Nature. God didn’t always paint a pretty picture. A brutal death was nothing short of horror. Why would God allow such ugliness? The old argument about sin in the world seemed ill fit to explain all the horrors perpetrated on the creatures existing on the earth. The innocent suffered right along with the guilty, and there didn’t seem to be any plausible explanation ― or reason ― why.
She glanced at the roadway leading out of the compound. An old man, covered in what Susannah assumed was some kind of tribal scarification, stood just off the track beside a thicket of brush. His unwavering stare made her uncomfortable.
A noise from the dining area caused her to glance in that direction. The others were drifting toward their assigned tasks. She looked back. The man was gone. Shaking her shoulders as if she were shrugging off a shroud, she turned away.
Bluebirds, rainbows, lions, bears, and scary old men, how did they all tie together, and how did they involve her?
***
The chill air, compounded by aching feet, back, and an empty stomach urged her a little closer to the fire than her usual distance. She stared into the flames, mesmerized by images, not of Bobby, but of three men walking amidst the fire, praising God, trusting Him with their lives. If you hold onto Me, your faith, the flames will not burn you.
The vision changed. The flames disappeared, replaced by the dim interior of a subterranean room. Smokey torches set in wall-mounted sconces cast more shadow than light, leaving most of the room dark. Within the small circle of torch light, Susannah could see white walls and a bare floor with a rough wooden table in the center.
In the periphery, several men wrestled with another. The two overcame the third, forcing him into the light and onto the table. They strapped him down. When the two men stepped back, Susannah could see the man’s face. It was Brian Falun.
A man covered in scarification, exactly like the old man she had seen beside the road, emerged from the shadows.
“The spirits want blood, more blood, before they grant our petitions.”
He held a long curved knife up to the firelight. The blade flashed. Brian screamed and flailed at his bindings. The small table shook, threatening to collapse. The two men rushed forward and restrained him.
The scarred man spoke again. “You broke the rules, and now your blood will feed the nganga. It will satiate the spirits – if you scream enough.”
The scarred man turned toward a large cauldron and grasped one of several tall intricately carved wooden sticks. He stirred something in the cauldron, and turned back toward Brian.
At first, the man appeared naked, but a more careful scrutiny revealed he wore a loincloth of some foreign fabric. No, it wasn’t cloth. Susannah’s stomach rolled. It was skin, human skin.
She tried to turn away, but the vision stayed within her sight regardless of where she looked.
In the far corner, barely discernable in the dim light, were children, caged like animals, lambs awaiting sacrifice.
Susannah screamed. “No!”
The man’s head snapped in her direction. His eyes flashed red.
***
Susannah and Barbara sat in chairs on the small veranda in front of their chalet.
“I know it isn’t any of my business, Susannah, but I know something happened back there by the fire.”
Susannah hesitated a moment, then plunged ahead. “I have premonitions, and sometimes – I see other things. Tonight, I saw some kind of satanic ritual. It was horrible, and children, there were children held in cages. Earlier, I saw a man covered in the same kind of scarification standing beside the road.”
“You need to talk to Dr. Forrester.”
“Why? What good would talking do? I’ve been to counselors, and first of all they wouldn’t believe me and second, even if they did, how would that change anything?”
A lion roared from somewhere across the lake and Susannah felt goosebumps rise on her arms.
“Remember, Susannah, God saved Daniel from the lions.”
Susannah shivered. “Needing to be saved has me a bit worried.”
Chapter Fifteen
The entire staff assembled after breakfast for a brief prayer.
Dr. Forrester bowed his head. “Dear Lord, please take our feeble and humble efforts and magnify them as you did the few loaves and fishes that we may feed the world, as you did the mass of humanity at your feet. Amen.” He clapped his hands. “Okay, troops, let’s load up.”
Barbara and Susannah climbed into the back of the Land Rover. Phillip slid behind the wheel and Dr. Forrester took the front passenger seat. The mission van swung in behind.
As they pulled out of the compound, Susannah looked back at the lake. The rising sun shimmered on the water and glistened on the surrounding foliage still wet from the evening rain. Hippos stood on the shore, basking in the early sun. A few crocs cruised the shoreline, and there just to the left of the chalet, stood the old man. Seconds later, he melted back into the bush.
She turned back toward the front. Who was he and what did he have to do with her? She heard the old Indian’s answer to her question of why she was to go to Africa. “It’s time to issue a challenge.” She pulled her coat tighter.
After eleven hours of grueling travel, interspersed with dispensing food and clothing, Susannah lay on her back in another chalet, staring at yet another thatched roof. She no longer worried about insects. Instead, scarred men, and caged children were the focus of her concern. What exactly did this new vision mean? Who was the old man with the scars?
Instead of answers, she saw a long dark tunnel lined with locked doors. With no other place to go, she stood at the edge of the hall, a vast expanse of space stretching out beneath her. There was no earth, no moon, or sun. A step forward would propel her into the unknown, falling for eternity, or landing on firm ground, invisible until she took that leap of faith. Did she have enough faith to take that step?
In her imagination, she leapt from the edge. Rather than fall, she flew as if she had wings. In a flash of revelation, she understood it was her faith holding her up. What was the scripture, something about being raised up on eagle’s wings?
Wrapped in a blanket of peace, she drifted off into a deep sleep.
A knock at the door signaled another early day, another quick breakfast. Before the sun emerged from a bank of clouds, they were bouncing along another rough, dirt track. This time there were no herds of animals to observe, except cows. Cattle stood along the roadside and in adjacent fields, here and there interspersed with herders and small huts.
The frequency of huts became denser, more clustered, as they neared the main highway. The number of pedestrians increased with the buildings, many thumbing for rides, others milling at bus stops, most barely noticed their vehicle. A few stopped, smiled, and waved. Susannah always smiled and waved back.
It was well after dark when they pulled into the next mission. It lay in the center of a small village instead of an isolated compound, and consisted of a few chalets, a dining area, and a small chapel.
After a hasty meal, the exhausted staff and volunteers drifted off to their rooms.
It seemed she had just closed her eyes when the hated knock startled her awake. She dressed, shivering in the cold air, and hurried over to the dining hut. After fixing a cup of instant coffee, she joined the rest of the crew crowding around a fire.
She cradled her cup and stared up at the sky, another gray dawn with cool temperatures. It was ironic. She left Spokane after it finally turned warm, and came to Africa during its winter season. Was it symbolic, the cold, gray weather mirroring the winter in her heart?
Susannah shook her head. A bit over dramatic, and yet it did describe exactly how she felt, gray like the cloud filled sky, devoid of color, devoid of warmth, or anything resembling a spark of life. Her world, her life, played out within varying shades of gray.
The grueling schedule of food and clothing distribution kept her mind as well as her body busy, but in the quiet moments, her grief explo
ded, bringing back all the heartache. There were no tears, but the pain was palpable. What kind of life awaited her after Africa? Would this challenge, or whatever it was, change her future? Did she even have a future?
With a deep sigh, she pushed the thoughts away. She still had several weeks left in her stint as a pseudo-missionary. She didn’t really mind the work. The poverty and the desperate living conditions of the people tugged at her heart. Even if nothing else came of the trip, she knew she had helped in a small way.
After the meal and a short prayer service, they headed out again, traveling all day, pulling into another mission village at sunset. However, that evening’s sky was one of the most spectacular sunsets Susannah had seen since arriving on the African continent. The air seemed literally ablaze with golden fire. Birds flew pirouettes against the skyline and she could hear hippos out in the river. African drums reverberated between the villages.
Almost as a reflex, Susannah scanned the area for a now too familiar form of an old man. Nothing but bush as far as she could see.
After dinner, Dr. Forrester asked Susannah and Barbara to meet him in the small office.
“Barbara tells me you have had an experience I should know about.”
Susannah glanced at Barbara.
“I knew you’d never approach him on your own and I think it is very important you tell him what you told me.”
“I don’t know. That hasn’t worked out well in the past.”
Dr. Forrester nodded. “I understand your hesitancy, but you are among friends and fellow Christians. We’ll understand.”
“I’ve heard that before. They all think that until I tell what I’ve seen. Then their attitude changes to skepticism and disbelief. My stories aren’t pretty ― or uplifting. They’re just ugly. Except one.”
“From ugly comes the beautiful, Susannah.”
“I am waiting for the beautiful to emerge.”
“The beautiful is sometimes disguised, and it takes another point of view, a trained opinion, to illuminate the lesson, and turn the experience from ugly to the sublime.”
“Sublime? I certainly wouldn’t use that word.”
“Even so, we would like to help carry your burden, Susannah, if you’ll allow us.”
How could they help carry her burden? She was the one with the premonitions, the one who physically confronted the monsters, with good and bad results. How could she adequately explain what she still didn’t fully understand herself?
Setting all that aside, what good would it do to talk about it anyway? In the past, it caused heartache. Only her parents, and Rachel, accepted this gift, curse, or whatever it really was. She didn’t really know these people that well. How would they react? Would they treat her differently afterward? Then, did it matter? In a few more weeks, she’d go home and probably never see either of them again. That wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to remain close to both of them.
Yet, they seemed sincere. Had either of them experienced the supernatural? If so, they’d be more receptive, right?
Oh Lord, what would You have me do?
Trust.
Susannah looked up. Dr. Forrester and Barbara waited with patient expressions. Trust. All right, she’d trust.
She closed her eyes, shifting through her memories, searching for a starting point.
“I had this dream….”
Neither Dr. Forrester nor Barbara spoke during her narration, and as far as she could tell, they were interested. Even so, her hands were sweating and the butterflies in her stomach threatened to do more than flutter by the time she finished.
“…and then the man shouted, ‘Intruder!’”
Dr. Forrester spoke first. “First, Susannah, I do believe your dreams and this old Indian are of a divine nature. The Bible is filled with stories of God speaking to His people through dreams and through angelic messengers, both in the Old and New Testament. He often chooses those the world thinks are the least suitable, but their very weaknesses manifest His glory. I don’t need to list them, I am sure you are very aware of those stories.
“Only God fully understands why He picks certain souls to experience these things. We cannot understand with just our limited knowledge. This is where faith and trust must step forward.”
Susannah nodded. “I have certainly heard that plenty of times.”
“For a reason. It’s true. Over and over Jesus stipulated the importance of faith and trust.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs. “As for the vision of the scarred man, the locals have been flocking to authorities with claims about a cult taking their children and using them for sacrifices to their demonic god, which of course is Satan, expertly disguised as some all-powerful deity.”
“Right. The Great Deceiver. How can God allow it? I know, free will, fallen world, all the usual platitudes, and clichés. But, why do the innocent have to suffer? Why can’t He save the children?”
“Age isn’t a factor when it comes to suffering. Look at the massacre of the Innocents in the New Testament. Atrocities abound in the Holy Book as well in our lives. And will continue as long as there is sin.
“What you need to focus on, are the ways God calls you to alleviate the suffering of others.”
“Starfish.”
Dr. Forrester nodded. “Exactly. Starfish. Remember that.”
He leaned back in his chair and laid his hand on an old tattered Bible. “It is natural to allow anger and resentment to build after seeing such horrors, but God’s commandment to love our enemies still stands. Love and forgive.”
“I don’t think that’s possible.”
“It is, Susannah. I can show you how it is possible, if you will allow me.”
Images of monsters and horrible crimes flashed through her mind in rapid sequence, followed by scenes of charging bears and roaring lions. Susannah swallowed. “Maybe.”
“Think about it. Let me know when you feel ready, and we will have a private talk.”
“Thank you, I’ll think about it.”
She stood and went outside, pausing to stare up at the sky. No wonder God used that as an illustration when speaking with Abraham about his descendants. The stars were truly as numerous as sand upon a beach. Sand. Starfish. Each life mattered. And, she wasn’t really alone. There were many individuals and organizations working diligently to reduce suffering. If all those lives were added together, would they be as numerous as the stars and grains of sand?
A yawn interrupted her thoughts, too much deep philosophy for a tired brain. She hurried across the compound to the women’s sleeping quarters, rushed through her nightly routine, and climbed into bed. Sleep came quickly and without dreams.
She woke before the usual wake up call. Even Barbara was still asleep. Slipping out of bed, she dressed and stepped outside. The cook had already built a fire and probably had hot water ready for coffee, industrious soul, always the first up, and the last to bed. She shouldn’t complain too much about her schedule.
Susannah mixed her coffee and sat in one of the rattan chairs circling the fire pit. She gazed across the compound to the bush and allowed her thoughts to drift. As her mother once told her, all was well at the moment. Don’t go borrowing trouble that isn’t there. Why was it so difficult to focus on the present? Why did her mind want to worry about the future and conjure up possibilities that may never happen?
Her quiet reverie came to a halt as the rest of the mission staff sauntered out and joined her beside the fire. She smiled. That was okay too. Too much introspection usually dampened her spirits and she was tired of feeling glum. Thinking of that, would she feel different if she forgave the monsters and quit harboring hate? Imagine waking up each day eager to start her tasks instead of dragging herself out of bed ready to cry instead of smile. Would that even be possible? What would it hurt to take Dr. Forrester up on his offer?
The cook called them to breakfast. After the meal, they filtered off to their assigned tasks. Susannah spent the morning and early afternoon sorting clothing an
d other essentials and dispensing them to the long line of local women. At times, they seemed as numerous as the stars and the grains of sand, and that was okay. At the end of the day, all of the starfish would be safe, at least for one more day.
Chapter Sixteen
Late that same afternoon, the old Indian appeared next to the sorting table. His sudden appearance startled her.
“It’s been a long time. I thought you’d forgotten me.”
He cocked his head and smiled. “Was that a wish, Susannah?”
She shrugged.
“Come. I have something to show you.”
He led Susannah out of the compound onto a narrow path between the Wait-A-Bit thorn bushes, moving deep into the bush. They finally emerged into a clearing. In the center stood a small building, similar to most of the native huts.
They stepped into the interior. It was empty, except for a square hole in the center of the floor. A rickety wooden ladder lean them into a subterranean chamber. Flickering light danced at the end of what appeared to be a long corridor.
The narrow passage opened into a chamber lit by torches. In the center was a crude table. Over against one wall was a fire. A large cauldron of some sort hung over it.
Further inside the dark chamber, she heard the weeping of children.
Taking one of the torches from the wall, she followed the sound. A group of boys and girls sat huddled in the corner. Something moved in her periphery. The children screamed. Susannah raised the torch. The chamber was empty except for her and the children.
She gestured for them to come. They shook their heads and scuttled further back. One child pointed at something behind Susannah. She turned. It was the old Indian.
He beckoned the children. They stood and followed him out of the chamber. Susannah trailed behind. Again, she saw movement just out of her sight and felt an ominous presence.
She raised the torch and swept the corridor with its light. The space was empty. She turned and hurried after the children.
And Then Came A Lion (Lions and Lambs Book 1) Page 12
