Eli (30 page)

Unfortunately, at this particular moment, the good doctor also had a reason to be upset. For, although the City of God’s opening was a huge event, there appeared to be one event even larger . . . the arrival of Eli Shepherd.

Conrad had been right: the resurrection of Suzanne’s brother had made national and world news. Despite the criticism by religious leaders, as well as by various doctors and scientists, the populace had once again turned their attention toward Eli. And the press, knowing a money-making story when they saw one, immediately got on board. In fact, for the past seventy-two hours since the resurrection, it had been impossible for Eli to appear anywhere without drawing a crowd.

His arrival here at the City of God was no exception. As their convoy arrived, word spread through the 120-acre site.

Soon visitors and staff from every shop and exhibit were finding some excuse to drop what they were doing and swing on over to the park’s entrance. Just helping him across the parking lot was proving to be an ordeal as media and visitors swarmed, as they shouted words of welcome and encouragement. In fact, it was all Conrad and the guys could do to clear a path ahead of him so he could walk.

“Hey, Connie!” Eli shouted as the crowd pushed and jos-tled them. “You and Keith really did your job this time. Nice work!”

Conrad frowned and yelled, “But we didn’t do a thing!”

“Really?” Eli asked with just enough sparkle to make the irony obvious.

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Conrad grinned back. He got the message loud and clear.

This was neither his doing, nor Keith’s. Somebody much bigger was in charge. And, at the moment, that Somebody was exceeding their wildest expectations. The thought brought more than a little satisfaction to Conrad. He hadn’t been so wrong, after all. It was just a matter of the timing. When he’d wanted to push Eli to the forefront so many weeks earlier, Eli had declined. But now, suddenly, things had flipped. For whatever reason, the reluctant Messiah was no longer reluctant. At last he was doing things the right way—making his miracles public, going for the big events, seizing the day.

Despite all of the backwards logic, despite all of Conrad’s doubts (both in Eli and in himself), things were finally moving forward.

He glanced back at Eli as they continued to fight their way toward the entrance. But to his surprise, he saw the pleasure on Eli’s face starting to fade. He leaned over and shouted,

“Are you okay?”

Eli did not answer. Instead, the closer they drew to the complex, the heavier his countenance became. And Conrad wasn’t the only one to notice. By the time they reached the white gates, the other guys were also exchanging uneasy glances and starting to question him.

From the swarming crowd, two men in navy-blue blazers emerged. Security, Conrad figured. They caught Conrad’s eye, flashed some kind of City of God I.D., and motioned for permission to talk with Eli. Conrad nodded and they moved in, only to be blocked by Will and Jake’s commanding presence.

“It’s okay!” Conrad shouted. “They’re with the park!”

They nodded and stepped aside.

“Mr. Shepherd!”

Eli turned toward them.

“We’re with Security,” the first hollered. “This thing is getting way out of hand! You’ve got to tell them to settle down. You’ve got to make them stop!”

Eli paused a moment and glanced across the crowd. Then he shook his head. “No!”

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“What?” they yelled. “Why not?”

He leaned toward them and shouted, “If I were to tell them to be quiet, the very walls of your worship center would cry out over my arrival!” Before the guards could respond, Eli patted the first on the shoulder, smiled, and continued forward. Conrad gave the confused men a sympathetic shrug before following Eli through the Pearly Gates.

They headed across the red-tiled courtyard toward the central plaza just outside the worship center. The crowd grew thicker and pressed in harder.

“Please, Eli!” an unseen face shouted. “I’ve got leukemia!

Just touch me and heal my leukemia!”

Another woman, much closer, caught the idea. “My diabetes!” she shouted. “Will you heal my diabetes?”

Others joined in. “Heal my back!” “My wife’s got Alzheimer’s!” Some of the folks Conrad could see, others he could not. “Will you lower my cholesterol!” a nearby father shouted. “I’ve got a sister with Parkinson’s!” another cried.

Amidst these demands grew others—some crying out for God’s intervention: “Help me get a raise!” “Pray that my husband will come home!” Others shouting for riches. “Here!” a young woman yelled, shoving her pocketbook at him. “Just touch it, just lay your hands on my checkbook!” Many followed her lead, producing their checkbooks, their wallets; two or three even waved their Mastercards at him.

It was turning into quite a spectacle, and Trevor, Jake, Leon, and everyone else surrounding Eli traded amused looks. Everyone but Eli. For the deeper he entered the complex, the more he was overcome with emotion.

“Hey!” Once again, Conrad leaned closer and shouted over the noise. “You okay?”

“Get me to the fountain!” Eli yelled, motioning to the large fountain in the center of the plaza. “Get me to the fountain. I need to talk to them!”

Conrad nodded and passed the word on to the others. The group altered course and moved toward the fountain. It was hththt 5/14/01 11:35 AM Page 235

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a huge monstrosity of marble and concrete, some thirty feet in diameter, with multiple tiers of angels and biblical figures spouting water into the hazy afternoon sky. Once they arrived, Eli climbed onto the smooth, three-foot wall encircling it and turned to the crowd. Immediately they began to settle. As they did, Eli wiped his face and prepared to speak. Soon everything was quiet. Only the cascading water broke the silence.

“If you only knew what really brings fulfillment!” he shouted. His voice echoed through the plaza. “You can’t find it in blessings! You can’t find it in healings! You can’t find it in wealth!” He let the phrase finish its reverberation before continuing. “And you certainly cannot find it in religion!”

The last sentence surprised them all. Eli said nothing, letting it sink in as he carefully surveyed their faces. From experience, Conrad knew he wasn’t looking over a mass of people, but into individual hearts. After what seemed an excruciatingly long moment, he continued:

“Real joy—I mean deep, welling-up-inside-you joy—and real peace, they can only come from one thing . . . a relationship with God. They can only come when you are friends with God.”

Once again he paused, letting the words echo through the plaza.

“What I’m offering you is friendship . . . friendship with the Creator of the Universe. That’s what your soul yearns for.

That’s the thirst you’ve never been able to quench.” Another pause. “Listen to me carefully. I am the living water.” He motioned toward the fountain behind him and to the worship center behind that. “This water . . . it satisfies only for a moment. But if you drink from me—hear me now—if you drink of me, you will never be thirsty again! Never!”

The crowd stirred, sharing perplexed looks.

“How?” an older man in a Hawaiian shirt shouted. There was no malice in his face, only confusion.

Eli answered. “This water can only meet your temporary needs. It can only refresh a moment. It can never clean you.

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236 Nor can this park, or even this center.” He turned to the rest of the crowd. “But if you come to me, I will refresh you, I will satisfy you, I will clean you like this worship center never can. And I will do it for eternity!” Again he paused letting the words echo and fade. “Through me you always have access to my Father; you will always be His friend.”

A younger man in khaki shorts and far less friendly spoke up. “Are you saying that all of this—” He waved an arm toward the fountain and the center. “Are you saying that it’s all useless?”

Eli turned to him. “All of the splendor that you see here, all of this glory, it is nothing but so much plaque upon the teeth of God!” The crowd stirred unhappily. “For without the Spirit of God, this center means nothing! It
is
nothing!”

Conrad watched the restlessness sweep across the faces.

But Eli was not backing down.

“How can you say that?” a younger woman shouted. Others agreed. “Look at all the work and sacrifice that’s gone into this place. And it’s all for God’s glory!” More people cried out, voicing their agreement.

Eli shook his head and did his best to shout over them.

“God does not want your sacrifice! He wants your obedience!

He does not want your works. He wants your faith.” The group settled slightly, and he continued. “God does not want your religion of concrete and marble, your traditions of service and dead programs. He wants your living hearts! He cries out for your friendship!”

The restlessness grew.

“Are you saying this is all worthless?” an elderly woman yelled. Others joined in.

“I’m saying . . .” Eli took a breath. Once again he had to shout to be heard. “I’m saying that all of this will be destroyed!”

Conrad’s head snapped toward Eli. What did he say?

“I’m telling you that this will be completely and utterly demolished!”

The crowd grew louder, more angry.

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“It will be destroyed because you would rather worship the works of your hands than acknowledge the presence of Almighty God who, at this very moment, is standing before you!”

If the group had been worked up before, they were downright livid now. The shouting and yelling grew. Insults were hurled.

Conrad could only watch in amazement, marveling at how quickly Eli had pushed their buttons. But hadn’t that always been his style—whether with crowds or individuals, hadn’t Eli always moved his listeners beyond their comfort zone?

It was impossible now for Eli to make himself heard, so he sadly stepped down from the fountain wall. But instead of heading back toward the parking lot and the safety of their RVs, he turned and started toward the worship center.

Immediately Conrad was at his side. “Where are you going?” he yelled, barely hearing himself over the shouting crowd.

Eli yelled back. “Dr. Kerston invited us to his worship center, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then we’re going to his worship center.”

An angry man broke past Scott and Brent, lunging toward Eli. Fortunately, Jake moved in and, with the help of Will, managed to toss him back into the crowd. And still Eli continued forward. Despite the yelling, despite the outrage, despite the potential of being harmed, he continued toward the worship center.

v

“Any change with Conrad Davis?” Julia asked the nurse behind the counter.

The woman looked up. She was the one who had been there yesterday, who had caught Julia and helped her into a chair. “No, everything’s pretty much the same.”

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“May we see him?”

“Certainly.”

Julia felt the woman eyeing her, no doubt wondering whether there would be a repeat of yesterday’s performance.

“I had a chance to grab a little breakfast this time,” Julia said, forcing a smile to reassure her.

The nurse nodded, then returned to her work.

Julia turned and escorted her mother toward room four.

She had no more desire to see her father today than she’d had yesterday. But this time at least she was prepared. Or so she hoped. Still, even as they approached the sliding glass door to the room, she could feel her heart beginning to pound, a trace of perspiration breaking out across her forehead.

She glanced at her mother, who seemed to be taking it no better than she. How was that possible? After all he’d done to her . . . to them? After all the lying and cheating and destruction? After all these years since the divorce, how could she still be feeling something?

When the bed came into view, and her mother saw the swollen and bandaged head, she gasped. Instinctively, Julia reached out for her. “Are you all right?”

Her mother didn’t answer.

“Mom?”

She gave Julia a slight nod but couldn’t take her eyes from the bed. Julia looked for yesterday’s chair and spotted it shoved against the wall. She reached for it, hanging onto her mother with one hand while stretching with the other. She grabbed it and dragged it across the linoleum.

“Here,” she said, “sit down.”

Her mother glanced around the room, asking, “Where will you sit?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“But—”

“I’ll get another chair, Mom. Don’t worry about me, just sit.” Honestly, her mother could be such a mother sometimes.

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long one for her. Probably as long or longer than Julia’s the night before.

Once her mother was seated, Julia crossed to the next room to look for another chair. But there was neither patient nor chair in it. She tried the next room, with no better results.

The third time was the charm. She quietly slipped into the room so as not to wake the patient (though from the looks of things he would not be waking for a long time). She carefully picked up the chair and carried it out. But once she re-entered her father’s room, she stopped short.

Her mother had pulled her chair closer to the bed. She was holding his hand and she had lowered her head. Julia knew exactly what she was doing. Just as she had not entirely given up her feelings for this man, neither had she given up on God. It was a tender, bittersweet moment—the first time Julia had seen her mother and father together in years. So many memories, so many—

Suddenly the alarm above the bed sounded. Her mother’s head shot up, looking at it. Before Julia could react, the ICU

nurse raced past her into the room. She glanced at the screen.

“He’s in V-fib,” she said. She spun toward Julia, who could only stare. “He’s in V-fib.”