Faith Wish (13 page)

“Sister, I couldn't say it better.”

Since they were both famished, they stopped at the first McDonald's they could spot from the highway. Not only was she hungry, Anne-Marie was grateful for the rest room opportunity. She had the Egg McMuffin with a side of hash browns. Brother Jackson chose the Big Breakfast with pancakes and sausage. He insisted on paying.

“But I have some money,” Anne-Marie reminded him.

“Put your money away; this is on me.”

It was the best appetite she could remember having for weeks. The breakfast sandwich tasted delicious. Anne-Marie felt her sense of freedom dovetailing with her sense of destiny. Even with her mouth partly full, she needed to tell him, “I remember the night I became a Christian.”

“Praise God. Let's hear it.”

“It was the first night I heard you preach. I know you don't like that word, though; it was that night at the tabernacle. I felt the Spirit of the Lord come all over me like a heavenly poncho. I felt such a relief from my sins.”

“And were you a sinner?”

“I'd have to say so,” she admitted, avoiding his eyes. “When I was a cheerleader, we used to smoke pot behind the bleachers at halftime. I was guilty of fornication, too.” It seemed so effortless to share intimate information with him.

“All your sins are forgiven, though, the minute you lay them at the throne. You know that, don't you, Anne-Marie?”

“I know it now. I was also guilty of the sin of laziness, especially when it came to school. I never worked up to my ability. I didn't even graduate on time. If I'm going to graduate, it will have to be through summer school, making up for low grades. About the only good thing is, I've been reading my Bible a lot.”

“Praise Jesus,” said Brother quickly. Then he declared, “I never graduated high school myself, but I can honestly say that due to the Lord's guidance, it's never been a problem.”

Anne-Marie was surprised but also encouraged. “Anyway,” she repeated herself, “I first knew the Lord at the end of that praise meeting.”

“Praise Him all the more then,” said Brother Jackson. “Praise the fact that He still chooses me as a vehicle for the coming of His Kingdom.”

“Can you remember when it was that you became a Christian?”

“Yes indeed, Sister. It was in an oil field, of all places.” He was very good at forking large amounts of food into his mouth and chewing on one side but speaking distinctly at the same time.

“An oil field?”

“Yes, but I'm getting ahead of myself.” He flashed the winning smile. “I grew up down around Fayetteville, Arkansas. We were as poor as we could be. My daddy reenlisted in the navy and went somewhere overseas. He wasn't too good at writing letters or sending money, so we pretty much lost touch with him.”

“Oh, that's too bad.”

“It seemed bad at the time. Anyway, I dropped out of high school and went to work for a grain company, shoveling corn out of bins and into processing chambers. I had to lie about my age to get the job, but we needed the money.

“My only religion came from this colored church we used to go to when I was real young. I can remember singing old Negro spirituals while I was shoveling away at the grain elevator. It helped pass the time. My momma was working as a housekeeper at a local motel, so we were pretty much poor most of the time.”

Anne-Marie felt embarrassed just thinking about all the money and resources that had blessed her own life. She could see Brother Jackson had lived a hard life, but it wasn't surprising to her. Maybe that was part of the reason he'd developed such strong moral character.

He said he needed a refill on his coffee and asked her if he could get her anything. “No thanks,” she answered. “I'm good.”

When he got back, he continued the story. “After Momma died, I left Arkansas and drove a truck awhile for a gravel company. Then they went out of business, so the next thing I knew, I found myself in Texas, working in an oil field. It was real hard work, and real dirty, but the money was good.”

Finished with his breakfast, Brother Jackson was wiping his mouth with a napkin. He sipped a little of his coffee before he said, “Anyway, there was this one day when I was up the chute on this oil rig, and a big storm was coming. Lightning and thunder like you wouldn't believe. You'd of thought Armageddon was right up the street.

“I'd been changing out of my clothes, didn't even have my shoes on. They told me to climb up the rigging real fast and cap off a couple of outlets before the storm hit. Well, I didn't make it. I was screwing on one of the caps as fast as I could when lightning hit the rig. I'll never forget the sound it made, about like a rifle shot, or the smell, either. It was the smell of burning metal, like an industrial fire.”

“Were you hurt?”

He shook his head. “I was not hurt. Not a scratch on me. Two of the other workers were hit direct, though, and didn't survive. God rest their souls. But I had the shakes. I can remember just shaking in place, paralyzed with fear. The rig was on fire, it was raining cats and dogs, and the two fallen workers were down there on the ground. And then I saw my shoes. They were just construction shoes, work boots you might call them. Laying on the ground just as peaceful as they could be.”

“Why did you pay attention to the shoes?”

“All of a sudden my shoes were like my sign from the Lord. There was the fire from the rig which was burning around me right there in the rain and the shoes on the ground. And I was suddenly all at peace. In my mind was the story of Moses and the burning bush. ‘Take off your shoes, Moses, for you are standing on hallowed ground.' It was that very moment when I knew the Lord was calling me to be His messenger. One of His messengers, anyway. So that's a long story, Sister, but it's the answer to your question. That was the precise moment when the Lord set me on the path and I've been on it ever since.”

“So did you go to seminary, then? Is that how you became a preacher?”

“Not what most people would call a seminary, not a formal one. I took a job in a convenience store in Lubbock, Texas, so I could have my nights free for Bible school. It was a school where they taught the Word. That's what the Lord longs for most—people to preach the Word.”

Hearing the words
convenience store
gave Anne-Marie a brief lump in her throat. Would her picture be plastered in places like that as a missing person? Would there be an 800 number to call? She forced herself not to think about it.

“Most mainstream seminaries,” Brother Jackson went on, “are too mixed up with church financing and committees and other extraneous activities. They get so bogged down in the details of running a business, and politics, they forget that the real goal is the preaching of the Word.”

Anne-Marie knew how right he was. She remembered the numerous occasions of Presbyterian pettiness reported by her parents. It was more like being on committees or school boards than a sincere effort to seek the Lord.

As soon as Brother Jackson finished his coffee, they were on the road again.

It was almost noon by the time Brother Jackson found his way to the winding gravel road that snaked its way through timber and limestone bluffs. Anne-Marie found it hard to believe they were still in Illinois; it looked more like the Missouri Ozarks. Not only was the scenery breathtaking, it was also safely removed from the world. If Sister Abigail was half as spiritual as Brother Jackson claimed she was, it would be a refuge from all fears and problems.

“It's so beautiful,” she said.

“No argument there,” Brother Jackson agreed. And then he smiled. “‘The earth is the Lord's and the fulness thereof.'”

Anne-Marie saw occasional backpacking hikers on rugged trails. She asked him if they were almost there yet.

“Just about. Can't be more than a mile or two now.”

When they did reach the entrance to the camp, they passed beneath a rustic wooden archway with a huge timber across and the words
Camp Shaddai
formed from equally rustic wooden letters. A tarmac parking lot was located near a low-slung log-cabin-style central dining hall. There were several pine trees nearby, as well as sweet gum and flourishing patches of sumac. Anne-Marie was comforted by the beauty and serenity.

Brother Jackson led her along a narrow blacktop path to the quarters where he assured her she would be allowed to stay. Sister Abigail was waiting to greet them at the door of her residential unit, a larger bungalow in the same log cabin tradition, but with a long addition connected to the near side of the creek. She greeted Anne-Marie warmly, taking her hand in both of her own.

Anne-Marie decided immediately that she had never seen a woman so beautiful. Her makeup was applied expertly. Her clear skin was richly tanned. She wore her hair in a stylish, well-formed blond blunt cut. Abigail had fine features and regular, very white teeth. “We're so happy to have you here, Anne-Marie,” said Sister Abigail. “You'll find the Spirit alive and well here at Shaddai. We pray that the comfort and guidance you seek will be made known to you.”

Comfort and guidance? What details had Brother Jackson shared with her on the phone
? But Anne-Marie merely said, “Thank you. Thanks a lot for letting me stay with you.”

“You are welcome. Are these the only things you've brought with you?”

Anne-Marie was carrying only the backpack and tote bag. “This is it. I figure it's best to travel light.” Then she laughed nervously.

Sister Abigail and Brother Jackson laughed as well. Abigail was wearing a collared white shirt with delicate embroidery to define the seams, and a series of seemingly random lines sewn on the front. If you stared at the lines long enough, though, you could see how they formed the word
Jesus
by means of an optical trick.

“Let me show you around,” said the counselor. “You'll want to know where your bed is in the dorm, and you'll need a place to unpack your things.”

“Sure.”

“Afterwards, maybe I can give you a tour of some of our other facilities. At least the ones that are close.”

“Sure,” Anne-Marie repeated with enthusiasm. It disappointed her to see, though, that Brother Jackson did not intend to join them. “You're not coming?”

“Not now, Sister. I need to keep moving. It's hundreds of miles to Oklahoma, and the Lord wants me there the day after tomorrow.”

“You mean you're leaving right away, without any lunch or anything?”

“I guess I feel like there's no choice.” He was smiling broadly. He put his arm around her shoulders.

“Is it okay if I walk you to your car?” she asked.

“I surely wish you would. Come on, then.” They headed back the way they came. He urged her to seek the Lord and all His wisdom while they were apart.

“You're coming back though, right?”

“Of course I'm coming back. Just as soon as the Oklahoma crusade is finished.”

“So how long will that be?” The security that Sister Abigail brought took a dip when Anne-Marie thought of Brother Jackson so far away.

“Two or three weeks most likely,” was his answer. “If it lasts longer than that, it means we're having unusual success. Praise Him for that, if it happens.”

“Praise the Lord,” Anne-Marie repeated, trying to set aside all selfish feelings.

They were at the car. When Brother hugged her goodbye, it was not a hug lovers would share, but a friendly one, a quick peck on one cheek and then the other. “‘The Lord is with you,'” he whispered quietly. “‘If God is with you, who can be against you?'” And then he was gone.

June 10

Anne-Marie watched the rattletrap Chrysler as it scattered some dust just before disappearing around the bend. It was an old and junky car, so different from the BMW she had watched fade from view in Indiana. But then, Brother Jackson was not a prisoner of material things. He would be back; Anne-Marie knew it.

The first thing Sister Abigail showed her was the dorm. It was a long narrow room, with a smooth and shiny concrete floor painted gray. There were eight twin beds, approximately six feet apart, lined regularly on each side of the room. Sister Abigail said two of them were unoccupied, so Anne-Marie asked if she could have the one closer to the bathroom. If she was going to have to pee so much, it would make sense.

At the foot of each bed was a metal hutch, about four feet high. It consisted of two storage shelves and a cupboard at the top with a mesh door. The hutches, like the floor, were painted gray.

“Will this be enough room for your things?” Sister Abigail asked her.

“Oh yes,” said Anne-Marie. “Plenty of room. I've only got this one bag and the backpack.”

She noticed there was artwork on the walls, and craft projects. Some were simple crosses made of wood and rawhide, while others were commercial posters with Christian themes. “Are we allowed to decorate the walls?”

“Yes, just as long as you keep your own things in the area above your bed.”

“Where are the other girls, Sister Abigail?”

“Some of them are in Bible study, and some of them are in a crafts class we started last month. You'll get to meet them before long. You'll be thoroughly welcome here, Anne-Marie; they'll all treat you like a sister.”

It seemed too good to be true. “I don't know how to thank you.”

The counselor laughed. “Don't worry about that now. Why don't you make yourself at home? Get your things put away and give yourself some time to clean up.”

“I'd like to. I haven't had a shower for two days.”

Sister Abigail reached for and gently fingered the ends of Anne-Marie's long blond hair. “Such pretty hair. It looks like you just washed it.”

“I haven't, though. Not for two days. It looks prettier when it's clean.”

Abigail dropped her hand. “Well. You get settled and then come back down to my quarters. We'll have a cup of tea and get acquainted.”