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  “I sought the Lord, and He heard me and delivered me from all my fears . . .”

  Chapter Nine

  NEWS OF THE SEVERITY of Lynn’s condition soon reached Pastor Gentry’s attention, causing him to shake his head and gaze up at the small gold cross hanging on his office wall as if to ask, why?

  Pastoring Faith Community Church had taught him one consistent theme throughout the fifteen years he’d been there—it was inevitable that God’s trials befell every one of His children. No distinction was made for those with titles in front of their names, no matter how gifted or anointed they were. In fact, the more anointed a person, the greater the trials. But while Gentry understood the general principle behind trials, he was nevertheless baffled at the current predicament of the church’s director of outreach.

  “God, I know You have a plan for our lives,” he began praying. “And I know Your Word in Jeremiah 29:11 tells us the thoughts You think toward us are designed to give us a future, a hope, and an expected end. Lynn Harper is one of Your precious daughters, and I know Your expected end for her is to bless, favor, and give her the desires of her heart. I do not understand how her being blind fits into Your plan for her life, but Your ways are higher than mine. Your thoughts are higher than mine.

  “I pray for her faith, God, that it would remain strong. I pray for her parents, Brother Leonard and Sister Jeannette, that You would encourage their hearts and cause them not to despair. First Peter 2:24 declares that Jesus bore our sins in His body on the tree, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness, and that by Jesus’s wounds we have been healed. I believe in the power of Your name to heal. And I confess that Lynn Harper be completely healed in the name of Jesus Christ.”

  THIRTY MINUTES LATER, after Gentry had finished praying for the members of the church, for his wife, Shanice, and finally for himself, he stood and walked over to the refrigerator he kept stowed away in the corner. Retrieving a water bottle from inside, he stretched and glanced at his watch. He was scheduled for a meeting with the altar workers in twenty minutes, then a meeting with his elders before going home for a meeting with Shanice.

  That’s my most important meeting of all, he thought, smiling.

  The phone rang as he was taking a few sips of the water, and he moved closer to his desk to glance at the caller ID. His smile became even broader when he saw the name displayed.

  “TR, is that really you?” he asked, settling back down into his chair. “It’s been too long since we last got together.”

  “That’s not my fault, Alonzo,” T. R. Smallwood replied with a chuckle. “I hear the reports of what’s going on over at your church. I’m surprised you even have time to breathe.”

  Alonzo laughed. Their relationship had begun long before Alonzo had founded Faith Community Church. Smallwood had asked him to preach the summer revival at Hope Springs Church, back when Alonzo was just starting out into full-time ministry. The older pastor had been the first one to publicly recognize his call, for which Alonzo would always be grateful.

  “God is good, TR, I can testify to that. How’ve you been?”

  “The best I’ve ever been, Alonzo!” Smallwood recounted the events of the strange man sitting in his church service, and how God had used him to heal his heart. He ended by saying he was preaching a series of healing sermons, beginning next Sunday.

  When TR finished talking, Alonzo felt goose bumps along his skin. Was he hearing this right?

  “TR, I’ve just finished praying for the healing of our church’s outreach director. You remember the Harpers, right? Their daughter was in a car accident and lost the sight in her eyes. Everyone at our church is believing for the miraculous, and hearing your testimony has just charged my faith.”

  “Praise God!”

  “You have no idea who that man was?”

  “Nope. Not a clue. I’ve been looking for him ever since, though. God’s given the gift of healing to all believers, but some operate in a greater level of faith. I remember attending an Oral Roberts tent meeting back in 1954, where I saw legs growing out, the lame getting out of wheelchairs and walking, and tumors disappearing right in front of my eyes! But when this man laid hands on me . . . my God! It was the touch of glory itself!

  “And, I’m telling you, Alonzo—this man . . . he has it. He has the gift.”

  “THIS MAN” SAT A MERE FIVE MILES AWAY from Faith Community Church, eating dinner at Five Points Diner, unaware that he was the current subject of conversation between two preachers.

  “Would you like a refill on that iced tea?” the waitress asked, stopping next to his table.

  He shook his head.

  “Not real thirsty, huh? That’s a shame. We serve great tea. You from out of town?” She seemingly had not caught the subtle hints that he wished to be left alone. After introducing herself with a boisterous, “Howdy, I’m Florence,” she had taken a lengthy pause by his table each time she walked by.

  “Yes.”

  Florence grinned. “I can spot ’em a mile off! Where ya from?”

  “Here and there. No place in particular.” He smiled, then cut another piece of waffle, dipped it in syrup, and placed it in his mouth. Florence seemed to get the hint this time and moved on to the customer two booths back.

  The man finished his meal, left a decent tip for Florence, and strolled out the door. He headed for the bus stop, which would take him back to his encampment along the Congaree River. He had money for a rental car, but he preferred riding the bus. It catered to his need for privacy—no paper trail that way.

  He took a seat at the very rear of the bus, and was instantly reminded of the time he and Nina had taken a bus to go sightseeing in Washington, D.C. They were there on a high school field trip, but had both decided to take an unofficial detour from the recommended itinerary and spend time together. Though they had money for a taxi, Nina had thought it would be more fun to ride the bus.

  “Let’s just ride and see where it takes us,” she’d said, her big brown eyes lighting up at the prospect of the adventure.

  He had agreed (though at that point he would’ve agreed if Nina had asked him to accompany her to Mars), and for the first fifteen minutes they’d been treated to excellent visuals of the White House, the Lincoln and Jefferson memorials, and the Capitol. But in ignorance they had neglected to get off the bus, and were thus taken to the seedier streets of the nation’s capital—areas not represented in all the glossy tourist brochures. Upon seeing their predicament, the bus driver had just smiled and advised them to stay on the bus until he reached the station and could transfer them to a connecting route back to the Mall.

  “You’re not scared, are you?” Nina had asked, her brown eyes still sparkling, when he’d suggested they both move to the seat directly behind the bus driver.

  He’d affected a macho shrug. “’Course not.”

  “Good. Then let’s sit in the back instead.”

  Before he could protest, she had scrambled all the way to the rear of the bus, never once glancing back to see if he was following her. In retrospect, he realized it was at that point that he’d begun falling in love with Nina. He’d never known her to be this incredibly spontaneous, so vigorous and full of excitement. She was a live wire to his more reserved personality, and the more time he spent with her, the more he knew this was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

  “Hey, buddy,” a rough voice said, breaking up the man’s nostalgic trip down memory lane. “Somebody sittin’ here?”

  He shook his head and moved closer to the window, allowing the passenger to take the aisle seat. The man hadn’t realized how crowded the bus was becoming as it traveled its circuitous route through the streets of downtown Columbia. Closing his eyes once more, he sought relief in the sweet sanctuary of memories.

  Chapter Ten

  LYNN’S RELEASE FROM THE HOSPITAL, nearly one month after her debilitating accident, should have been cause for celebration, if not for one major unresolved issue. Though she
was thankful for the great care she had received from Dr. Winthrop and others at Palmetto Memorial, the likelihood of permanent blindness was a bitter pill she still could not swallow.

  Gingerly and hesitantly, she now walked out the front doors with the support of a cane and the aid of her mother’s arm.

  “Your father has the car ready, just a few more feet,” Jeannette whispered, leading her step by step.

  The dark sunglasses Lynn wore hid the cloudy, almost lifeless irises of her eyes, but they could not stop the tears that began rolling down her cheeks.

  “Lynn?” Jeannette noticed the tears, and quickly took a handkerchief, still damp from her own tears, from her purse to wipe her daughter’s face.

  “Mom . . . why?” Lynn’s grip hardened on her mother’s arm. “Why did this happen to me?”

  “I don’t know, baby. Sometimes, God . . .” Jeannette paused to look away. If Lynn had been able to see, she would’ve seen the utter heartbreak on the face of a parent unable to comfort a hurting child.

  “Lynn, I don’t know why this happened,” Jeannette finally managed. “I know the Bible says God won’t put more on us than we can bear, but this . . . this is right to the limit. This is right to the breaking point. But somehow, we’ll get through this. Somehow.”

  Lynn was already preparing herself for the words of sympathy and faith she was sure to receive; well-intended expressions from others to try and comfort her and reassure her that everything would be alright.

  But how can everything be alright? I . . . cannot . . . see!

  The simple act of walking twenty feet from the hospital’s front door to the circular driveway turned into, literally, an act of blind faith.

  How am I going to live? How am I going to take care of myself?

  The rational part of her brain told her that millions of people all over the world functioned without eyesight, so it could be done. The faith in her told her that with God, all things were possible, and to never stop believing for her healing. But at the moment, optimism and faith were no match for reality. The reality was that her life had been forever changed by the act of a drunken driver.

  “Lynn, I’m right here,” she heard her father say now as he helped her into the backseat.

  “Thanks, Daddy,” she replied, the tears still rolling down her cheeks.

  God, I know You can do all things . . . but I need a miracle . . .

  KNOWING THAT STAYING in her town house was no longer a viable option, Lynn remained quiet as her father turned east on Highway 76.

  Sumter was an idyllic town of around twenty thousand residents, a rural community where people flew kites on breezy Saturday afternoons in their front yards, where neighborhood barbecues were frequent occurrences, and where the pace of life remained unhurried and laid-back. Lynn had countless memories of her parents’ old, two-story home on Millwood Avenue, including the time she’d almost burned down the kitchen while frying a skillet of catfish, and the time she’d climbed the large pine tree in the backyard as a child, only to get her left leg wedged between two tree limbs. She’d remained stuck in that tree for almost two hours before her mother had come home from work. Twenty-five years she’d lived here, and she knew every twist, turn, crook, and crevice in this house, both downstairs and upstairs.

  But her first blind steps inside the front foyer were the teetering, unsteady movements of a toddler learning to walk. She hadn’t truly known how important sight was to balance and equilibrium; Dr. Winthrop had assured her that it might take a while to master the transition, but somehow he hadn’t mentioned how frustrating it would be, running into walls and bumping her knees on table ends.

  “We’ve got your room ready,” her mother said, gently leading her by the elbow. “It’s just as it was before, except the large dresser is all the way against the wall now.”

  Lynn knew this relocation of the dresser was so she wouldn’t stub her toe against its claw-footed legs while stumbling about in the darkness. Her parents had probably rearranged most of the furniture downstairs to accommodate her, for which she was both thankful and a little ashamed. She didn’t want to become a burden on the two people she loved most.

  “Pastor Gentry and a few members from the church are going to be by in the morning,” her mother continued to say as Lynn sat down on the bed. “We’re all still believing that God will turn this all around.”

  Lynn sighed and flopped back onto the pillow. The pillowcases smelled laundry-fresh, like they’d just been taken out of the dryer. “Mom, this is all so . . . hard. I know I’m supposed to have faith, and I do, but . . . but every day when I wake up, it’s still the same. Why is this happening to me? What did I do wrong?”

  “Oh, baby, you didn’t do anything wrong. None of us can ever know why some things happen. But we just have to trust that God has a reason for it all. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened to you, remember?”

  “I recall only what you told me. I was too young, remember?”

  The winter before Lynn’s second birthday, she had contracted pneumonia. After a week of intensive care at the hospital, the doctors were giving up hope for any chance of recovery. Her immune system was not strong enough to fight the disease, they said. During this same time, there had been a request from one of the nurses, who’d been a devout Christian, to ask the prominent healing evangelist Floyd Waters to stop by the hospital. Waters had been conducting a healing crusade in nearby Greenville, and was known to oblige such requests. He had arrived late in the evening on that seventh night of Lynn’s stay and had gone alone inside Lynn’s room to pray for her.

  “I’ll never forget him walking out of your room,” Jeannette now recalled. “That man of God’s face was glowing as he declared your body to be healed by the power of Jesus’s name. He said you would grow up to be a mighty champion for souls, and that the devil was trying to thwart the plan of God for your life. The next morning, the doctors informed us your temperature was going down and your vitals were returning to normal. Glory to God!”

  “I’ve always accepted God’s call over my life, Mom. What better way to walk in that call than as outreach director for Faith Community Church? But . . . if I’m . . . blind . . .”

  “We’re never going to stop believing for your healing, baby. This is simply another test—the Bible tells us that many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers us from them all.”

  Chapter Eleven

  THE LIGHT RAIN rhythmically splashing against the bedroom window stirred Lynn from her light slumber. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she blinked for several seconds before it horribly dawned on her that she still was unable to see. She’d imagined this whole tragic affair to be a nightmare—that truck plowing into her car, the subsequent weeks in the hospital, the doctor’s diagnosis that she would never see again. A terrifying nightmare, to be sure, but one that she would eventually awaken from.

  But as she lay in bed, listening to the rain, an enormous weight of despair slowly settled over her, threatening to crush all remaining hope from her spirit.

  Why me, God? Why . . . me?

  What on earth had she done to deserve such an unthinkable fate? Hadn’t she been taught all her life that if she lived right, if she loved and served God, and if she treated others as she would have them treat her, then God would certainly bless her? Had all those feel-good Sunday school lessons been nothing more than lies?

  C’mon, Lynn . . . you know better than to think like that . . .

  Sighing, she rolled to her right side, carefully letting her legs first dangle, then drop to the floor. She took a few tentative steps in the direction of the door, thinking of how difficult it would now be to perform the simplest tasks she’d always found pleasure in—taking a bath, washing her face, brushing her teeth, combing her hair. The degree of difficulty for those tasks had now been ratcheted up several frustrating notches.

  Oh, God . . . I could look like a total mess and if nobody says anything, I wouldn’t even know it . . .<
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  Around nine o’clock, Lynn heard several church members come to her parents’ door while she sat outside on the backyard patio. Growing up, she had always read her devotional Bible outside on the patio with a cup of coffee, enjoying the sun as it rose in the sky. There was something glorious, almost majestic, about communing with the Lord while surrounded by nature. Out of habit, she had come outside on the patio today for her devotional, but it hadn’t felt the same since she could neither read her Bible nor behold the morning sun.

  “Good morning, Lynn,” she heard her pastor say behind her. She turned around in her seat to his voice.

  “I’m here with Sister Arlene, Sister Margie, and Brother Charles,” he began. “We wanted you to know how much we care about you, and that we’re believing God is with you.”

  Lynn heard the intercessory team leaders begin praying in the Spirit as Pastor Gentry laid his right hand on her shoulder.

  “Lord Jesus, we boldly come before the throne of grace to ask for help in this time of need,” he began.

  As he prayed the Word of God over her, with the chorus of intercessors praying behind him, Lynn’s faith became strengthened as she focused her heart on an awesome God—a God who had created all things with the power of His Word and for whom nothing was impossible. She recalled every prophetic word that had been spoken over her, every time she’d asked God for a miracle on behalf of someone else and He’d provided, and every revelation she’d gleaned from countless hours studying the Word. Every time, God had proven Himself to be true in her life, and He had always been in her corner. Who was she to doubt Him now?

  “. . . and we thank You for hearing and answering our prayers. In Jesus’s name, amen.”

  A full minute passed before anyone spoke, such was the heaviness of the Spirit all around them.

  “I . . . I needed that,” Lynn finally acknowledged, wiping her tears away with a handkerchief. “I . . . I didn’t realize how much I needed that.”