by Wid Bastian
Tim paused for a minute and stood, reflecting on his experiences and how they helped shape the “new man” he’d become.
“Before God touched my heart, gentlemen, I never stopped to consider the awesome and simple majesty of His creation,” Tim admitted, arms folded behind his back as he slowly paced between the concrete boundaries of the porch as he spoke. “He gave us a beautiful home and everything we need to prosper. What does the Scripture say?”
“Every good and perfect gift is from above, and comes from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning,” Kenny quoted.
“I’m not at all surprised you chose that passage, brother,” Austin said, as he stopped walking and touched Kenny on the shoulder. “The truth found in St. James’ words now guide my life, leading me toward the grace and mercy of the Savior.
“In that incredibly brief period of time Gabriel held me there against that wall, the Lord infused my mind and soul with the reality of His existence and His ever presence in the world. Literally in an instant He changed forever the way in which I think, view myself, and all of creation. It was like being plugged into a divine super computer and receiving a massive download. To tell you brothers the truth, I’m still trying to sort all of it out, but His purpose for my life was forever burned into my heart and spirit that day. That’s why I’m here.”
“I can directly relate to what you experienced, Tim. To say what happened to you was a life changing event doesn’t begin to do it justice. I know how a direct link, however brief, to the Absolute Power can forever change a man, humble him, and force him to admit the error of his ways.” As Peter said this he recalled his own vision in the library. His awakening seemed now to have happened a lifetime ago, yet less than a year had passed since God first touched him.
“When Gabriel released me, he was no longer a homeless drunk, but rather a glorified angel. His brightness was so intense, so purely white, it was blinding. I looked around and saw other people walking by not ten feet away. They were oblivious to us, as if Gabriel and I did not exist. I realized that no one else had shared my experience.
“Before Gabriel disappeared, he showed me this prison, this circle, and he told me about you, Panos. ‘The Lord’s Messenger,’ he called you. Again it took me days, weeks really, to organize all of this in my mind. You should see it, gentlemen. I have notebooks filled with Scriptures, ideas, comments.”
“Sounds like at first you were confused,” Larry observed.
“Again, yes and no. Gabriel ‘flashed out,’ disappeared into a dense cloud of bright points of light. I found myself standing there alone on that New York sidewalk a totally different man than I had been just moments before. After Gabriel left the vomit was gone too, I was completely clean. People could see me again. I was back in the world.
“But I knew, more certainly than I had ever known anything in my life, that God exists, that my vision was real, and that I must discern and follow His call. The details were incomplete, but my transformation was absolute.”
“I had accumulated over six months worth of unused vacation time through my workaholic ways, so I told the FBI I needed a break, nothing more. Led by the Spirit, I drove up to Massachusetts to a small coastal village just north of Boston. It was quiet and serene. The town has a two-hundred-year-old Catholic parish. For days I walked, sat, prayed, and wrote, communicating only with the local priest who is an older and very spiritual man. While I did not share my vision with him, I told him that God had called me to His service and that at forty-seven years of age, I was quitting the FBI. He understood, he said, but he did not pry.”
“God sends us help in many ways, Tim. He uses people to fulfill His purpose, much of the time without their conscious knowledge,” Peter explained.
“As I prayed and walked and talked to Father Reilly, that’s the priest’s name, some of my confusion dissipated as my vision came into sharper focus. I’m here, brothers, first and foremost to be obedient to the Lord and through him to you, Panos, but I’m also here to try and put a stop to the unmerciful destruction of human life caused by our ungodly judicial system. The Lord has given me some profound inspiration as to how we, as a society, can vastly improve our efforts in these matters.”
“No doubt those ideas involve unpopular concepts like bringing God’s word to every inmate, pursuing compassion rather than revenge, and true efforts at rehabilitation,” Jose said.
“Yes, General Vargas, just as we have discussed,” Tim answered.
“I have to tell you, gentlemen,” Alex said, as he walked out from behind the camera and on to the “stage” of the library porch, “what I’m hearing all of you say, collectively, is that you want nothing less than a radical transformation of our culture, a movement away from our materialistic, violent, and self-centered ways toward a world based more upon the values each of you espouse through your testimonies: honesty, generosity, forgiveness, tolerance, love, and cooperation.”
“That is the essence of the revelation that the Lord gave me last summer, Alex, right over there in that library, not twenty paces from where you’re standing now,” Peter confirmed. “These men are the instruments of God’s plan, His willing servants. I believe the Lord intends for us to bring His message to the world directly and boldly.”
“To rid the world of hunger, disease, violence, prisons, and hate? You aren’t trying to accomplish very much, are you, Mr. Carson.” Alex was playing the role of on-camera interviewer.
“With God nothing is impossible, Mr. Anderson, as you and the rest of the world shall soon bear witness to. We are challenging mankind to realize its potential, to become all our Creator intended us to be. As the Lord said, ‘I am the way, the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.’ It is through Him that we shall advance, for without Him, we shall surely fail.
“The Lord granted us free will, Mr. Anderson. He gave us this beautiful home and all its riches. We are being held accountable by Him to use these gifts for the betterment and salvation of all humanity.”
“So that’s what this is all about, Mr. Carson, the betterment of humanity?” Alex asked.
“Indirectly, yes,” Peter answered. “But what this is all about is the Creator reminding the created that He is sovereign. Man is not above his Maker. We have become too proud, convinced that we reign supreme in the universe. But we are not gods, there is but one God.”
“It’s about humility then,” Alex probed.
“Yes, and through true humility, the ability to use God’s power in the ways He intended it to be used. We must stop wasting precious lives and time by indulging evil.”
“We proclaim to the world a better way to live, one in accordance with man’s true nature, one ordered by God.”
Fifteen
“That does not surprise me,” Peter said, as they walked around Parkersboro’s track. He and Alex were enjoying the fresh morning air and the peace and quiet that can best be found at dawn.
“How so?” Alex asked.
“According to the Orthodox calendar, this year June nineteenth is the Pentecost, the day God gave the Holy Spirit to the Apostles,” Peter replied.
“Interesting.” Alex’s inclination was still to offer explanations of events in worldly terms. “The network told me we could get June nineteenth from eight to nine p.m. because otherwise they would be rerunning some medical drama. That I promised them the show of their dreams, a ‘unique and unforgettable event,’ didn’t hurt either.”
“Worried?” Peter asked.
“Only that you’ll do exactly what you’ve promised to, Panos, and then God help us all.”
“We may need some of that help right about now,” Peter said, pointing across the prison grounds.
Two hundred yards away from where Peter and Alex were enjoying their leisurely stroll, they watched a steady stream of vehicles fill the prison’s small parking area. By the time the sun had fully risen, the lot was packed and cars were overflowing into the dirt field adjacent
to the camp. A line formed outside the main entrance. The curious and the faithful had arrived, or at least some of them. If today was anything like the past few days, the human procession into Parkersboro would continue on well into the evening.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Alex said, as he and Peter continued to make their way very deliberately around the oval, sipping coffee as they walked. “All these people seeking the Almighty at a Federal prison. These folks are starting to believe that you’re Moses, Jeremiah, and John the Baptist all rolled into one.”
“Did you get a chance to interview Melissa and Britney yesterday, the mother and daughter who had driven all day and night from Ohio to get here?” Peter asked, ignoring Alex’s reference to the prophets.
“Yes sir. They are on tape and they have lots of company. I’d say you’ve had more documented miracles occur here at Parkersboro during the past eleven months than the Catholic Church has recognized over the previous fifty years.”
“Those two especially touched my heart, Alex,” Peter continued. “Imagine being ten years old and getting melanoma, then being told you had maybe a year to live.”
“But the mother, Melissa, refused to believe it,” Alex added, recalling his mental notes from the interview. “She never believed that her child was going to die.”
“No, she didn’t,” Peter agreed. “Then the Lord told her in a dream to come here. She hadn’t seen any of the media coverage; Melissa had no way of knowing who I was or what was going on at Parkersboro.”
“Faith,” Alex said. “Like all the rest of them, they come by and in faith. They believe, they hope, and some, like Melissa, claim that they absolutely knew that their prayers would be answered here.”
“Melissa had no doubts.” As Peter spoke, they quickened their pace a bit, both aware that their few moments of stolen serenity would soon be over. “She walked right in and picked me out. I hadn’t really even begun to pray over Britney, I don’t think I’d gotten out a full sentence, when the child started laughing.”
“What was it she said?” Alex asked.
“She said, “Mommy, it tickles.”
“People will most certainly allege that we doctored the film on that one, Peter.” In fact, Alex Anderson was quite sure that all of his footage would be challenged by skeptics, religious and scientific alike.
“It was unbelievable. I stopped praying and opened my eyes when Britney spoke, and I could see her lesions disappearing, fading away to nothing. The cancer, the evil, could not survive the power of her mother’s faith.”
“Are you saying you didn’t heal her, Panos?” Alex phrased his question in such a way as to deliberately rekindle their on-going debate.
“I don’t heal anyone, Alex. You should know that by now. The power of the Living God heals them.”
“Yes, Peter, I do know that, but … ” Alex was not allowed to finish his thought.
“No ‘buts,’ Alex,” Peter said, as he stopped walking and firmly took hold of Alex’s arm. “Britney’s healing, perhaps even more than some others, should have been a lesson for you. She was healed at Parkersboro and not in Ohio only because the Lord wants to use the miracle for His purposes, not because I was here. They didn’t need me at all.”
“Are you trying to tell me something, my friend?” Alex said, looking down at the firm grip Peter had on his bicep.
“Most definitely, Alex. It’s what I asked of you back at the estate. Do not glorify me or the brothers, glorify God. We are nothing, convenient and willing servants only. We neither seek, nor want, any credit or fame.”
“And like I told you, Panos,” Alex replied, as he reached out and grabbed Peter’s arm to demonstrate his own emphasis. “It’s not that easy. Like it or not, God chose you as His prophet, and in that role you are highly visible.”
“I prefer the term ‘messenger’ it’s more accurate and less presumptuous.”
“Just be glad Larry didn’t get his way,” Alex shot back, smiling broadly. “Otherwise we’d be calling you St. Peter.”
“Lord have mercy.” Peter did not have the strength to argue about this for the hundredth time with Alex. Besides, Gail had opened the prison to the masses. It was time to do the Lord’s work.
“I’ve been keeping a log, Panos,” Larry said. “Since you returned from Atlanta, we’ve had three thousand six hundred and twenty visitors, not counting today’s group. I’ll bet there are five hundred or more people out there right now.”
“Five hundred and thirty-one, as of ten minutes ago,” Gail confirmed, as she walked up behind Larry and Kenny who, perched in chairs and sitting behind a portable picnic table, had become the unofficial greeting committee for the Parkersboro Federal Prison Camp and Sanctuary. Peter and Alex were standing directly behind them, nodding and saying hello to the people making their way inside.
“Miss McCorkle,” Alex asked, “how have you been able to handle all of this activity? More than a bit unusual for a federal prison facility, wouldn’t you agree?”
“By ‘handle’ I’m sure you mean, Mr. Anderson, how have I been able to keep the BOP regional office in Raleigh off of our backs? You’ll have to ask Peter about that. Everyday now, I’m thoroughly amazed when I come to work and I still have a job. No, check that. I’m amazed that I’m not yet under arrest.”
“Peter?” Alex asked.
All Panos did was point up at the sky and smile.
“We’ve had no complaints, and no contact beyond the routine with Raleigh,” Gail explained. “We answer the phone, try to sound normal. I guess they don’t watch television up there or read the newspapers.”
“What would happen if one of your supervisors saw what was going on here, all these people moving in and out, the lack of security, etc.?” Alex knew the answer before he asked the question, but he wanted to quote Warden McCorkle accurately when the time came.
“Like I said, I’d be fired and probably arrested,” Gail admitted. “Now ask me if that worries me in the least.”
“Well, does it?”
“Everyday I get to see people healed of physical disease, mental anguish, every type of human suffering imaginable. No one leaves here the same, Mr. Anderson, everyone’s faith is strengthened and hope renewed. So, as far as I’m concerned, I could care less about the BOP. God’s got my back, I serve Him without reservation. I’m very blessed.”
And with that Gail stepped away from Alex and Peter to help a child of five or so, whose body was obviously wracked by sickness to come over and shake Peter’s hand. Peter did more than that, he picked up the frail youngster and gave him a hug and a kiss and said “God bless you” before returning him to his mother’s arms.
“What time do the services begin, Brother Peter?” the attractive young mother asked.
“In about twenty minutes,” Peter told her. “Just follow the crowd outside. You’ll see the chairs all set up on the lawn in front of the porch.”
“And what, may I ask, is the topic of your sermon today, Brother Peter,” Gail teased sarcastically, noticing the flirtatious glances the young mother flashed his way.
“Humility,” Peter sighed, “our constant and never-ending battle against the sin of pride. It seems to be that … ”
Peter was interrupted in mid-sentence by a blood curdling scream, followed shortly by another. The pitch of each was distinct; it was obvious that the cries came from two different people.
Malik ran into the lobby, Saul was right behind him.
“Mr. Pete, sir. Come quick, bro. We need you outside.” The look on Malik’s face conveyed imminent danger. Saul was white as a sheet.
In the few seconds it took for Peter to exit the administration building and scramble outside, the screams continued, as did other sounds of general distress. When Peter reached a vantage point from where he could see the stage, he gasped in horror at the scene laid out before him.
A prisoner no one had ever paid much attention to, Warren Sutton, was standing near the rostrum covered in blood. At his feet lay the bodies of t
wo inmates, a pair that had neither embraced, nor were openly hostile to, the spiritual revival at Parkersboro. Both of the dead men had been horribly mutilated, no doubt by the very large and bloody knife Warren was holding in his right hand.
Warren’s left arm was wrapped around a little girl of no more than three. She appeared to be too traumatized to scream, her eyes as big as saucers, and fixed on the blade Warren was dangling a few inches from her face.
“Saul?” Peter asked.
“Oh yeah. I’m sure it’s our old pal Legion. He’s brought company, too. They’ve come in force.” Saul kept close to Peter, using him as a shield against that which frightened him to the depths of his soul.
“Panos Kallistos.” Warren, or rather what used to be Warren, spoke in a low and guttural manner completely unlike Sutton’s usual mid-range Southern twang.
“Put the child down. Now!” Peter ordered.
“Panos Kallistos. You have no idea what you are doing,” the demon said. “You are a child playing with matches, and if you are not careful, you will burn the whole house down.”
“I said in the name of Christ, release the child!” Peter’s rage was evident; his righteous anger directed at his only true enemy, Satan.
Warren’s face then began to change, to twist into a series of hideous, fleshly masks. He began to shake and drool. His skin turned an odd shade of dull purple as if his entire body had become one giant bruise. But he did not let go of the child.
The crowd, that to this point had backed off but had not yet fled, now became a herd of skittish sheep. Most of them scattered in all directions, but more than a few remained, their curiosity and fascination being greater than their fear.
“Kallistos, you are so green. Such a f***ing lap dog. Do you think Christ is the only power in this universe, or even on this pathetic little planet? You s*** eating monkeys are so proud of yourselves! How little you really know.” Warren’s face twisted in a series of bizarre distortions as he spoke.
“You cannot defy Christ, of that I am completely sure.”
