Featured Story

week of October 19, 2019

All the Way Back

by C. V. Garnett

A hot, sticky night in Miami. Brad could feel the heat rising from the sidewalk as he ambled down Biscayne Boulevard. Cars whizzed past, people walked past, sirens wailed past. Brad did not feel a part. He wanted, in fact, to be apart. By himself. If only he could be alone—to pray aloud.

Sometimes silent prayer will not do. There are times when a person needs to hear the sound of one’s own voice reverberating to God. If only there was a wayside chapel or any church that was open.

He walked another two blocks. Then he saw it. He could hardly believe it. A lovely glass door opened to a dimly lit chapel. Small wooden pews, a tiny altar. Perfect. Next to the door hung a sign: “Come in, you are welcome to sit, pray, meditate, or eat your lunch.”

Brad noticed by the entrance a podium holding a guest book. A delightful idea. The book featured columns for names, addresses, and comments. People from numerous states had autographed the book. In the comment column some had added evangelical statements: “Praise the Lord” or “Jesus saves” or “I have found Him!” Many expressed gratitude for the very existence of such a place. Brad wrote a note expressing his good fortune in finding this sanctuary.

Then the page blew back, and one statement caught his eye. In neat pen were written these poignant words: “Nancy was here and left for good.”

A pathetic statement. At best a flippant, feeble joke. At worst the sincere and desperate declaration of a soul. Either way, Brad thought it was tragic, for it revealed a girl who was disillusioned. It seemed an expression of rejection of God.

The words stung Brad. So much so that when he seated himself in the rough-hewn pew he could think of nothing else. His own problems took a back seat to Nancy’s.

Who was this girl? And why did she write such a thing? Only God knew.

The prayers Brad had hoped to pray for himself were superseded. Nancy and her soul became his only concern. Kneeling in the soft light, he lifted her to God in prayer. Prayed that God might reach down, reach out, reach in, and save her.

Rising from his knees, Brad felt unburdened, as if some mighty hand had lifted a heavy beam from his shoulders. Brad remembered reading somewhere that intercessory prayer is a perfume whose fragrance blesses twice—the one who touches it and the one touched by it.

With reluctance Brad left the little chapel. He had found a needed haven and, in that place, a peace. He began his walk toward home.

He was only a few blocks from the chapel when an inspiration struck him. He turned and began running. He ran all the way back.

Nancy would hardly be there tonight. She had, after all, written that she would never return. Still she might come back sometime. The Spirit of the Lord could, in answer to Brad’s own prayer, call her back for an unscheduled visit. And if so, she must know that someone cared. That God indeed cared.

Breathless, Brad opened the glass door and stepped inside the chapel. It was still empty. He turned to the visitors’ book and picked up the pen. In the column beside the words “Nancy was here and left for good” he wrote:

“God was here and left for Nancy.”

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