HEAVY METAL MIRACLES

PART 2

CHAPTER 9

DREW

“THE LORD IS MY PORTION,” SAYS MY SOUL, “THEREFORE I HOPE IN HIM.” (Lamentations 3:24)

            “The man who impregnated my mother,” Nancy began quietly with her hands pressed between her knees as we sat across from each other in the living room of her apartment. She was perched on the edge of a velvety blue chair, while I was in the middle of her sofa.

            I knew she meant her father. It also occurred to me that this was the first time in our decade of knowing each other that she had acknowledged male parentage. Not once had I ever heard her mention a dad or father in reference to herself. This also led me to suspect that she was abused by a father figure in some fashion. What I didn’t suspect were the next words to come out of her mouth.

            “He used me in making pornography,” she told me, barely audible.

            Like an idiot I almost asked her to repeat what she said. But thankfully I stopped myself. “You mean before you and your mom moved to Iowa?”

            She nodded.

            “You were only eight when you moved here.”

            She nodded again, and her breathing became rapid. She pressed her hands so hard between her knees I thought she might crush her fingers.

            “Did your mom know?” I asked gently.

            “Not until… After she found out, that’s when we came here.”

            “Did she have him arrested?”

            “She didn’t know about what he was doing until he was arrested.” Nancy actually gained some composure, arose, and began to slowly pace as she hugged herself. “Give me a minute.”

            My instinct was to rise and take her into my arms. But I got the feeling she would demand to not be touched. “Nancy, I’d like to hug you, but I get the feeling you don’t want to be touched right now.”

            She smiled sadly, her eyes filling with tears. “You mean I’m not too disgusting?”

            “Never!” I insisted, as I stood.

            She took hold of my hand. “So you see, Drew, I lost my virginity when I was only six or seven years old. Besides me not being in harmony with your spiritual beliefs, I’ve been not only horribly defiled… I get afraid of intimacy.”

            “What happened wasn’t your fault.”

            She snorted. “Yeah, I’ve been told that by every therapist I’ve been to. But that never gave me my hymen back.”

            “You’re a virgin in God’s eyes.”

            She snorted again. “That’s doubtful since He watched it happen, since He let it happen.”

            I felt that now wasn’t the time for a discourse on apologetics. It was a time for Nancy to get this heavy burden off of her shoulders. But she had said before that she wanted what I had. By that, whether she knew it or not, it was the peace only God can give.

            “Aren’t you gonna defend Him?” she asked with a bit of bitterness in her tone.

            “I think we both blame two different enemies.”

            She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

            “It’s simple. You blame God, while I blame Satan.”

            “Well, you refer to your God as the Creator, right?”

            “Of course.”

            “Then He’s the one ultimately responsible.”

            I offered up a quick silent prayer that the Holy Spirit would enlighten me with what Nancy needed me to say to her. Then I tried to give a brief explanation about the great controversy between Christ and Satan. I told her about the war in heaven, which I believe was a war of ideologies, not war as we know it as mortals on this fallen planet.

            I asked for her Bible and shared texts of scripture that told of Lucifer’s fall. Lucifer being Satan’s name before he was banished from heaven. I recited portions from Isaiah chapter 14, Ezekiel chapter 28, and Revelation chapter 12 that related to this fall that had a dramatic effect on the world we live in. Then I shared scriptures that suggested Satan has a great deal of power in this fallen world. John 12:31, 14:30, 16:11, and 2 Corinthians 4:4 to name a few.

            Nancy quietly listened. I gave her a minute to absorb what I told her. Then I cautiously asked, “Do you believe Jesus is God?”

            “I tend to believe that,” she replied mechanically. “What to believe about him? That I don’t know.”

            “Can I tell you how he can relate to what you experienced? How he was horribly abused Himself.”

            Her eyes flashed with hot anger, then cooled as she said, “Go ahead.”

            I started by reading Isaiah chapter 53 regarding the prophecies about the coming Messiah. By the time I got to verse seven, her eyes were softening. Then I told her very graphic details  about what happened to Jesus before He even suffered the excruciating pain of crucifixion. His mental anguish in Gethsemane where He sweet blood (Luke 22:44).”

            Her eyes had a look of both pain and wonder. “How come I never knew this when I read the Bible cover to cover? I just came away thinking, especially how God in portrayed in the Old Testament, that God is violent, vengeful, and just lets bad stuff happen.”

            “The way I see it, even now one generation can’t relate to the next. So how can we fathom society and cultures thousands of years ago? I simply trust that God is good, perfect in judgement, and righteous. Also, after studying the loving, compassionate, and sacrificial life of Jesus,  He declared that if you have seen Him, you have seen the Father (John 14:9).”

            I gave her a moment to absorb this. Then I continued to explain why Jesus can relate to victims of abuse. He was spit upon, His beard plucked, and His flesh whipped into a bloody mass of lacerations. All the while having the power to stop it by calling twelve legions of angels. On top this, it was all this instigated by religious leaders.

            I could tell Nancy was finding hope in God. But then the rulers of the darkness of this age showed up. Spiritual hosts of wickedness from heavenly places. I had on the whole armor of God, but would it be enough to cover Nancy as well? (See Ephesians 6:10-20). How much of God’s Word had she absorbed?

            There was a rattle at the door. Nancy looked with a confused countenance. I heard the bolt lock slide, and in came Addison Dressler, Nancy’s roommate.

            “Addie, I told you I had a date… I mean a guest tonight and needed the apartment to myself until at least nine.”

            It was a few minutes after eight, and Addie, as she was typically called, was clearly drunk. She said, “Well, I was thinking, my dear. Your guest needs a little test.”

            After Nancy ended our friendship early in our high school career, she seemed to have replaced me with Addie. She was a big girl, just over six foot, and not fat at all. She had been a superb athlete until a nagging rotator cuff injury diminished her prowess. Although she had been popular, she had the nickname among many of the male population as Amazon Addie.

            She had shiny black hair that was usually pulled back into a ponytail, and intense gray eyes. She was quite pretty and made me think of an angry Courtney Cox from ‘Friends’ fame. After her injury during a basketball game her senior year, her popularity declined. She was no longer wowing spectators in gymnasiums. Couple that with her close friendship with Nancy, still very much a Tomboy, and the rumors ran that they were more than friends. That only escalated when they went to the same college and moved into this apartment together.

            Nancy looked at me with a confused frown, then back at Addie. “What kind of a test?”

            Addie reached behind her back and pulled a gun from the waistband of her jeans. Staring at me as if we were sporting opponents, she pointed the gun at my face. Nancy wasn’t prone to screaming or panicking. So she simply barked. “Addie, what do you think you’re doing!”

            “Shut up and watch!” Then she demanded from me. “Deny your faith, Andrew! Tell Nancy that your God and your Bible are nothing more than myths and superstitions.”

            Although adrenalized, I felt surprisingly calm for having an unstable person aim a gun between my eyes. It was the power of the Holy Spirit, AKA the Comforter. The tune, ‘Stand up, stand up for Jesus’ began to play in my head as I boldly declared, “Never!”