Tying the Knot (26 page)

The campers quieted as Ross stepped forward. Street kids responded to drama. Their lives were so full of soap-opera emotions, drama was often the most effective way to communicate, especially to children inundated with words.

Ross lugged the backpack and turned so the kids could read the label
Sin
on the back. Sinner Ross stumbled under the heavy and oppressive weight of the rocks. Brow sweating, desperate, he looked out into the audience for relief.

Enter Noah. He felt the role move through him, taking possession as he stalked around Ross, grinning, motioning his sympathies. When Noah snapped his fingers, Katie rushed in. Dressed to the nines as an immoral lady of the night in a low-cut, sequined dress that Noah had to talk her into, she raised her eyebrows and pantomimed suggestions to Ross. She intimated that she might remove his backpack of sin, even help lift it from his shoulders. Ross dove for her, clung to her.

As relief crested Ross’s face, Ladylove opened the sack and dropped in another boulder. And laughed. The singular sound echoed across the lake and through Noah’s soul. Katie yanked her leg from Ross’s clutches and danced away.

Noah entered again, this time empathizing with his prey. Ross threw himself at his feet and begged. Noah motioned in Melinda. She’d decorated her cornrows with rolled-up paper, representing marijuana cigarettes. Dressed in suede and swinging a set of keys, she shimmied up to Ross and dragged a roach clip holding a fake butt across his nose.

Noah watched the reaction of his audience and saw a number of kids narrow their eyes, swallow, or fold their arms across their chests. A precious few leaned forward, enraptured. For these, Noah prayed.

Ross threw himself into the grasp of Duchess Drugs. When she added a boulder to his backpack, she also deposited a mock kick to his stomach that made Noah wince. Ross acted broken and slumped in the dirt. With zero options before him, he raised his hands to the crowd and groaned.

A lump lodged in Noah’s throat. It might be a play, but he knew what it felt like to be pushed to the edge of desperation. He forced himself to laugh, to dance about his prey, even as his insides churned.
Please, oh, God, reach even one!

Wonder reflected in the eyes of the audience when Bucko appeared. He made an imposing savior, and the big guy milked his part. He strode up to Noah, grabbed him by his black leather vest, and pulled him away from crumpled, fearful Ross. Then, in a move that brought tears to Noah’s eyes, Bucko reached down and tugged the lethal backpack from Ross and shouldered it himself. Kneeling, he cradled Ross in his arms, wiping Ross’s face and smiling.

Ross’s expression betrayed the feelings he had about his own salvation. Before Noah’s stunned eyes, Ross transformed from a broken creature to a living man, burgeoning with hope. He stood, and tears streaked down his cheeks. Then, in an unscripted move, he threw his arms around Bucko. Thankfully, Bucko stayed in character and hugged him back, embracing the one he’d saved.

Noah’s face mask was wet, and when he looked around, he saw tears on several faces. Latisha, Shelly . . . and Anne. She glanced at him. For a moment their eyes met, a thousand unspoken emotions pulsing between them.
Thank You, God, for this camp. This salvation.

Bucko let Ross go, and together they walked stage left, arms clasped about each other’s shoulders.

Silence filled their wake. A log fell in the fire and the colorful sparks spiraled toward heaven as if in divine applause.

Noah tugged off his mask and faced his campers. “Satan has your hearts and minds, and only one person can break you free. Jesus Christ. He’s your Savior. Drugs and illicit sex are only counterfeits. They’ll only crush you. They’ll tear you apart. Then they’ll laugh.”

He scanned the audience. Every gaze riveted on him. “And I know you don’t like to be laughed at.” He fisted the nylon mask in his hands. “You have a choice tonight. You can get busy with your lives, letting your friends dictate your choices. Or you can get busy with God and let a real friend lead you. Tonight you can change your future forever, if you have the guts.”

He zeroed in on George and saw his own youthful defiance. But even George had softened, and in those dark eyes Noah noticed a hint of despair, a hint of longing. He rushed in to grab it. “You don’t have to live the lives of your parents or your big brothers and sisters. You have your own life, and God wants you to live it free. But freedom doesn’t come from following the crowd. That’s the devil’s lie. Freedom comes from letting go and letting Jesus, the one who loves you, forgive you for your sins.”

Noah’s voice filled with emotion. “You see, God doesn’t care about your yesterdays. About what you did and who you did it with before you came to this camp or even to this moment. He cares about your future. He wants to wipe away your history and give you more than you can even dream.” He fought the desire to look at Anne.

“My friends, God loves you and has good tomorrows for you. But you’ve got to hook up with Him, and do it His way. And I promise you, He’s not going to let you go. Once you belong to God, you have a Father who won’t take off. Ever.” He glanced at Darrin, and his heart wrung at the sight of tears glistening in the kid’s eyes.

“Tonight, if any of you want to start over, to break free from the load you’re carrying and the cords pulling you into death, talk to your counselor. They have the answer and they’ll help you cut that cord. You’re dismissed to your tents.”

Noah watched the group go, praying he’d made an impact. Anne rose, frowned at him for a long time, then climbed over the benches and started up the trail. He longed to run after her, to explore the expression on her beautiful face. But a lone camper sitting on the benches, shoulders racking, rooted Noah to his spot.

Darrin.

The big kid tried to hold in his tears, but they glistened off his dark face like crystal in the moonlight. Noah shot a prayer heavenward and sat next to him. The fire crackled, and Noah waited until the din of voices vanished and the boy gathered his composure. His throat thickened to see the youngster cry, but hadn’t he brought them here for that very reason? To push them to the end of themselves so they might find God waiting?

“You want to talk about it, pal?”

Darrin snuffled and wiped his nose on his arm. “No.”

“Hmm.” Noah tucked his hands between his knees.

Darrin took a deep breath. “You just don’t get it, Noah.” He didn’t look at him. “I ain’t got no one. And Jesus ain’t gonna swoop out of heaven and hang with me. Where’s He gonna be when the guys dog me in school?”

“What, you think Jesus doesn’t know about being alone? Try forty days in a desert without food. That’s lonely. And the temptation to do drugs? You know, while He was on the cross, someone offered Him a painkiller.”

Darrin faced him, eyes wide.

“Yep. Wine mixed with gall. Kind of a Roman Vicoden. He turned it down. So, my friend, when the Bible talks about Jesus being intimately acquainted with our temptations, it’s not lyin’.”

Darrin looked away.

“And as for hangin’ with you, why do you think I keep coming around? God sends us His people to close us in and watch our backs. It’s called fellowship. Sort of ‘holy hanging around.’ And Jesus also hangs with us through His Holy Spirit. He’s here, man. Right now.”

“Hovering? Like a ghost?” Darrin’s voice held rich awe.

Noah smiled. How he liked the logic of children. “No. He doesn’t haunt us. He comforts and guides. He’s inside us and all around. I promise, Darrin, if you ask Him to forgive your sins and lead your life, you’ll know exactly what I’m talkin’ about. Your eyes will open and you’ll see Him everywhere, all the time.”

Darrin fixed his gaze on Noah. He squinted, and for the first time, defense dropped from his voice. “How do you know? You did this, right?”

Noah wanted to hug the kid. “Absolutely. I was fresh out of prison with nowhere to go. God picked me up, cleaned the mess I’d made of my life, and put me on a new path.”

“You did time?”

Noah didn’t want the kid to focus on that piece of information. He grimaced and nodded.

“Why?”

Maybe this could be a good thing. “I ran with the Vice Lords and right into trouble.” He held his breath, watching the reaction on Darrin’s face.

To his surprise, Darrin’s face tightened. “You’re just saying that. No way a Holy Roller like you ran with the Lords.” He shook his head. “Man, and I thought you were for real.”

Noah’s mouth opened. Couldn’t this kid see the scars written on his heart? Had he changed so much he was unrecognizable to the generation behind him? Noah fought the shock rushing through him, thrilled that God could make such a transformation, struck by the changes in himself. Now why couldn’t Anne see what this kid saw? Noah swallowed hard, then reached up and dragged his left shirtsleeve up.

“What’re you doing?” Darrin scooted away from him, his eyes dark.

“Showing you something.” Noah turned toward Darrin. He’d covered his tattoo with three strips of Band-Aids during the afternoon swim. Now he grabbed the edges and ripped them off, wincing slightly. “Can you see it?”

Darrin’s eyes glued to the Vice Lord tattoo, the one Shorty Mac had chiseled into Noah’s left arm over fifteen years ago. Noah fought memory—the wave of shame and the stupid flint of pride he’d felt when he’d first received it. “You got it, kiddo. I was a Vice Lord minister.”

Darrin looked at Noah with an inscrutable expression. “Huh.”

Noah’s chest clinched.
Please don’t let him be impressed. Please let him see the violence in that scar and a man redeemed by Christ.
“Darrin, it’s not cool. It’s death.”

Darrin backed away, disgust on his thirteen-year-old face, disbelief in his eyes. “I can’t believe you’ve been hounding me for a year, keeping me out of the very gang you were in! What a hypocrite.”

Noah rolled his sleeve down, his throat tight. “You don’t get it, do you? I did that because I know what it’s like. Gangs are death.”

“Gangs are life, man. You just got caught.” Darrin stood. “I don’t want to hear your voice in my ear again, got it?”

Darrin whirled, and Noah fought to breathe against the emotional blow to the solar plexus. He watched Darrin strut up the path, a young man with balled fists, headed into darkness.

Then he noticed Anne standing at the edge of the firelight, a stricken look on her face.

Before he could wrestle out words, she turned and fled.

19

Anne ran from Noah’s voice screaming in her head:
“I was a Vice Lord minister.”
Dread boiled in her throat, pushing against her control, nearly beating her to the cook’s shack. She slammed the door, slid down to a crouch in the darkness, and wailed, an eruption of anguish that shook her entire body.

No! She should have clung to her gut instinct that he was just what he appeared—a street-toughened thug. Instead she’d bought his charm and let him steal her heart. Her idiocy made her stomach churn.

In the dusty embrace of darkness, Anne clamped her arms around her waist and fought the bitter irony. Not only had God infiltrated her life with the very street scum she’d tried to escape, but now she’d let a man who personified her every demon inside her heart.

She felt duped and betrayed. Her throat stung as she began to pray. “God, I don’t understand. The one thing I asked You for is safety. Peace. Instead You bombard me with the very elements of my darkest nightmares. Every time I look into Darrin’s or George’s eyes, I see that punk who shot me.” She dug her fists into her closed eyes. “I want to forget, Lord. To heal. To feel safe, just once. Can’t You please ease up?”

Her voice sounded tinny and hollow in the expanse of darkness.

“So we have stopped evaluating others by what the world thinks about them.”
She stilled as 2 Corinthians 5:16-17 filled her mind in the strident tones of her father, flinging out hope as he filled bowls of soup in the shelter:
“. . . those who become Christians become new persons. They are not the same anymore, for the old life is gone. A new life has begun!”

To reach people like Noah Standing Bear was the reason her father had taken her out of her safe rural life. Her childhood had been sacrificed so her father could run after the souls of Vice Lords and Gangster Disciples and hoodlums that vandalized her home.

Her innocence.

Noah Standing Bear embodied every vile comment, every crude grope, every invasion of her privacy in her past. His type was the reason she had run home from school every day, taunts ringing in her ears, misery in her wake. For all she knew, Noah had been one of the many who’d pushed her to tears. She’d let her guard down for the very person she’d hated as a child. So much for finding her hero.

And God had saved his soul.

She tightened her jaw against the raw truth. Mr. Mercenary with the heart-melting eyes might be the fruit of her father’s and her sacrifice. She covered her head with her arms and wept.

Why couldn’t God be gentle, just once?

A new person. A new life.
The words thumped in her head as her heartbeat slowed.
A new person.

People like Noah Standing Bear were exactly the type God fought for, the souls of the unloved, the unwanted . . . the hated. God took people and changed them so completely they were unrecognizable. New. As in, start over. And God’s power wasn’t halfway. God didn’t need workable material to change a person. In fact, God was most glorified when He redeemed the dregs of society.

She’d watched Noah laugh with the camp girls, wrestle with the boys, challenge, comfort, and stand beside these kids who needed a role model. Despite the fatigues, the tattoo, the etched hardness in his face, she couldn’t find one hint of the gangbanger he’d been in his transformed heart. No wonder she had come to overlook his attire, his obvious street scars. Noah’s insides, Christ in him, made him a new creation. Noah was a child of grace, not the gutter.

Anne gulped heavily, aware for the first time that God might have brought her right into the sights of a man who could truly understand her pain. Only Noah, a man who had lived in the battlefield of the streets, could comprehend her wounds . . . and her fears.