Day 3
“This is so perfect,” Bethany said, her head resting against my chest as we laid watching the early morning sun. “I want every morning to be like this.”
“What about the night? That was no small occurrence.”
Bethany crawled up my body. We came face to face. She pressed her nose against mine.
“You’ve got to stop being such a pig,” she said in her early morning voice, her eyes peering right into mine. She pressed her soft lips against mine.
I held a firm grip on her tiny waist then ran my hands to her breasts, running my thumbs across her nipples. Her whole body quivered.
“What if I don’t stop being a pig?” I asked.
“I’ll walk out the door and never come back,” she teased.
“You’re not going anywhere,” I said taking a firmer hold on her.
“What’s gonna stop me?”
“This,” I entered Bethany’s body.
“Ohhhh,” she purred. “I didn’t ask for that.”
“I felt like taking it.”
“Bad boy,” Bethany said tasting my lips.
“When I give it, you’ll take it and like it.”
She wrapped her arms around me as I took her for a ride that lasted well into the morning.
“You’re too beautiful for words,” I said to the Doll as she layed buried under the sheet, just her head protruding. I accented my sentiment with a kiss while running my fingers through her tossed hair.
Bethany smiled and said: “I’m hungry.”
“What a romantic. You’re hungry. You want me to feed you again?”
Bethany smiled with a leer in her eyes. She was such a sex kitten.
“I know; pig, pig, pig,” I said.
“The only pig I want is Canadian bacon in an omelet.”
“Some French Toast would be nice.”
“Remember you used to make me French Toast? That was nice.”
“I wish I could do it now. I’d give you anything in the world. Just ask.”
“You’re the best. Let’s have room service; your French Toast, my omelet. We’ll have breakfast in bed. That’s romantic.”
I ordered room service then began my two hundred fifty push-ups and one hundred sit-ups, not bothering to put on any clothes. With the exception of the lack of attire, this was my normal routine in Brazil. I was still in that rhythm.
“Wow, that’s hot,” Bethany purred as she watched, still under the sheets. “You’re really getting the body of an athlete.”
“Thanks,” I said never breaking my stride. “Like I said I did a lot of walking in Brazil. I’m gonna be in the mix with Marines and I wanna fit right in.”
Bethany continued to stare at me. I gave her a wink. The whole routine took me ten minutes.
“Now I’m hungry,” I said walking back to the bed. “Where’s room service?”
“Come here,” Bethany said in a playful way.
“What?” I asked standing before her.
My Doll balled up her fist and socked me in the abdomen.
“Hey!” I exclaimed.
“I always wanted to do that.”
“Well?”
“If you must know, it hurt,” she said shaking her wrist. “You’re a brute.”
“Serves you right. But I’ll be a nice guy. Come let me kiss it and make it better.”
“Here,” Bethany said pouting like a little girl.
I took her hand and gave it a soft peck. The sight of Bethany’s naked body in the daylight aroused me. My kisses began to trail up her arm, to her neck and chest. I pushed her down on the bed. Bethany ran her hand along my chest and biceps.
“You’re hot, Dylan.”
I looked into her eyes and she looked into mine. We knew what was next.
“Room service,” a man called after knocking on the door.
“Uh-oh,” I said.
“Food!” Bethany said.
“It can wait,” I said taking a nibble of her sweet neck.
I tried to slip in between her legs.
“Put that thing away before someone gets hurt,” she said giving the head of my erect member a quick slap then pulling away.
“There’s only one way to get rid of this.”
“That’s on you. I gonna have my omelet.”
“Pig,” I said shaking my head.
Bethany threw on my denim work shirt; I slipped into the bathroom before the food was delivered then exited once he left. Bethany had already started on her omelet.
“Thanks for waiting,” I said.
“I’m hungry,” Bethany said, devouring the omelet like it was her last meal. “This is so delicious!”
I watched my Doll as she ate, my shirt falling off her shoulder. Maybe it was the ‘satisfied woman’ thing, but Bethany glowed. She was truly a flawless beauty. She caught me looking at her and smiled with a mouthful of omelet.
“So are you,” I said wanting to taste her more than my waiting breakfast.
“What do you normally do on Sunday afternoon?” I asked over breakfast.
“Just crash. The kids here study all the time. I’m no different. After church, unless I have a paper or an exam, I sleep.”
“What about Ava? I can’t see her spending all day in bed.”
“She doesn’t go to church so she sleeps till noon. Sometimes her boyfriend comes in on the weekend, so she’s away with him. Ava’s funny. She loves Jesus but she doesn’t believe in the Bible. She’s very spiritual and likes mystical things, like crystals and channeling energy and Ouija boards. That stuff creeps me out.”
“I had a Ouija board when I was a kid. I liked all that---ghosts and cemeteries ---”
“Oh my God, you did not!”
“Yes, I did.”
“Thank God you got saved! Ava’s not into cemeteries. She says she’s into love. She would make a good Christian. She loves everybody.”
“A good Christian?”
“Yeah, she treats everybody with love and respect. Like you always say; ‘the way Christians are supposed to act; show the love of God to everyone they meet.’”
“That’s like the atheist who says ‘I wish I met Christ before I met Christians.”
“I never heard that before. But most Christians are good. People just have a wrong impression. Even Ava. She thinks I’m a bad Christian cause I’m Pro-Choice.”
“Ava’s Pro-Life? She seems so ‘hippy-dippy’ ‘anything goes.’”
“She loves children like no one I’ve ever seen. She interns at this orphanage. Ave invented me to some Pro-Life rally cause she thought all Christians were against abortion.”
“Were you always Pro-Choice?”
“I’m against abortion. I think it's murder. But I have trouble dictating to women what they can and can’t do with their bodies. I’m more pro civil rights than any ethical, moral or religious issue.”
“You think it's murder? At what point? Late term…conception?”
“Not conception. Once the baby starts to form, has a shape and some vital signs; that’s murder. Ava believes it’s at conception. She thought I would too. She gave me these websites to check out. I haven’t yet but when I get the time I will. Who knows, I might change my mind about conception, but never about individual rights. And some parents are monsters. They do terrible things to children. I believe an unborn child is better in the arms of God than a child that comes to term and is with monster parents. We’re spiritual beings. God knew Jeremiah before He formed Him in the womb. God knows those unborn kids before they’re even created. They are better off with Him in Heaven.”
“Did we have this talk before? Everything you said could have come from my mouth.”
“Ava also believes in the spiritual aspect. She says the fetus is so brutally torn from the womb it can only create negative energy.”
“And what…it’s comes back and kills everyone in sight? I don’t know about that.”
Bethany raised an eyebrow at this. A good story to write? Not from my pen. Or maybe I’ll put it on the backburner. She came back to Earth and continued.
“Ava is really good with children. Watching her discipline those kids; she never yells, she reasons with them and gets them to see why their behavior is bad, even the little ones. That reminds me of how my mother was with me and Allie.”
“You needed disciple? Oh, what a surprise!”
“Shut up! I was a good girl! I told you my mother thought I was abnormal cause all I did was sit around and read. If I ever did act up all my mother had to do was put a book in my hand and I would shut up.”
“I have to remember that.”
“Why do I bother talk to you? I remember one time Momma and I were in this bookstore at the mall and she bought me two books but I wanted one more. I threw a fit.”
“No.”
Bethany shot me a look.
“Momma put back the two she was going to buy and we left. I really wanted the books so I apologized. I never acted up again.”
“Why did your mother think you were abnormal?”
“Cause a little kid should be running around playing not sitting under a tree reading. Yeah, I played with my friends---but a book really did it for me.”
“That’s not abnormal. It’s just doing what you want.”
“Whatever.”
“Then again you are abnormal,” I said
Bethany raised an eyebrow.
“Abnormally beautiful.”
My Doll shook her head with a smile.
“What do you want our kids to be like?” I asked
“A mixture of both; playing and studying.”
I thought for a moment.
“What about Allie? Does she like to read?”
“She would read when she saw me reading. But she’s like you, she likes TV. Especially those old shows… you know The Munsters, The Beverly Hillbillies, I don’t know how she got into them. Nobody in my family watches them. You two would get along.”
“How old is she again? Seven? I can’t wait to meet her---and your whole family.”
“I’d like to meet your family. Isn’t there anybody?”
“Not really. My parents are gone; I don’t have siblings.”
“You have few friends. What a man of mystery.”
“There are friends in New York and San Francisco if you need a background check.”
“I might. You could be some deranged killer posing as a deeply religious man whose backyard is filled with buried corpses of missing ex-wives and pretty girls. Wow! Now I’m sounding like Allie. She watches all those true crime shows. She once asked my mother to call the cops on one of our neighbors she thought was profiled on one of those crazy shows.”
“I like her already. Wouldn’t it be great if we had a daughter like her?”
“Do you think we would?”
“We both like to study and analyze things.”
“Or what if we had a kid not like us; hated school, didn’t want to go to church…”
“I’d say she was a brat, just like her mother,” I joked.
“I’m serious. What would we do?”
“Love her and encourage her. And no matter what she did, make sure it wouldn’t land her in jail or drug addicted.”
“And you would be alright with that?” Bethany asked a little puzzled.
“Yeah.”
“Raising kids is a difficult thing.”
“Why don’t you wait until you graduate and get married before you start thinking about that.”
“You’re right. But I just know our kids are gonna be the best of the best!”
“True.”
In Brazil I either attended or conducted church services. Today I longed to sit in the back of a traditional American house of worship and just listen. That is coming straight from the church without walls guy; the one who took ‘when two or three are gathered in my name I’ll be there’ literally.’ Bethany knew the perfect spot if ‘spot’ is a word that can be used to describe church.
“I like campus fellowship,” Bethany said on the drive to the church. “But this is a nice church. My worship group visited it once. I always said I’d go back. I guess now is the time.”
“I don’t want to take you away from your church…”
“No, it’s just the kids from campus. We sing, give testimony; we pick a speaker from the group. With your background, they’d probably ask you.”
“Tempting, but you’re right. On to the other church.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“What?”
“You’re a preacher but you don’t want to preach.”
“My brain needs to relax. And besides, if it’s a good sermon I can use it the next time I preach. Save me the trouble of writing and researching a new one.”
“Dylan, that’s horrible!”
“What?”
“You stealing sermons. What kind of thing is that?”
“It’s done all the time.”
“I don’t want a used sermon. I want a fresh one. Isn’t God supposed to give you vision on what to say?”
“Yeah. But why waste a good sermon.”
“But it’s supposed to come from you.”
“And it does; via another preacher.”
“That’s plagiarism. I’d get kicked out of school if I did that.”
“It’s not plagiarism. Look, I hear a sermon then go out and do exactly what the sermon says. Is that stealing? Ever hear the expression ‘I’d rather see a sermon walking than hear one talking.’ I’m just a living embodiment of that sermon.”
“What are you talking about? Are you still jet lagged? That’s a brain dead argument.”
“No, it’s the truth.”
“Yeah I’d rather see a sermon walking than hear one talking. But that doesn’t justify plagiarism.”
“It’s not plagiarism. If I hear a sermon on a topic I preached on, but the speaker is telling it in a different fashion, I might use it. Or if they’re preaching from a Scripture I’ve used---but they make me see it in a different light, I’ll use that too.”
“The same sermon, word for word?”
“Not word for word. I’d use the theme but express it in my own fashion.”
“You know I hate you.”
“Why?”
“’cause you make what’s bad sound good. I know what you’re trying to say; it’s still plagiarism.”
“It all comes from God no matter who preaches it. Does God sue me for copy write infringement or smile knowing I’m spreading His Gospel?”
“I hate you so much,” Bethany said with a smile.
The Church of the Holy Gospel was a large brick building, constructed in 1869. Though the service was contemporary, (no liturgy, no robes on the choir, just praise and worship then the preached Word of God) the structure spoke of history. I could almost see the great 19th century preachers expounding from the pulpit on the evils of slavery, songwriters penning great Christian anthems, the history of Christianity in America formed in these hallowed halls.
The multi-racial choir sang contemporary songs for thirty minutes. I was never into the praise and worship part of service. I know it’s necessary, and many people come to church only to hear their favorite choir member sing their favorite hymn. My cerebral mind longed only for the sermon. They sounded great but I was happy when they finished and Pastor Caleb Forrester took the pulpit. Unlike the Mid-West stereotypical Evangelical minister, with movie star good looks, and a blonde trophy wife, Pastor Forrester was a balding, middle-aged man that one could tell hadn’t missed a meal in a while. With an embarrassed smile he began his sermon:
“The way I write my sermons is first I pray, then God gives me a Scripture. I pray some more, then the theme comes. I spend the better part of the week writing and researching it then present it to you on Sunday. That’s how I’ve been doing it for the past fifteen years. But this morning as I was listening to a preacher on the radio on my drive here the Spirit of the Lord said ‘that’s what you must tell your sheep today.’ I don’t have notes; I know a scattering of what I’m about to say. If any of you already heard it on your drive over, I can’t apologize--- I’m just doing what the Lord instructed.”
I raised an eyebrow. Bethany gave me an elbow to the ribs.
“You know I hate you,” she whispered.
“We’re in church.”
“God’s a forgiving god,” she shot back.
“That jab you gave me is nothing compared to the jabbing I’m giving you when we get back to the hotel.”
“Dylan, we’re in church.”
“God’s a forgiving god,” I shot back.
I guess she visualized my words, for Bethany broke into a broad smile then let out a loud laugh. Most turned to find out what the joke was.
“Sorry,” she apologized to the congregation, her alluring smile never leaving her lips.
“It’s alright to laugh in church,” the preacher began. “If we stop to think about the goodness of God, we should all break out in smiles and joyful laughter.”
For Bethany that was another reason to smile.
“This may be the shortest sermon I ever preached,” Pastor Forrester began. “I didn’t have time to prepare the frill; to paint a picture, so I’ll get right to the message. Or we may be here for a long time; I’m letting the Spirit lead.
“Today’s Scripture comes from Mark chapter 9 verses 2-13:
‘After six days Jesus took Peter, James and John with him and led them up a high mountain, where they were all alone. There he was transfigured before them. His clothes became dazzling white, whiter than anyone in the world could bleach them. And there appeared before them Elijah and Moses, who were talking with Jesus.
Peter said to Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here. Let us put up three shelters—one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.” (He did not know what to say, they were so frightened.)
Then a cloud appeared and covered them, and a voice came from the cloud: “This is my Son, whom I love. Listen to him!”
Suddenly, when they looked around, they no longer saw anyone with them except Jesus.
As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus gave them orders not to tell anyone what they had seen until the Son of Man had risen from the dead. They kept the matter to themselves, discussing what “rising from the dead” meant.
And they asked him, “Why do the teachers of the law say that Elijah must come first?”
Jesus replied, “To be sure, Elijah does come first, and restores all things. Why then is it written that the Son of Man must suffer much and be rejected? But I tell you, Elijah has come, and they have done to him everything they wished, just as it is written about him.”’
“This is a great Scripture. It describes both the life we want to lead and the life we have with God. Here we have Peter, James and John; three men who by all accounts led ordinary lives. And they were Jewish. So these three ordinary men knew who Elijah and Moses were and what they represented. They knew they were in the presence of greatness. Two things happened to them that happens to many people when they come in contact with greatness. First, they wanted to stay there. Peter said, ‘it is good for us to be here.’ He wanted to pitch a tent; maybe live there. Peter knew a good thing when he saw it. The second is found in verse 6. It says they were so frightened they didn’t know what to do. That also happens. Think for a moment what would happen if you saw your favorite singer or movie star on the street. Would you talk to them or be afraid? Would you ask for an autograph, a selfie? Or would you be too amazed to speak? What if that person wasn’t an entertainer, but the person who, if you had a five-minute audience with, could change your life? You could discuss your business plan, you could pitch an idea, you could sell your product. It would be good for you to be there. But would you freeze or state your case?
“What’s also frightening about a chance encounter with greatness is: what does it mean to your life overall? If you’re just one in the crowd and but somehow find yourself in the midst of the person who mastered the field you were called to enter; what happens when you walk away? Have you picked that persons’ brain, have you asked the right questions, have you done more listening than talking? You were given opportunity that not everyone has. If you get advice from the masters use it to change your life. The disciples knew and you should know too: where much is given, much is required.
“Everybody wants to stay where it’s safe; surrounded by love ones; knowing of the masters but never becoming one themselves. The question is ‘what do you do when the masters aren’t around?’ Everyone is holy, everyone does and says the right thing when surrounded by church members. But what do you do when they’re not around? What do you say? You are trusted with the Great Commission. Do you go out and do it? Or do you pitch a tent in the church where it’s safe and everyone thinks like you?
“Listen to Him. If nothing else I’ve said this morning makes sense to you, leave the hallowed halls of this church and ‘listen to Him.’ We may not get a chance to go on a mountain with Jesus and meet Elijah and Moses, but God does speak to all of us. Listen to Him. What He tells you to do, do! Don’t pitch a tent, don’t be frightened, listen then do! My Quaker friends say ‘Pray then move your feet.’ I say the same. Hear God’s word to you. Then move your feet and do it.
“Not everyone gets to go. Jesus had twelve disciples but only took three. This isn’t to say only these three were privileged. No. It means that everyone has a specific role in the Kingdom. Whether you’re one of the multitudes or one called to be one of the higher ups ---you have a role and a very important one. John was appointed to take care of Jesus’ mother. All the disciples wrote gospels but only two made it into the canon. That wasn’t their calling.
“The point is you go where you’re called. There’s no time to pitch a tent. No time to get comfortable, settle in and watch the masters go to work. No, you have to go work. More importantly, you have to fulfill your calling; what you were created to do. You can’t stay where it’s safe. You have to listen to the Voice and go.
“For the disciples, it happened so fast. One minute they’re walking with Jesus, the next a miracle happens right before their eyes. Sometimes the best things in life happen fast. You have to be ready and take the chance when it comes. A single moment can change everything that follows. In prison ministry, I’ve heard men who are doing life say, ‘If only I didn’t go that night.’ ‘If only I walked away.’ I knew a guy who was shy with women. Terrified of them. One day he saw the woman of his dreams. Still terrified he worked up enough courage to speak to her. She agreed to go out with him. They dated for two years and eventually got married. That terrified man stands before you today, happily married for the past twenty-five years. Some might say that’s another life sentence. Just remember the decision you make at any given moment affects the rest of your life.”
Bethany was quiet on the drive back. I asked if she wanted to stop for ice cream. She said ‘no’ and went back to her silent mode. I pulled into a kiddie park. She finally started to talk.
“Dylan, when I saw you at the airport yesterday, that’s when I realized how much I miss you. Yeah, I think about and miss you all the time; but when you were standing there in the flesh, something came back into my life. And after hearing that sermon; your calling…well…you’re going off to war. People get killed in war...”
Bethany couldn’t finish her thoughts.
“I know,” I began. “God is sending me there for a reason. I don’t think it’s to die.”
“But...”
“I could be going to save lives. Something God leads me to say or do might change the course of someone’s life or even change this whole war situation. I don’t know. I know nothing will change if I don’t go.”
“I know all that. But that doesn’t mean I’m not a little jittery. Aren’t you?”
“Yeah. And I’m sure I’ll be more terrified when bombs and bullets are whizzing past my head. But what’s the alternative? Stay here and see what happens or follow a path I know God is leading me on.”
“And see what happens.”
“You and I are ‘what happens!’ God couldn’t bring us together just for a few months then bump me off. I don’t believe in a God that cruel. I can’t live for myself----I have to live for God; for others. That’s why I’m going. But I’m comin’ back to you--- for the life we have together. The life we’re gonna to build.”
“I know,” Bethany quietly agreed. “But you have to wonder.”
“I can’t say I haven’t. There are times I wanted to shuck it all and return to you--- But I have to follow the calling. Bethany, only the good die young. I’m neither good nor young. So I’ll be back.”
“You’re not good, you’re the best. Let’s fast and pray for your safety.”
“I’ll pray but you do the fasting. I need to eat. I’m in the army now. I don’t know what kind of food they serve. I won’t have the freedom to eat whatever I want when I want.”
“I think we should fast.”
“It’s not in my spirit. Knowing my diet is about to be restricted, all I can think about is food.”
“Sometimes I think you’re the strangest man I know. Then I think you’re the most amazing. It’s like I understand all that but then again--- Don’t you need a hedge of protection? Didn’t Jesus say some things only come through fasting and pray?”
“The part about fasting in Mark 9 is believed to have been added later. All the fasting and praying in the world can’t change what is meant to be. This is what military families go through. The troops will be in more danger than me. I’m just a chaplain. I won’t have a gun.”
“You know I hate it when you’re right,” she replied with eyes closed. “It gives no room for---”
“For what? Running away from the truth? Running away from our responsibility.”
“Dylan, is this really the time?”
“No. It’s never the time to face reality.”
“You drive me nuts! You know exactly what I’m thinking and I can’t escape. But even if fasting was added later there was something the disciples weren’t doing enough of to cast out the demon. I’ll fast. There’ll be a hedge of protection around you.”
“I’ll take it,” was all I could say.
We want what we want. But we knew we had a destiny. If we ran, it would be running from God. Paul said, “For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do.” (Romans 7:16). I didn’t ‘hate’ what I did. Truth be told; I just didn’t want to do it at this time.
“I know,” Bethany said as if she was reading my mind.
Bethany put her arms around me and kissed my lips. Her lips held the kiss I waited all my life to taste. I missed her lips, the scent of her hair and how it tickled my neck when we touched. Bethany laid her head on my chest. It was like old times. I ran my fingers through her soft hair. I think Bethany had cut it a little shorter.
Little ones played on the swings, the monkey bars. Parents bought them foot long hot dogs, ice cream and soft drinks. No one paid attention to us. I could hear Bethany thinking.
“Quiet,” I said.
“I didn’t say anything,” the Doll said with a puzzled look on her face.
“You’re thinking it. I can hear you from here.”
“Well if you must know I was thinking ‘you don’t know what you’ll find over there. Let’s just stay here.’ Just a thought, not to be said aloud.”
Our little escape. Yesterday I lived with and preached to orphaned children. Tomorrow I’ll preach the Gospel in hostile lands. Today let me love someone who loves me. Not a time for uncertainty. The time for holding on to what you know; what is real. Bethany and I did just that.
***
I had trouble falling asleep. Joyce Meyer wrote a book called Battlefield of the Mind. That’s exactly what’s keeping me awake. The starting a new job; the leaving Bethany; the wanting to go and wanting to stay; the fact that I was going to war. At four-thirty I finally gave up. I prayed silently over Bethany then flipped on my flip light and flipped through Scripture. I was led to 2 Chronicles 20:1-30.
Jehoshaphat and the Israelites are concerned about an attack from three approaching armies the Moabites, the Ammonites and some of the Meunites. In Deuteronomy 2:5 God instructed the Israelites not to make war with them when they pass through their territory. Jehoshaphat prays to God. He knows the power of these armies yet he knows he is commanded not to fight them. His prayer ends in the classic line, “