"How many today are like Peter! They are interested in the affairs of others, and anxious to know their duty, while they are in danger of neglecting their own. It is our work to look to Christ and follow Him. We shall see mistakes in the lives of others, and defects in their character. Humanity is encompassed with infirmity. But in Christ we shall find perfection. Beholding Him, we shall become transformed." 24
Beth McKenzie sat in her favorite arm chair
knitting a sweater. She enjoyed this quiet and restful occupation,
especially when she had time on her hands. Several weeks had elapsed
since Hans and Henry found George and Billy. The celebration was
truly wonderful, especially to hear Billy and George relate their
miraculous deliverance by the Lord from the fiery inferno.
They had finished supper and Henry was puttering
around in the garage with his old car.
The garage door slammed and footsteps approached
the kitchen. She could hear her husband getting a glass of water,
then footsteps approached the living room.
“Hi Beth,” she greeted him.
He sat down across from her, folded his
legs and stared at her knitting needles. She knew better then
to disturb him when he was in one of his introspective moods.
He would soon speak and tell her what was on his mind. Unlike
most husbands, he often confided in her, not so much to learn
her opinions, she realized, as much as to use her as a sounding
board to settle his own mind.
He reached into his back pocket, removed
a white, linen handkerchief, cheerfully unfolded it, blew his
nose several times, just as carefully refolded it and replaced
it in his pocket before speaking.
Beth waited patiently.
Henry shifted in his chair, uncrossed, then
recrossed his legs in his characteristic manner, then inquired,
“what’s the solution to sin?”
She was startled by this question, so out
of character for her husband. The term was so common, everybody
talked about sin, but Henry wanted to know how to get ride of
it.
“Before we can understand the solution
to sin,” she ventured tentatively, concerned about his motives
for asking the question, “you need to know what it is, its
full extent, and our involvement with it.”
When he made no reply, she absently picked
up a stitch she dropped in the dark blue sweater she was making,
then continued. “As you know, sin entered heaven through
the mind of Satan and passed to this earth when Adam and Ever
were tempted and fell. Satan became the ruler of this earth on
the basis of the principal, “ for of whom a man is overcome,
of the same is he brought in bondage.” 28 When tempted in
the wilderness, Jesus did not dispute Satan’s claim concerning
the authority and splendor of the world; “for that is delivered
unto me; and to whomsoever I will I give it.” 29
She shivered involuntarily, not so much
from his probing questions as on account of the change in weather.
Night time lows were predicted to be in the 30s compared to the
high 90s only a week earlier.
“You have an excellent memory for Bible
verses, he complemented her.”
Rather surprised at his kind words, she
smiled in spite of herself.
“Thank you. I’ve been memorizing
the Bible since I was a young girl.”
“As descendants of Adam,” she
continued, “we are all slaves to sin and Satan, for the Bible
says that ‘whosoever committeth sin is the servant of sin.’”
30
“Don’t I have a free will,”
he queried?
“Yes,” she replied, “but
we are all naturally self-centered and desire to live independently
of God. This is the result of heredity.”
“You mean sin can be inherited,”
he asked with a shocked expression? Is the Bible talking about
original sin, that we are responsible for Adam’s sin?’
“No.”
“If we are slaves to sin, as you seem
to suggest, nobody likes to be controlled,” Henry objected.
Beth bridled at his comment, thinking of
the bedroom scene of several nights earlier, but decided to let
the comment pass.
“Satan’s kingdom is based on self-seeking,
what’s in it for me, while the kingdom of heaven is founded
on self-sacrificing love, what’s in it for you. But God has
made a way of escaping this slavery to self for all those who
desire it. This is the good news of the gospel.”
Her knitting needles made a pleasant clicking
sound in the quiet living room. Shivering, she thought of changing
her skirt for a pair of pants but dismissed the idea, Henry didn’t
like pants on women, she would put on a sweater, instead. She
continued as he seemed disinclined to comment.
“Before we can understand the gospel
of deliverance from sin, we must understand the terms the Bible
uses to define it,” she remarked, as she untangled a strand
of yarn.
“Have mercy upon me, O God, according
to thy lovingkindness: according unto the multitude of thy tender
mercies blot out my transgressions. Wash me throughly from mine
iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin. For I acknowledge my transgressions:
and my sin is ever before me.” 31
“That scripture,” Henry commented,
contains three different terms. I’ve heard them before, but
why three names for sin?”
“The meaning of the word ‘iniquity’,”
Beth answered, “is bent or crooked. We are by nature spiritually
bent toward self-love. ‘Behold, I was shapen in iniquity;
and in sin did my mother conceive me.’ 32 ’All we like
sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way;
and the LORD hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.’ 33
Henry twisted in his chair to glance out
of the window at the Friedlander children, Ada and Gustov, who
were skipping down the side walk. Removing his suit coat and unfastening
his tie, he marveled at their physical abilities while his mind
digested his wife’s comments.
“You man it comes naturally,”
he asked after a thoughtful moment?
“Have you ever scene a baby concerned
for its parents?”
Henry laughed in derision.
“When Christ took upon himself our
sins, it was this bent or iniquity that He condemned on the cross,
allowing us to say there is now ‘There is therefore now no
condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after
the flesh, but after the Spirit. For the law of the Spirit of
life in Christ Jesus hath made me free from the law of sin and
death.’ 34. Iniquity is the natural-born tendency to seek
our own selfish desires rather then God’s will; it also makes
it impossible for us to seek righteousness, for our motives must
be pure; those who remain steeped in iniquity do not have pure
motives. Apart from Christ, therefore, we don’t want the
things of God.”
“If we don’t want to be saved,
then how does Christ accomplish our salvation?”
Beth paused again. His questions were so
perceptive, how could she answer.
“Your jumping ahead,” she ventured.
“Let me describe the other terms the Bible uses for sin,
before I answer your question.”
He nodded in agreement as he took a sip
of water.
While she collected her thoughts, Beth wondered
at his questions and willingness to listen to her conversation.
Never before had he been so patient with her.
“The second word, used by David to
describe our condition, is sin, which means to miss the mark or
to fall short of the glory of God. Iniquity causes a bent toward
sin, making it impossible for us to do anything other then miss
the mark unless Christ is our Savior.”
“Henry rose and walked to the window.
The sun was bathing the living room with beams of purest white.
He pulled aside the pink ruffled curtains. The recent rains had
done nothing to revive the lawn or shrubs, he noted with disappointment.
“Unlike the two previous terms,”
Beth continued, wondering if he were listening, “which describe
our inherited nature, transgression is a willful, deliberate disobedience
based upon a preexisting knowledge of the law. Understanding the
law, of ten commandments, transforms sin or missing the mark into
transgression or deliberate, willful disobedience. ‘Therefore
by the deeds of the law there shall no flesh be justified in his
sight: for by the law is the knowledge of sin.’ 35. If we
had not known the law, there would be no sin, but all are given
this knowledge by the Holy Spirit, therefore, all are transgressors
of that law, standing condemned before God.”
Henry dropped the curtain and turned to
face her, a puzzled look on his face. “You mean that If I
had never heard about the ten commandments, I would not be a transgressor?”
“Yes,” Beth replied. “Let
me illustrate it this way. If I lived in the primitive jungles
of South America, then were suddenly transported to the United
States and allowed to drive a car, I certainly wouldn’t know
anything about the traffic laws. Therefore, I could not logically
be held guilty of violating them.”
“Try explaining that to the judge,”
Henry laughed.
“I admit my illustration is somewhat
flawed, but I think you get my point. The law was given, in part,
that we might perceive our sinful condition and need of a Savior,
for the law cannot make us righteous. “By the deeds of the
law there shall no flesh be justified in his sight.’”
“So, what’s the purpose of the
law?”
“’Wherefore the law was our schoolmaster
to bring us unto Christ, that we might be justified by faith.’”
36
Resuming his seat, Henry remained silent
for a long time then stirred. “Well,” he said, indicating
the end of the conversation, “you have given me a lot to
think about, so, I will go and think about it.”
They laughed together, as he rose and walked
out to the garage. Beth rejoiced, as she picked up her knitting,
at the wonderful opportunity her Savior had given her to witness
to her husband.
Several hours after their first ever talk
about religion, Henry, having retired early, Beth, pleading a
desire to work on her knitting, remained awake.
Now she sat with her Bible in her lap, praying
to her Lord and Savior. If only Dad could be here to share this
wondrous moment, she sighed. She had learned everything she knew
about God, the Bible, and salvation from him. He was so kind,
the opposite of Henry, so tender to her mother, so loving and
respectful of her every wish and desire. He had never forced himself
on her the way Henry often did with her.
She sighed in remembrance of her loving
father, Fletcher Biddle. If only he could be hear to share this
moment, just father and daughter, together, the way they used
to be before his heart attack and sudden death. If only he hadn’t
died so prematurely, if only, if only. She sighed again.
The house was quiet, only the ticking of
the wall clock disturbed her meditations. She felt pleasantly
warm and comfortable, her Savior seemed so near to her, so comforting
and gentle. Her feelings were aroused at the prospect of her husband’s
new interest in the Lord.
Beth was a caring and sensitive woman, although
she made a genuine attempt to hide her feelings. She desired only
to be loved, to be touched in a gentle manner, to be held and
caressed, the way her father used to hold her on his lap when
she was small and soothe some tiny hurt she brought to him. Gently
he would rock her to sleep on his lap while singing sweet songs
of Jesus. He had such a nice voice. She could hear him even now
singing in that beautiful baritone. He loved his Lord and imparted
that love to her as a small child.
He was always there for her, she recalled,
always ready with a smile, a tender word to soothe her hurt feelings,
a word of encouragement or advice. If only he could be here now
to share this moment and teach her how to lead Henry to the Lord.
The clock ticked on. The quiet house seemed
to take on an atmosphere of peace and contentment. It was as if
Beth and her Lord were one in companionship and love. One shared
heart beat joined them together in love. She felt Him so near,
so comforting, as if His arms were around her even now. She could
almost feel His presence, His soothing voice, rejoicing with her.
“O father,” she cried softly,
“I long to talk with you again, to hear your voice and feel
your strong protecting arms around me.” Could it be, Beth
thought, could it possibly be that he heard her and was even now
beside her, in this very room. Her heart rejoiced with the realization
of his presence.
She could feel his presence, his warm kind
words floated down to her in sweetest tones of peace and comfort.
Those familiar tones of voice and expressions that she knew so
well, filled her ears and thrilled her heart.
“Father,” she cried softly. She
was happy, inexpressibly happy with the knowledge that her Lord
and her earthly father were favoring her with their presence.
What joy filled her heart. She sat in contentment and happiness.
The moment passed quickly, but it was enough
for Beth. She knew now that her father would come to her anytime
she desired. Once again, she could experience his embrace and
words of wisdom. So kind, so soft and gentle, just the way she
knew he would be after so many years in heaven. She was satisfied
with the knowledge that he was always near by.
The clock ticked on peacefully. All was
right with the world.
* * *
The three men sat at a card table, littered
with beer bottles and cigarette wrappers.
“I tied a rope around her neck, she
was twitching and blathering like an idiot,” Big John said,
tossing some change on the table. “Wouldn’t quit. I
threatened to break her arm if she didn’t stop crying. If
it hadn’t been for the rope, I think she would have jumped
out of the window.”
Stanley gazed at Big John with a mixture
of loathing and admiration. 270 pounds of mean muscle, thick neck
and taboo decorated arms, Big John radiated self-confidence and
the muscle to make it stick. Massive, hairy chest, barely contained
with in his leather jacket, he wore tight fitting jeans, heavy
leather boots, and a leather cap on his head. His jaw muscles
worked rhythmically as he chewed a plug of tobacco, his eyes missing
nothing, he sat relaxed, feet sprawled beneath the table, like
a lion, ready to spring into action with a snarl and curse. Whipping
dust off his scuffed brown boots, he returned Stanley’s look
of loathing. He despised the skinny pimp.
Stanley swore. “You kill one of my
girls, and you’ll find yourself feeding worms in city dump.”
Stanley’s narrow eyes darted about the room, seldom resting
for long upon the other men who were playing at cards. Cadaverous
in appearance, his long, thin hands fidgeted constantly.
Big John laughed uproariously. “Are
you threatening me, pal? You ain’t but a fly on the wall.
I could break your neck with my thumb and index finger.”
Erny flicked a card onto the table then
drew another one and grimaced. “Speaking of strangling some
one, did you hear about them kids that shot Mini.”
Big John grunted as he glanced at his cards.
Kids is getting mean these days. When I was a boy my Dad would
have whooped me if I even looked cross eyed at a woman.”
“Too bad your Dad ain’t here tonight,”
Stanley replied, “or he’d beet the you know what out
of you.”
“Dad died ten years ago,” Big
John replied with a wistful expression on his face that the other
two men missed.
“When I was a boy living in Colorado,”
Erny commented thoughtfully, “ my folks often visited Chicago.
I had an Uncle who lived in town, nice guy. He became a stock
broker. I think he sill lives in Chicago. Name’s Charlie,
we used to call him Uncle Charlie. Haven’t seen him in a
long time, I probably wouldn’t recognize him if I saw him.”
“So what,” Big John inquired,
as he pushed himself away from the table?”
“So I liked the guy,” Erny said.
Stanley swore as he lit a cigarette, tossing
his cards onto the center of the table. “I fold.”
“So why did you like him,” Big
John asked?
“He looked like a cowboy, had broad
shoulders, a tanned face, liked to wear Stetson hats. He was quiet
and mean looking, like you didn’t want to mess with him,
but he had a kind face and deep blue eyes that twinkled when he
laughed.”
“We don’t have cowboys in Chicago,”
Stanley observed.
“You guys want some good stuff? I’ve
got a shipment from Columbia coming in this weekend,” Erny
offered, changing the subject.
“You dealing direct, these days,”
Big John asked.
“I got a friend who keeps me supplied.”
“You better watch out for Ashtray,”
Stanley said.
“I can handle him,” Erny said,
patting his gun.
“I got an old lady working for me,”
Stanley commented, “she’s about due for retirement.
She costs me more then she’s worth.”
“You talking about the one I almost
strangled,” Big John inquired.”
“Ya,” Stanley replied.
“Want me to take care of her,”
Big John offered.
“Your too eager.”
Big John laughed as he rolled up his sleeve.
Pointing to several leering heads tattooed on his arm. “See
these here. Their women I’ve killed. Got space for another
one near my wrist.”
“Tough guy,” Erny commented.
Big John bridled.
“He kills women and thinks he’s
tough,” Erny said to Stanley.
Big John growled at his friend.
“Come on John. We both know you like
killing women. Big tough guy like you, bet you never killed someone
your size.”
Big John’s eyes narrowed, then he relaxed
and laughed. “You got someone in mind, Erny, my friend?”
Erny shrugged.
Stanley leaned back in his chair, the card
game forgotten for the moment. “I know a guy, his name’s
Patrick, he’s a master at killing people, makes it real interesting
the way he does it.”
“I know that guy,” Big John commented,
“he’s a real pro.”
“There’s a skill to making a guy
suffer without actually killing him,” Stanley said.
“Like back in the good old days of
the inquisition,” Erny replied.
“What did you have to mention that
for,” Stanley said.
“What’s wrong with the inquisition,”
Erny asked.
“I was over at the bus terminal the
other day getting some customers for my women. That street preacher,
the one dressed all in black, what’s his name?”
“Creeper,” Big John said.
“Ya, that’s the guy. He was there
talking about the second coming of Christ. He says it ain’t
far away.”
Erny laughed. “He’s got a big
mouth. Someone ought to shut him up.”
“But he’s a man of God,”
Stanley replied. “You don’t want to mess around with
God.”
Big John snorted in disgust. “They
bleed same as everyone else.”
“Ya, but their in thick with God, and
he don’t take kindly to people messing around with his men,
ya know,” Stanley objected.
“You take that stuff seriously, about
Christ returnin’ and all that stuff,” Big John asked?
“I got this gut feeling,” Stanley
replied, “mind you, I’m not religious, but I think there’s
something to it.”
Erny looked uncomfortable. “If he’s
really coming back as soon as they say, then I’m in a heap
o’ trouble.”
Big John laughed. “You guys amaze me.
I thought you had out grown God when you started selling drugs.”
“You don’t outgrow things like
that,” Stanley said. “You tell me, John, iffen your
conscience don’t bother you once in awhile.”
Big John laughed with a wicked grin on his
face. “Na,” he replied confidently. “I don’t
have a conscience.”
Erny replied, “you better start getting
one pretty soon. Them preachers seem real confident about this
advent thing.”
Big John swore. “Sure, and I think
little green men from Mars are poisoning our water.”
Erny scowled. “Come on John, I know
you better then that. You can’t fool me with your macho,
tough guy stuff. Your scared, and I know it.”
Big John grinned wickedly at Erny. “Aren’t
you scared when Ashtray looks in your direction.”
“That’s competition,” Erny
replied. “As long as he stays on his corner and me on mine,
we get along all right. There’s enough customers to go around.”
“Didn’t your Momma ever teach
you Bible stories,” Stanley inquired of Big John.
“This here ain’t a gospel rally,”
John snorted in disgust.”
“Well did she,” Erny inquired?
Big John was silent for a long moment before
speaking. “She taught me a song, loved to sing it. She had
such a sweet, kind face. I’ll never forget her.”
“What song did she teach you,”
Erny asked.
Big John was distinctly uncomfortable. “I
hear the presidential race is heating up some lately,” he
said.
“Look at him, Stanley,” Erny said,
he’s got that remembering’ look in his eyes.
“John, you got religion,” Stanley
teased, as Big John’s face softened at the mention of his
gospel singing mother.
Big John fidgeted slightly in his chair,
then scowled.
“What song did she sing to you,”
Stanley inquired again.
Big John looked out of the window, then,
in a low voice, he said, “is was Jesus Loves Me.”
The room was quiet for a long moment. If
Stanley and Erny had been honest with themselves, their own childhood
memories were flooding back into their minds, also. Long dormant
memories roused themselves, memories of their own mothers.
“Mother wouldn’t be happy with
the way I turned out,” Erny commented to the silent men.
“My mother and dad fought all the time,”
Stanley said, with a wistful expression on his face. Always screaming
and shouting, something awful. I used to cry myself to sleep every
night. Mommy was drunk most of the time.”
“My mother was an angel,” Big
John said with obvious emotion. “She would rock me to sleep
when I had an ear ache, singing and rocking, singing and rocking.
I miss her,” he said in a low voice, almost inaudible to
the other two men.
Stanley cleared his throat, glanced out
of the window, nervously took a sip of beer, fidgeted with his
hands, cleared his throat again, and, in a low, hoarse voice,
began to sing.
“Jesus loves me...”
He paused, looking from John to Erny, then
at his dirty shoes, before continuing. “This I know...”
Big John felt strange emotions swirling
over him. Listening to Stanley, the pimp, he neither laughed nor
scoffed at the ragged baritone voice.
“For the Bible tells me so...”
To his astonishment, Big John’s shoulders began to quiver
as he joined Stanley in the old, familiar song.
“Little ones to him belong....”
Erny gazed in Big John with incredulity.
He has a good singing voice, he thought to himself, seeing a side
to his friend, he never knew existed. He was crying.
“We are weak, but he is strong.”
If Stanley and Big John could sing, then he could, also.
Taking the lead, Erny began the course.
“Yes Jesus loves me, yes Jesus loves, yes Jesus loves, for
the Bible tells me so.”
The room fell silent as each man, alone
in his private thoughts, not wanting to meet the eyes of his friends,
glanced out of the window, at his shoes, or at the ceiling, everywhere
but at each other.
Big John took another gulp of beer and whipped
his mouth on his sleeve. “I got work to do,” he said,
“can’t be hanging around with you guys all night.”
With that he rose and left the room, slamming the door behind
him, without even saying good-by.
Erny grabbed his coat and headed for the
door. Stopping before he left the room, he turned to face Stanley.
“I don’t like that guy. Kills women and thinks he’s
something. Patrick could teach him something about killing that
would make him puke.”
Stanley laughed. “I don’t want
nothing to do with Patrick. He’s mean. But I agree with you
about Big John. Someday he’s going to find a woman that’s
meaner then him and she’ll teach him a thing or too.”
“Its all muscle, Erny said. Take that
away and he’s nothing but a bully.
Erny vanished through the door, leaving
Stanley alone in the room, his face contorted in anger and shame.
For one moment, he felt the power of the Lord, then resolutely
closed the door.
