"By beholding we are to become changed; and as we meditate upon the perfections of the divine Model, we shall desire to become wholly transformed, and renewed in the image of His purity. It is by faith in the Son of God that transformation takes place in the character, and the child of wrath becomes the child of God." 30
George sat outside Sally’s apartment,
irresolutely drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. His desires
clamored to be satisfied, but something cautioned him to avoid
his weekly rendezvous. Beside him, on the seat, was a package
containing a red fireman’s helmet and a pair of shinny black
boots. The boots weren’t hard to find, a woman’s shoe
store supplied them, but the helmet was harder to acquire. Only
a month since his recent harrowing escape, the burns and scrapes
were healing nicely. The events of that frightening episode were
fast fading from his memory, mercifully dulled by the mind’s
ability to forget tragic or painful events.
Yet he could not put out of his mind the
sound of Billy’s scream as the fire almost overwhelmed them,
nor his remark concerning the flaming trees that walked with them.
Try as hard as he might, he could not remember seeing any walking
trees. Yet they were real to Billy. Ever since they returned home,
Billy was totally different, and believable. Whereas before, he
delighted in the tall tale, now truth seemed to flavor all his
words. Who would have believed it, George thought to himself,
shaking his head in disbelief, such a transformation in character
only God could achieve.
There He was again, intruding into his thoughts
at the most unexpected and inconvenient moment. God, the thought
of him never seemed far from his mind these days. He could still
feel the hand on his back, as real as any human hand, tugging
at his belt, urging him to stand up, to flee before the devouring
monster. Yes, he thought for the thousandth time, the hand was
real, so why weren’t the flaming trees equally as real?
He watched several children swinging on
the school playground half a block away, wondering if the city
had purchased the equipment from his company. They looked so innocent,
he hoped they would remain that way.
He was troubled by many thoughts, not the
least of which was his daughter. Why had he done that to her?
Then there was the matter of Sally, his precious Sally. She was
waiting for him even now, with dinner on the table, wearing that
shimmering, filmy pink thing she reserved especially for their
Thursday suppers.
For the first time in his adult life, George
was uncertain what to do. He loved his wife, but he loved Sally
also. That inner voice kept warning him away from her, the same
voice that saved his life in the burning forest, the same voice
that guided him to the undamaged barn where he and Billy found
shelter for those three days during which his heart ached with
sadness.
He recognized the voice, the same voice
that had spoken to him hundreds of times before, but, before he
had ignored it, now it clamored for attention. No longer could
he pretend it wasn’t there. It had saved his life twice in
the last several weeks. Could he pretend it didn’t exist,
refuse to listen to it? Was he being cautioned, to avoid a situation
that might threaten his existence. Was that voice, so filled with
love and compassion, counseling him off this ground, exhorting
him to turn aside? No, he concluded, he would no longer disregard
it, he would respond.
So many sins, so many lost opportunities,
he sighted.
“I love you, George,” the Lord
whispered into his ear.
George listened, enthralled that God was
speaking directly to him.
Then, from his dim past a verse of scripture
swelled in his mind until it became a tidal wave of roaring sound,
“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive
us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”
53
And another, “Believe on the Lord Jesus
Christ, and thou shalt be saved.” 54 Where had he learned
that verse?
And another, “come now, and let us
reason together, saith the LORD: though your sins be as scarlet,
they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson,
they shall be as wool.” 55
And another, “I am the way, the truth,
and the life. No one cometh unto the Father but by me.” 56
He was overwhelmed with the seriousness
of his sins. He began to see himself in a new light, as desperately
in need of a Savior. His Lord seemed to be asking him if he needed
a Savior in the woods or if he could have escaped on his own.
George know the answer, and, involuntarily, he began conversing
with God, almost praying, he thought.
“Lord, I needed a Savor then and I
need a Savior now.”
This admission seemed to open the flood
gates of his heart, and the enormity of his sins, his stubbornness,
his adultery, not only with Sally but with his own daughter, assumed
a seriousness he little realized.
There rose before him a vision of Christ
and the cross. He could see the Roman soldiers holding him down
while others pounded nails into his hands and legs. He could hear
his voice, full of pain and love, “Father forgive them, for
they know not what they do.”
He heard the jeering mod intent upon his
blood, saw his innocence, his love and mercy extended for him,
George Ballard. Watching this horrifying seen, he saw Christ turn
and look at him, saw the pain wracked brow, the sweat, the drops
of blood beginning to form on his hands and legs. He heard the
hammer blows as the nails were driven deep through his quivering
hands, deep into the wood of the cross.
So filled with desperation, self-condemnation,
and remorse, George shuddered as each blow of the hammer drove
the nails deeper into Christ’s innocent flesh, the innocent
dying for the guilty. George realized that but for the grace of
Christ, he would be on that cross.
Tears welled up in his eyes and he buried
his head in his hands while convulsively grasping the steering
wheel as sobs wracked his heart with pain and anguish. He could
not escape watching the horrible picture. Seeing a man, bending
low over Christ’s feet, with hammer raised, ready to strike
another blow at the innocent, George was overwhelmed with guilt,
and, in vision, rushing forward, he seized the shoulder of the
hammer wielding man to restrain him. Turning, in mid blow, to
face George, he saw himself.
George realized that he was the man hammering
the nails into Christ’s quivering flesh. Revulsion seized
hold of him, panic stirred his inner being and a thrill of shame
and guilt rent his heart. Christ, dying on the cross, the sinless
suffering for the guilty, and he, George Ballard, was driving
the nails into his hands and feet. He was crucifying Christ, his
sins, his adultery, his pride and self-sufficiency, his neglect
of his children, his cheating were killing God.
He couldn’t stand it any longer, please,
Lord, forgive me. The vision faded, and peace flooded his heart
for the first time in his life. With tears and anguish, he repented
of his sins, all of them, the adulterous affairs, the needless
scolding of Billy, everything flowed out of him like water flowing
from an open faucet, and, in its place there poured into his heart
the grace and peace of Christ. George became a new creature in
Christ Jesus.
Such joy, such incredible joy. This beats
sex, he thought, especially sex with the wrong woman. He felt
clean, pure, and refreshed as if he were bathed from the inside
out. Was this what people referred to as conversion? I thought
it occurred in churches, in response to an alter call, with sweet
music from the organ, and the preacher standing in front with
a beatific smile on his face, Bible in hand. This was nothing
like that, nothing at all.
He sat there savoring the moment, then a
shadow passed over his experience. What would he do about Sally?
“Lord, “ he prayed aloud, not realizing that this was
only the second time that he had prayed since his mother taught
him that bedtime prayer, so many years ago, “Lord, what should
I do about Sally?”
“Lo I am with you always even unto
the end of the world.” The verse seemed to come in response
to his prayer but he wasn’t certain what it meant.
Well, he had to break off the relationship
and the sooner the better. He could not betray his wife again,
not after this experience. He must sever the relationship now,
but how would he tell her and how would she respond?
Looking at his watch, he realized he was
almost 45 minutes late. Leaving the package in the car, he walked
toward the stairs leading to her apartment. A few minutes later,
summoning his courage, he knocked at the door. She was there,
welcoming him with a smile and a kiss. “Your late,”
she said, without emotion.
She was wearing a conservative orange business
suit such as she often wore at work, not that pink filmy gown
that so excited him. This was unusual, he thought, but maybe she
hadn’t had time to change after work.
Short, tightly curled, chestnut hair, well
formed facial features, she was just beginning to show her age,
she wore gold ear rings, while her smile was pleasant and charming.
She busied herself in the kitchen, while
he thumbed through the evening papers, scarcely noticing the headlines,
intent upon his own thoughts. She was rather quiet this evening,
he realized, as she brought the casserole to the table.
Glancing at her, he wondered why he found
her so attractive. Rather plain, he now realized, conservative
in manners and conversation. Conjuring up a mental picture of
Grace and comparing it with Sally, he shook his head in bewilderment.
There wasn’t any comparison. How foolish and idiotic of him
to jeopardize his marriage for Sally. She deserved something better.
“You look lovely, tonight,” he
complemented her after they sat down at the table.
“Thank you, dear,” she replied,
busing herself with her dinner napkin.
“Did you hear about the stock market?”
Nothing like changing the subject, Garage
thought. “No, I didn’t. What about it?”
“The Dow Jones fell 378 points in the
last 45 minutes of trading. The financial commentators say a panic
may be in the offing.”
“The market is grossly over priced,”
he commented. “Sally, this is a wonderful casserole.”
He hoped to turn the conversation to other topics, but she would
have none of it.
With her left hand placed daintily in her
lap, head bowed, she continued her comments on the stock market.
“The slide was lead by the insurance companies who seemed
to be bailing out of the market in a big hurry. Something about
falling T-bill prices and fears that the government debt was so
far out of control that treasuries weren’t a good investment
anymore.”
"treasuries are sold in the bond market,”
he needlessly reminded her, why should that impact the stock market?”
“There are rumors that the Fed is going
to announce a point hike in the prime lending rate, that means
they fear inflation is looming and want to nip it in the bid.
Higher costs for borrowing, slow down in lending, less capital
for investments and a general economic slow down always causes
jitters on Wall Street.”
“Your quite good at these financial
matters,” he complemented her. “I think I’ll promote
you to the finance department. He did not have a financial department,
but if he had one she would run it. She could run anything she
desired, he thought, as he watched her carefully fold her napkin.
“I won’t be working for you any
more George.”
Taken by surprise at this announcement,
his fork suspended between plate and mouth, he inquired, rather
lamely, “your quitting?”
“I’m handing in my resignation
tomorrow, effective at the end of this month, August 31 to be
exact.”
“But, Sally, that’s only two weeks
away. Why so sudden?”
“That’s my two week notice, dear.”
She turned on him with pleading in her eyes. “Don’t
make this harder for me then it is. I love you, but we can’t
go on like this. You have a family, a wife, children, I have nothing.
I’m not getting any younger and I want a family to. Is that
too much to ask. I want a husband, who is faithful to me,”
that stung George, “who loves me. I want to have children
of my own who call me Mother. I want my own home. George, can
you understand, I want a family, children.”
George set his fork down on the place, and
looked at her with wonderment in his eyes. “Thank you, Lord,”
he breathed.
“What did you say.”
“I just said, thank you Lord.”
Now it was Sally’s turn to be surprised.
“I didn’t think you and God were on speaking terms?”
“We weren’t until an hour ago.”
Sally looked interested. “Tell me about
it,” she asked.
For the next few minutes, George related
the experience in the woods, the three days he and Billy spent
in the barn, Billy’s transformed life, and his conversion
in the car in her parking lot.
“So you see, Sally, I can’t go
on with our relationship, either. I’m sorry.”
For a long awkward moment, they sat facing
each other, then she smiled and sighed. “I thought you would
take it hard, curse, throw a fit or something. I never thought
you would get converted. That’s wonderful, honey.”
They talked for a long time while the dinner
got cold. They laughed together, reminisced together, but finally,
by mutual consent, they said their good-bys. “I’ll be
at work tomorrow, honey,” she told him at the door, “but
lets keep our relationship on business terms from now on.”
“Agreed,” he said, then impulsively,
leaned down and kissed her, not on the lips as was his usual custom,
but on the forehead, as a father might kiss his daughter before
bed.”
She smiled but made no attempt to embrace
or return the kiss. “That’s sexual harassment, Mr. Ballard,”
she smirked. “I’m going to report you to the feminist
police.”
They laughed. Garage grasped her hand one
last time and squeezed it. “I’ll pray for you,”
he assured her.
Sally shook her head. “No, George,
I admire your experience, but I don’t want any thing to do
with God.”
They parted then. She shut the door firmly
behind him, locked it, and burst into silent tears.
But she didn’t come to work the next
morning, nor the day after that. He called her apartment, but
there was no answer. Several days later, he drove by her building,
the drapes were pulled but no one answered his knock, her car
was missing from the parking lot. She failed to show up for work
all the following week. George made out the necessary paperwork
indicating her removal from the company payroll, but she never
returned to claim her final pay check.
In late August, while scanning the local
paper, he saw an article about a middle aged women, wearing a
conservative orange business suit who had apparently drowned several
weeks earlier. Her body was found by two fishermen in a local
lake. Police speculated the drowning might have been a suicide.
“My dear Sally,” Garage cried, “why did you do
it? Why couldn’t you let Christ into your life? He loved
you so much. He died for you. You needn't have died this way.”
