Gabriel's Story - Part 3

Thanks for your patience. I’ve been on vacation, but during that time Gabriel has visited with Pastor Dave and is processing what he learned. But before we dive into our story, I’d like to ask your preference toward the use of flashbacks in a story. Do you find them distracting? Are they an effective means of giving backstory, assuming they are well written and poignant to the plot? Thanks in advance for your feedback, and let’s see how Gabriel is doing.

It had been more than a week since Gabriel had first heard what he called the ‘Voice of God.’ It had been equally as long since speaking with Pastor Dave about the Biblical ramifications of such a fantastic claim. Gabriel had always thought of God as a benevolent caretaker if a bit absent. He never anticipated The Creator would be interested in the daily life of someone so insignificant. Of course, if he listened to Pastor Dave, that way of thinking was not only valid; it was the only way to understand the God of the Universe. But sitting alone in his office, drinking a bit more Kahlua in his coffee than he normally did, Gabriel was unconvinced.

Gabriel had a nearly perfect didactic memory, which enabled him to revisit the conversation with ease. Each time he visualized Dave’s office and listened to the conversation, his mind grabbed ahold of a new detail, something he’d missed or at least something that bubbled beneath the surface and appeared benign enough at the time as to not trigger his interest. Still, a week after the conversation, Gabriel was still just as confused as he was before driving to the parsonage. When he closed his eyes he found himself in his Ram truck, just pulling into the parsonage driveway.

He remembered being surprised when he arrived to see Pastor Dave, his longtime friend and trusted pastor, sitting on the porch, speaking with a double amputee Gabriel hadn’t met. He wanted to be polite, but Gabriel wasn’t in the mood for delays and, at least upon first impressions, Pastor Dave was busy. However, upon introductions Gabriel discovered that the intruder was actually Pastor Sean, a medically retired US Marine who was new to the district and visiting the elder preacher as part of his tour to get to know the churches of the valley.

“Good afternoon, Gabriel.” Dave stood and offered a friendly hand.

Gabriel paused the memory and reviewed the lines in Dave’s hand. There was something there that he had missed, something important. Just under Gabriel’s thumb, on the outside of Pastor Dave’s right hand, were two small puncture marks. Under the skin he remembered a slight discoloration – profusion. Pastor Dave had recently had two needles in the veins of his right hand and one had allowed blood to seep out of the vein and into the tissue of his hand. Why is that important?

Pastor Dave was in his late eighties. He led Gabriel’s congregation on most days much the same as he had done for the last twelve years and Gabriel liked that Dave rarely changed things up. Dave was a bit unique among Nazarene pastors in the district, mainly because most pastors’ tenure ended after fewer than five years and usually came as the result of a disagreement between the pastor and the church board. A few pastors retired and still fewer moved voluntarily to other, more demanding, or larger assignments. However, Pastor Dave remained engaged, accepted, and completely respected by all in the congregation after more than a decade of prophesying from the pulpit. Sure, he talked about retiring in a few years, having enjoyed the last decade in one place. And he was already pulling double duty as the pastor of the Ten Cities Church of the Nazarene as well as the East US Morale and Mental Health Director for all Nazarene and Wesleyan churches and a handful of unaffiliated Methodist churches. Pastor Dave held a double doctorate, one in Divinity and one in Psychology, which gave him a unique perspective into pastoral life.

Early in the conversation Gabriel discovered Pastor Dave had invited Pastor Sean to meet with and possibly assist in the coming conversation. Sean was a Marine veteran and had quite a lot in common with Gabriel. After losing both legs in the first battle of Fallujah and subsequently facing medical retirement, Sean had returned home and re-engaged in his local Church. Gabriel learned he had felt the calling to do more, similarly to Gabriel’s recent growing conviction, and graduated with a Master’s in Divinity from Northern Theological Seminary before starting work with various churches in the district. According to Sean, he picked up his first real pastoral assignment five years earlier at a small church with fewer than fifteen parishioners, but quickly moved into a larger assignment once district leadership recognized his passion and connection with the congregation. Despite his sometimes unique perspective that was arguably at odds with standard Nazarene ideology, the district leadership, to include Pastor Dave, felt Sean’s gifts included wisdom, which made him well suited for speaking with troubled churchgoers.

Gabriel fast forwarded his memory to the point immediately after he described to both pastors exactly what he had seen and heard in the purple room of his late mother’s home. Dave’s response wasn’t what Gabriel expected.

“Listen, Gabriel,” Dave interrupted as recounted the second of two times he’d heard ‘the voice.’ “You have to understand that the Bible is full of allegory and allusion and that not everything you read is meant to be taken literally. Jesus came to Earth during a time when most people were illiterate. He visited a culture that engaged in oral traditions over written history.”

Gabriel argued, “But the Jews are famous for their written histories. You can’t get through Leviticus without pages and pages of this guy begat these ten kids who begat these ten, one of whom begat David who would become king.”

“True.” Dave didn’t waiver. “But that was a select few. Only the richest of the Jews or those in the priestly lineage were taught to read and write. Everyone else learned of the writings in the Talmud and the lives of the prophets through classes and sermons in the temple. And because of the education level of his audience,” He cupped his empty hands to represent the challenge Jesus faced speaking to ignorant listeners. “Jesus resorted to creative descriptions and literary tricks to get his point across. Alright, Sean? I mean, when the Bible says ‘voice of God’ it doesn’t always mean a literal voice.”

In his memory, Sean looked uncomfortable. So Gabriel pushed the point. “So you’re saying God doesn’t speak today? That was just for the Old Testament? Nobody today will hear,” he used air quotes, “’a still small voice’ or ‘rushing waters’ that can be attributed to God?”

Sean remained silent in deference to the elder pastor. Dave relaxed his shoulders and sat back in his chair. “I can tell you that in my nearly sixty years of preaching, God has never once spoken to me in an audible voice.” He uncrossed his arms and waved his hands around. “Sure, he speaks to me in the sunrise, the birth of a healthy baby, or in the acceptance by a sinner of God as his savior, but not in an audible voice and definitely not condemning me for my sin. God is a god of love, Gabriel.”

He paused the conversation again, this time focusing on Sean’s face. It was that moment when Sean chose Gabriel and his understanding of God over Pastor Dave’s non-traditional explanation.

“Pastor Dave, if I may,” Sean leaned forward. After receiving approval from the elder, he made eye contact and held Gabriel’s gaze for an almost uncomfortable time before speaking. When he did speak, Gabriel was enthralled as much with the texture of his tone as he was with the content of the conversation. “God chooses to reveal Himself to us in different, sometimes unique ways. Rarely will you find in the Bible where God treated two individuals identically or handled two different situations the same. Why would we then think God can only use the devices we find in the Bible to communicate?”

Gabriel’s eyes flitted between Sean’s captive gaze and Dave’s less interested slumbering stare. “So, you believe God talks in an audible voice?”

“Not only do I believe God speaks to us, but I happen to hear Him talking to me daily.” Sean sat forward and adjusted one of his legs. “Let me tell you a quick story. When I was in Fallujah, just before the explosion tore through our vehicle, I heard the tiniest of whispers telling me I was going to be ok. ‘Walk with me, Sean,’ I remember hearing. Then the charge blew through the rear door and killed everyone on my team. I only survived because I was sitting on the roof. The molten brass that killed my team only took my legs.” He knocked on his left prosthetic.

“And you believe God said, ‘Walk with me, Sean’ and then cut your legs off?”

“No!” Sean laughed and sat back in his chair. “That would be cruel in a morbidly comical kind of way that only a soldier, or Marine, could understand.” Again he stared into Gabriel’s eyes as if searching, no, as if he was reading Gabriel’s soul. Was he? Could he read Gabriel’s soul?

In his home office, alone, Gabriel realized his coffee had gone cold. The clock on the wall read 8:15. He’d been sitting there thinking about the meeting for over an hour. In the week since their conversation, Pastor Dave had announced he had chosen not to undergo aggressive chemotherapy after being diagnosed with stage four lung cancer. He cried behind the pulpit and much of his congregation cried with him as he announced he would be retiring immediately to focus on his health. He appreciated the many prayers of his congregation, but he was content with the life God had let him live. The profusion he had seen on Dave’s hand was a result of testing his pastor had had to confirm the cancer was moving aggressively through his body. The doctors didn’t expect Dave to be alive at the end of the year.

Gabriel rose and headed to the kitchen to nuke his coffee. He stopped in the foyer briefly as headlights turned to crawl up his driveway. “Sean?” he thought as he turned the corner into the kitchen.

“Listen to him. Trust him.” The voice was softer than before, but unmistakably the same. Gabriel wasn’t crazy. Was he possessed?

After retrieving his coffee he waited by his open door as the new pastor of the Ten Cities Church of the Nazarene climbed down from his late model Chevy Silverado. Light from the street glinted off his metal prosthetics as he walked. “Evening Pastor Sean. What brings you to my neck of the woods this late on a Saturday night?”

Sean smiled and held out a strong hand. “God does, Gabriel. And I think you’re ready to listen now.”

Gabriel stared into Sean’s eyes this time for what would normally have been an uncomfortable time – but that was before he started hearing voices. “Listen to what, Pastor?”

“God’s voice, of course.”