Just a routine office visit. She hadn’t been feeling well so she’d gone to see her doctor. Instead, the diagnosis. The one everyone fears. Cancer. Late stage. Incurable. From that moment, a whirlwind ensued and now, Jeanne had been in the hospital for several days, endured a battery of tests, pills, tubes and a constant string of physicians in and out of her room.
Divorced for a number of years, there remained only her daughter and herself of her immediate family. At school up north, she’d wired her daughter the money and she would fly down as soon as she was able. She had a brother in another state, but they weren’t close.
Alone and overwhelmed, she whispered softly. “God, I don’t know why you let this happen to me. I’ve been in church all my life. Please, please, heal me.”
Her quiet desperation was interrupted by the sound of familiar voices in the hallway. Perking up and putting a brave face on, she positioned herself and waited.
Three chattering ladies entered, their expressions turned sober and empathetic as they turned to her.
“How are you?” One asked kindly.
Jeanne nodded.
“All things considered, you look good.” Another observed with a smile.
Even knowing it couldn’t be true, Jeanne smiled and nodded.
“We’ve been praying for you.” The third added.
“I appreciate that.”
“I’ve started the prayer chain.” The first nodded. “There’s a vigil tomorrow night.”
“Thank you, Eleanor.” Jeanne replied.
“So how is it, really?” The second one asked, clearly at a loss for what to say.
“Carol!” The third chided.
“What, Fran! I mean…”
“It’s okay.” Jeanne soothed. Turning to Carol, she replied. “Brutal. You know, I’ve never been poked, prodded or taken so many pills in my life.”
The ladies fidgeted nervously.
“They’re treating it and you know, trying to keep it from progressing but… apart from a miracle…”
“Well of course God’s going to heal you!” Eleanor said, patting her hand. “You’re a good person.”
The others murmured agreement.
“What would the Ladies’ Ministry do without you?” Carol offered, clearly attempting to be positive.
“Yes,” Fran chimed in. “And who would organize the meals for shut-ins and new moms?”
Jeanne smiled, truly appreciative of their efforts. Leaning back, she felt tired.
“Well,” Eleanor said. “We wanted to come by and see how you’re doing. We’ll come by again.”
“Yes,” Carol nodded. “And we’ll be praying for you.”
“Thank you.” She replied, almost grateful when they left. Of course it’s hard, she thought. She’d struggled herself when visiting critically ill church members in the hospital or when they were home recovering.
A hand gently taking hers brought her out of sleep. Jeanne smiled weakly up at the young woman standing beside her bed. “Leigh.”
“Ilm here, Mom.” She smiled. “Are they taking good care of you?”
Her mother nodded.
“Good. I’ll be here if you still need to rest.”
“No,” she whispered, struggling to sit up. “I’m so glad you came.”
“Don’t be silly. Of course I came.” Squeezing her hand, she asked. “Can I get you anything?”
“No. It’s enough that you’re here.”
Leigh smiled. “Mom, I talked to the doctor.”
Jeanne looked away as she nodded. “I’m hoping for a miracle.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Have you ever, truly given your life to Jesus?”
Her mother scowled. “How can you ask me that? I’ve been in church all my life. I organize the food drives and the Ladies’ Ministry luncheons and holiday get togethers.”
“I know all that, Mom, but…”
“This isn’t the time for a lecture, Leigh. I’m fighting for my life here.”
“I know that. It’s why I’m asking.”
“You don’t think I’m good enough for God to answer me?”
“That isn’t it. Don’t you see?”
“No. I don’t see.” She settled back. “I’m too tired to argue with you.”
Leigh nodded. “I’m here. If you change your mind.”
Jeanne slipped away during the night.
When she came to herself, she found her surroundings surreal and strange.
At the end of a long, narrow hallway that seemed to be something like an office or federal building, she stood motionless. No pictures or decoration of any sort adorned the walls; there were no tables, chairs or people anywhere to be seen. The only things visible were the massive, dark wood doors at the far end, elaborately carved with long pointed handles; reminiscent of something you might see in an old, medieval castle.
For a moment, Jeanne stared, unsure what to do until she felt something bordering on compulsion nearly propelling her forward. She grabbed a handle, found the doors heavy and difficult to open.
Once she managed it, she stepped into the room on the other side.
It appeared like every courtroom she’d ever seen in movies or on television, except there were no people in the gallery, no jury and no court officers. Beyond the rail, there stood the typical lawyer’s tables, but no chairs. They were dwarfed by the judge’s bench which, also made of deep, rich wood, appeared nearly twice her height.
At the law table on her right, a figure, clearly masculine shuffled through some documents, his back to her. His black hair slicked back, it brushed the nape of his neck. His clothes, the same jet hue as his hair were sleek and tailored to the lean form.
On the left, another figure stood. Dressed in solid white and also masculine, his shoulders were broad but with no papers on the table. Instead, a very thick, ancient edition of some book lay closed. The figure’s arms were crossed as he stood waiting.
Suddenly, a bright light appeared where the judge would sit, nearly blinding in its brilliance but with no distinct form. From it came a booming voice. “Step forward!”
Startled, Jeanne realized the voice had addressed her. She glided involuntarily up the aisle and stood dumbfounded before the judge’s bench. Where was she? Was this a dream?
“How do you plead?” The voice demanded.
Confused, she looked around.
The figure in white had his head down, solemnly.
Gleefully, the other one licked his lips, his smile oily beneath eager eyes that stared at her as if she were on a dessert menu.
She thought he looked like every depiction of a vampire she’d ever seen, minus the fangs.
“How do you plead!” The voice boomed, so loud it shook the entire room.
Trembling nervously and then gathering her wits, it occurred to her that she must be dreaming of heaven. Straightening slightly, with confidence she declared. “I’ve been in church all my life. I’m a member of 1sr Assembly. I organize outreaches and ladies’ ministry events. I’m a good person.”
The sound of shuffling papers came from behind her on the right. A wheedling, whiny voice said, “I call your attention to the screen.”
From above, out of nowhere, a projector screen lowered to just above eye level. A picture appeared.
Jeanne saw herself at what she recognized as a women’s event some time previous.
Her friend Fran stood next to her. In a cheerful voice, she said. “Oh, look! Beatrice’s daughter is here.”
“What’s she doing here?” Jeanne replied. “She’s not a member of the church, is she? And look at how she’s dressed. Why didn’t Beatrice tell her to put on some decent clothes? That skirt is way too short.”
“Well, let’s be glad she came. I know Bea is praying for her.” Fran observed before crossing the room and welcoming the two ladies warmly.
Jeanne simply huffed and turned to her preparations on a table behind her.
“A brother offended is harder to win than a strong city.” The wheedling voice declared.
Jeanne shifted nervously. Weren’t they supposed to be mindful of any appearance of evil?
Another picture appeared on the screen. This time Jeanne was standing behind a table filled with bags of food, handing them to pairs of women as they came.
A single woman approached. Shabbily dressed, the sleeveless blouse she wore showed a tattoo covering one of her forearms. Her nose was pierced on one side as was one of her brows. “Could you help me?”
Masking a frown, Jeanne answered. “This is the food outreach for shut ins from church.”
The young woman nodded. “I lost my job two weeks ago. I’ve been looking but … well, my… I have a toddler and a five-year-old at home. We… I just need some food for them.”
Without speaking aloud, what were clearly her thoughts became audible. If you looked presentable, you wouldn’t have lost your job and might be able to find one. But she answered. “I’m sorry. These are only for the elderly and shut ins from our church.”
Sadly, the young woman nodded and turned away.
“Jeanne!” Carol exclaimed softly.
“What? They are.”
Hurrying around the table, Carol caught up to the young woman. “Come on, honey.” She said. “Let’s go get some food for those babies.”
Eyes full, the grateful young woman nodded and replied meekly. “Thank you.”
“Didn’t you say ‘whatever you do to the least of these; you’ve done to Me’?” The whiner demanded, facing the man in white.
Jeanne realized now, as he nodded, it was Jesus. Why didn’t he say something? Speak up for her? She had only been trying to properly steward the church’s resources.
“You see?” The tone was gleeful, triumphant. “A very offense against you!”
Once again, a picture appeared. An evening service at her church just finishing, the pastor said, “Anyone who would like to give their life to Jesus, please make your way to the front. We’d like to pray with you and help you get started living for Him.”
Jeanne sat several rows from the front on the right where most of the leadership of the church were. Patiently, she watched as several people walked the aisle and stood before the pastor. She felt grateful she didn’t need to embarrass herself by going down. She already belonged to the church and served regularly.
A loud thump came from the table to her left.
Turning toward the sound, she realized it was the opening of the book. For as long as she could remember, she’d heard about names written in the Lamb’s Book of Life. Her confidence soared as she expected hers to be read aloud.
His eyes, full of what could only be described as liquid love, met hers sadly and then gazed down at the book. Closing it, he shook his head.
“What!” She shrieked in terror. “I’ve been in church all my life. I’ve served. I’ve…”
“Your lips drew near but your heart was far from Me.” He replied sadly. “Depart from me, worker of iniquity.”
‘Hahaha!” Gloated the wheedler.
From somewhere she hadn’t noticed, two grotesque figures appeared, clutching her arms, their talons digging into the flesh.
“No!” She screamed. “It can’t be…!”
Suddenly, a sweet fragrance began to fill the chamber. A bright creature floated toward Jesus, a vial of amber liquid in hand. Placing it on the table, he bowed his head and backed away.
“Wait.” Jesus said, lifting the vial and examining it. “Ah, Father. She’s using the Name.”
“Son.”
“It’s Leigh, Father. I know her well.” He smiled. “And she’s calling her back. Using the Name.”
“As High Priest of her confession, the judgement is yours.”
He turned to Jeanne. “I desire obedience over sacrifice. And mercy over judgement.”
Murmuring softly, head rocking back and forth, she struggled to regain her wits and get her eyes open.
Next to her bed, grasping her hand, Leigh prayed quietly. “Have mercy, Lord. In Jesus’ Name, I ask. Please, give her another chance. More time.”
Smiling, as grateful for her daughter as she’d ever been, she squeezed her hand. It would be the child’s turn to teach the parent. Quietly, she rasped. “Leigh.”
Her head came up quickly. Eyes filling, she exhaled softly. “Welcome back, Mom.”