“Why, Aaron?”
“Because someone is playing around with lives.”
“I’m angry too,” said a voice above them. Aaron looked up to see the Rev staring down at them.
“Mind if I join you both?”
Churchie smiled. “No worries, Rev.” The Rev made himself comfortable on the step below them.
“I haven’t actually met you,” the Rev said to Aaron.
Aaron put out his hand. “Aaron. And I know you are the Rev. Your friend here has told me all about you.”
They shook hands.
“Whatcha angry about, Rev? Churchie asked.
“Maybe angry is not the right word.” The Rev paused. “I believe God has spoken to me in a powerful way, and I’m struggling with how to deal with it.”
Aaron’s mind was on Mackenzie. He felt empty, as though he wanted to shut down, disconnect from the thoughts invading his head. Aaron thought about the still, small voice he heard earlier. “Do you actually hear God’s voice?”
The Rev turned to watch some people walk past on the footpath below. He turned back and looked at Aaron.
“Aaron, God communicates with believers in a number of ways. Maybe you read something in the Bible that gives you a kick. Or maybe people, or circumstances, trigger something. And sometimes it’s a still small voice that you sense but don’t hear—maybe a clear thought.”
Churchie jumped in to remind Aaron. “There ya go, Aaron. That’s what you experienced before, when you got told not to try and work things out.”
Aaron nodded and gave Churchie a half smile. “I already thought about that, Churchie.” He turned to the Rev, “I think I can relate to the still small voice.”
“Yes, Aaron. Some call that the voice of peace. Peace normally flows with it. But then there’s the actual voice of God. I had never heard it before, but I did today. It’s like an actual audible voice. It not only comes with peace but also power and the conviction that you need to act upon what was said.”
Aaron had reached the point where he didn’t know what to think anymore. In his mind, an image of Mackenzie stood before him. He closed his eyes and felt an arm on his shoulder.
“May God’s peace be with you, Aaron.”
He looked at Churchie. Aaron felt zapped. Where had his energy gone? Even to think was an effort. He would welcome God’s peace.
“Thank you, Churchie.”
“Rev, what did God say to you?” Aaron was glad that Churchie asked the question because he had run out of steam.
“He told me, ‘You are to pray for two bodies that appear today. They are not dead but soulless. You are to bring them back to life and restore their souls. It is for my glory. It is for revival.’ That’s it.”
Aaron felt a quickening in his heart. “Are you for real, Rev?”
“I am.”
“Do such things happen?”
“Yes. We talk about the powers of a supernatural God, but do we actually believe it? There are examples of people being brought back to life. But I believe God does it for His glory and for a particular reason. Because, if you think about it, we’re sojourners on our way home—when you get there, heaven that is, why would you want to come back? Unless God had something that he wanted you to do.”
A surge of energy filled Aaron’s emptiness. He noticed Churchie looking at him. Did he expect some kind of response? Sojourners? He sometimes got totally lost when these spiritual people got into their discussions—it sounded like another language. The thought of Mackenzie being brought back to life freaked him out, but also planted a glimmer of hope.
“Did you pray for them, Rev?” asked Churchie.
“No. I need to get close to the bodies so I can lay hands on them. But there’s a larger problem. The parents wouldn’t allow me to pray as they believed it would serve no purpose.”
“Mackenzie’s parents?” asked Aaron.
“Yes.”
“Why wouldn’t they?”
“Because they believe that God wants us to pray for the living, not the dead.”
<°)))><
James could hear the sound of a dog barking.
A newspaper lay on a small table on the back porch. James Gordon picked up his orange juice. A droplet from the condensation build up at the bottom of the glass fell on to the newspaper. It landed on a paragraph in the main news story. James Gordon watched as the paper absorbed the moisture, highlighting a sentence. It was a quote from the Reverend Peter Thomas that a reporter must have heard, about bringing Mackenzie Gordon back to life.
Kathy Gordon stood there with a cloth, looking at the highlighted words.
A mobile phone lay on the table. It started to vibrate.
<°)))><
Aaron had to do what he was doing. He’d taken the day off work—the boss was okay with him taking off any time he needed. He waited for his phone to be answered.
