Nearly all eyes at Lyceum carefully watched the presidential campaign of the Reverend Tommy Mitchell. Shawn’s thoughts on the matter had given them all, even the least politically-aware, plenty of motivation to keep an eye on that particular candidate.
Within a week, it was clear that Reverend Mitchell was going to use every opportunity to further his campaign. His weekly sermons, already known for their lack of spiritual themes, shifted from church politics to national politics.
His talks at revival meetings fired up the people as they always did, but for a new purpose.
None of this would have been of great concern, as charismatic religious leaders often tried for the presidency, and always failed. However, this time the candidate’s political speeches started to include the name Lyceum, and it wasn’t for the purpose of thanking the international service organization for accepting his son as a member.
Assignments quickly went out to non-resident members in all the cities where the reverend had scheduled events, and reports flowed back within hours. Lyceum had a big problem.
Both Shawn and Liberty were asked to attend the next meeting of the Lyceum Council, which was devoted largely to that problem.
Sister Rebecca began, her weathered, angular features accented by her gray hair. “We all appreciate the warning Brother Shawn gave us about his
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father, but . . .”
“But we completely missed the real threat,” Liberty interrupted. “He knows he can’t become president. He’s just going to use his campaign to get back at his son, and destroy Lyceum in the process.”
Liberty’s words jabbed deep into Shawn’s heart. She was talking about his father. But he also knew, underneath the emotions he was feeling, that she was very close to correct.
“You do have a way of getting right to the point, Sister Liberty,” the elderly member who had been speaking said. “And I honor that quality in you. That is one of the reasons you are here. The other is because Shawn needs a very good friend right now.”
Liberty sat blinking, absorbing the idea that Shawn needed her.
“It’s going to be hard for me to sit here and listen to everyone talking about my father,” Shawn said, his voice revealing his inner conflict.
“We understand,” a tall, white-haired man said in a comforting tone.
“Even though it will be hard, can you do it? Can you . . . will you help us with your insights about the man who is attacking Lyceum, the man who just happens to also be your father?”
Liberty moved closer to Shawn and took his hand in hers.
Shawn took a deep breath. “I’ll . . . try very hard. I don’t like what he’s doing either.”
“Thank you, Brother Shawn,” the man said. “And we’ll be with you every moment, even if you need to step out of the process at times. And I assure you that we’ll deal only with the problem, and do nothing to hurt your father in a personal, vengeful way.”
“I understand,” Shawn said. “And I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner he’d do something like this. Liberty’s right. It was obvious, but I didn’t want to see it.”
The fifteen council members and two guests spent the next three hours discussing every aspect of the problem. After the council adjourned, everyone spent the rest of the afternoon at their regular activities while pondering what they had heard. Liberty discovered, at a computer, that Sister Rebecca had already found a substitute for her work shift in the horse barn, so she went to
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help Shawn in the gardens.
Between his slumped shoulders and some things he mumbled, Liberty knew he was carrying a huge burden of guilt. She asked questions as they trimmed plants and raked leaves, and by dinnertime, Shawn had pulled himself up to his full height and decided he was the one responsible for solving the problem. He just didn’t know how.
When the Lyceum Council reconvened that evening, most of the councilors were of the same opinion, not because the problem was Shawn’s fault, but simply because he was the one who could best solve it.
Shawn listened carefully as councilor after councilor agreed with the notion that Shawn would have to confront his father, publicly, at one of his upcoming televised speeches where thousands of people would be present, and millions more watching from their homes.
The thought would have scared him to death, except that it would also deal with his guilt. He couldn’t imagine living one more day at Lyceum unless he did everything humanly possible to put this mess behind them for good.
Liberty held Shawn’s hand tightly in hers.
“It will be the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” he began, “standing up there alone to confront my father. But . . . I know I have to do it.”
“No one envies the task you must do,” Sister Rebecca said, “but you will be far from alone. There will be security people to protect you, and your friend Liberty will be at your side . . .”
Liberty nodded vigorously and looked at Shawn with admiring eyes.
“There will be additional Lyceum people throughout the audience for psychological purposes. I’m sure Rachael and Sarah will make good use of their talents. A number of technicians will be necessary, and I believe you have some other friends from your evaluation group . . .”
“Ashley and Ilika,” Shawn mumbled.
“I can easily see a team of twenty or thirty Lyceum members at the event.
No, Shawn, you will not be alone.”
Shawn brightened. “Thank you. But I still have to be the one to speak to my father. I hope I’ll know what to say . . .”
Sister Maria stood. “That is where the still, small voice inside you comes into play, Shawn, and the legions of angels who will be with you, watching and
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listening. If your father is going to hurt others with lies and twisted theology, his indwelling spirit and his guardian angel are going to be very unhappy with him. Stick with the truth, and you will have help beyond your imagination!”
Shawn smiled as Sister Maria sat down. Then he became aware of Liberty at his side, holding one of his hands in both of hers. He looked into her moist eyes, saw tenderness and love, and immediately began crying as she wrapped her arms around him.