that tells Timothy he does not need to answer as she wraps her arms around his shivering form.
:9:03 a.m.
“I think you need to write down these dreams of yours,” Christa says from the passenger seat of the new couple’s Oldsmobile.
“Why is that?” Tim asks as he continues to drive the car down Interstate Forty towards
Nashville.
“Because when you have these dreams, they always have what I believe to be important messages. Messages I think need to be told to others.”
“But don’tcha thinks they’ll think I’m a nut or something?”
“So what if they do? Your dreams have a message in them, and everyone should have the chance to judge for themselves if they think you’re crazy or not.
“Listen, you and I have been studying the Bible almost every free change we get, right? And ever since you asked Jesus into your life and had the dream about Him that very night, a lot of your dreams have been very religious. Haven’t these dreams been helping you in your walk with the Lord?”
“Well... yeah, I think so.”
“Then why couldn’t they help others also?”
“You’ve got a point. I’ll think about it, but in the meantime, could you answer me this? What was going on with those two people at the end of my dream?”
“Well the best I can tell, the girl must have given into her sins and have fallen, thus losing her salvation. This was represented by her losing her helmet; and when that helmet was given to one of the things, it was someone who had just asked Jesus into their life. So that person became one of us.”
“But why her helmet?”
“I think it’s like the olive branches in Romans eleven. Those who follow the ways of God stay in the bush, but those who don’t are broken off and cast away. What that Dion said to you had to do with the rest of the verse, about the branches. That if you don’t keep God’s ways, you too can be broken off and replaced. That’s what must have happened to that girl you saw.”
“I think I understand that dream more now that you’ve explained it, honey.... thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” Christa says as she returns her attention to the Rubics Cube she had brought with her for the short trip.
THE WALL
:Memphis
:1987, April 7
:2:04 p.m.
Timothy had called the pastor of the church his spouse Christa had attended for most of her life.
Pastor Millins talks to Tim a little over the phone about the book he had written about the dreams he had experienced. After they converse a little, the pastor invites Timothy to come in and see him. So the next day Timothy enters into the office of the Pastor, who is a tall individual with strong features in his face. Tim notices his broad shoulders and then looks into the pastor’s dark eyes behind the glasses he is wearing.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you Timothy. I know your wife’s family. The Hills have been an important part of this church since before I came here.”
“Thank you for asking me to come, Pastor,” Tim says as he shakes his hand.
“Come sit down.” Millins indicates a chair next to his desk, as he seats himself in a Victorian style chair just opposite him.
“So what’s this book that you mentioned?”
“Well, it’s about these dreams I’ve experienced since I was saved in 1980. Christa and I feel they can help others in their walk with God, or even in helping them to come to God.”
“Hmmm.... very interesting. So are you a member here?”
“Ahh... no sir... not yet. I feel that God doesn’t want me to become part of any one church at this time, but I may someday.”
“You mentioned you had two boys?”
“Yes, James Michael and Joshua Nathaniel.”
“Are they going to our school?”
“No, not at this time. Right now they're going to Evangelical.”
“Ah, yes, Evangelical. That’s a good school.”
“We selected that one because it’s close to our home off Germantown Extended.”
“Yes, I see the convenience in that. They have some classes at Fundamental Church, don’t they?”
“Yeah, that’s where our boys are going.”
“Well, so how can I help you with your book?”
“What I was hoping you could do was, in your free time, that is. Ah, could you read it over, so I could have your opinion on it?”
“I see.... well, if you could leave a copy of it with me I’ll see what I can do,” the pastor says as he stands.
Puzzled by his sudden movement, Timothy also rises to his feet and hands the typed pages over to Pastor Millins.
“Well, thank you for coming by, Tim. I enjoyed our little talk. I’ll try and get back with you in about a month.”
“Okay,” Timothy says hesitantly as the pastor places his hands on Tim’s back, gently directing him toward the door.
:11:46 p.m.
That night Timothy and Christa talk about the events that had transpired at the church that day, and now both lie asleep in their king size waterbed.
The music of “Onward Christian Soldier” begins to fill the ears of Tim as he looks down from the balcony in the sanctuary of the church of Pastor Millins. Timothy sees the congregation below him, and for the first time notices the age of the people there. Most of the people below him are in their fifties or older, with a slight sprinkling of younger people among them.
He looks down at a lady in a black and white dress, who is wearing a large-brimmed white hat.
As he looks on, he sees another elderly woman try to catch the first woman’s attention. He
watches the woman as she gestures at her own hat and reads her lips as she says; “I like your hat,” to the first woman.
“Tim,” a voice calls out from above, and so he looks upward.
“Warn them, Timothy. Warn them that this church is dying. They no longer search for me or hear my call.”
:June 15
:9:21 a.m.
Tim waits for Pastor Millins to call him, but the call never comes. Impatient to wait any longer he picks up his phone and dials the number to the church, which is answered by a lady.
“Yes, ma’am, this is Timothy Browning. May I speak with the pastor, please?”
“Please hold,” the woman says as the click of the button is heard, placing him on hold. He waits several minutes before the phone again becomes active.
“Tim, this is Pastor Millins
“Thank you for talking to me, pastor. I’ve been waiting for your call...”
“Yes, I have been very busy. So busy, in fact, that I haven’t had a chance to read over your book.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” Timothy says, trying to hide his disappointment. “I just wanted to tell you what happened to me that night after we talked....” He tells the preacher what happened in his dream.
“Oh..... That’s very interesting, Tim.... I’ll look into the matter. Ah... thank you.”
“You're welcome, pastor. Bye.” After the pastor returns the farewell, he replaces the phone in the wall unit.
:June 20
:3:29 p.m.
Timothy calls the youth pastor at Fundamental Church and comes at the appointed time to speak with him. He has been waiting for almost half an hour when several teenagers come into the front room of the pastor’s offices. Out of boredom, Tim listens in on the conversations between the two boys, and the three girls that have come into the reach of his hearing. They talk and laugh about a trip they have all been on. What unexpectedly catches Timothy’s attention though is when one of the boys turns to the other and begins to talk about a joke he has heard. He pulls the other boy over to the opposite side of the room from the girls and whispers the witticism to the other.
`If you can’t say it aloud in front of girls, it shouldn’t be said at all,’ Tim thinks to himself and shakes his head slightly just as the door to the pastor’s office opens to reveal
a short, balding man with gray hair.
“Timothy Browning?” The man looks at Tim as he stands from the chair he has been sitting in.
“Yes, sir,” he says as he shakes the man’s hand. They go into the office and sit at the man’s desk.
They talk for almost half an hour when they finally finish.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you out, Timothy. It sounds like you have a good head on your shoulders, but as a youth director I just don’t see what use I can make of your material.”
“Well, thank you for your time anyway.” Tim says as he shakes the man's hand and leaves, again disillusioned.
:July 12
:10:20 p.m.
Timothy has been working for the past two weeks on his new plan at getting his dreams out to the church. It hurts him that no one in the church is open to his thoughts, but he is still determined not to fail. He has retyped the entire book in a smaller type and has made several little books with the help of the local library’s copy machine. Christa has tried to talk him into not doing what he is planning, but she cannot reach him.
A year ago, on their anniversary, she took him downtown to the County Court House. There they were met by an attorney she had hired. The three went into the civil court room. Once in there, all in the room were sworn in by the bailiff. Shortly afterward the judge entered the room in his black robe. He sat down, and placed his reading glasses upon his face. His honor looked at those in the room and then at some papers before him.
Tim heard his name called, and so stood.
“Come before the bench.” The elderly magistrate said as he looked over the top of his lenses.
“Are you Timothy Browning?” The judge asked