“All?” he’d whispered so long ago.
Trust in Me.
He’d wavered, eyes closed, feeling the urge to jump, the seductive pull of the dry creek bed a hundred feet below. He lifted his arms, intent on free-falling when God had said, I forgive you.
Oliver’s eyes had flown open and he looked down to the valley floor, a dizzy sensation sweeping over him as he’d stepped back, his heart knocking, sweat running down his sternum and spine. What had he been thinking? Had God really spoken to him? Or was he going mad, the guilt that had been gnawing at his soul finally taking over his mind?
Trust, the voice commanded again. Give yourself to Me.
Oliver had fallen to his knees, tears running down his face, and had vowed to become God’s humble servant from that moment forward.
But he’d failed.
Everything he’d done had been a lie.
And once again he considered the easier path, the quick way out. But killing oneself was cowardly. And a sin.
Another sin.
His jaw tightened as he reexamined his sorry life.
Lowering himself even farther so that he was lying prostrate in the grass and leaves, he desperately begged that God would heed his prayers.
Forgive him.
Guide him.
But in the darkness, with a slit of a moon rising high in the starry night, he heard only the sound of his own traitorous heartbeat and the sigh of the hot wind rustling dry leaves, rattling the brittle branches of the trees overhead.
Sweat collected everywhere on his bare skin and a cold whisper of fear congealed his blood.
The voice of God was silent.
The only sound was the demons whispering in his brain. Taunting him. Tempting him. Telling him that which he already knew: he was unworthy.
“Help me,” he cried aloud, anguish and pain ripping through him, guilt seeming to squeeze the breath from his lungs. His fingers clawed at the dry earth, leaves and twigs, and dead grass compressing into his powerless fists. Tears fell from his eyes as he thought of Jesus on the cross, how He’d died for Oliver’s own sins.
Was that fair?
No.
And yet he couldn’t control the restless demons warring for his soul, couldn’t stop the hot impulses pounding through his blood.
In desperation, he looked up at the heavens, to the stars and the thin, nearly imperceptible fingernail of the moon. Was God listening? Did He care?
Oliver closed his eyes and let his face fall to the earth where dust billowed up his nostrils and clogged his throat.
“Please, Father,” he implored in agony, “help me.”
But he heard no sounds of comfort.
Found no answers.
The demons laughed.
Tonight, it seemed, God had truly forsaken him.
For the first time in her life, Dani Settler ditched school.