Fire Of Heaven Book III Fire of Heaven

by Bill Myers

  And it’s not like they were the first to receive this special attention. After Gerty’s e-mail they’d begun studying other Scriptures, discovering how God had used other prophets in the past — men like Isaiah, who was commanded to run around barefoot and naked for three years; or Hosea, the holy man commanded to marry a prostitute; or Jeremiah, who was forbidden to marry at all; or Ezekiel, who wasn’t even allowed to cry over the death of his wife.

  As far as Sarah could tell, God’s track record in dealing with his chosen vessels was anything but pleasant. And if that’s how He treated his greatest prophets, she was in no hurry to see what He had in store for them. No, this was not the program she had signed up for. Parting the Red Sea, raising people from the dead, that was more her style. Not this slow, confusing torture. And if that’s what He had in mind for them, then maybe it was time to reconsider … if, if any of it was to be taken literally.

  For Sarah that “if” was still the great unanswered question. How much of what was mentioned in Revelation would really happen to them and how much of it was symbolic? How much was literal? How much spiritual? For that matter, the same question could be asked about Brandon’s visions, or Gerty’s writings, or the hundred and one other signs they’d had. Were they being fools taking everything at face value? Surely if God was Spirit, then He’d talk in spiritual terms, too, wouldn’t He? With that in mind, how much of it was up to them to accomplish, and how much of it was up to God? Serious questions. And as the questions churned in her mind, another, more tangible one, surfaced.

  “What about Jimmy Tyler’s TV show?” she asked.

  Brandon looked up.

  “Tuesday’s the deadline for letting GBN know. During your encounter, did He give you any indication that we shouldn’t go through with it?”

  Brandon scowled, then slowly shook his head. “No …”

  “So we can go ahead?”

  His frown deepened. “Sarah …” She watched as he searched for the words. “Does it feel right to you?”

  “National exposure, sitting on the platform with one of the most recognizable religious figures of the world? Yes, that feels right to me. That feels real right.”

  “But this business of, what did He call it, ‘pursuing worldly glory.’ And remember what Gerty said about the dream and vision having to die first?”

  Sarah pulled the chair out and sat across the table from him. “This isn’t something we pursued, Brandon. They came to us, remember?”

  “I know.”

  “And to say we’re not interested, when we don’t have a clear word from the Lord. Isn’t it as much a sin to refuse God’s blessings as it is to refuse His trials? And couldn’t this be just that, one of His blessings, the break we’ve been waiting for all of this time?”

  “I suppose …” He was hedging again, obviously struggling with something.

  She leaned forward and touched his arm. “What? What is it?”

  “It’s just … well, Tyler wants us to get up there and be a part of this big celebration of unity.”

  “And …”

  “And if I’m right about what I heard this morning … it doesn’t sound like celebration is exactly what God has in mind.”

  Sarah pushed her hair behind her ear. “No one said you have to get up there and lead cheers. If something needs to be said, we’ll have plenty of time to say it later. But later won’t come if we don’t take these opportunities first.”

  Brandon continued to think.

  She pressed in. “What say we give them a call, give them a tentative yes? And if later God makes it clear we’re not to go, then we cancel. That’s simple enough, isn’t it?”

  Brandon gave her a look. One of those that went deep inside of her. The type that, if she let it, would seek out and find her truest, deepest feelings. But not this time. This time she would block it. She’d been doing all she could to ignore the frustration and anger growing inside of her. She didn’t need him poking around and discovering what was really going on … especially when she wasn’t sure herself. Finding an excuse to look away, she rose from the table and crossed to the sink to rinse her mug. “Is that okay, then? I’ll call tomorrow and give a tentative yes.”

  After another long moment he asked, “This is real important to you, isn’t it?”

  She turned to face him. “Yes, it is. It’s very important for both of us.”

  He was still looking at her, but this time she held her ground. She wasn’t sure how much he could see, but it didn’t matter, at least for now. Now there was the issue of the TV show, whether or not they would take advantage of this obvious, God-given opportunity. Later they would discuss the other issues, like her growing resentment … and the invitation to Nepal.

  “So?” she asked.

  He continued holding her gaze. There was still something else going through his mind, she knew it. But for now, it looked like they’d both be keeping their secrets.

  “I’ll give them a call then, all right?” She shifted her weight, steeling herself, refusing to look away. “All right?”

  Slowly, perhaps a little sadly, Brandon began to nod.

  Sarah turned back to the sink and took a silent breath. “Good,” she said. “I’ll call them in the morning.”

  CHAPTER 6

  YOU SURE I NEED all this stuff?” Brandon asked.

  The makeup person, a petite Sri Lankan in her late twenties who went by the name of Cassandra, laughed as she continued sponging the number seven pancake onto his face. “First timers always say that. Especially you men.” She glanced over her shoulder into the lighted mirror facing them. “Just think of this as an opportunity to see what we ladies put ourselves through every day.” She grinned over at Sarah who sat in the other barber chair beside them. “Isn’t that right?”

  Sarah forced a smile. “I’m afraid she’s got a point.”

  Brandon said nothing and sat sullenly as she continued working on his face.

  “The bright lights, they wash everybody out. Even those preachers with the ever-tans from Phoenix and Florida, they wear something.” She began applying it under his chin. “So, you guys get out this way much?”

  Sarah answered, “I spent most of my time on the West Coast. Grew up in Portland, did my undergraduate and graduate work at Stanford, some research at UCLA. But this is Brandon’s first time out of the Midwest.”

  “No kidding?” Cassandra asked. “Get to see many of the sights?”

  “We just got in last night.”

  “Though we found the gridlock on the 405 particularly interesting,” Brandon added.

  Cassandra smiled. It was obvious small talk came easy to her. “They put you up in the Beverly Hills Hotel? Pretty fancy digs.”

  Sarah nodded. “I’ll say.”

  “That’s one thing about Jimmy, he only goes for the best. You guys get separate suites or a single?”

  “I’m sorry?” Sarah asked.

  “Depends who did the booking. If it’s Sheryl, she makes sure significant others get to discreetly share a suite. If it’s one of the, shall we say, less progressive staff members, then you have to stay in separate rooms.”

  Sarah cleared her throat. “Actually, we’re married.”

  “Oh, no kidding.”

  “About a month now.”

  “Well, congratulations. Didn’t see a ring, that’s why I asked. ’Course a lot of guys are starting to do that, not wear rings, at least for the cameras. Kinda increases their sex appeal, if you know what I mean.” She began brushing Brandon’s long dark hair. “And nothing increases the donor base like a little old-fashioned sex appeal, ain’t that right, guy?” She gave him a wink in the mirror.

  Sarah watched as her husband tried to smile, then glanced down.

  “Not that you need it, not with this hair.” She reached for a bottle of spray and began spritzing it. “I tell you, I know women who would kill for this. Men, too. It’s gorgeous.”

  Brandon coughed. Sarah couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or
from the hair spray. When he’d finished he gave her the definitive, what-have-you-gotten-me-into look. It was all she could do not to break out laughing. Then, coming to his rescue, she changed the subject. “So, have you known Reverend Tyler long?”

  “Twenty years ago this July. He found me on the streets of Colombo, begging for food. He and Bridgett, his wife, took me in. They fed and clothed me, gave me an education, and here I am.”

  “That’s great.”

  “I owe a lot to Jimmy. And not just me. There was a time nearly every member on staff had a similar story. Always something he did to help somebody — lots of times without folks ever knowing about it.”

  “Really?”

  “I know he comes off a little too slick for some, all showbizzy and Mr. Entertainment. But underneath that he’s a great man. A really great man.”

  The description of Tyler’s genuineness surprised Sarah, and she glanced over at Brandon. But he was busy hearing something else in the woman’s voice and studying her actions. After a moment, he finally spoke.

  “You said, ‘There was a time.’ ”

  Cassandra looked at him. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “You said, there was a time when he used to be there for the staff and help them. Has that changed?”

  Sarah watched as her husband continued to search the woman, looking for something deeper.

  Cassandra shrugged. “We’re a lot bigger now.” She glanced away, finding something to busy herself with. But Sarah knew Brandon had found something. The woman continued talking. “In fact, did you know that we now have more stations than any of the secular networks? Isn’t that incredible? A Christian network bigger than anything the world has? Praise God.”

  Brandon nodded as he watched. “And that’s a good thing?”

  “Of course it’s good.” Even Sarah could hear the defensive edge coming to Cassandra’s voice. “Bigger’s always better. At least in ministry. Everyone knows that. The more we grow, the more people we can reach.”

  Brandon nodded, then answered softly, “And the more of Jimmy everyone loses.”

  She came to a stop. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Brandon said nothing but held her gaze.

  She turned back to her work, a little more briskly. “The man’s got pressures you and I can’t even begin to imagine. You don’t get to be one of the most powerful religious figures in the world without making some concessions along the way.”

  Brandon slowly nodded. “I understand …”

  She continued to work, now in silence. Brandon said nothing more. Sarah wasn’t sure what all had transpired, but he had found something. Something that had left Cassandra just a little hurt and angry. And something that had left Brandon just a little bit sad.

  The silence was interrupted when the door behind them flew open. There, standing in the doorway, was a cameraman with a camera and Tanya Chase with a microphone.

  “Hi, guys,” she said cheerily. “Glad you could make it.”

  “Hi,” Brandon answered.

  “Good to see you,” Sarah added.

  But Tanya barely heard as she quickly moved into position and motioned for the cameraman to do the same. “We’re taping some bumpers to drop in as we go to and from commercial. Little sound bites from our guests explaining why they’re so excited to be here. Think you can do that for us, Brandon?”

  “Uh … ” He glanced at Sarah. She knew her husband hated speaking in front of any group, let alone a TV audience, but she gave him an encouraging nod, hoping he’d give it a try. After a moment of reluctance, he agreed.

  “Yeah, uh, sure.”

  “Great. Here we go then.”

  Cassandra was already removing the plastic sheet from him and turning his chair to face the camera. A bright light glared on above the lens as Tanya shoved the microphone into his face.

  “So tell us, Brandon Martus, why are you excited to be here tonight?”

  Brandon hesitated, gathering his thoughts.

  “Whenever you’re ready, Brandon.”

  He nodded, then finally looked at the camera, wincing slightly at the light. “I …” He cleared his throat and started again. “I am grateful to be here so that I can be a part of what Jesus Christ is doing through, uh, with Reverend Tyler during —”

  “Whoa, hold the phone, tiger.” Tanya pulled back the mike and took a step closer. “Can’t use the ‘J’ word on this one.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “The ‘J’ word. You know, ‘Jesus.’ Keep that for the folks back home.”

  Brandon frowned, not understanding.

  Tanya explained. “Lots of secular stations are picking us up. Don’t want to antagonize them needlessly. So let’s just keep it nice and generic.”

  “But …”

  “Just say what you said but don’t use the name Jesus. Say God or Lord or something like that instead. That way nobody gets offended.”

  “Uh …” He threw a look at Sarah, who shrugged. It seemed to make sense.

  “Just say God instead of Jesus, okay.”

  “All right …”

  “Great. Here we go again.” She pointed the microphone back at him. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  Again Brandon squinted toward the camera. “I am grateful to be here and to be a part of what God is doing through Reverend Tyler. I think —”

  “That’s great, Brandon.” Tanya gave a thumbs-up. “Just great.” She pulled back the mike as the cameraman snapped off the light. “We’ll be rolling in about twenty minutes. They’ll want you onstage pretty soon. How we doing, Cassandra?”

  “Just about there.”

  “Beautiful. Well, good luck, Brandon.” She turned, then suddenly remembered something. “Oh, hang on.” She reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a Bible. “Jimmy wanted all of his guests to have one of these.”

  “Oh, thanks,” Brandon said, “but we’ve got plenty of Bibles.”

  “I’m sure you do. But one can never have too many Bibles, can they?” She shoved it into his hands. “Besides, this is the Jimmy Tyler Study Bible.” She turned toward the door. “Good seeing you two again and have a great show.” Suddenly, she was gone. As quickly as the blonde whirlwind had entered, she had left.

  Sarah watched as the door shut. She turned to Brandon with a quizzical look of amusement. But he had already opened the Bible and was scowling down at the title page.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  He didn’t hear.

  “Bran … what’s up?”

  He glanced at her, then turned the Bible around so she could see the page. “Right here, on the front.”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s got Jimmy Tyler’s signature.”

  She still didn’t understand. “Meaning …”

  Brandon’s frown deepened as he tried to explain. “Doesn’t it seem weird? I mean, the man is autographing God’s Holy Word?”

  “Aamaa!” The cry was from a young woman, maybe a girl. “Aamaa!” With her approaching voice came the slapping of sandals against bare feet and the scraping of stone. Katherine, who was holding a crusted teakettle at the hearth, turned just in time to see a child of twelve barge in. The red dye where she parted her hair signified she was already married. Although this was frowned upon by the government, child brides were still common in Nepal.

  “Aamaa!” she cried breathlessly. It was a term of endearment meaning “mother.” Since Eric was a god and since Katherine was Eric’s mother, she had become “mother to all” — not exactly a term she relished.

  “Ke?” Katherine asked.

  “The master …” The girl tried to speak English but it wouldn’t come. It didn’t have to.

  “Eric?” Katherine demanded. “Something happened to Eric?”

  The girl nodded, motioning frantically. “Chhito!”

  Katherine dropped the kettle on the hearth, tossed aside the rag that served as a pot holder, and raced for the door.

  “Chhito!” the girl cried. “C
hhito!”

  Katherine had barely stepped onto the balcony overlooking the courtyard when she saw them — a half-dozen women just outside the gate. She headed for the stairs, flew down them to the courtyard, then dashed across the cobblestones, past the fountain, and through the arched opening.

  Outside, on the dirt road, a large pile of grain glowed from the late afternoon sun. But the women, some still holding their winnowing rakes, were no longer working. They had gathered around a body lying on the ground.

  Katherine sucked in her breath, fearing the worst — until she saw it was not her son. It was Deepak, his bodyguard. She started toward him, then spotted Eric off to the side. He looked scared and shaken. “Eric?” His face was wet with tears. She headed toward him. “Eric, what happened?”

  “I didn’t mean to, honest. I didn’t —” He ran the few remaining steps to her. She caught him and he buried his face into her arms, beginning to sob. “It was an accident, I didn’t mean to …”

  “Shh, it’s okay. What happened?” She threw a look over her shoulder. The body was not moving.

  “We were playing … just playing. And Deepak …” He was unable to continue.

  “And what?” Katherine asked. “What happened to Deepak?”

  “He made me really, really mad, and …” He gulped in a breath of air and continued. “I tried not to be. Honest. I tried really hard to control it this time, but —”

  Katherine felt a chill seize her body. “But what? Eric, what happened to Deepak?”

  There was another outburst of tears. She continued, more firmly. “What did you do to Deepak? Eric?”

  He looked up at her, eyes red and swollen. “I made his heart stop!”

  Katherine could only stare.

  “I’m sorry.” He buried his face into her shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

  Instinctively, she patted his back, “Shh, it’s okay …” Her head was growing so light that as he pushed against her she nearly lost her balance. But she dug in and held on. For both of them she held on.

  “God is love. How many times do we have to hear that before we finally get it through these mule-thick skulls of ours? God is love, God is love, God is love. And anyone who doesn’t love, is not of God. It don’t get any simpler than that, folks!”