Prayer of the Son

Prayer of the Son

Johns' mind was swirling as he tried to shake off the effects of his last cocaine binge.  He opened his eyes just a squint and the spinning sensation slowed.  He had a twinge of nausea and a sharp pain going down his right arm.  The pain made him open his eyes farther and he focused on the guest chair opposite his desk and the man sitting in it.  His eyes glanced at his oak entry door.  He was sure he locked it before he started his … recreation.

The man in the chair had the Cheshire cat's smile.    He was dressed in a matching black polo shirt and slacks.  As the man stood up his clothes clung to his form perfectly.  Almost as if they were  painted on.

He spoke slowly, deliberately.  “Nice office John.”

The pain in John's arm was lessening now and the spinning sensation had completely stopped. “I'm sorry...do I know you.”

“I like to  start,  my … patients off in familiar surroundings.  It intensifies the emotions that follow.”

“Are you a doctor? Actually I was having some pain just a minute ago but its better now.”

The man seemed to ignore the question as he moved to the other side of the room.  He walked the length of the plate glass window that made up the North wall of the office.

“Spectacular view John.  And you can call me Oliver.”

“Oliver, then!  Why are you in my office?”

The Cheshire smile came over Oliver's face again.  To John it seemed Oliver used the broad toothy grin like a mask, but to hide what?

Oliver strode back to the chair next to the desk and plopped down.  He scanned the pictures and business magazines on the desk as he ran his right hand through his course black hair.  He starred intently John's face, cataloging every detail.

“John, how are you feeling?  In any pain now, heart racing perhaps?”

Oliver reached across the desk and placed two fingers against John's wrist just above his open palm.  He tapped his fingers for a couple of seconds pretending to feel for a pulse. 

John could see Oliver close up now and was more than a little puzzled and alarmed.  The skin over Oliver's hands and forearm seemed perfectly normal.  But his black clothing was in fact part of him.  His 'shirt' had a different color from his hands.  John even felt  the texture of denim as their arm's brushed against each other.  But it wasn't cloth.  John was getting the sense that Oliver wasn't normal in any sense of the word.

While John mused over Oliver's nature the stranger announced his verdict.  “Hmmmmm.  No, in fact you seem to be … dead calm my friend.”

“I'm not sure what you're doing here or what  game your playing at but I'm done.  I think you should leave now whoever or whatever you are!”

John could tell from Oliver's expression that he was amused with himself as he spoke.  “Could you stand up for me a moment John.  I have something to show you. “

John pressed the comm button on the office phone.  But it seemed to be stuck.  He shouted into the speaker regardless.  “Miss Michaels please get someone from security in my office ASAP!”

Oliver cocked his head and placed it near the phone waiting for a response.  But there only silence.  In a mocking voice he then prodded John into action.  “Tell you what.  Why don't you escort me out of the office your self?”

John stood up and made his way to the door.  Oliver followed close behind him.  His unchanging grin was again in place.  If he was trying to mask the pleasure he felt by confounding him he wasn't doing a good job.  Olivers eyes were transfixed on John's face as he brought both of his clenched hands to either side of John's face.  He then popped them open palms extended with a flurry of motion as if performing a magic trick.

“Notice anything about your.... desk... John?” 

John could see that Oliver was ecstatic almost to the point of loosing his composure.  He shifted his gaze from Oliver for an instant to glance at his desk.  Everything seemed to be in place...including a body...collapsed forward over  the desk.  He could make out the face and a trail of coke under the man's head.  The cocaine which he himself hadn't had time to imbibe.  John knew he was looking at his own body and now everything seemed to make sense.  Terrible, fear griping sense.

Oliver's huge smile was gone for the moment.  However, his pleasure in the situation was even more obvious.  John had been through enough negotiations to tell when someone held the upper hand.  Oliver spoke as if he had all the cards.  “John, you're dead.  Actually, your heart has just this second stopped...never to beat again.”

Incredulous John walked over to his own body and attempted to lift his own head up.  No matter how much force he exerted he couldn't seem to budge the torso or arms of the limp form.

Oliver's was attempting to control the excitement in his voice as he spoke.  But his hands were making fists and relaxing in a manic display.    “I think you know what happens now John.”

An icy drop of sweat ran down John's back under his shirt as paralyzing fear gripped his mind and the 'spirit' body he now found himself in.  His voice cracked as he uttered a single word. “Hell.”  John looked up from the desk where he hovered over his own lifeless form.

Strangely Oliver wasn't looking at him.  Deep wrinkles covered his forehead and he successively turned toward every corner of the office.  He seemed to sense something was wrong and was looking for what it was.  John felt a burst of wind at his back and a new voice came from the diction of the window. 

The amused voice corrected Oliver in a thick English accent.  “Now Oliver reallllly.  He's not quite dead yet then is he?  Not...just yet?”

The wrinkles of concern on Oliver's forehead were now drawn tight as his face contorted with mix of disgust and … fear.  “Paul!  You have no business here.  John is no Child!”

The fear that head tied John's stomach into a knot seemed to lessen by just looking at the new comer,

Paul was dressed in tailored white suite and  he had matching white patent leather shoes. The only variation in the snow white theme was a blood red business tie with a decidedly sloppy knot.

As if reading John's thoughts Paul put his right hand to his throat and tightened up the tie.  He turned away from the window and looked at John for the first time.

“Well...I was in rush wasn't I?  Not has if someone were diiiiiying or anythin was it?”  Paul turned his attention to Oliver.

“Child?  Nooooo, he's not of the Kingdom I grant you.”  Paul started lightly bobbing his head up and down as he continued.  “Howeva, he knows a Child....does ent he?”  Paul rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and back down to the floor showing unabashed  amusement as he ended the statement.

Oliver's face was visibly flushed now.  “That has no bearing here! “ Oliver pointed a accusing finger at John's body as it lay across the desk.  “He didn't choose anything in life and you can't get a decision out of him now!  Not while he's dead.  He had his chance to accept The Blood and refused!”

Paul was grinning and obviously enjoying Olivers tirade.  “Now...now let not get ourselves in a bunch Oliva.  Who said anythin about getting John to make a decision.”  He made a show of patting both hands on his chest.  “Nooot me.  In fact I'm not hea because of hm it all.  Its the Child is the thing.”

“What of the Child?  He can't save his father.  He can't decide for John!  Not now not ever!”

“Indeed.  Indeed Oliva you ar correct.”  Paul rolled his eyes to the ceiling for a moment again. “Howeva, Ethan as power...  Power as a Child.”

The eyebrows on John's face came together in consternation as he looked at Paul.  “What does my son have to do with any of this.  With my death.”

Paul laid his hand on John's shoulder as he spoke.

“Your son has been praying for you lad.  In fact e's felt orrible this whole mornin at schoool thinking about you.  Stead of eatin his lunch e's prayed for your soul.  That you might come to know Him.”

Oliver  moved next to John and pushed Paul's hand off his should.  And virtually spat his next sentence in John's face.  “But he can't choose now ... he's dead!”

“Now Oliver.  Is hart may hav stopped for just one beat.  Buut is head...is brain...still active enough isn't it then?”

Oliver's face was searing red.  John could see the veins in his neck bulging and his 'shirt' seemed to have tiny spines on the surface. 

Paul lifted his right eyebrow and gave him an incredulous look but talked directed to John.  “Remember John.  Ethan nor I can decide for you to accept the gift of Jesus sacrifice.  His blood that covered ever bad thing we've evea done or will do.  But because ya son loves you and because he asked fur elp  I was dispatched hea.”

Afraid of the answer there was a tear running down John's face as he asked, “But what can be done now.”

Paul moved from John's consciousness to the lifeless body at the desk.

“If you want anotha chance you can fight for it now John.  When I place my hand on ur ead you'll have one chance to come back this wold. “

Oliver wasn't going to let John go so easily and but changed his tact.    And his appearance.  He was now clothed in a white 'shirt' and slacks and seemed perfectly calm.

“John, your dead.  You are powerless now to come back and you're better off with me anyway.  You're at peace finally with this rotten world.  No more injustice.  No more self doubt.  No more pressure or disappointment.  No more broken promises by those you trusted.”

Some of what Oliver said made sense to John but his voice seemed to fade away as he concentrated on Paul's hand above his own body at the desk.

Paul's eyes locked with John's as he repeated.  “Fight John.  Fight to the surface now with all ur hart.  When you make it back I'll give you a sign or three to keep Him in mind.” 

John's fear was gaining strength again has he noticed Oliver smiling next to him.  John pleaded.  “Help!”  He saw Paul lay his hand gently on top of the head on the desk.  Then the world went black....

John's mind was swirling as he awoke.  He found himself stretched out over his desk.  As he blinked his eyes open he saw that he was over the top of three coke trails.  None of which had been touched. 

“But I had ...”  He was interrupted as the office phone rang.

“Yes?”

“Mr Cameron, your son is here to see you sir.”

He hesitated as a flood of relief seemed to wash away the living hell he had just experienced.  He stood up and wiped his hands over his eyes, face and arms before he responded.  “Send him in please.”

John looked down at the desktop again.  In a near panic he pulled the waste can to the edge of the desk and brushed the cocaine into it.  He wiped his brow as the door opened.  A lanky brown eyed 10 year old with short cropped hair entered the office.  The thin smile on this chiseled face made it plain that he was happy to see his dad.

Ethan crossed the office to the visitor's chair next to the desk.  “Hi dad.  I was thinking about you today and I got this idea on how to explain something.  Hey cool tie who left it?”  Ethan picked up a blood red tie which lay on the seat cushion.

As John fixed his gaze on Paul's tie he felt his legs weaken.  The reality of his 'trip' was made concrete with this physical piece of evidence.  Everything that transpired  between himself, Oliver and Paul could not have been a coke induced  hallucination. 

He stumbled back and fell into  his chair with a heavy thud.  He concentrated on keeping a normal tone of voice as he wiped a tear running down face with his sleeve.  “That would be sign number one I'm guessing.”

Still examining the tie Ethan hadn't noticed his father's tear but was puzzled by the 'sign' response.  “Huh?”

“Oh a friend left it to remind me of something.  Now what did you want to show me big guy?”

“Ok, well this idea just popped into my head and it made so much sense I had to tell you about it.  Wish I had three marbles.” Ethan's attention drifted from the tie to John's desk and a look of amusement came over his face.  He pointed to the side of John's wooden pen/pencil holder facing opposite John.

John's looked at the  small laser engraved oak box.  In the center of the box an was a single ornately engraved word, 'Peace'.  He remembered two years ago Ethan had given it to him for Christmas and thought out loud.  “I'm not counting that,it was already here.”  Still wondering what detail on the box Ethan was pointing at as he slowly spun the box to see the opposing side.  He read 'On Earth' on the side of the box.  At the same time three marbles gently rolled to the center of the desk where the motion of the box had sent them.

“Ok, thats number two Paul.”

Hey, now that is just too cool.  They are the same colors I would have picked.  But dad there are three dad, not two.”

“Oh, right.  I think my friend Paul left these as well.  He must have known you'd be coming by.”

Ethan grabbed the marbles and held up a clear glass sphere in front of John's face.  “The clear marble is God!  He has no bad stuff inside.  That's sin dad.  Basic ten commandments stuff.  Stealing, lying yada yada yada.  The main point is He can't look at the bad stuff in anyone and He doesn't have any bad stuff in Himself either.”

“I get it.  So what is with the red marble?”:

“Aaah.  “  Ethan held the translucent red marble up between John and the overhead lights.  John could see a rube red light shining through the glass.  “This is Jesus dad.  He gave his life, His blood as payment for the bad stuff the entire world did or ever will do.  And He was the only one that could because he had no sin.”

“No sin....”  John was trying to keep up a strong front for Ethan but another tear escaped down his face.  He didn't bother trying to hide this one.  He knew more were on the way.  The thought of someone suffering to keep him from the likes of Oliver made his eyes blurry with the tears caught in his eye lashes.  He watched as Ethan set down the red marble on the desk next to the clear one.    He forced out a burning question.  “And why exactly would Jesus do that?”

Concentrating on aligning the marbles Ethan cocked his head to one side and pouted his lips.  Then  mimicking a child's voice pleaded,  “Would you die to protect me dad?”

John hid tear filled eyes by fraining deep thought and grabbing his forehead with with both hands.  He  managed to keep voice upbeat and joked back.  “Emmmmm.  Maybe.  If it were quick and painless.”

Ethan snorted in amusement.  “And dooon't I feel special about that vote of affectioin...NOT!  The point is that Jesus loves each and everyone of us enough to die for us.  And not a painless quick death either.”  There was a twinge of pain in Ethan's voice and face as he went on.  “The people he died for actually whipped him almost to death.”

Under cover of his hands a steady stream of tears coursed down John's face as he listened.  Hanging on every word.  He noted the conviction in his son's face as he related his story.  He could the Ethan eyes were beginning to fill with tears now as well.

“Sorry to get misty dad but they nailed him to a wooden cross.  It took hours for him to die.  But he was willing to because a price had to be paid to wash away our …”

John completed the sentence  “Bad stuff?”

Ethan's face brightened.  “Exactly!  And that takes us  to our marble.  The brown one.”

John moved his hands down to see the marble clearly showing his tear streaked face.  “I don't like brown.”

“I know.”  He held it up between the light as he had with the others.  “You can't see through it can you?”  For the first time Ethan saw that the message was getting to his dad.    He grabbed John's arm in a show of reassurance.

“Nope.  I can't see anything through that one son.  That's the sin isn't it?”

“Yes dad.  Its what keeps us from knowing God as His son does.  But look what happens when I put them in order.”

Ethan lined up the clear marble on the edge of the desk next to John, then placed the red marble next to it.  He nudged the brown marble just behind the red one so that all the marbles made a straight line.

“Now bend down and look through dad.  Look through God's marble.”

John pushed his chair away from the desk and bent down.  He came within two of inches of the clear marble and looked directly through it towards the others.

“I see the red and … nothing else.”

“When we roll up next to Jesus, God sees us through Him.  He only sees the sacrifice already paid.  He doesn't see our bad stuff at all because its already forgiven and washed away.”

The visualization became real in John's mind.  “He … God can do that?  He can forgive everything?”

“We just have to accept Jesus sacrifice for our sins.  God through Jesus paid the price for us already.  We just have to say we want it.  The deal is already signed and sealed.”

John wiped his face with his shirt sleeves as if trying to make himself more presentable.  “Ok.  I want that!  I want that now!”

Ethan grabbed his father around the waist and tried his best to squeeze him in half for several seconds.

John rubbed  his hand of Ethan's head in affection before faking a gasp.  “Ok....dude I need to breath here.”

Ethan lessened his grip around John's waist but didn't let go as he spoke.

“Ok dad these aren't  magic words.  He knows what is in your heart already.  That is want He is listening too right now.  Say something like this in your heart and mind, 'Jesus I accept your sacrifice for my sins.'”

John repeated, “Jesus I accept your sacrifice for my sins.”

“I ask you to be Lord of my life.”

Again John echoed, “I ask you to be Lord of my life.”

Ethan tightened the squeeze again. “Thats it dad.  You've accepted His free gift of forgiveness.  Now I know where we are BOTH going to end up forever.”

After a long minute Ethan released his father and spun around to face the line of marbles again in triumph.  He miscalculated the spin and instead his waist smacked the edge of the desk.
The marbles looked like tiny billiard balls at the break.  The end brown marble shot off the end off the desk.  It fell to the tile floor with a crack. 

Ethan walked over and picked up the resulting pieces.  He placed two perfect halves on the desk.

“Sorry dad.”

“Don't be.  I'll take that as sign number three.”

“You and signs today.  What three?”

With a new peace, a new hope John spoke calmly. “Sin is broken Ethan.  And I have your prayer to thank for it.”

Ethan eyebrow raised with a question.  “Well I did pray for you really hard today for some reason.  But how did you know?”

“Something my friend Paul said.  I'll have to tell you about him sometime.    Or perhaps we'll see him.”
John picked up a blood red strip of material from the desk.  “He did leave his tie...”