War Room

by Chris Fabry

  Elizabeth had never tried to sell the house of anyone who seemed more interested in her life than in the sale. Clara wanted to know more about her relationship with Tony, more about Danielle, more about their whole family situation. When Elizabeth had a free afternoon, she told Danielle they would go to the park downtown together and she could jump rope or feed the pigeons. Then she got the idea of inviting Clara and the woman didn’t have to think twice about it.

  “That would be lovely,” she said. “I’ll be ready when you get here.”

  Danielle was a little nervous about meeting one of Elizabeth’s clients, but as soon as they pulled up to Clara’s house, the old woman doted on Danielle and talked to her like she was her own grandchild. They drove to the park downtown and ate sandwiches on a bench. Danielle had to show Clara what she could do with the jump rope and the woman seemed amazed.

  “When you said you jumped rope, I thought you just jumped rope. But look at you, girl! You’re faster than my coffee grinder! That’s amazing!”

  Danielle ate up the attention more than she did the sandwich. And then she gave the crust and crumbs to the squirrels and birds nearby.

  “She is really something,” Clara said. “I can see you in that little girl.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “I wish I had her energy.”

  Clara laughed. “You’ve told me a lot about her, but seeing you two together, well, it helps me pray better—more informed.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve found that God honors the specifics. You can pray for Him to bless this person and be so generic that you make God yawn. Or you can pray arrow prayers that get to the heart of what that other person is going through. Do you see what I mean?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “I’ve been trying to be as specific as I can with God. Sometimes I lose hope that He’s hearing me.”

  “Well, He heard what somebody prayed about that young thing,” Clara said, nodding at Danielle. “This was a treat for me, Elizabeth. I enjoy coming here. And your daughter is precious.”

  “She is. There are days I wish she had a brother or sister. We were just too busy chasing our careers. I don’t know that that was a wise thing to do.”

  “You don’t enjoy your job?”

  “There are days I do. I sold a house this morning, so that was good. I’d just rather have a good marriage than more money.”

  Clara looked tenderly at her as Danielle ran up to them.

  “Mom, can we get some ice cream? They sell it right over there.” She pointed to an ice cream shop nearby.

  Elizabeth turned to the older woman. “Miss Clara, would you like some ice cream?”

  “I’ll tell you what,” Clara said to Danielle. “If you go get the ice cream and let your mother walk me to the car, I’ll pay for it.”

  “Oh, no, no, no. I’m paying for it,” Elizabeth said.

  The old woman dug in her purse. “And rob me of a blessing? I’m paying, we’re all eating. I’ll take two scoops of butter pecan, please. In a cup.” She handed Danielle a twenty-dollar bill.

  “I’ll have one scoop of cookies and cream,” Elizabeth said. “And stay right there because we’re going to pull the car around and pick you up at the entrance.”

  “Okay,” Danielle said, beaming. “Can I have strawberry sherbet with gummy worms and chocolate syrup on top?”

  The combination turned Elizabeth’s stomach, but she gave her daughter a nod. Clara laughed as the girl walked away and they watched her carefully cross the street.

  “So what does a normal week for you look like?” Elizabeth said as they made the slow walk toward her car.

  “Well, my son drops in for an hour or two during the week. I go grocery shopping, an occasional doctor’s visit. I go to church service and midweek prayer meeting. Every now and then I drive to the cemetery to tend to Leo’s grave. And my girlfriends and I get together on Friday afternoon for coffee. Other than that, I read a lot and spend time with Jesus.”

  They neared the end of the alley where Elizabeth had parked the car.

  “I used to spend so much time with my girlfriends, before my job became—”

  “Hey!” a young man shouted, jumping out at them and clicking open a knife. He was white, wore a baseball cap backward, and had crazy-looking eyes. “Give me your money right now!”

  By pure instinct, Elizabeth moved close to Clara to protect her. Both were startled by the man and took a step backward. Elizabeth wanted to steady Clara and make sure she didn’t fall. She thought of Danielle and was glad she wasn’t with them. She’d always heard in a situation like this you should give the person robbing you what they wanted so no one got hurt.

  “Did you hear me? Both of you, give it to me now!”

  Elizabeth held out a hand to calm him. “Okay, okay, we’ll give you our money. Just please put the knife down.”

  “Do it, and do it now,” the robber said, holding the knife at eye level.

  Elizabeth opened her purse. It had happened so quickly. How could she not have seen him hiding? Shaking, she prayed the young man didn’t attack them. She prayed they would both just survive.

  Then she heard a voice, strong and determined, next to her.

  “No. You put that knife down right now. In the name of Jesus.” Not a hint of fear. Not a smidgen of nerves. Just a clear, strong voice that reverberated through the alley.

  The robber stared at Clara, then looked at Elizabeth. He seemed confused but still angry. He glanced down the alley and then back at them, finally lowering the knife.

  “Miss Clara, just give him your money. It’s not worth it.”

  But Clara would not be moved. She stood defiant as the robber glanced away, unable to hold her gaze. After a moment, his face changed and he seemed to panic. He took two steps to the side and ran past them toward the street.

  Elizabeth pulled out her cell phone and dialed 911. They found Danielle, the ice cream melting as she walked toward them.

  “What happened?” Danielle said, seeing the fear on her mother’s face.

  “We just had a run-in with a troubled young man back in the alley,” Clara said. “Did you get my butter pecan?”

  Elizabeth shook her head at her friend and they waited until a squad car arrived. Two officers listened to their story.

  “And you believe he was early twenties?” one officer said.

  “Yeah, maybe twenty-five,” Elizabeth said.

  Clara spooned the ice cream like she was ravenously hungry.

  “So let me get this straight,” the second officer said. “He was pointing a knife at you, and you told him to put it down in Jesus’ name.”

  Clara nodded and stretched out a hand. “Right. Now when you write that down, don’t you leave out Jesus. People are always leaving Jesus out. That’s one of the reasons we’re in the mess we’re in.” She went back to her ice cream and finished off the cup.

  The officers glanced at each other as if they didn’t know how to respond.

  “You know, what concerns me is that you could have easily been killed.”

  “Well, I know a lot of people would have probably given him their money. I understand that. But that’s their decision.”

  As the officers wrote information for the report, Clara leaned closer to Elizabeth and Danielle on the bench where they sat. “Are you not eating your ice cream, Elizabeth?”

  “No. I’m not hungry anymore.”

  “Let me help you out with that.” Clara reached for the cup. “No reason to waste perfectly good ice cream.”

  The officers stared at Clara as she dug into the cookies and cream.

  After the police report had been completed, Elizabeth drove Clara home. The woman invited both of them inside, and Elizabeth called Tony to let him know what had happened.

  When he answered, he sounded preoccupied. She knew he was on another trip and was probably heading into a meeting. She spoke anyway.

  “I don’t mean to bother you. I just thought you’d want to know I was held up today.”


  “Held up?”

  “As in robbed. The guy had a knife.”

  “Whoa! Where were you?”

  Elizabeth told him. She paced on Clara’s front porch, Danielle sitting in the swing alone with a book on her lap.

  “Yeah, that’s not the best part of town. Did he take anything?”

  “No.”

  “Good.”

  That was it? That’s all he could ask about?

  “What’s wrong?” Tony said. “You’re okay, right?”

  “Yes, we’re fine, but you could show a little more concern, Tony.”

  “Hey, there’s nothing I could do. I’m over here in—”

  “I know there’s nothing you could have done about it,” she interrupted him. “I’m just saying I was scared. And to think, Danielle could’ve been with us.”

  “I’m sure it was scary. But calm down. You’re okay.”

  “Well, I just thought you’d want to know.”

  “I do want to know. But it’s over now, Liz.”

  “Fine. Okay. We’ll talk later. Bye.”

  The insensitivity. The callous feeling. It oozed through the phone line. Did Tony even care? Had he ever cared?

  She ended the call, wanting to throw the phone through a window. But taking a deep breath, she turned to her daughter. “Danielle, can you read your book while I go talk with Miss Clara?”

  “Can I text Jennifer on your phone?” Danielle said, her face suddenly brightening.

  Elizabeth thought a moment. “Okay, but not too long. I want you to read, okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Clara was waiting in her sitting room with paper and pen.

  Elizabeth sat across from her. “I’m sorry. I just thought I should call Tony.”

  “I understand.”

  “You would think he would be more alarmed, but he kept saying that since we were all okay, I should just calm down.”

  The woman scowled, her lips moving and head wagging from side to side. “I’m having trouble calming down myself.”

  “Really? You seemed calm earlier.”

  “Yeah, but I got a huge sugar rush from all that ice cream. I feel like I could run around the block a few times.” Clara picked up her elbows and pretended to jog like an Olympic athlete.

  Elizabeth smiled. The old woman was full of surprises. Elizabeth learned something new about her with every meeting.

  “Oh, while we’re on the subject of Tony,” Clara said, “I have something for you to do.” She handed Elizabeth a legal pad and a pen.

  “What’s that?”

  “I want you to write down everything you can think of that he’s done wrong.”

  She shook her head and frowned. “Miss Clara, if I did that, I’d be writing a long time.”

  “Then just write down the highlights. I’ll be back to check on you in a little while.”

  Clara walked out and Elizabeth was left with the paper and her thoughts. She fought back the resentment, the childish feeling of being controlled and pushed into doing something she didn’t want to do. Instead, she did what she was asked.

  Forgot our anniversary last year.

  Puts his work over his family.

  Has said no to a pet in the house.

  Interrupts me when I try to share my feelings.

  Walks away during arguments.

  Looks at other women.

  Doesn’t lead his family spiritually.

  Once she started, it was like a flood. Instead of trying to list things in chronological order, she wrote them as they came—and sometimes they came so fast she just jotted down words so she wouldn’t lose the thought. She covered the first page and went to the next, and the more she wrote, the more things came to her. There were some struggles she couldn’t write because they were too intimate, so she put unmentionable. She was just getting momentum on the list when Clara returned and sat.

  “That’s almost three pages.”

  “And I could write more, but you’ll get the gist of it when you read it.”

  “Actually, I’m not gonna read it.”

  Elizabeth cocked her head at Clara, confused. The whole point was to tell her what Tony did wrong, wasn’t it?

  Clara leaned forward. “My question to you is this. In light of all these wrongs, does God still love Tony?”

  Elizabeth thought about the question. The theological answer was that God loved everyone. With regret in her voice, she said, “We both know He does.”

  “Do you?”

  Elizabeth tried not to look away, tried to stay right with Miss Clara. Tried not to laugh. “Now you’re meddlin’.”

  Clara smiled and waited. Elizabeth thought that this was what love often did, smile and wait.

  “There is love in my heart for Tony, but it’s buried under a lot of frustration.” Buried. That was the right word. Their relationship had been buried long ago, and though there was no stone above, she could only imagine the bones wasting away under the cold dirt.

  Clara nodded. “So he needs grace.”

  “Grace? I don’t know that he deserves grace.”

  Another penetrating look. “Do you deserve grace?”

  Suddenly Elizabeth felt exposed. This old woman knew how to get rid of a teenage robber with a knife. She also knew how to cut to the heart with a question.

  “Miss Clara, you have a habit of backing me up in a corner and making me squirm.”

  “I felt the same way. But the question still remains. Do you deserve grace?”

  Elizabeth looked at the pages filled with all the words she had written about Tony. She wondered what he would write if he had the same chance.

  “The Bible says, ‘There is no one righteous, not even one.’ So really, none of us deserves grace. But we all still want God’s forgiveness.”

  It was all Elizabeth’s Sunday school lessons rolled into one. God had been an important subject to Elizabeth her whole life, but the way Clara put it made it sound like He wasn’t a subject, He was everything. Grace had been a nice word in her vocabulary that she used to talk about God, but Clara was using it personally, pulling her toward the truth.

  “Elizabeth, it comes down to this: Jesus shed His blood on the cross. He died for you, even when you did not deserve it. And He rose from the grave and offers forgiveness and salvation for anyone who turns to Him. But the Bible also says that we can’t ask Him to forgive us while refusing to forgive others.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “I know, Miss Clara, but that’s just so hard to do.”

  “Yes, it is! Yes, it is! But that’s where grace comes in! He gives us grace, and He helps us give it to others. Even when they don’t deserve it. We all deserve judgment, and that is what a holy God gives us when we don’t repent and believe in His Son. I had to forgive Leo for some things, and it wasn’t easy. But it freed me.”

  Freedom. That was a word Elizabeth wanted so desperately, and it finally seemed to her that they went well together. Grace. Freedom. There were surely more good words to come after those.

  “Elizabeth, there’s not room for both you and God on the throne of your heart. It’s either Him or you. You need to step down. Now, if you want victory, you’re gonna have to first surrender.”

  Elizabeth pushed the thought away. “But, Miss Clara, do I just back off and choose to forgive and let him walk all over me?”

  “I think you’ll find that when you let Him, God is a good defense attorney. Trust it to Him. And then you can turn your focus to the real enemy.”

  “The real enemy?”

  “The one that wants to remain hidden. The one that wants to distract you, deceive you, and divide you from the Lord and from your husband. That’s how he works. Satan comes to steal, kill, and destroy. And he is stealing your joy, killing your faith, and trying to destroy your family.”

  The old woman was fiery now, like an old-time preacher just getting wound up and ready to pound the pulpit. “If I were you, I would get my heart right with God. And you need to do your fightin’ in
prayer. You need to kick the real enemy out of your home with the Word of God.”

  So many of Elizabeth’s conversations through the day were just words and concepts thrown back and forth. She really didn’t listen to much of it carefully. Like music played in the background to set a mood, conversations were the same thing. But this one was more than a conversation, more than just a few concepts thrown out between two people. She stared at Clara with a laser focus.

  “It’s time for you to fight, Elizabeth. It’s time for you to fight for your marriage! It’s time for you to fight the real enemy. It’s time for you to take off the gloves and do it.”

  Elizabeth felt a strength coming, a resolve. With an understanding of grace came a freedom to love she’d never experienced. She glanced at Clara’s Bible. She’d always thought of it as a book filled with stories. Lessons and tales of people who succeeded against great odds. But if Clara was right, it wasn’t just a storybook. It was a manual of warfare. It was a path toward deep forgiveness and love from God that could empower her to forgive and love others.

  Something came alive as she sat there. Something was reborn. And for the first time in a long time, Elizabeth found something she’d lost. Hope. Hope for herself. Hope for Tony and Danielle that things could be different. Hope for her family.

  She put a hand on the old woman’s shoulder and Clara hugged her. “You think about what I’ve said here.”

  “I will,” Elizabeth said in a daze. She brushed away tears all the way home and was glad Danielle didn’t ask questions.

  CHAPTER 8

  Tony stared at his phone. What he had heard from Elizabeth shook him. His wife had been assaulted. She had been in grave danger, or so she said. Elizabeth had always been a little dramatic, though. Maybe it had just been a person living on the street and she thought he had a knife. Maybe the guy just wanted a bottle and asked for change.

  He walked back into Veronica Drake’s office. He never took phone calls during a meeting, but he’d happened to see that Elizabeth was on the line and felt a pang of guilt that made him step out to take it.

  “Sorry about that,” he said.