tan.
There was nobody else in the room besides two serious looking guards. They were dressed in their prison uniforms, and were holding rifles. It was clear they were not visiting a member of the elite in the Hilton Hotel. They were in prison, the place designed to break obstinate human beings, something which was apparently only possible in drab, dreary surroundings. The windows were all barred, and the furniture which consisted of metal tables with adjoining, uncomfortable stools, were screwed down to the floor, so no inmate couldn’t use it as a possible weapon.
Dora no longer had the courage to complain. The atmosphere was just too depressing. Papa Julian seemed to be in prayer.
And then, at last, another door opened and a guard stepped in, followed by Sharlan Tan. The prophet no longer wore his priestly robe. They had now clothed him in the familiar orange prison garb. But there were no chains around his ankles and his hands.
Molly Gertrude figured that since he had not actually committed a crime as serious as a killing, he was on a less strict prison program. Still he did not look good at all.
As he approached, a shock went through Molly Gertrude's body.
He looked terrible. His deep-set eyes were surrounded by dark circles and his sunken cheeks, which had been fresh and rosy at the time when he had camped out in Calmhaven, had turned a ghostly grey.
When he saw Papa Julian, his sad, lost eyes lit up for a moment. He barely acknowledged Molly Gertrude and Dora and plopped himself down on one of the stools.
"Hello Sharlan," Papa Julian began. "You wanted to see me. How are you?"
Sharlan Tan stared at his hands that were resting before him on the metal table. Molly Gertrude could see he was fighting with his emotions and that he struggled for words. She would probably not be doing much better if she wore his shoes.
At last, Sharlan Tan licked his parched lips and whispered something so soft that not even Papa Julian could hear it.
"Excuse me?" the pastor leaned closer. "I did not hear you."
Sharlan Tan cleared his throat. This time his words came out louder, and they shocked his visitors.
"I am dying."
Molly Gertrude sat straight up. Papa Julian blinked his eyes and leaned forward.
"What do you mean?" the pastor said. "You are only about thirty-some years. You will be out of this mess before you know it, and then you can still make something out of your life."
Sharlan Tan shook his head. "No Papa Julian… I am really dying. The doctor said so."
"The doctor?" Papa Julian narrowed his eyes. "What's wrong with you?"
Sharlan Tan shrugged his shoulders. "Some bug. I don't know. My liver is infected and it’s spreading everywhere."
"H-How long do you still have to live?"
Sharlan Tan looked up. There was nothing left of his former strong, chiseled features, and his supposedly charming, hypnotic eyes had lost all of their fire. "Weeks, maybe a month… I don't know."
"I am so sorry to hear, Sharlan," Papa Julian whispered. "Death comes to us all, but the passing can be a scary moment. Are you prepared?"
"That's precisely it," Sharlan Tan replied. "I am afraid to die." He paused for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. "When I first came here and I lost my freedom, I was enraged. I am not proud to say it, but I cursed you and all the people in Calmhaven… but I have had a lot of time to think as well. And then came that dreadful day when I was diagnosed with my sickness, and the doctor told me I was dying… well I began to see everything in a whole new light."
"What light is that?" Papa Julian asked.
Sharlan's eyes began to glisten. "There's no hope for me. I wish I could undo some of the terrible stuff I've done, but I can't turn back the clock. There is nothing to look forward to, but a fearful, black, fuming sea of darkness, and I am afraid of it. I mean, I hav
e been so wicked and bad. I don't think the afterlife will look very kindly on the likes of me."
And there, to Molly Gertrude's amazement, a tear rolled out of the eyes of the man who had claimed to be such a mighty prophet, but who had been nothing but a fraud. The tear splattered onto the metal table before him.
Papa Julian placed his hand on Sharlan's arm. "Take Jesus, Sharlan. Just take Jesus. Just tell Him you are so very sorry for the lies you have preached. He'll understand."
"He can't," Sharlan sobbed. "He won't. I have deceived so many people, and all in His name. It says in the Bible that it would be better to be thrown into the sea with a millstone tied around my neck than to have caused one of these little ones to stumble. * I have cause many little ones to stumble."
Molly Gertrude could see that Papa Julian was deeply troubled. Papa Julian had such a soft heart and she knew the man was desperately trying to reach out to the man who had literally cursed him and tried to undermine his ministry.
"You can't be too bad for Jesus, only too good," Papa Julian said. "He's the real miracle worker. He performed the real miracles. He turned water into wine, he truly healed the sick, calmed the storm, walked on water, and He even raised the dead. But the most important of them all, He conquered death itself, and brought hope and salvation! Through Him we can have eternal life without sorrow, worries and fear."
Sharlan Tan shook his head. "Too late, pastor… it's too late. But I asked you to come because I needed to tell someone that I am sorry. Thank you that you at least came and gave me that chance." He forced a small smile through his tears and said, "Frankly, I thought you would not want to come. I wouldn't have wanted to come and see someone like me."
"Just take Jesus, Sharlan. He truly cares."
But the man shook his head. "I can't face Him, pastor. I just can't. But you can do me one favor. Will you pray for me? I do not think God will hear my prayers, but surely, He will hear yours."
Papa Julian stared at the man and pressed his lips firmly together. Molly Gertrude could sense her pastor's desire to take Sharlan Tan by the hand and gently lead him further. But the man himself had to take the last step. Here was a man who had knowingly led countless people astray in the hopes of filling his own pockets, who was getting his just reward, and who knew the end of the road was approaching. Here was a man who could not count on the mercy of the world, but was still welcome in the Kingdom of God, if he would only be willing to forsake his pride and his fears, and would throw himself fully on the mercy of the one he had so blatantly misrepresented.
At last Papa Julian gave Sharlan a nod. "Of course I will pray for you." He turned to Molly Gertrude and Dora. "Will you join me in prayer?"
As Molly Gertrude stared at the miserable heap of humanity before her, who, with trembling hands had asked for prayer, she could feel the last bit of anger and resentment she still felt towards this man ebb away. Clearly the Spirit was yearning for the heart of this miserable man. "I would be honored, Pastor," she simply said.
And so it happened that they all four bowed their heads and Papa Julian poured out his heart before the throne of God on behalf of Sharlan Tan.
One hour later, they were outside of the prison again and Dora started the Kia Rio in order to drive them back to Calmhaven.
For the longest time no one said a thing. The spirit was just too strong.
When they arrived in Calmhaven and Molly Gertrude offered them a hot cup of tea, both Dora and Papa Julian declined. And when Dora didn't even want to stay for a Citrus Lemon Curd cookie, Molly Gertrude knew it had been an extraordinary visit.
* Eisenhower
** Luke 17:2 NIV
Two weeks later, early in the afternoon the bell rang at Molly Gertrude's house.
It was a long ring, and then it rang again. It was urgent. Molly Gertrude had just started a new detective novel and she frowned. What now?
She forced herself up out of the chair, and when she opened the door she stared at the panting figure of Papa Julian. The man had been running. Sweat glistened on his brow, and he was out of breath.
For a moment, Molly Gertrude feared he was bringing bad news, but then she noticed, in spite of his heavy breathing, that his eyes were shining and there was a smile on his face.
"What is it, Pastor? What in the world got you so excited?"
Without saying a word, Papa Julian handed her a letter he had been carrying, and he leaned against the wall to catch his breath.
Molly Gertrude raised her brow and stared at it.
It was a grey envelope. The kind they used in the Federal Prison.
"Is it about Sharlan Tan?" she asked Papa Julian while she pulled the letter out. "D-Did he die?"
"Just read it," Papa Julian replied.
Thus, while Papa Julian studied her, she began to read, and as she did, excitement rose in her heart as well. It was not about Sharlan Tan's death at all, but it was written by the man himself in clear, bright handwriting.
Boulder Valley
Federal Prison
September
Dear Papa Julian
I was raised by my God-fearing parents. They taught me the Scriptures. I sang them, I memorized them, and I could dream them. And yet, I never knew the true God behind it all. God was as distant to me as the stars in the heavens. Thus it was easy for me to use God for my own profit. After all, who cares about a star that is a million miles away from us.
And then I came to Calmhaven.
It became my spiritual Waterloo, from where I was sentenced to Boulder Valley Federal Prison; the end of the road for a wretch like me.
Then you, Molly Gertrude and Dora Brightside prayed for me…
There are no words to describe what happened. While I deceived countless innocent people with my so-called healings and miracles, God performed a miracle of His own upon me, the most wretched person of all.
After your prayer that day a few weeks back, I felt light.
That night, for the first time in months, I fell asleep without fear. And then, when I awoke the next morning I felt strangely happy. It was almost as if new energy coursed through my body, and I asked to see the doctor.
I will spare you the details, but my sickness is gone.
The doctors cannot even find a trace of my illness. I am completely healed. Me, the fake healer, found healing at the hands of a merciful God.
Molly Gertrude stopped reading, as tears welled up in her eyes and she could no longer see the words. She dropped her hands and stared into the eyes of her faithful pastor friend. "How great is our God, Papa Julian… How infinitely wonderful and great…
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