by Tim LaHaye
Pastor Morton removed his glasses and placed his hands in his pockets without saying a word.
“Well, Dad, I was trying to think of why I never went along with everything you taught on Sundays,” she said. She ran her fingers through her hair. “I don’t mean to hurt you, Dad, but you’ve been so busy saving the world, it felt like most of the time you seemed to overlook our little corner of it. Guess I resented the church for taking you away from me so much.”
Pastor Morton took her hand. “Faith, oh, Faith. I’m so sorry, I—”
“Shh,” Faith said gently. “There’s something I want to say. I read right here,” she said, moving the paper aside and then picking up her Bible. “It’s in, like, 1 John 1:9. Anyway, it says, ‘If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.’”
Faith laid the Bible down. “I must have heard you quote that verse a hundred times since I was a kid, Dad. But now that I see how much I’ve blown it, I really do want to get right with God.”
Stan looked at Pastor Morton. They exchanged a smile.
“How about Stan, here, doing the honors,” Pastor Morton said, his eyes moist.
Stan waved him off. “Are you kidding? I’d probably blow it.”
Faith squeezed her dad’s hand. “C’mon, Dad.”
“Honey, you have no idea how happy this makes me,” Pastor Morton said, holding Faith’s hand. He reached for Stan’s hand, too, forming a circle. “Jesus, you say in your Word that you went to the cross, crowned with nothing more than thorns, and died. What a miracle when three days later you rose again. You died and now live so that each of us in this room can be changed and inherit eternal life.”
Faith added, “And, Jesus, please come into my heart and take away my sin. Amen.”
Stan said, “And I thought I had rockin’ news. Faith, this is beyond awesome. . . . Wait until I tell Jodi.”
Epilogue
Some of the events described in this novel may appear to be too shocking to be true. Some will insist these things couldn’t happen— certainly not in the United States of America.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
In reality, this account is based on a true story, many months of careful research, and interviews from those who previously worked, as Stan said, “on the dark side.”
At the same time, there are many hurting people who, like Faith, made a choice they now deeply regret. If you are one of them, there’s great news. A loving God longs to forgive and heal you. “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall be as wool” (Isaiah 1:18 NKJV).
Jesus invites you to embrace his grace. As Jodi said, it’s a gift from God we don’t deserve, can’t earn or buy, and is free for the asking.
—TIM LAHAYE and BOB DEMOSS
The authors would like to extend
their appreciation to:
Tim Bergeron, Carol Everett, Carole Griffin, Greg Johnson, Phil Keaggy, Don Lehrbaum, Ami McConnell, and Rebecca Wilson.
A special thanks to Bob’s wife, Leticia, and daughter Carissa, as well as Sharon DeMoss, and Robert and Dora DeMoss for their constant feedback, prayers, and support.
AN EXCERPT FROM
All the Rave
THE SECOND BOOK IN THE SOUL SURVIVOR SERIES
It was 10:33 P.M. Friday night. A seventeen-year-old girl lay curled in the fetal position on the second level of an abandoned warehouse in downtown Philadelphia. Though her eyes were slammed shut, in her mind she could see herself hovering, phantomlike, above her body.
The dark, rat-infested room where she lay crumpled on the floor spun out of control to the pulsating sounds she could hardly miss, yet couldn’t fully hear. A high-pitched frequency, like a carpenter bee looking for a place to drill, whirled in her right ear. She wanted to swat at the source of this annoyance, but her right arm remained unresponsive. Her legs felt numb, and she discovered that they, too, refused to respond when commanded to move.
Her throat was dry—yet somehow was as tacky as flypaper. She tried to swallow but was incapable of that simple task.
Her lungs, attempting to pull in the thick night air through her pierced nose, were greeted by a nasty mix of fumes and dust. She longed for just one full, clean breath of fresh air.
She struggled to fight back the waves of panic. What was happening to her? Why did her guts feel as if they were about to explode? Why was she perspiring when she felt so cold? Why was she wearing pixie wings and pink sneakers?
Just then, her tongue reported something was jammed into her mouth. Her teeth clamped down on its rubbery surface and wouldn’t let go. With some effort, she forced her mind to focus. Like the headlight of an approaching car on a foggy night, a dim recognition of the object cut a path through the haze in her head.
A pacifier. How odd.
As she struggled to make sense of the competing sensory input, she was vaguely aware of an acidic bile traveling between her stomach and throat. The bitter, brownish-yellow fluid ejected by her liver, like hot lava pushing its way against the surface, battled for immediate release.
More than anything she wanted to vomit.
Then got her wish.
Her mind raced in slow motion, searching for an explanation. Maybe it was a touch of food poisoning.
No. No. NO!
Look what you’ve done. Face it. You screwed up, big time. What are you on? She was fairly certain the voice echoing inside her head, though familiar-sounding, wasn’t her own.
Or was it? It was so difficult to tell.
Was she dead? Was this the last stop before hell? She knew she wasn’t ready to die. Certainly hadn’t planned to die.
She knew she couldn’t speak, yet a feeble voice from someplace inside whispered, Oh God . . . if you’re there, I could use a little help right about now. I . . . Jesus, I . . .
A sharp pain seared her left arm, interrupting her cry for help. The limb, which had been sandwiched between her body and the hardwood floor, throbbed and demanded to be recognized. She remembered something about a needle, a tranquilizer . . .
With a head full of unanswered questions, she passed out—again.
Also Available in the Soul Survivor Series
THE MIND SIEGE PROJECT
In the tradition of MTV's “The Real World”, eight high school juniors volunteer for a week on a houseboat in the name of experimental education. Rosie Meyer, the former Olympic silver medallist turned social studies teacher, dreams of her students learning first-hand the realities of tolerance and diversity. And learn they do. Although the students sail for a single week, the issues faced, the truths uncovered, and the lessons learned leave them changed for a lifetime.
ALL THE RAVE
More than 15,000 ravers have gathered for a 72-hour dance party at the waterfront warehouse in Philadelphia. Kat is strung out on drugs and next to her lies the body of a dead boy who overdosed; Heather falls in love with a college freshman who threatens to leave her with nothing but feelings of rejection and serious regret. Experiencing firsthand the dangers of an unguarded heart, the girls are forced to reevaluate God’s true place in their lives.
THE LAST DANCE
Spring is about to give way to summer and love is in the air. Heather Barnes has found the guy of her dreams, John Knox, a senior at a nearby high school whom she met in a Christian chat room. Although Heather has never actually “met” John in person, she plans to go to the prom with him against the advice of her best friend, Jodi Adams. Soon, Heather will discover John’s true identity. Can Jodi, Bruce, and Kat rescue Heather before it’s too late or will the prom be her last dance?
BLACK FRIDAY
Jodi Adams has landed her dream job as a summer intern at the local city paper, The Montgomery Times. This killer summer job will launch her senior year with a bang as she goes after the hard angle on an investigative piece on area hospitals. But when Jodi's reporting reveals information her employer do
esn't want to hear—much less publish—Jodi and Stan Taylor find that the information trail is vanishing before their eyes. Lives are at stake, and it looks like theirs could be next.
