DAY SIX
Stone’s head jerked hard to the left and back toward his right shoulder. His face and neck twitched. He groaned and writhed and threw himself backward. He let the booklet fall to the floor.
The first couple of passages he had read gave Stone the only minutes of peace that he could find – even if that peace left a moment after he put the booklet down. So, he was looking forward to reading today. Looking forward to that peace. But these verses – today – just enflamed the horror. He was hurled back into every wicked thing his brain – or something – had been telling him since long before he ever laid eyes on Ezra Eliot Loleko.
“From deep in the world of the dead . . . down into the depths . . . banished from your presence . . . into the land whose gates lock shut forever.”15
“This was no coincidence,” Stone’s mind blazed.
Those lines were shot right at him. Made to cut. Made to taunt. Made to laugh at him. And the cutting, taunting, and laughing had been raging in his mind for hours now.
“What in the weary-wide world happened to you?” Ezra busted out as soon as he saw Stone.
“Whad’a’ya mean?”
“You’re twitchin’ and shakin’ all over. You’re a wreck.” Ezra was not one to mince words. “It’s 2:00 in the afternoon and you’re wearin’ the clothes you slept in. You haven’t combed your hair. Haven’t cleaned up at at all. And probably didn’t brush your teeth.”
That was all pretty typical symptomatology for a severely depressed man – and there was no mistaking Stone, today, for anything other than a severely depressed – and terrified – man. He had been able to fake it, but no so well recently – and not all today.
“What’s going on?” Ezra asked more politely, but still without any hint of the balderdash that people use to politely side-step the pain of the human being in front of them.
“You threw me down into the depths,” Stone said slowly, “ into the land whose gates lock shut forever – Deep in the world of the dead”16 He didn’t need to look at the booklet. Didn’t need to read those words. This was one little part of scripture that he had thoroughly seared into his memory.
“That! Yes, yes!” Ezra boomed. “The land whose gates lock shut forever. Yes . . . that is where you think you are.”
“Yeah. You knew that . . . And you knew that I was going to be reading those lines today. And you are asking me what’s going on?”
Ezra heard Stone. He always heard everything Stone had to say to him. But he continued as if Stone had not said a word. “And you believe God threw you there . . . into the depths, the world of the dead.”
“I am dead . . . or . . . if not . . . as good as dead.”
“And you’re getting what you deserve . . . right?”
“Yeah.”
“Why else would God throw you deep into the world of the dead . . . right!” Ezra wasn’t asking. He was telling Stone what he was thinking. He knew.
Stone bit his upper light and jerked his head quickly, left then right.”
“That’s what you’re thinking. Again. Still. Isn’t it?” Ezra wasn’t going to let up. It was time to push. “Why did God throw you down deep into the land of the dead?”
“Because I screwed up!” Stone barked, then quickly caught himself. “Because I made a mess of my life. Because I’m evil and I got this comin’ to me.”
“That’s all true,” Ezra said calmly, without hesitation, and firmly.
Stone stared. He didn’t say anything. He was again surprised that Ezra wasn’t trying to change his seemingly psychotic mind . . . And that made him listen.
You do have it comin’. This is what you deserve. But you’re missing something.”
He was keeping Stone curious. He was up to something. Stone knew that. Ezra was always up to something. Nothing was wasted. But Stone couldn’t figure this.
“What am I missing?” Stone snapped, with a quick-jabbing lift of his brow and thrust of his chin; as if to say, “I ain’t missin’ a blazin’ thing!”
“We all deserve it, “ Ezra exulted, almost laughing. “We’ve all got it comin’.”
“Listen, man,” Stone said intensely, quietly – almost angrily – and gravely. “I believe in God now more than I ever have. I know that He is real. But this ain’t no joke. I’ve got this coming. I’ve been evil. Am evil. And the only reason God would put me in the land of the dead . . . was if he had already locked the gates shut forever. . . This is why I know that He’s real now . . . He’s angry as hell with me and he wouldn’t throw me down, banish me, and lock the gates – forever – behind me . . . unless I had it comin’and there was no way out . . . He’s done with me!”
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
Stone lowered his head and stared silently at the floor. He wasn’t having any of what he thought Ezra might be selling. Some madman’s nonsense about it never being too late.
“Read the whole passage,” Ezra instructed.
Stone quivered. And his voice quaked as he read.
“From deep in the world of the dead I cried for help, and you heard me. You threw me down into the depths, to the very bottom of the sea, where the waters were all around me, and all your mighty waves rolled over me”.17 Stone twitched and jerked.
“I thought I had been banished from your presence and would never see your holy Temple again.”18 Stone gasped and faintly felt a swelling tear, but he couldn’t cry.
“The water came over me and choked me; the sea covered me completely, and seaweed wrapped around my head. I went down to the very roots of the mountains, into the land whose gates lock shut forever.”19
Stone groaned achingly out loud. “I’m a dead man.”
“You’re not finished,” Ezra said, “Go on.”
“But you, O Lord my God, brought me back from the depths alive. When I felt my life slipping away, then O Lord, I prayed to you, and in your holy Temple you heard me.”20
Stone sighed hard and Ezra looked directly at him.
“What makes you think you’re sin is greater than Jonah’s?”
“Huh?” Stone winced.
“That’s where those words come from . . . The book of Jonah . . . Jonah prayed those words. What makes you think your sin is greater than his was?”
“What was Jonah’s sin?” Stone asked.
“God gave him a direct command to preach to the people of Nineveh . . . And, instead, he ran away.”
“So, Jonah disobeyed God one time,” Stone said ruefully, “I’ve been evil my whole life.”
“I could show you,” Ezra firmly grinned, “that no one sin is greater than any other and that they all deserve the death penalty. But I don’t think you’re gonna hear that right now. You’d still be convinced that there is no way for you to escape and have life again – real life – for the first time.”
“Probably not.”
“But I can show you that Jonah – with that one sin – had it comin’, just like you.”
Stone blinked toward the floor and looked back at Ezra.
“Jonah disobeyed God’s command to preach to Nineveh . . . Now that might not sound so serious . . . Maybe a lot of preachers don’t preach what God wants them to preach . . . But what did God want Jonah to preach to Nineveh?”
“I don’t have a clue,” Stone muttered. “I mean, it’s not that I don’t know anything about God, but I’m pretty new to this bible reading stuff.”
“God commanded Jonah to preach a message of repentance to Nineveh . . . A message of repentance that was the only way for the people of that city to save their souls.”
“And Jonah didn’t do it.”
“Not only did Jonah not do it; he didn’t do it specifically because Nineveh was an enemy to his people and Jonah did not want God to save the lives and souls of the people of Nineveh . . . He wanted them to burn in Hell – or whatever he thought their punishment might be.”
“That’s pretty bad,” Stone nodded.
“Pretty bad?!” Ezra yelped. “You’re sufferin’ some kind of hell here. But you’re only one person . . . Jonah wanted the whole blasted city to burn – eternally! And he defied God, hoping to make it happen,” Ezra, strangely, cackled out loud.
“What’s so funny?” Stone couldn’t help but grin.
“What, now, makes you think that your sin is greater than Jonah’s sin?”
“Maybe it’s not . . . But what difference does it make? Maybe me and Jonah are in the same burning boat of damnation.”
“Not quite,” Ezra smiled. “You and Jonah both got thrown out of the same blasted boat, but you’re still at the very bottom of the sea . . . down into the depths . . . into the land whose gates lock shut forever.”21
“Yeah, and—
“And Jonah isn’t!” Ezra boomed. “He was – but he isn’t any more. He got out of his hell! And if Jonah can – who was just as bad, if not worse than you – then you can get out, too!”
Stone shook his head and jerked. “Bull! Nonsense!” Someone said in his brain. “You’re wicked . . .”
“In Jesus’ Holy Name,” Ezra roared, when he saw Stone twitch, “I command you back to Hell where you belong! . . . In Jesus’ Name, get out of here, you lying, curs-ed fraud.”
Stone leaped like he had been hit with an electric cattle prod. “What?! Me?” he buzzed.
“No!” Ezra roared again. “That forever condemned demon, bearing false witness in your head.”
“I . . . I,” Stone stuttered uncertainly wanting to believe. “I wish he would go away forever.”
“Don’t wish!” Ezra blasted. “Pray! . . . Pray – and command!” he raged. “Command that demon, in Jesus’ Holy Name, to be gone from you every time he opens his lying mouth!”
“Wow,” was all Stone could say.
“Now, Hallelujah Livingstone!” Ezra boomed, still cranking from his blitzkrieg on Gahenna’s goon, “How did Jonah get out of “the land whose gates lock shut forever.”22 How did he come back from the depths alive when he felt his life slipping away?”23
“He prayed?” Stone answered uneasily, as if guessing, but thinking he was probably right.
“Yeah, he prayed,” Ezra said, still booming, but unsatisfied . . . “But he didn’t just pray,” Ezra roared. “This wasn’t some sissy whisper. This man was desperate . . . This man was in the land whose gates lock shut forever – at least, that’s where he was in his mind – just like you . . . In his mind, he was in hell. This wasn’t some silent, ‘Oh, God, please, if it’s okay with you, um, could you . . . please help me please.’ No!” Ezra roared. “He cried out! . . . He yelled – out loud – like he was about to be set ablaze and needed to get out – Now! . . . Jonah let out a roar! This was the raging – out loud – desperate, last chance, groaning, booming, growl of a dying man who had no other hope!”
Stone just stood and stared.
“That is how you need to pray . . . That is how you need to cry out to God . . . Groaning with everything you’ve got in that 6-foot-6 inches and 225 pounds that He’s given you.
That night, Stone groaned and roared and cried out beyond himself – caring only that God heard; unconcerned with what the nurses and aides might think. It was a nuthouse, he figured. They gotta take this kind of thing for granted.
So much of that passage was about salvation, sin, confession, love . . . forgiveness. All of which Hallelujah Livingstone desperately needed. But, in his present state of mind, Stone saw just one word.
“Submit.”
There was nothing in Hallelujah Livingstone that wanted to submit to anything – ever. He had been fighting since he was a kid; even when he had no clue that he was fighting, or what he was fighting for – or against – and, sometimes, even why.
Stone was kind and considerate. A real gentlemen. Most of the time. But he banged against authority ever since that day when he was 15 years old and a zealous, young coach yanked and shook his facemask for the crime of having ferociously blocked – and rolled over – the wrong linebacker.
SABERBUCS 