As she prayed, a weight fell off hershoulders. Her heart broke as she gave herself over to repentance.Tears poured down her face and landed on her hands. The sheer joyof forgiveness lightened her spirit, and she felt a profound senseof freedom from disbelief and doubt, and the fear of death anddamnation.
My child. The words resounded in her head.Her Savior spoke.
She squeezed her eyes tighter. I’m here,Lord. I’m here.
“My child.” This time a light touch lingeredon her shoulder. When she jerked her head up, an elderly man smileddown at her. His eyes were the deep blue of a winter’s day but withall the warmth of summer. Laugh lines traced their sides. Deepcreases formed around his mouth, and his gray beard fell to hischest. He dressed in black pants, a white shirt, and a black coat.On his head, he wore a black, wide-brimmed hat.
“I am sorry to disturb your prayers—don’t beashamed.” He waved his hands, as she wiped her eyes and tried tocover her face.
“My prayers and petitions often bring me totears. It’s good we should weep over our sins and disobedience.” Hetapped her Bible. “Might we partake of the Word together or wouldyou prefer to be alone with your God? I can hear the fury from yourtown. I thought some time with the Lord Jesus would calm mysoul.”
Six miles north the battle raged, but soundedas if right in front of them. Curious. At the farm, much of thefight went unheard, yet here the pandemonium was loud andclear.
She scooted over and patted the empty seat onthe swing. “Please.”
“What passages are you reading?” He sat.
“I started with Psalms because my fatheralways likes to read the Psalms.” In an instant, her face burnedwith the lie. “Actually, I opened the book and came to PsalmFifty-Three, so I started to read. This summer I’ve been strugglingwith myself because I can’t help think God can’t exist. If he did,we wouldn’t have such a terrible war and men wouldn’t die likethis. Just yesterday, talking with a captain, I told him I decidedGod didn’t exist.” She held up the Bible, her finger stuck in thePsalms to hold her place. “He gave me this Bible and told me toread. I opened it now to Psalm Fifty-Three, which says, ‘The foolhath said in his heart, there is no God.’ The rest of the passagemade me think of Romans, so I turned there.” She flipped the bookopen. “My father always tells me the wages of sin is death. Iusually nod my head and wait for the lecture to end. Today, I don’tknow why, or how, but I see what the text means. I trulyunderstand.” She heard the wonder in her voice and stifled an urgeto giggle from the intensity of her emotions. She sniffed. “I’m sosorry I said God didn’t exist.”
The man chuckled. “I understand. The Lord, inHis infinite grace and mercy, often keeps us in the dark for Hisperfect reason and timing. When the timing is right with Him, Heremoves the scales from our eyes and the stoppers from ourears.”
She nodded as she blinked back more tears. Inthe distance, the waves of battle pounded her ears, sometimessmashing against her eardrums, and other times rolling toward herlike distant thunder, which gave her a new idea.
“The wages of sin is death,” she said again.“Those men who are being killed right now, their wages aredeath?”
He inclined his head toward one shoulder.“Well, it depends.” He half turned in his seat to face her. “Notdeath as you and I understand it. You see, if we are children ofChrist, then on this earth, our only death is the physical death ofour bodies. Our souls will live forever with Christ in heaven. Ifyou live outside of Christ, as I’m certain some of those boys do,our sin condemns us to eternity in hell. That is true death. Thewages of sin.”
“Can I ask another question?”
“You just did.” He shot her a mischievousgrin.
She jerked surprised eyes to him and grinned.“My father says that.” She grew serious and stared at her knees.“What I mean is: why does God allow evil to exist in the world? Idon’t understand. I’m told he loves us, but He lets bad thingshappen.” She stopped, unable to find the vocabulary to voice herfears.
“An excellent question.” He patted her knee.“If I may offer my humble opinion, I believe God allows evilbecause He is more glorified by redemption than by creation. Badthings happen to draw us closer to Him, and in turn, He redeems us,if we ask.”
Her eyebrows drew together into a tightpucker. Awe filled her heart. She turned wide eyes to him. “I neverthought of that.” Her eyes shot to her Bible, as if to read thewords on the front cover. She glanced at him through her eyelashes.“You’re very smart.”
“I hope so for my congregation’s sake. I’m aQuaker minister.”
She laughed. “Father always says when themoment is right the Lord supplies the needed instructor.” She grewserious as a new thought struck her. More tears spilled down hercheeks, and she let them, unashamed of her emotions. “I have somuch to ask his forgiveness for.”
“My dear, ask his forgiveness, but yourFather has forgiven you.”
“No, I meant—”
“I know what you meant.” He rose. “Now ifyou’ll forgive me, I must speak to our wonderful hosts and thankthem for their hospitality.” He took her hand in his. “Thank youfor sharing with me. You refreshed my soul.” He kissed her hand andwalked away.
Tillie watched him go, the Bible in her lap.So much to ponder. She settled herself more comfortably on theswing and gazed about her. She picked up her Bible and began toread, soaking up the words on the page as though she couldn’tabsorb them fast enough.
* * * *
The battle continued to rage, though not withthe same intensity. Tillie caught snatches of conversation aspeople contemplated what they’d find when they returned home. Howmuch more devastation could they endure?
Toward four o’clock in the afternoon, theroar of combat lessened, and by five, all grew quiet. Still, no onemade a move
