Immediately his eyes flew open and he sat straight up in bed. Beside him, Helen stirred and looked at him, eyes blinking. “What was that?”
He stared at the room around him, but it took several beats of his heart before any of it looked familiar. He shot a glance at the alarm clock—it was only 11:30. “I don't know. A dream, I guess…”
Helen snuggled up against her pillow.” That's strange—” she yawned— “I thought I heard something.”
Joshua's hands felt clammy, and he shifted his attention to his wife. “Like what?”
She was already drifting back to sleep.” I don't know, some-thing loud. Almost like a shout.”
His blood couldn't have felt any colder if he'd been standing in a freezer. Slowly, he settled back into bed and lay there, his eyes open, staring at the ceiling. What's going on, Lord? What are You trying to tell me?
But all he received in response was an image that seared its way into his consciousness, keeping him focused and denying him any sleep whatsoever.
The image of plywood walls falling to the ground.
Jordan pulled his car up along the side of Jericho Park at 11:31 that evening and stared into the darkness, allowing his eyes time to adjust. He'd stayed with Heidi and her husband until ten min-utes ago, and now he needed a quiet place to think. As driven as he'd been that ill-fated winter when his mother lay dying years earlier, Jordan felt compelled to find his way to Jericho Park.
Especially in light of the task that lay ahead.
He fingered the fragile envelope in his hand and reached up to flip on the car's dome light. All that had happened that day was overwhelming, almost more than he could bear. His sister had found him, and in one afternoon they'd recaptured the closeness they'd shared as kids. He'd found Faith, too…and despite his determination to see walls around the Jesus statue, she'd been nothing but kind and loyal to the memory of their friendship.
And now this.
A letter from his mother, words straight from her hand intended for his heart alone. Jordan felt himself tense at the thought of opening the letter and he searched himself, trying to understand his reluctance. Was it because of her beliefs? Because he'd turned his back on the One who had mattered so desper-ately to her? Was that why his hand trembled now?
He gritted his teeth and slid his finger carefully under the flap. The paper inside was pressed thin from years of being unread, and Jordan pulled it out slowly, careful not to rip it. As he opened the folds he thought he caught a faint whiff of his mother's perfume, and his hands fell to his lap. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to go back. Not to the days when his mother lay wasting away in her bedroom, but before that…
Back when she would put on a baseball cap, sweatshirt, and jeans and play catch with him in the front yard… or sit behind home plate at his games, flashing a thumbs-up whenever he had a good hit. Back when she and Heidi would do hand-claps on the front porch, their sing-song voices ringing out while Jordan and his friends played ball in the street. Happy days, memories that almost seemed to belong to someone else entirely Times when going to church and loving God Almighty made perfect sense.
The fragrance of her perfume faded. It was getting late, and the temperature in his car was dropping. He tenderly lifted the paper, as though it were his mother's hand in his and not her penned words, and in the brightness of the car light held the let-ter up and began reading.
Dear Jordan…
He could hear her voice, see her face again—and he missed her more than he thought possible. Tears came, and he closed his eyes, not wanting to break down. He could do this—he could read the letter and allow himself to feel her loss as he hadn't done in years. From somewhere deep in his soul he found the strength. Clenching his jaw he drew a steadying breath through his nose and opened his eyes once more.
Dearjordan,
As I write this I already know what will happen. God, my eternal Father and yours, is calling me home. I've prayed otherwise, asked God to let me stay with you, but He's made it clear to me that—jor whatever reason—it's time. I want you to know I'm not afraid to die. I know this will sound strange to you, hut I'm actually excited. I've been doing some reading on heaven lately and I understand it as well as I will this side of eternity Here—this place we call earth—is not our home, Jordan. It's a waiting room, really. The place where we live together until we're called into the grand palace—the place where real life will begin. Our forever home.
And so my fears are not for myself.
Rather they are for you and Heidi. You are young, Jordan, and though you love God now, I fear deeply that you will change your mind. Life as you know it is about to change, and the world will want you to blame our loving God. But Jordan, it's not His fault death and disease reign here in the shadows. He's not the cause of bad things. In reality, He's the only way out… the only life rope, the only path from the darkness to eternal light.
The only way home.
Jordan blinked, and what felt like a bucket of tears fell down his cheeks. When his vision was clear again he continued.
You see, Jordan, I love you and Heidi so much that I've asked God for something very special. If He wants me to be with Him now, fine. I'm comfortable with that. But I feel in my heart He's promised me this: You and Heidi will live a life of faith. You might stray from Him at first, but eventually… in His perfect timing… you will come back. And one day we will be together again in Paradise.
By the way, I want to say a word about Faith Moses. Her family has been wonderful to us, Jordan. In ways you could not possibly know or understand. If you were older I'd explain in detail how we might not have had food and electricity if it hadn't been for them. As for Faith, I know the two of you care about each other and that you're young. But if… just if you should choose to marry her one day please know this, son: Somewhere up in heaven I'll be giving you the happiest thumbs-up ever. I'm tired and I need to get some sleep, but I wanted you to know my heart I may stop breathing, Jordan, but I'll never stop praying for you and Heidi Begging God that no matter where you journey from here, you'll find your way home again. Because when you do…Yll be there, waiting with open arms. I love you more than you know… Mom.
The sorrow that welled inside Jordan was so great it was as though someone was standing on his chest. His hands trembled as he read the note again, and finally a third time. His mother had known all along…
Forget the fact that Jordan seemed strong and able to handle her loss, that he seemed willing to take on the responsibility of Heidi's well-being. His mother had seen something else, even back then.
She'd seen his heart. And his weakness.
“How could you know me that well?” Jordan's question came in a broken whisper, and he wished with everything inside him he could reach across the seat and hold his mother's hand, hug her like he'd done as a boy. He stared at the letter again, though the tears made it impossible to see. Before he could analyze his thoughts, he began to speak. “Thank You, God…for letting me hear her voice again. How can I thank You?”
Return to Me, son. I have always loved you… let down the walls…
The words that flashed across Jordan's heart were so foreign that he sat up straighter in his seat and glanced around. Switching off the dome light, he inhaled sharply and folded the letter. Then he slipped it back in the envelope and set it squarely on the dashboard, staring out into the evening.
What was he doing? Had that been his voice, praying to God, thanking Him for his mother's words?
Jordan gulped and clenched his hands on the steering wheel. Something felt different, something in the neighborhood of his heart. As though thick, stony walls had surrounded it for years… and now… now they'd crumbled to the ground, and all in the space of a heartbeat. He sat back in the seat and marveled at the lightness of the feeling. Was it his mother's prayer that had done it? Heidi's prayer? Faith's? Jordan wasn't sure, but he knew one thing. He'd come to Bethany a month earlier longing for three women he'd once loved: Faith, H
eidi, and his mother. And now… here in the cold darkness of his sports car, alone at Jericho Park, he'd found them all.
His eyes adjusted to the night, and the image of the walled-in Jesus statue came clearly into view. Walled-in just as his heart had been. To people. To God.
Suddenly, more than anything in his life, he wanted to see those plywood walls—walls he'd been instrumental in erecting—come down. He wanted to see the image of Jesus, arms out-stretched, beckoning all who had a willing spirit to come to Him…
Come, and He would give rest for even the hardest heart, the coldest soul.
Even a sinner like Jordan.
The truth dawned on him then, and his head spun as he struggled to take it in. God wasn't his enemy No, the only enemy he'd had these past sixteen years was himself. He'd spent all his time, his talents, waging a battle against the Lord as if that could somehow erase the losses in his life. But in the end that battle would have cost him everything.
Jordan blinked… it was as if he could feel scales falling from his eyes.
God was real. Of course He was. What other explanation could there be for the way Jordan's mother had found His saving grace before her death? Image after image filled Jordan's mind, and he saw the Lord's hand at work throughout his life—even in the darkest hours. He'd survived the cave incident, hadn't he? And what about the other day in New York City, when the trio of muggers was arrested moments before they would have attacked him? What about Faith's victories? And Heidi's? What about the fact that he'd found his sister after all these years only hours after Faith's prayer?
Even little Rosa had reason to believe: God had given her one good hand, after all, and a devoted friend in Faith.
All of it was proof. Proof he'd avoided with a lifetime of hiding behind walls of anger and bitterness. Walls of fear.
Why hadn't he seen it before, the trustworthiness of God?
His gaze lingered on the plywood walls, and he began to shake his head as a heavy mourning swept him. “I'm sorry, Father…I've gone against You at every turn.” He began to cry, deep, guttural sobs that worked their way up as the sorrow and regret he felt for a lifetime of wrong attitudes and actions threat-ened to consume him.
“I'm sorry… I'm so sorry God…”
The words of the three women he loved most echoed in his heart. He could see Faith, her beautiful eyes filled with sincerity as she whispered, ‘You can't stay angry at God forever… “ Heidi's image appeared in his mind and he took in her tearstained face in the hour after they'd found each other, heard her earnest words: “Sometimes our walk with the Lord gets a little confusing.” The picture faded and his mother's words appeared, words from years ago, words God had saved for this time and place… a mes-sage that Jordan understood now was absolute truth: He's the only way out… the only life rope, the only path from the darkness here to eternal light.
The only way home… only way home… only way home…
His mother… Heidi… Faith… their wisdom echoed again and again in the core of his being, and Jordan knew he couldn't last another minute. No matter what he'd said before, no matter how he'd bought into a lifetime of lies since his mother's death, a few truths remained. Deep down inside, Jordan Riley still loved God.
And he could wait no longer.
Compelled by a force greater than anything he could remem-ber, moving with a strength that was not his own, Jordan climbed out of the car and began jogging toward the statue.
The cold air burned his lungs, his loafers slipped with each step, but Jordan moved on, determined, energized with a super-natural desire. He reached the statue, and his eyes darted from one board to the next until he saw several areas where the wood was loose. Working his hand into a crack between two panels, he gripped the plywood and pulled. He cried out from the effort as a section of the wall fell to the ground.
Then he moved to the next piece.
One by one, he gripped the wood, tearing the panels from the place where they stood, barely noticing the splinters that pierced his skin. There wasn't a person in sight, but Jordan wouldn't have minded if there were. They could pack the place with people and air what he was doing live on national television for all he cared.
The walls had to come down. The Jesus statue in Jericho Park deserved to be seen.
Faith wasn't sure what lured her to the park that night, whether it was her desire to soak in all that had happened between Jordan and Heidi, or whether she wanted to pray about Rosa Lee and the upcoming hearing. Whatever it was, she hadn't been able to sleep and at almost midnight, bundled in her thickest winter coat, she stepped out of her car, gazed across the park, and con-sidered whether she wanted to find a bench or get back inside where it was warm.
She'd been standing there only a few seconds when she heard loud cries and frightening noises, as though some terrible fight were taking place. She spun around and stared into the darkness. What she saw made her mouth fall open, her eyes widen with a mixture of emotions. Someone was ripping down the walls around the Jesus statue, tearing at them and pulling them down with a brute force Faith had never seen before. She watched, mesmerized, as the panels of plywood fell in heaps of scrap around the base of the statue. The entire process seemed to take no more than five minutes, and when the man was done, he fell back on his heels and stayed there, unmoving.
Lord, what should I do? A ripple of anxiety coursed through Faith, and she glanced around, making sure no one else had seen what happened. She wanted to hurry over and thank the man for doing what she'd wanted to, but a voice of reason told her what she had just witnessed was wrong. The judge had ordered the walls up, and they should have stayed that way until—by God's design—they were ordered down. She pulled her coat tight around herself and began walking toward the man. Whoever he was, he was on her side and he apparently had a deeply personal interest in the Jesus statue.
The man remained on the ground and finally, when she was ten feet from him, he whipped around to face her.
Faith gasped. “Jordan! What are you doing here?” Her heart pounded and she took slow steps in his direction until the gap between them closed. He stared at her, and there was a light in his eyes that hadn't been there before. “You… I didn't see your car.”
“I parked on a side street.” He was breathing hard, and a layer of sweat glistened on his forehead.
She stared at the statue, at the piles of broken plywood, then her gaze met his again and her voice was barely a whisper. “Why, Jordan?”
He reached out and took her hands in his, searching her eyes as though he was only now seeing her for the first time. “Faith, I'm so sorry…”
The ground beneath her seemed to fall away “I…I don't understand.”
Jordan motioned to the statue. “The lawsuit, the walls… all of it was wrong, Faith. I must have been crazy.
She couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry and in the end she did both, coming to him as he stood and wrapped her in his arms. It was a miracle beyond anything Faith could have imag-ined or hoped for. Jordan had torn down the walls around the Jesus statue, but not before God had torn down the walls around his heart. “What happened… what changed your mind?”
He drew back several inches and met her gaze. “Heidi gave me a letter…from my mom.” He shrugged, looking from the statue back to her as though he were still confused himself. “Something happened while I read it, Faith. I don't know how else to explain it.” He looked up at the dark, starless sky above them and Faiths heart beat high in her throat from the nearness of him.
God, is it true? Have You really restored his love for You?
Jordan uttered a quiet laugh and shook his head, his eyes still focused on the heavens. “It was all so amazing. I kept hearing you tell me I couldn't be angry at God forever… and Heidi saying sometimes our walk with the Lord gets confusing… and then my mom's words…set aside for me until this exact moment. Right when I needed them most.”
He looked at her, and a shiver ran down her spine. “I've been a fool, F
aith.” He eased his fingers along the sides of her face and drew her gently toward him until their lips met. When they pulled apart, breathless from the cold air and the desire Faith knew they both were feeling, he ran his thumbs gently over her brow, her cheekbones. “Faith, I love you. I always have.”
She wanted to shout aloud from the joy that welled up inside her. “I prayed you'd come back, Jordan.” She smiled and kissed him tenderly once more. “And now here you are.” Her eyes searched his. “Welcome home, friend.”
He cupped her face with his hands, framing her with his fin-gertips as though she were the finest treasure. “I have so much I want to tell you…” He grinned, and she saw the depth of love in his eyes. “So much I want to ask you. But there're some things I need to do first. Can you give me a few days?”
Faith didn't stop to consider his words. It didn't matter what he wanted to tell her. Instead, she let her head fall back a bit and laughed softly before meeting his eyes once more. “Are you kid-ding? I'm so happy for you, Jordan… whatever you want to talk about, take as long as you'd like.”
Jordan brought his face to hers once more, and kissed it in a way that made Faith's knees go weak. “Come on, little Miss Town Favorite,” he whispered near her ear. “You need to get home before you freeze to death.”
He put his arm around her shoulders, and they were halfway to her car when he stopped and turned to look back at the Jesus statue. Faith did the same and smiled at the way it glistened under the dim park lights. Jordan sucked in a breath through clenched teeth and cast her a hesitant look. “You think God'll for-give me for destroying public property?”
Faith hugged him and they started walking again. “To tell you the truth—” she grinned at him— “I think He already has.”
Joshua was up earlier than usual the next morning.
He sipped a mug of French vanilla roast as he flipped on the TV and turned it to the local news. He still couldn't shake the Strange dream from the night before or the way the shout had seemed so real.