It took me a little longer this time, but the fourth installment is here.
My story based on Psalm 27
My story based on Psalm 27
He landed in San Juan late that night. He took a pair of jeans, his favorite t-shirt, a jacket and of course personal clothing, plus his toiletries. When he left to get his stuff at home, they gave him his pistol back. He took that and his cell also. His Aunt Rita was leaving for work when she asked, "Where have you been? I've been worried!...And now where are you going?" Kyle didn't answer and just walked out and got into his jeep and took off for the out-of-the-way air strip that Juarez had. There was just the pilot and one of Hernandez' men, Poppi and Fernando. Poppi, age 37, got his pilot's license in Brazil. Born and raised by South American terrorists, he got his pilot's license at age 13. He came to the United States illegally to work for his father's best friend, Raphael Hernandez. Fernando was 20 and buff, about 6'2". His parents were Baptist missionaries from Mexico. They were serving in Columbia when Fernando became their prodigal son and left for the United States to work for Hernandez. He knew the Bible in and out, but decided he didn't want the safe life. He wanted to experience the wild life, and he did. He murdered, he robbed and he smuggled drugs since he was 15. Both men looked like they would kill you if you looked at them wrong.
"We will be waiting in the hotel in room 124 until 11:00 tomorrow. The drop off is 8. Be back or we will find you and kill you, and Hernandez will kill the girl," Fernando ordered Drew. Drew answered back, OK, OK, don't sweat it, I'll be back. And I'll bring your money too." Drew took a deep breath and got into a Cadillac and drove off to the same hotel in room 224. He put the address of the drop off in his GPS. He tried to sleep a little, but couldn't without having nightmares, so he turned on the TV and watched a movie or two. He was getting up at 6:30 in the morning and it was going to be a long night without sleep. He tossed. He turned. The TV was a distraction, but the only entertainment for his insomnia. He wanted to see Sheila again. His heart ached for her. The thought of her being held captive and possibly killed, tortured him. He brought a New American Standard Bible that Pastor Ron gave him last week. It was a tan leather-bound Bible, with Drew Baker 2013 on the spine of the Bible. He opened it up to the first passage he was introduced to. Psalm 27. He read verse four. One thing I have asked from the LORD, that I shall seek: That I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the LORD and to meditate in His temple. He knew what he had to do then. He had to find a church, but at 3 a.m.?
He grabbed his Bible, cell and pistol. His wallet was in his back pocket with only about $5 in it. He had never been out of the 48 states, and was very nervous being in a strange place. The hotel was lavish, owned by Juarez' mafia. Everyone that worked there was "owned" by Juarez, so Drew had to quietly leave without notice...the back way. He got out of there with no one noticing and went to his Caddy and drove to find a church...any church. He came to this old church that was several hundred years old. It was St. Baptista Iglesia. He stopped and went to the stairway of the huge church. He went to the top of the stairs and stood facing the two doors that was the main entrance. He was in awe of the sculptures of Jesus and angels. He noticed how beautiful the stained-glassed windows were. There was a cross, just above the doorway, in the center. It was gold and very spectacular. He was almost in tears. It looked like the doors were slightly opened. He looked and quietly walked in. It was magnificent indeed. There was a 40 foot wooden cross on the back wall of the church, with bloodstains and a cloth around the horizontal beam, with a red rose where the two beams meet. He'd never seen anything like it in his life. The sanctuary sat over a thousand people, at least. He went to the third row from the back and knelt down. He bowed his head in silence.
He told God that he was afraid and that he was sorry for all that he did wrong in his life. He was ready to trust Jesus with everything. He prayed and poured out his heart to God for several minutes. He repented and asked for forgiveness. He now belonged to Jesus. He felt a rush of adrenaline as the peace came over him. Kyle had walked him through the plan of salvation several times, so he had an idea of what to do. He didn't even plan doing it tonight, but God lead him to such desperation that it was the only thing he felt compelled to do. And he meant every plea. He sobbed, but with in at the fact that God was so merciful. He wanted to call Kyle, Sheila and his Aunt Rita with the news. He'd call Kyle to thank him and share that they were now brothers in Christ. He'd call Sheila and Aunt Rita because he wanted them to know Christ. Drew thought about all Kyle and Pastor Ron taught him, about Christ and the ministry. He gave their words some thought just then. God, what do you want from me?, he prayed silently. He sat in silence for an answer. He waited. Nothing. Five minutes went by and God whispered to him, Minister to my people. He cried out, "But how, Lord?" He was confused and yet at peace. He thought maybe he should talk to someone about it...if he would get out of this mess alive.
He looked at his watch. It was now about 4 a.m. He heard several suspicious noises out in the corridors of the expansive church. He heard a door creak in the south wing of the church. Then he heard footsteps coming his way. He grabbed his gun, ready to shoot anyone who would do him harm. His phone rang and luckily was on vibrate. It was Kyle. He wanted to take the call, but couldn't at this time. He had to defend himself at the moment. The footsteps stopped. Another door creaked and Drew freaked...on the inside. He had to keep his composure and stay quiet, for fear his assailant would find him. His heart was beating a hundred and twenty times a minute it seemed. He heard papers rustling in the footsteps' direction. He crouched down in the pew aisle to wait for his death. OH LORD, PLEASE!, he cried inside himself. What would he do now? He was bent down with his head resting on his knees, almost crying. OK, Lord, I'm going to trust you. You'd better have a plan...please, he asked God. The footsteps started again. He heard someone breathing. The footsteps stopped about six inches from Drew's body. The assailant put his hand on Drew's shoulder. What would happen next is a mystery you'll have to wait to find out next time...
He grabbed his Bible, cell and pistol. His wallet was in his back pocket with only about $5 in it. He had never been out of the 48 states, and was very nervous being in a strange place. The hotel was lavish, owned by Juarez' mafia. Everyone that worked there was "owned" by Juarez, so Drew had to quietly leave without notice...the back way. He got out of there with no one noticing and went to his Caddy and drove to find a church...any church. He came to this old church that was several hundred years old. It was St. Baptista Iglesia. He stopped and went to the stairway of the huge church. He went to the top of the stairs and stood facing the two doors that was the main entrance. He was in awe of the sculptures of Jesus and angels. He noticed how beautiful the stained-glassed windows were. There was a cross, just above the doorway, in the center. It was gold and very spectacular. He was almost in tears. It looked like the doors were slightly opened. He looked and quietly walked in. It was magnificent indeed. There was a 40 foot wooden cross on the back wall of the church, with bloodstains and a cloth around the horizontal beam, with a red rose where the two beams meet. He'd never seen anything like it in his life. The sanctuary sat over a thousand people, at least. He went to the third row from the back and knelt down. He bowed his head in silence.
He told God that he was afraid and that he was sorry for all that he did wrong in his life. He was ready to trust Jesus with everything. He prayed and poured out his heart to God for several minutes. He repented and asked for forgiveness. He now belonged to Jesus. He felt a rush of adrenaline as the peace came over him. Kyle had walked him through the plan of salvation several times, so he had an idea of what to do. He didn't even plan doing it tonight, but God lead him to such desperation that it was the only thing he felt compelled to do. And he meant every plea. He sobbed, but with in at the fact that God was so merciful. He wanted to call Kyle, Sheila and his Aunt Rita with the news. He'd call Kyle to thank him and share that they were now brothers in Christ. He'd call Sheila and Aunt Rita because he wanted them to know Christ. Drew thought about all Kyle and Pastor Ron taught him, about Christ and the ministry. He gave their words some thought just then. God, what do you want from me?, he prayed silently. He sat in silence for an answer. He waited. Nothing. Five minutes went by and God whispered to him, Minister to my people. He cried out, "But how, Lord?" He was confused and yet at peace. He thought maybe he should talk to someone about it...if he would get out of this mess alive.
He looked at his watch. It was now about 4 a.m. He heard several suspicious noises out in the corridors of the expansive church. He heard a door creak in the south wing of the church. Then he heard footsteps coming his way. He grabbed his gun, ready to shoot anyone who would do him harm. His phone rang and luckily was on vibrate. It was Kyle. He wanted to take the call, but couldn't at this time. He had to defend himself at the moment. The footsteps stopped. Another door creaked and Drew freaked...on the inside. He had to keep his composure and stay quiet, for fear his assailant would find him. His heart was beating a hundred and twenty times a minute it seemed. He heard papers rustling in the footsteps' direction. He crouched down in the pew aisle to wait for his death. OH LORD, PLEASE!, he cried inside himself. What would he do now? He was bent down with his head resting on his knees, almost crying. OK, Lord, I'm going to trust you. You'd better have a plan...please, he asked God. The footsteps started again. He heard someone breathing. The footsteps stopped about six inches from Drew's body. The assailant put his hand on Drew's shoulder. What would happen next is a mystery you'll have to wait to find out next time...
STAY TUNED UNTIL NEXT TIME...
No comments:
Post a Comment