The Sacrifice (44 page)

Several members of the Tuesday group had noticed a change in their meetings over the past few weeks. It isn't easy to focus attention for prayer in the midst of a crowded high-school cafeteria, and because they ate while they prayed, there was an inherent casualness about the sessions around the table. This wasn't bad. One of the beliefs of those who started the group was that communication with God is not limited to dimly lit sanctuaries on Sunday mornings at 11 A.M. Jesus Christ is Lord of the whole earth, and his children are commanded to pray without ceasing no matter where they are. Nevertheless, a natural result of the group's location was disruption from the surrounding environment. The students at the table tried to concentrate; however, at times they would be distracted by what was happening in other parts of the room.

But not now.

Janie, Alisha, and several others noticed the change. They found themselves staying longer and eating less. The noises of the cafeteria were still present, but an awareness of a Presence greater than the distractions of their world made it easier to remain spiritually focused. It was as if an invisible curtain had been cast around the table, and those who passed through it entered into the inner court of another realm. The students prayed the same words as before, but the faith to believe that God would answer increased. At times Janie felt glued to her chair, held by an unseen hand that firmly let her know that she was on duty before the throne of heaven. Alisha found herself on the verge of tears.

Each Tuesday, Tao stood watch while the students prayed.

Today, he saw the shimmering veil that encircled the table. He opened his eyes wide with amazement. The barrier didn't appear as a solid piece of cloth but glistened like the thinnest of waterfalls—an intentional mist. It looked so wet and real that he glanced down to see if there was moisture collecting on the floor. He stepped closer. The floor was dry. There was no need to get a mop.

“Father, bring every person in this school to yourself,” Janie said. “We offer ourselves to you. Use our lives in any way you want to.”

A quiet chorus of “Amen's” and “That's right” circled the table.

Alisha thought about a friend who had made some terrible choices in the past few weeks, and the dam behind her eyes threatened to break.

Several others prayed a sentence or two. There were moments of silence that didn't seem awkward.

Then, a young man prayed, “Lord, do whatever it takes to bring a revival to Catawba High”—he paused—“and let it start with us.”

He flipped open the Bible resting on the table beside his sandwich and read from the Psalms, “‘Who may ascend the hill of the LORD? Who may stand in his holy place? He who has clean hands and a pure heart, who does not lift up his soul to an idol . . . He will receive blessing from the LORD and vindication from God his Savior.'”

He closed the book and continued, “Lord, are my hands clean? Is my heart pure? Change my life so that I can be the kind of person you really want me to be. I don't want to compare myself with others and become proud of the things I don't do. I want to be righteous in your sight because of who I have become on the inside. Break the power of sin in my life and set me free to love you and other people.”

Tao saw a tiny ray of light come out of the veil and go through the heart of the young man sitting at the table. God was at work, and the fire of Tao's own desire to pray for the young people received fresh oil. Something was going to happen in this place because the students were praying. Tao didn't know what, but he wanted to be a part of it. He didn't know when, but he was certain it would happen.

35

Do not speak to a fool, for he will scorn the wisdom of your words.

P
ROVERBS 23:9

K
ay was talking with Janie Collins and Alisha Mason while they waited for the other students to arrive for mock trial practice.

“Thanks for telling us what's been happening in your life,” Janie said, her brown eyes shining. “When we heard that you were getting a divorce, we started praying for you in the group that meets in the lunchroom on Tuesday.”

“To know that you have met the Lord,” Alisha said. “It makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time.”

Kay gave both girls a hug as Scott came through the back door of the classroom.

“Thank you,” she said. “And don't stop praying.”

“Thanks, Ms. Wilson, I mean Ms. Laramie,” Alisha said. “We won't.”

Scott stepped forward. “Where's my hug?”

Kay smiled slightly. “That would give Yvette something to talk about. We probably don't want them to think about anything except mock trial practice.”

“Did I hear that you're Kay Laramie again?”

“Yes, an older and hopefully wiser return to my former name.”

“It's a good name,” Scott said.

“And I intend to keep it for a while.”

Scott set down his briefcase.

“Before we get started, I want to mention something to the kids about the team we've drawn in the first round.”

“Sure.”

Frank Jesup made his entrance into the room and loudly proclaimed, “Order in the court! Did anybody hear about the case of
State v. Garrison
?” Pointing to Scott, he continued, “In this corner, Scott Ellis, Esquire, attorney for the accused, Lester Garrison, our resident redneck racist.”

“That's enough, Frank,” Kay said. “This is not something to joke about.”

“I'm not joking,” Frank responded. “It's the truth, isn't it, Mr. Ellis?”

“No comment,” Scott said dryly. “I can't discuss the case because of attorney-client privilege. That's one of the first lessons a lawyer learns— to keep his mouth shut. I suggest you put it into practice immediately.”

Frank made a fake bow and sat down.

Scott took out his copy of the sheet Kay had given him about the regional competition.

“The first team we'll face is from one of the expensive private schools in Charlotte. Their advisor is a lawyer who works for a big firm in the Bank of America tower. He went to Duke Law School; I went to Wake Forest. We were on opposing teams in a mock trial competition my third year in law school. It was the southeast regionals, and the winning team would advance to the national finals in Washington, D.C.”

“Who won?” Yvette asked.

“Duke. But it was a controversial decision. Two of the three judges were Duke graduates and the other went to Chapel Hill. Our team had beaten UNC the previous round and that didn't make their alumni happy.”

“Who cares about that stuff?” Frank asked.

Scott ignored Frank's question. “I want us to do well because it's the right thing to do, but I couldn't help thinking about the past when I saw the other lawyer's name. I'd like to beat them.”

“We'll do it, coach!” Dustin called out. “Bring 'em on!”

Scott smiled. “Yeah, that's it.”

Frank continued the evening in rare form, while Scott seethed about the student's opening salvo of the evening.

“Wouldn't it be better to object to the testimony by Billy Bob on the grounds that it calls for a conclusion not supported by sufficient opportunity to observe what happened?” Frank asked. “It says in the rule book that all opinion testimony must be based on facts in evidence.”

“No,” Scott replied. “As a lay witness, Billy Bob is not offering an expert opinion about the cause of the wreck. He's just telling what he saw.”

“But it would have been impossible for him to see the vehicles before the collision. The facts state that he was getting a pack of chewing tobacco from the glove compartment.”

“That goes to the weight of the evidence, not its admissibility. You should certainly cross-examine Billy Bob about his ability or inability to observe what happened. The judge or jury decides what to believe.”

“Are you going to let a jury decide whether Lester Garrison should go to the chain gang?” Frank asked, then quickly added before Scott could respond, “I know, I know. Attorney-client privilege. I'll try to keep my mouth shut. Like a real lawyer.”

Frank's attitude was affecting the other students, and there was tension in the circle of would-be attorneys. Janie didn't say anything. Yvette wasn't as reticent.

“Why don't you stuff it, Frank?” she said at one point after Frank had monopolized the discussion and cut her off. “This is a mock trial team, not the Frank Jesup show.”

“That's a well-phrased objection,” he responded. “Why don't you try it out in the competition? ‘Stuff it, your honor.'”

Scott didn't interrupt. The kids needed to vent.

“She's right, Frank,” Dustin said. “You don't have a clue about teamwork. You may end up being one of the best lawyers in the competition, but if our team doesn't flow together, the judges will notice it and deduct points.”

“This isn't a football game,” Frank retorted.

“But we still need to look out for each other,” Janie added. “You've helped me a lot, and we're not your enemies. You're coming across so angry that it's going to hurt our chances.”

Frank glared around the circle. Scott watched him. The young man was seemingly immune from peer influence, but Janie's comment had an effect.

Frank chose to disengage. “Whatever. We're wasting time.”

They continued the session, but the situation wasn't resolved. Frank refused to contribute, and Scott decided it was Frank's way of trying to silently manipulate the other students into admitting they were wrong. It didn't work. When they realized Frank had checked out of the meeting, the remaining three members began working together. Frank became invisible.

When it was time to end the meeting, Scott turned to Frank and asked, “Could you stay for a few minutes? I'd like to talk to you.”

Frank shook his head. “No, I don't have time for a lecture.”

Scott didn't give up. “Not a lecture, a talk.”

“It's not necessary.”

The young man turned toward the door. On his way out of the room he stopped for a second to say something to Janie, then left the room alone.

Kay came over to Scott and asked, “How did it go?”

“Let's talk after the students leave.”

Janie left with Alisha. When the last student filed out, Scott sat down in front of Kay's desk.

“Frank was dominating the meeting by arguing with me and cutting off the others when they tried to say something. I asked him to stay for a few minutes so we could talk. He refused and walked out of the room. His attitude stinks.”

“I heard one of his other teachers give it a name the other day in the faculty lounge. She called it the ‘Frank Factor.' He causes a different kind of disruption. Usually, the behavior problems in class come from students who don't know what's going on academically and cut up to pass the time. Frank already knows everything, so he harasses the teacher to entertain himself. You're a new challenge because as a lawyer you're smarter than the rest of us.”

“Right,” Scott said wryly. “Whatever his motivation, he's challenged the wrong person. I'm thinking about kicking him off the team. The kids made a good point. He's not a team player.”

Surprised, Kay said, “That's pretty drastic. I'm not sure he's done anything to justify it. What would I tell Dr. Lassiter if Frank's father complains?”

“Tell him to call me. I'll give them an earful.”

Kay shook her head. “What he said about Lester's case was wrong, but that's not enough to remove him from the program. This is a public school, and we can't pick and choose our students.”

Scott leaned forward. “That's true for a math class he has to take for graduation, but belonging to the mock trial team is a privilege, not a right.”

“But the response should be to help him. Have you considered trying to spend time with him after class? Not to chew him out but to say something positive.”

“No,” Scott admitted.

“But don't try to help him out of guilt,” Kay added. “Do it because you want to. Like one of the good coaches who influenced you in school.”

“I had some decent coaches and some horrible coaches.”

Kay looked straight into Scott's eyes. “You're the only coach in Frank's life. What kind of coach are you going to be?”

Scott tapped his fingers on the desk. Kay was right.

“Do you remember Coach Lockhart?” he asked. “He was the defensive coach for the football team my junior and senior years.”

“The bald man with the big nose?”

“Yeah. And forearms like Popeye. If a player didn't demonstrate a commitment to his teammates, he ran wind sprints after practice until he understood the concept.”

Kay smiled. “Frank needs to run wind sprints.”

“Yeah, something like that.”

They walked outside together. It was a clear night, but the security light near the corner of the trailer kept the stars hidden. Scott took a deep breath.

“Great camping weather,” he said. “When you get away from streetlights, you can see hundreds of stars.”

“Don't the trees block the view?”

“Not where I'm taking you,” he responded. “We'll camp in a small open field by the stream. You can count stars until you're drowsy, then go to sleep with the sound of water gurgling over rocks in your ears.”

“I haven't accepted your invitation.”

“Is there anything else I can say to persuade you?”

Kay smiled. “No, but we have to go as friends.”

“I wouldn't want to take an enemy into the woods. That would be dangerous.”

“And I'll be safe with you?”

Scott looked in her eyes. “Yes.”