61

Adamsville

Thomas tossed and turned until Grace asked what was the matter. He told her he couldn’t sleep and was going to read for a while.

The truth was, he could not get Brady Darby off his mind. This was clearly the most crucial time in the young man’s life, and if he was going to move from seeker to follower, it would likely happen soon. If he was to decide against Christ, that would happen soon too.

Thomas knelt by the couch in the living room. “God, as usual, I don’t know how to pray for Brady, such a sad, lost, desperate man. I know Your will is that he come to You, and so that is all I ask.”

Soon Thomas crept back to bed and slept soundly. In the morning he awoke with an idea. “Grace, would you record some hymns for me to share with Brady?”

“Oh, Thomas, I can barely draw enough breath to talk, let alone sing. And people his age don’t appreciate hymns, do they? Has he even heard them before?”

“Yes, as a child. But I don’t think he ever really listened. Maybe you could change some of the words, make them sound like plain English. I even have an idea which ones might best speak to him. I’ll leave a list.”

Death Row

For his station in life, Brady had always been a surprisingly fast and facile reader, and while he had no idea what to expect from the Bible—even a modern version—one thing he hadn’t anticipated was that it would keep him up all night. Whatever he had thought the person of Jesus would look like in this history of the first century, he now realized he hadn’t had a clue.

This man didn’t act like a religious leader, a missionary, or a preacher, although He certainly preached. He spoke in riddles only those with true spiritual insight seemed to be able to understand, performed all kinds of miracles, and wound up dying and rising again, just as He said he would.

Brady found himself flying through the four Gospels, finding similar stories told in slightly different ways, then moved right into the amazing stories of the early church. Why hadn’t someone told him about this before? Maybe they had. Surely his aunt Lois had. But back then he wouldn’t have been listening.

Well, he was listening now. Brady simply could not get enough of this. He broke for the morning count, for breakfast, and for lunch, but otherwise, he just kept reading and reading and reading. He kept wondering whether the things he had read in the Romans Road booklet might actually be true. Was it possible that he could come to know and trust this same Jesus for his own salvation? Coming across those salvation passages from Romans again as he read the New Testament through helped him put them into context, and they thrilled him all the more.

Brady recognized a verse or two from childhood, something that had stuck, or almost stuck, as it flew by in a Sunday school class or a vacation Bible school. One, he realized suddenly, he had once actually memorized and then never considered again until now. John 3:16—“For God loved the world so much that He gave His one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life.”

If Brady had ever heard what followed those familiar words, he didn’t recall it. Yet now, in light of everything else, it all seemed part of the same package.

“God sent His Son into the world not to judge the world, but to save the world through Him. There is no judgment against anyone who believes in Him.”

All through the rest of his reading, Brady kept turning back to that verse and reading it over and over. His emptiness, the despair that had gripped him since the night he had ended Katie’s life and his as well, was being slowly replaced by something. What? Hope? If only it were possible to “trust Him” and avoid the coming judgment.

Brady knew that meant spiritual judgment, the fate of his soul. His flesh, his body, had been condemned to death, and nothing would or should change that.

And then he was thrilled to come across the verse in Hebrews that the chaplain had repeated so many times:

“I will never again remember their sins and lawless deeds.”

If that was true, it might be the greatest miracle of all. For Brady knew he himself would never forget his sinful, lawless deed. Maybe he could one day get over all the stuff he had done that was so much like what so many others had done. But there weren’t enough years left on earth for him to even come close to erasing from his mind the worst night of his life.

At the predinner standing count, Brady noticed a surprised look on the officer’s face. This was a fleshy, rosy-cheeked man whose name plate read “Rudy Harrington.”

“What’re you up to in there, Darby?”

“Sorry?”

“Don’t play coy with me. What’ve you got? What are you reading? You got an adult magazine? You look as excited as I’ve ever seen you.”

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try me. And make it quick; I gotta keep moving.”

Brady held up the New Testament. “I’m reading the Bible.”

Harrington looked crestfallen. “Bah! I shoulda known. You Row guys always get religion before long. Unbelievable. Hey, guys, get this—Heiress Boy is Dead Man Squawking!”

And here came the wave of chicken clucking sounds.

“We know! We been watchin’!”

“Gettin’ saved in there, are ya, pretty boy?”

“Think the appeals court will buy this?”

Everybody laughed at that one, and Brady was as tempted as he had ever been to set them all straight. He wanted to demand to know if any of them had ever actually read the Bible. But then, he didn’t care what they thought. They were gearing up for everybody to watch the same TV show, and that would give him plenty of time to keep reading. Every time he started, he found something new, even when he was reading the same passages again and again.

For the first time since his incarceration, Brady ate every bite of his dinner, using all the salt, all the pepper, and drinking all the juice and coffee and tea. It didn’t taste any different, but his nausea was gone, and he felt the need for fuel.

When Harrington picked up his tray, he said, “Back on your feed, I see.”

“Yep.”

“Have a good one, Darby.”

That caused Brady to shoot him a double take. “You too, man.”

Finally, late that night when the rest were engrossed in their show, Brady was reading yet again when he realized he had been putting off something scary. It wasn’t that he was ready to pray the prayer of salvation as outlined in the Romans Road booklet. No, he wanted to be dead sure before he seriously considered that. But he did want to try praying.

What troubled him was the memory of his aunt Lois telling him once when he was a youngster that God might not hear the prayers of unbelievers, unless they were praying to become Christians. She had said something about having to pray in the name of Jesus and having to already be a believer to do that.

Brady hadn’t found that in any of his reading so far, and he figured maybe Aunt Lois was sincere but not entirely right.

It was time to try this.

“God,” he said, “in the name of Jesus, would You reveal Yourself to me? Somehow just tell me whether this is all true? Thanks.”

Brady opened his eyes and remembered that he had prayed before and more than once. He had prayed almost every time he had ever been arrested or even interrogated. He had made bargains with God, promised he would go straight if the Lord would just get him out of whatever mess he had gotten himself into.

But this was an altogether different type of prayer. It was a genuine request, and if Chaplain Carey could be trusted, God had to answer a prayer like that. But what did answers to prayer feel like? Would God speak to his heart the way Reverend Carey said He had spoken to him?

How would he know?