Deadline (8 page)

Sue continued to read, “Behold, I am coming soon! My reward is with me, and I will give to everyone according to what he has done.”

Finney’s crystal clear perspective on the room below startled him. This was not imaginary. The images grew more vivid by the moment, his vision improving rather than fading. He could see Little Finn’s cowlick, and Jake’s slight bald spot, and the pages of Sue’s Bible which were facing away from his body lying on the bed, but toward him as he hovered invisibly above. Like a dry sponge he soaked up every word Sue read, all the while feeling as if a powerful winch cable was tightening, ready at a moment’s notice to pull him beyond the reach of earth’s gravity.

Abruptly he realized that in moving away from the hospital room, he was moving toward the other end of the passageway. And he was not alone. Someone was escorting him. Not coming to get him, but leaving earth with him. It was a huge and powerful being, looking like a man but somehow different, with placid but purposeful face, striding like a nobleman warrior. He looked battle-worn. Finney sensed he should know this being. But thoughts of the one beside him faded as the voices and images at the other end became more vivid and alluring. What had been background noises and movements now shifted to the foreground. The sound of Sue reading in the room was still clear and captivating, but the volume diminished to a whisper while he hung on every word.

“Whoever is thirsty, let him come; and whoever wishes, let him take the free gift of the water of life.”

Finney’s head jerked forward and let out a gasp of wonder. This time it bridged the gap between thought and action, erupting into the room. In his peripheral vision he saw a startled Sue, Jake and Little Finn, but his eyes looked not at the old world but at a new one. Suddenly the tent stakes had been pulled, the ropes to the boat landing untied. Finney was cut loose.

He moved beyond and above the room, seeing Angela in the waiting room with her husband, her head bowed. Though her prayers for him were silent, he could clearly hear them, every word. He wanted to go to her, to hold her hand for the last time before his exodus, but he could not. He said “good-bye” to his loved ones, though he knew they could not hear him. At the same time he realized this was not the end of relationship, but only an interruption. Today’s inadequate goodbye in this place would be followed by a wondrous hello in another. And though he did not know what the place he was going would look like, everything in him was eager to go find out.

Finney could now see many excited images at the far edge, some reaching in toward him. The other, his mysterious companion, now marched ahead of him. The giant slipped out the passageway’s end artfully, as if he’d done this before, and moved immediately to the side. Another great being greeted the giant with what appeared to be a salute. Finney moved more slowly, more tentatively, like his first time on water skis. This was the first time he’d ever died.

The crowd visible beyond the passageway grew with each step he took. Some faces he did not recognize, many he did. He took the last step—or was it the first—and entered the new world. As he came out the end—or was it the beginning—over the threshold, he gasped his first breath of heaven’s air. The gasp was a gasp of wonder at the beauty of this place, and the magnificence of its inhabitants. His only earthly experience he could compare to it was the first time he’d been snorkeling, in the Red Sea, when he went beneath the surface and saw the incredible multicolored beauty of the ocean and its wondrous inhabitants. He remembered that loud startling sound very near him, then the realization it was the sound of his own gasp in his snorkel. This was such a gasp, but as much greater than that on earth as the place he was now seeing was greater than that marvelous underwater world.

Many hands grabbed Finney’s, which he stretched out toward them, as if to confirm they were real. He must have some sort of body, since he could feel their touch. This struck a chord of familiarity. It had happened before. Or something very much like it. Yes, of course, when he was born into the other world. The passageway had been the birth canal between earth and heaven. And these were the midwives of heaven, supervising his birth, pulling him into the world, fussing over him and proudly presenting him to his new family. This was the real world, which he’d been no more capable of imagining before than an unborn child can imagine the infinite wonders that lie beyond the womb.

There to greet him was a beaming female face he was sure he knew, yet how could he, for it was so bright and beautiful, more majestic than any face he’d seen until that moment. This must be someone holding a place of great honor here. Finney was accustomed to recognizing body first and character second. But here it was the character, somehow coming out, that made him then recognize the body. At that very moment he heard his name on her lips—“Finnegan!”

“Mom!” The others cheered and laughed and nodded.

“Welcome, Finnegan.” His mother’s flowing tears surprised him, but apparently tears of joy had a place here. She threw her arms around him, and he embraced her tightly. He’d missed her so much. He remembered with joy the role he’d played in sharing the good news with her, as she had shared her life with him. She was there to give birth to him and embrace him after his entrance on earth. And here she was now, the first to embrace him in heaven.

Part of him, the part still fresh from earth’s air of skepticism, could not believe anything so wonderful could be true. Being new to this place, he didn’t yet understand that things which are true are by their nature wonderful, and things that are truly wonderful are inevitably true. He kept hugging his mother and wanted to talk with her, but with all the others surrounding him, he had to content himself to talk only briefly for the moment. It was much as the bride and groom cannot have lengthy conversations with each other in the reception line after the wedding, but know there will be time ahead for that. The rest of heaven’s welcoming committee, hundreds of people hand picked for the new arrival, swarmed around him like bees around the queen.

Finney looked at his welcoming party and wondered if they were wearing special attire or if this was simply the standard dress of heaven. Yet actually he wasn’t sure this was clothing at all. It seemed at first like white robes, dazzlingly bright yet not hurtful to his eyes. But each person’s appearance was distinctly different from the other. The similarity spoke of their shared purity and common Lord, and the differences of their unique personalities and gifts and histories. But the clothing, if that’s what it was, seemed more an organic growth from the body than separate apparel. Rather than concealing, it seemed designed to reveal something which on earth would have been hidden within. When he looked at an individual, as he did dozens and dozens of them now, one after the other, he seemed to see so much more than he’d ever seen before. On earth the outward appearance could deceive and often did. But here the outward appearance seemed to reflect and draw attention to the inner person, to his or her character. And somehow Finney caught hints and impressions of the person’s unique background and history.

A chorus of welcomes sang out, some in languages he didn’t know, but all of which he instinctively understood. Each bid him come in, make himself at home. He felt like a miner rescued from a collapsed cavern and emerging to excited well-wishers in the land of the living. Except this was his first time here, and he wasn’t sure how things worked. But he knew he was going to have the time of his life finding out.

At the fringes of the crowd stood a group of a dozen beings who seemed to be of the same race as the towering figure who left the hospital room with him. At the back of the crowd stood one being glowing with a soft light that did not blind, but attracted and captivated the eyes. He smiled at Finney, who trembled with joy at the immediate realization of who it was. To this moment he’d stood quietly, absorbing all this, delighting in it, smiling knowingly as if he were the one who’d arranged it. And, indeed, Finney knew he had done just that.

This was the ageless one, the Ancient of Days, who is eternally young. He stepped forward, and at his first move the crowd quickly and reverently made way for him, as flimsy shacks make way for a hurricane. This was a good hurricane, but no one mistook goodness for weakness here. He who had spun the galaxies into being with a single snap of his finger, he who could uncreate all that existed with no more than a thought, extended his hand to Finney, as if the hand he extended was that of a plain ordinary carpenter. Everyone knew he was anything but ordinary. His riveting eyes commanded their full attention. All eyes were fixed on those eyes. For the moment, it was impossible to look elsewhere, and no one in his right mind would have wanted to.

“Welcome, my son! Enter the kingdom prepared for you, by virtue of a work done by another, a work you could not do. Here you shall receive reward for those works you did in my name, works you were created to do.”

And then, with a smile that communicated more than any smile Finney had ever seen, the Great One looked into his eyes and said with obvious pride, “Well done my good and faithful servant. Enter into the joy of your Lord!”

As the crowd broke out in cheers, Finney felt overwhelmed, and dropped to his knees, then flat on the ground, face down, as if the knees were still too lofty a position before the Lord of Heaven. Out of the corner of his eye he saw everyone else follow his lead and fall flat. Mostly this was out of respect for the one before whom they bowed, but Finney also sensed the emulation of his form of worship was out of respect for him, perhaps as the new arrival, the party’s guest of honor.

“Rise, my son. You bowed your knee to me in the other world, where it was much harder to do so. I know your devotion, and I treasure it. Stand now before me. You have made your exodus from mortality to life. This is a new world, which I’ve made for you to enjoy.” Finney rose up and the welcoming committee rose too, a half step behind him.

Finney gazed into those eyes that could have killed him with a look, but which instead conveyed unmistakable approval. But he could also sense something more in those great eyes, something different than he would have expected. And then Finney’s gaze moved to those carpenter’s hands that had been placed on his shoulders. On them he saw deep and ugly scars. Flinching at the sight, he looked down at the feet. They too were torn in a ghastly disfigurement. How could this be? All was to be perfect here, was it not? The first of many surprises.

In a flash of insight, Finney knew what every child understands about heaven, that every body there would be perfect, unblemished, and unscarred. But now he saw that the scars of earth were not pretend or imaginary, but very real, and could only be gone here because someone else had chosen to take them on himself. The carpenter’s scars would remain forever. The only one who would appear less than perfect in eternity would be the eternally perfect one himself.

Finney looked into the eyes again, knowing they saw every thought within him. The perfect and scarred one said simply, “For you, my son, for you.”

Finney swallowed hard, and loved him more than he could ever have imagined loving anyone.

They stood and looked at each other for a time, then Finney listened attentively as his Master spoke to him again.

“Like a newborn child, your eyes will take time to adjust to the brightness of your new world. You must learn to walk here before you can run or fly. You have much to learn, and you will have the finest teachers. You and I have much to discuss. I will walk with you often. Later I will give to you the name I have chosen for you. A name that only you and I will know. And one day, when the time is right, I will give you a place of service, a place you earned by serving me in the dark world.”

A hush of silent wonder followed these words. The bright one stepped back, smiling warmly, as if to defer to the others, to encourage them to resume their eager welcomes to the new arrival.

But Finney could not take his mind off the carpenter. He was the center of gravity, the force that held this place together, that gave it meaning and purpose. Finney thought back to his last moments on earth. He felt as if he’d been a loyal dog, scratching at the door of heaven, not knowing what was behind the door except only that his beloved Master was there. That was all he needed to know then, and that was all he needed to know now. Wherever this One was, it was by definition heaven.

Finney scanned the crowd, seeing the smiling faces of old friends and teachers and customers, and an old war buddy. And there were Garland and Emma, and Daniel and Laura. He’d known them as elderly, but now they were so strong and well, so much more alive than the most vibrant young athlete or actress in the other world. And there were his old friends Jerry and Greg and Leona and so many others who’d invested in his life, then gone home before him.

But now he searched for one face only, and much as he wanted to renew his acquaintance with all the others, he would not allow himself to talk to anyone until finding that face. They all seemed to know this, standing back and beaming as he scanned them. There, finally, at the far end, grinning ear to ear in just the way of her father, was the one he sought. She had deliberately held back rushing to him, so she could treasure the intensity of his search and the moment of his recognition.

“Jenny!” Finney shouted her name and by the time the great echo reverberated, she landed in his arms, arms that had ached to hold her for ten long years.

“Daddy! I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Oh, Jenny, my Jenny.”

Finney hugged her and wept, in the wonderful way you weep at reunions long overdue. He swung her around, and danced with her and laughed. Though she seemed in a sense older here than when she had died, she was just as young in spirit, and he knew in this moment that the childlike qualities he treasured would always be hers. Tears gushed from both of them, uninhibited and unrestrained. As they gazed in each others’ eyes, they laughed at one another’s tears, and all the welcoming committee laughed with them.