Blessed Child (33 page)

Nikolous looked at his watch. Leiah stared at Jason, but he ignored her for the moment. He wanted to make a point here.

“Okay, if you don't mind, Dr. Thompson. I don't mean to be argumentative, but even within Christian circles, there's no consensus that Caleb's power comes from God. One says that God is a gentleman and would never create such confusion, and the next says that men of God take the world by force. One says that God only works miracles that lead people to Christ—which incidentally hasn't happened—and the next says that God's sovereign; he'll do whatever he likes. These are theologians, for heaven's sake, and they can't even begin to agree!”

“People may not have come to Christ yet, but the boy's ministry isn't over. I think there's much more to come. There is a purpose here, my friend, and in the end the reconciliation of man to God will make the rest of this look like child's play, no pun intended. You seriously can't think that Caleb is simply a pawn being used for man's whim! He is no more being manipulated by his circumstances than Christ was manipulated by Pilate at his trial. It all has a greater purpose. You'll see that one day, if you look for it.”

Thompson closed his eyes and sighed. “And to be honest, I don't understand the bickering among the denominations myself. I suspect they all would do well to take a deep breath.” He opened his eyes and stared directly at Jason.

“Good people often make mistakes, Jason. But if my brothers would spend a few hours with Caleb, they would have to rethink their positions. Who can know the mind of the Lord? You know he's always confounded the wise. He had a fish swallow Jonah—you don't think he could have arrested the man's attention in a more conventional way? He spoke through a donkey, and he wrote on a wall. Sounds a little like showing off to me, but I suppose it's his right. He turned water into wine and cursed a fig tree. Tell me how these are any different than knocking people over? Just because God doesn't part a Red Sea every year, doesn't mean that he never did or can't again.”

“They're not different. And I'm not sure God did any of those things.”

A silence settled in the room.

“This is all fine and well,” Nikolous said, “but we do have to be leaving.”

Leiah ignored him and spoke. “Actually, I think the one question we all have more than any other is why? If this is God, then why don't we see the miraculous more often? Can't all Christians access this Holy Spirit?”

“Please. The miraculous is much more common than you might think. Travel through the churches in South America and the Far East as I have, and you'll find it run of the mill.”

“Then why not here, in America?”

“It is common here in America, as well. But the Spirit of God doesn't frequent places where he is not eagerly sought. Like the pearl of great price Jesus talked about—if you want it, you seek it. And you must remember that the Holy Spirit's greatest power is not necessarily miraculous as you think of it.”

Leiah had a raised brow, and Jason thought she wasn't buying his simplistic explanation.

“Miraculous or not, walking in the Spirit means stepping into the kingdom of God, and most Christians aren't willing to walk there. They enter the kingdom at their rebirth but they take few steps.” Dr. Thompson grinned and faced them. “At least that's the way Caleb puts it, and I think I like his perspective. Those who do walk in the kingdom have far more power than you would ever guess. It might not be the straightening of bent spines; you may not even see it here among the mud pies, but believe me, the power of the Spirit-filled man is quite stunning. Whoever said that a straightened hand was more dramatic than a healed heart anyway? Caleb may be a vessel of God's spectacular power, but he's not as unique as you think. Not at all. You're just not seeing the rest of it with your eyes—the fruits of the Spirit, the power of love, the color of peace. What you need is to have your eyes opened.”

“That's a cop-out,” Jason said. “If you can't explain it, you just throw it off to the unseen. But meanwhile here in the real world people are dying by the bucket load, and I don't see how any rational man can see that and believe that some good God just stands by to watch it all.”

“Some would say that I am suffering, Jason.”

Jason blinked. And what did that mean?

“Maybe we have it all backward. Maybe the suffering in this world pales beside the glory of the next. Maybe it even defines it in some ways. I can't speak for everyone, and I certainly don't know the mind of the Lord, but for me this suffering is a temporary distraction. I would gladly give my life for a few moments with him.”

“Wonderful. I'm glad for you. But my son wasn't ready to go spend a few moments with your God.” A wave of heat washed over Jason's head. He had come to the crux of the matter, hadn't he?

Thompson just looked at him, reading him. Jason glanced at Leiah, who was staring off to the ocean.

Thompson broke the silence with a coughing fit.

“Excuse me. I should really hook my tubes up soon.” He picked up the translucent tube on his lap. “Heidi tells me they make me look like an alien,” he said with a grin. “Which is fine, because I'm headed out soon enough.”

He wheeled around and rolled toward his bed.

“You know, Jason, your problem is that you've never seen into the kingdom.” He spun his chair around. “I've known a lot of people in my days. Pastors, evangelists, devout men of God. But I don't think I've seen anyone as pure as Caleb. He's as innocent as they come in this world. And he knows the reality of the kingdom of God like he knows his hands each have five fingers. Jesus said that if you have as much faith as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain move, and it will move. Caleb is simple enough to believe it. And he's pure enough to do it. His theology may not come in the nice neat boxes we love in the church, but then again, he's just a ten-year-old boy. You certainly can't fault his heart. I'm not even sure you can fault his mind.”

He spun back around and wheeled to an over-the-bed table.

“Maybe he can help you open your eyes,” he said, lifting a bottle of pills from the table.

It was Leiah who asked, “How?”

A mischievous glint swept Thompson's face. “By entering the kingdom, of course. By surrendering yourself to God's forgiveness. You know you need to be forgiven, don't you, Leiah?”

Jason felt his chest constrict. He wanted to yell at the old man in that moment, and he wasn't entirely sure why.

Thompson spoke after a moment. “Tomorrow's Sunday. Take Caleb to the Coastview Fellowship in Huntington Beach. I believe their service begins at ten. Or take him to any church where the people are seeking the touch of God. I think you might see some things.”

“We've seen plenty already,” Jason said.

“You've seen a few acts of God's power. But you haven't begun to see the power of the healed heart. Not with the eyes of faith, you haven't. Whoever said that a straightened hand was more spectacular than a healed heart?”

It was the second time he'd asked the question.

Thompson looked out the window. “If God were to open our eyes the way he did Elijah's servant, it might just fry our minds. You ever wonder what a chariot of fire really looks like? Hmm? Or how about tongues of fire, floating over someone's head? Both have happened, you know.” He faced them. “But then that's another matter altogether.”

“We'll take him,” Leiah said.

“You'll do no such thing,” Nikolous said, standing.

“It's a church, Father,” Thompson said. “Surely you wouldn't prohibit the boy from attending a church.”

“He
lives
at a church! My church.”

“Which is why he cannot attend your service. Your own congregation would ignore you for the boy. He would upstage you in your own church. But surely no caring shepherd would deny a child of God the right to attend worship.”

Thompson was no idiot.

“I will give it some thought,” Nikolous said. “But now we have to go. Thank you for your time, Dr. Thompson. I'm sorry the boy was not able to perform.” The Greek dipped his head, headed for the door, and stepped out.

“I'll pray that he opens your eyes, Jason,” Thompson said. “From where I'm looking, life could not be better. It would be a pleasure to meet you again on the other side.” He flashed a mischievous grin and tossed two pills in his mouth.

Jason thanked him and left the house, trying his best to ignore a bad headache.

25

Day 29

C
OASTVIEW
F
ELLOWSHIP WAS BURIED
in a warehouse district five miles from Huntington Harbor, an hour south of Pasadena off the 405 freeway. It had been four weeks to the day since Jason and Leiah had first taken Caleb to the Orthodox church. They had lost the boy that day, to Nikolous and his machinery. But today represented a reunion of sorts. Because today there was no Nikolous or Martha or even the Mercedes, for that matter. It hadn't been a pleasant task, but they'd finally persuaded Nikolous to allow them to take the boy without him, on the one condition that they hang sheets on the inside of the Bronco to protect him. They had agreed.

Jason pulled onto the freeway and smiled at Leiah beside him. She winked and peeked over the sheet they'd wrapped between the front seats to keep little Caleb from seeing out the front.

“So Caleb,” Jason said, eyeing the boy in the rearview mirror, “what do you say this beautiful morning?”

“I say that I have a monster gut-ache and it's the pits!” he said.

At first Jason wasn't sure he'd heard correctly.
It's the pits?
He caught Leiah's raised brow.

“It's the pits?” she said. “Where did you hear that, Caleb?”

He shrugged and fingered the pink sheets in an attempt to see out. “On the television.”

The television? They had asked Martha to remove it once when the boy first complained, and she had humphed off. Caleb hadn't mentioned it since. But now the matter was plain: he was watching television in his room.

“What do you see on television, Caleb?” Jason asked.

The boy looked forward and grinned. “The drawings that move and talk. They are very funny.”

Cartoons.

“I see other things too, but I like the drawings mostly.”

The boy had found some entertainment under their noses. He was spending his days locked in the room with a television, and Jason doubted that Nikolous was even aware of it. And by the sounds of it, he was getting a bit of an education.

Jason grinned at the thought. “You're learning some things on the television, are you?”

“Yes. Very much.”

“Do you really think that's the best thing for him?” Leiah asked.

“Why not? They can't hide the world from him forever. He's been confined to either the room or the Mercedes for four weeks now. Except the Old Theater. And yet he has a window to the world right there in his room. Nikolous would have a fit!”

Behind them Caleb chuckled. “Father Nikolous would drop dead.”

Jason looked over at Leiah, unable to hide his smile. “Yes, he would. Nikolous would drop dead.” The boy was a quick study. Cartoon talk had expanded his vocabulary.

“What else have you seen on the television?”

“I saw the man who spoke in the park and I had a vision.”

Crandal? Caleb's comments two nights earlier about Crandal being a bad person had raised some interesting discussion, but the media spun it as a sort of right-wing reaction to Crandal's NSA affiliations. Jason had asked him about the comment that night, and Caleb had only repeated himself.

“He must have seen a political commercial,” Leiah said.

“What was the vision?” Jason asked.

“A big bird flew out of the sky and attacked a woman. The bird could breathe fire. And I also saw babies and people dying.”

“And that's why you think Crandal is a bad man?”

“Yes.”

“What does the vision mean?”

“I don't know.”

“But it's bad?”

“Yes.”

The threat Jason had connected to Crandal had faded over the past week. The INS was no longer breathing down Caleb's neck; there was no mention of the NSA. But what if the threat really was still there? What if this vision of Caleb's really meant something about Crandal?

He glanced in the mirror. “What do you say we pull those sheets off the window, Caleb?”

“Yes?”

Leiah looked from one to the other and then nodded. “Why not? Why not?” She jumped into the back, cracked the windows, and tore the pink sheets down. Light flooded the cab.

Caleb immediately pressed himself up against his window and stared at the world for the first time in nearly a month.

They pulled into the church's parking lot at a quarter past ten. Without specific instructions they never would have found the square converted warehouse with the words
Coastview Fellowship
splashed above wide white doors.

“Here we go,” Jason said, stepping up to the door. “I hate these places.” He pulled the door open and followed them in.

Jason had been in two churches in the last seven years: Greater Life Community, where his son had been practically prayed to death, and the Greek Orthodox church that had stolen Caleb.

Coastview Fellowship was patently different from either.

The service had started, evident by the team of musicians on the stage, singing and playing with their faces lifted to the ceiling and their eyes closed. A thousand or so men, women, and children of all dress and stripes sang in unison.

You are mighty
,

You are holy
,

You are awesome in your power.

They stepped into a row of folding seats. Although the open ceiling was somewhat reminiscent of a warehouse with its large hanging lights, nothing else about the interior of the building was. Hundreds of flags hung from the rafters; maybe every flag of the world. Large twin screens flashed the words of the song they were singing from a huge console above the stage. A twenty-member choir sang behind the song leader.