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15.
Raoul woke late in the morning. He lay in bed for a while, half asleep, wrapped
in a blanket of contentment, and remembered with great happiness the events of
the previous night as they came to him, like beautiful clouds, drifting across
his mind. The testimonies had flowed, one after another, and the songs had
broken in spontaneously, and the prayers had come, from broken and joyful
hearts. Tears had been shed, and many lives had been touched, and so it had
gone, right past midnight and into the early hours. Finally, at three a.m., when
all the people had spent themselves in glorious fellowship, James called the
meeting to a close. Reluctantly, like sheep leaving a green pasture, the people
had departed, hugging and chattering through the doors, and out into the night.
Raoul asked God for guidance and waited. He had no idea what he was supposed to
do on this new day. No word came, so he went back to sleep and enjoyed another
hour of warmth and comfort. When he opened his eyes again it was after 12. He
slid from the bed and dressed.
Still feeling frowsy and also rather hungry, Raoul checked his pocket for money,
found some, and decided to go find something to eat. He met Matron as he
descended the stairs.
"Ah," she said, as he approached, "Just the man I was looking
for."
"Me?" said Raoul.
"Would you like to come for a ride with Ron and me?"
"A ride?" said Raoul, "Where to?"
"The Demolition Derby."
"Why me?"
"Because you seem to be a nice boy."
"Well thanks," said Raoul, "What time do you want me to be
ready?"
"We'll be leaving at 6.30"
Raoul expressed his gratitude again, then he went for a walk into the city. As
he walked he prayed that God would give him an opportunity to witness to either
the Matron or her husband.
The city was busy, and noisy. There seemed to be more shoppers going about than
usual, and more cars, and more trucks, and the sun was warm as it cut blocks of
light down through the buildings. Raoul bought a pie and a custard square, then
he sat on a public seat in the sun and enjoyed himself. He marveled at the joy
of food and blessed God for every mouthful.
A small child, a brown-skinned boy of about three, came y. The boy looked at
Raoul with distress, and Raoul noticed tear streaks down the child's cheeks.
"Where's your Mummy?" he asked.
"Mummy gone" said the boy, "Mummy gone!"
"Hey, I can help you find your mummy." Said Raoul kindly.
The little boy came over and looked at Raoul hopefully.
"Where she?"
"Well first we have to ask Jesus to help us," said Raoul, "What's
your name?"
"Sitefa"
"OK, I'm going to ask Jesus to help you find your Mummy" said Raoul,
and he shut his eyes and prayed. The boy waited, and looked at Raoul curiously.
He had never seen anyone pray before.
When Raoul finished he opened his eyes and looked around.
"There she is!" said the boy jumping up and down and pointing. Across
the street a large Samoan woman was beckoning and calling out. The boy started
to run towards the woman but Raoul caught him by his shoulder and held him until
the woman had crossed the street.
She caught her boy up in her big, strong arms and told him off while she kissed
him. The boy squealed with happiness. Raoul watched in amusement.
"You did a good thing!" said the woman to Raoul, "My boy run off
and I looked for him everywhere! He's a naughty boy, aren't you Sitefa! I told
you to stay by me but you run off! Now you got me worried all morning!"
Sitefa giggled.
"What are you laughing about, you naughty boy? Your mother nearly died of
heart attack because of you!"
She turned to Raoul again.
"You know how long I've been looking for this boy? Three hours! I've been
into every shop right down the street, and tried everyone, but nobody saw him
anywhere! I was just about dead!"
"Did you ask God to help?"
"Are you religious?"
"No, I'm a Christian."
"Well that's religious," said the woman, "I go to church
too."
"But do you know the Lord?"
"We're not supposed to. We're just meant to live good lives and hope we got
a place booked in heaven!"
"That's not what the Bible says," said Raoul politely.
"I don't want to get into a religious discussion," said the woman,
shaking her hands, "All I know is my boy's OK, and thanks for finding
him."
"I didn't find him," said Raoul, "I just asked Jesus to help him
find you."
"There you go, into the religion again! Don't you think about anything
else?"
"Of course," said Raoul, "But God is all around us, like water is
all round a fish. We live in God the same way a fish lives in water. You wouldn'
t say to a fish "Just forget about water" would you?"
"No" said the woman.
"May I show you a verse from the Bible?" said Raoul, unzipping his
backpack.
"May as well" said the woman, interested, despite her natural
skepticism.
Raoul turned to John 8. "This is Jesus speaking," he said, "Most
assuredly I say to you, whoever commits sin is a slave to sin." Have you
ever committed a sin?"
"Of course I have" said the woman, "Nobody's perfect."
"That's true. No person is perfect. All people sin. Do you know what the
Bible says sin is?"
"No"
"Sin is when we break any of the Ten Commandments. The first commandment is
that we should love God with all our heart, soul and strength. Have you done
that?"
"No, not always."
"So you must be a sinner, and a slave to sin. This makes you an enemy of
God because He hates sin. This also means that you must go to hell, because the
Bible says, "the wages of sin is death." There's only one way to
escape hell."
"What's that?"
"Put your trust in Jesus. He died for you, and took the whole penalty of
sin on your behalf."
"Wow!" said the woman, "That's amazing! Why didn't they tell me
this at church?"
"Why don't you ask them?" said Raoul.
The woman cradled her little boy, who was now beginning to doze off, and sat
beside Raoul for a while. She talked about her upbringing, and asked him
questions about God. Her life story was rough and unpleasant. She came from her
mother's third marriage and ran away from home when she was 12, living with some
cousins near Kataia, then she tried the drugs and booze scene and nearly died in
a car crash. After a shoplifting stint she was arrested, then she married a nice
Samoan man and decided to go straight. When Sitefa was born she and her husband
moved to Wellington, to start a new life, but times had been tough, and her
husband had lost his job. Raoul asked if he could pray for her and she said yes,
so he brought her problems before God. When he finished she gave a huge sigh, as
if a heavy weight had slipped from her shoulders.
"I'm glad I met you," she said, "Maybe my boy was meant to get
lost, so I 'd find you?"
"You're probably right" grinned Raoul, "This sort of thing
happens to me all the time!"
The day was passing and the woman had to leave, but she gave Raoul her name and
address before she went, and invited him to call in to her house any time and
meet her husband. Raoul said he would try and gave her the address of the
church. The last he saw of her was a broad smile across the street, and a large
brown arm waving in the bright afternoon sun, then she was gone. Sitefa's big
black eyes watched from her shoulder as she joined the other pedestrians and
walked away.
Raoul bought something to eat and wandered slowly back to the hostel. In a few
short hours it would be time to meet Ron.
16.
At exactly 6.30 p.m. Raoul left the Hostel and walked round to the back, where
the garage was. It was gloomy here, and the walls were dirty, and pitted with
lichen. Pigeons flapped and cooed in a brick recess, and the sky was a pale
green. The first stars were beginning to appear and a large passenger airliner
rumbled overhead, leaving a pale vapour line.
The garage light was on, and Raoul could hear a deep, powerful engine ticking
over. He looked in and saw the car, the beautifully designed, sleek, grey and
chrome Jaguar car, with the wood-grain paneling and the suede leather
upholstery. Ron's car. His life's treasure. His focus. Ron knew every nut and
bolt and spring in the engine. He spent hours every week just cleaning and
polishing the interior and exterior. There was nothing more valuable in Ron's
life than his car.
"Hey, Raoul" he said, "Come in!"
Raoul shook hands then turned to admire the machine.
"She's a beauty!" he said sincerely.
Ron immediately began to tell him about it. He started with the first time he
saw the car, when it was a rusty mess in someone's back yard, then he detailed
some of the major triumph's he'd had in restoring it, the parts he'd imported,
the manual's he'd found in second hand shops, the unique pieces he'd added.
Raoul listened respectfully and with genuine interest, until the conversation
was interrupted by the arrival of the Matron. She was dressed in rather tight
jeans, elegant black shoes, and a thick, furry jacket. Her dress sense certainly
invited a laugh, but Raoul suppressed it.
"My wife tells me you're a bit on the religious side," said Ron with a
laugh, "Now don't you go trying to convert me. I've got my own
religion!"
"Of course not," said Raoul, amused.
The car smelled new. The seats were soft, and had the perfume of wax and oil.
The dashboard was as clean and shiny, and it caught the bright spots of
streetlights as they passed. Ron evidently enjoyed every precious second he was
behind the wheel, and he drove with great care, always keeping a large distance
between himself and other cars. The engine hummed, and the experience was like
floating, or flying.
Once they were out on the wide highway Ron pushed the accelerator down and the
car flew almost silently through the night. But after some minutes Ron fell
silent and his face went pale. He worked his foot at the brake pedal and
gradually the car slowed. The fear and the tension were terrific, and Matron
stared ahead as if her eyes were able to hold the car on the road. Going
increasingly slower, Ron pulled the car into the shingle on the roadside and
pulled on the handbrake. Finally the car stopped.
"The brake's have gone" he said, "They've disappeared!"
"We could have been killed!" said Matron.
Raoul said nothing.
Some ten minutes later the AA van arrived and a mechanic inspected the car. He
discovered a broken cable and replaced it with a new one. Ron looked at the
cable, stunned. He'd cleaned it that afternoon. When his eyes met Raoul's he
looked away quickly because Raoul was reading his thoughts.
The Demolition Derby was a fantastic bit of fun. The spectators, protected by a
high wall of wire mesh, cheered and whistled, shouted and clapped as car after
car roared round the small circuit, spinning their giant wheels and scattering
dirt and mud it their wake. The highlight came when a Chevrolet, cut down to a
bare chassis and steering wheel, roared and crackled round the track like a
mutant train. It left behind a distinct smell of alcohol as its enormous engine
split the air with a cacophony of noise. Raoul cheered and clapped along with
everyone else and groaned with regret when the show was over.
"Thank you for bringing me," he said, as he got back into the Jaguar,
"It has been a wonderful experience!"
"No problem" said Ron.
The drive back to the Hostel was uneventful, but Ron was subdued. His face wore
the expression of someone who is thinking deeply about something, and he hardly
entered into any of the conversations, except in a distracted, distant sort of
way.
Raoul fell into his bed, tired out again. He prayed as sleep came and was asleep
before he finished he knew it.
He was woken by the sound of shouting and loud bangs. As his mind cleared he
realized there was a fight going on, out in the corridor. It came so close he
heard a body crash against his door, then someone swore and a window broke.
Jumping from bed Raoul quickly pulled his trousers and shoes on, and slipped
into his jacket, then he stood in the dark and listened.
He heard Russian, then some English, and Russian again. He knew who it was now -
the tall, dark-eyed man called Demitri, and the short, stocky Kiwi called Nigel.
Raoul switched his light on and stepped out into the corridor. The Russian had
an arm round Nigel's neck and was applying his fist to the man's face.
"Stop that!" shouted Raoul.
He grabbed Demetri's arm and wrapped his own arms around it. The Russian swore
and tried to shake him off, then he looked at Raoul and saw the fearless
authority in Raoul's eyes. Instantly the fight stopped and Nigel, choking and
gasping, with blood streaming from his nose, staggered away to his room.
"Why you stop me?" complained Demitri.
"You are bigger and stronger than him," said Raoul, "You might
have killed him, then you would go to prison."
"I don't care if go to prison! He is scum!"
"What's going on?" said Ron, appearing down the far end of the
corridor with a torch.
"Just a little scuffle" said Raoul, "Its all over now."
"Not you was it?" asked Ron.
"No," said Raoul, "Just Demitri and someone else having a little
disagreement."
Ron did not want to pursue the matter any further, so he departed upstairs to
bed, and Demitri slapped Raoul on the back and said something complimentary in
Russian.
"You come" he said, "My room yes?"
"Why?"
"We celebrate!"
Raoul followed Demitri down the corridor, almost to the other end, and Demitri
let him into his room. It was about the same size as Raoul's, but with far more
items, which lay about untidily. On the wall were several posters, depicting
Russian scenery and a map of the USSR. Demitri opened a cupboard and pulled out
a bottle of Vodka and two glasses.
"We drink to Russia yes?"
"I'd like to" said Raoul, "But I think Vodka is too strong for
me. Would you mind if I drank water instead?"
"No, water is fine, yes! You can drink to Russia with water. It is good
idea!"
Raoul watched Demitri pour his glass of water, then he raised the glass and with
the Russian he saluted the great Russian people. Demitri drank his own glass in
one gulp and began to pour another. Raoul was happy to take a refill too.
"So, you like the Russians?" said Demitri, after the second glass. His
eyes were watery and it was obvious the alcohol was beginning to take effect.
"I love the Russians," said Raoul, "They are as fine as any
people on Earth. We are all one family, and share the same father, so I can love
all Russians as my brothers and sisters."
"Brothers and sisters?" said Demitri, "How you mean? I am not
brother and sister of Kiwi?"
"You probably know I'm a Christian," said Raoul, "So would you
mind if I explained what the Bible says about the people in the world?"
"No, no" said Demitri, raising his glass again, "You have floor!
Please, tell me what Bible says!"
"The Bible," said Raoul, trying to put the story in a way which
Demitri might understand, "Is a history book. It tells history, from first
day to end of time. It starts about 6000 years ago, when God made the world, and
then the first people in the world. These people had many children, but they
were not good people, so God sent a flood to cover the whole world. But some
people he saved, and they were safe in a boat called an ark.
"After the water had gone down, the people in the ark came out and started
to have children. Soon the children spread across the world and settled in
different countries. Some of these people became the Chinese, some the Indians,
some Japanese, some Korean, some English, some Maori, and some Russian peoples.
"So all people are brothers and sisters, yes?" said Demitri,
"That is hard for me to believe. You are my brother, in same family?"
"That's what the Bible says."
"And scum Kiwi I beat up, he is also in same family?"
"Sad to say it but yes, he's a distant brother to you and me."
Demitri swore in Russian then laughed.
"You cheer me up with bad news!" he said, "We drink to Russia
again, yes?"
17.
When Raoul finally got back to his room the first pale colours of the morning
were seeping through the sky. He pulled his curtains shut and flopped on his
bed, where he dozed for an hour, then he rose, had a quick shower and went back
to his room for his usual Bible-reading time and prayers, then he headed
downstairs and started to walk towards the north. Gradually, as he followed the
footpaths and stairways, and curiously angled byways of the city he found
himself in a winding street overhung by trees and silent with the heavy silence
of a cold morning. Everything was damp. The road glistened and silvery snail
trails showed up wet rock walls. A blackbird sang merrily and a thrush darted
through dark undergrowth as Raoul passed.
He came to a dairy. The owner was blustering about, putting out signs and
stacking boxes. Raoul went in and bought a drink, a filled roll and a small box
of chalks. He remarked on the weather and drew a smile from the woman behind the
counter, and then he went out and started to walk again. Not far down the road
he stopped and drew a chalk from the packet, then he stooped down and wrote a
word on the grey footpath.
"Eternity"
He replaced the chalk and walked a bit further, then he stopped and wrote the
same word again. He did this three times, and then he took another road and made
his way back to the hostel. He had no idea why he had written the words, but he
knew the Lord wanted it done.
As he approached the front doors of the hostel and saw two people, arguing with
each other on the steps. It was the Matron and Judkin. Even from the distance he
was Raoul could hear the high-pitched, angry words ringing down the street.
Matron was asserting her authority as manager (with her husband) of the Hostel,
and Judkins was calling her by many rather unpleasant names, and demanding that
he be allowed in, to which Matron was strongly suggesting that he take 'a
running hike' or words to that effect.
As soon as Judkin saw Raoul he turned and let loose a tirade on his direction,
ignoring Matron for the moment. Raoul continued to come closer until he was
standing only a few feet away from the angry man.
"What's the problem?" asked Raoul.
"You should know, you trouble-maker! You come up from Christchurch,
thinking you're the answer to all our problems, and take over the church! You
egomaniac! You're power mad! Why don't you just go back where you came from?
Crawl back into that slime-hole you were born in!"
"The Lord knows them that are His," said Raoul.
"Don't give me that Bible-bashing stuff! I'd like to shove that Bible of
yours down your stupid throat!"
"That may be an interesting thing to do," said Raoul, beginning to
smile, "But the Lord knows them that are His."
"You know where you can stick your Bible?" shouted Judkins.
"I can think of several good places," said Raoul, "But I think
you need to know that the Lord knows them that are His."
Judkins threw his head back in despair and stormed off. He was still uttering
curses and threats as he went, but his tone was indistinct.
"Poor chap," said Raoul, "It just goes to show that you can dress
a pig in a suit, but its still a pig under the fine clothes."
Matron laughed.
"He was really worked up," she said, "I hope he never comes
back."
"He won't" said Raoul.
He followed Matron in and they went upstairs to talk to Ron about the incident.
Ron agreed with his wife's sentiments and suggested that if Judkins was seen in
the Hostel again, a trespass notice would be served to him. Then Matron made a
pot of tea and served some of her amazing, delicious biscuits and cakes. A huge,
fat cat, ginger and orange, reclined on Matron's expansive lap as Ron and Raoul
talked about cars, and the morning passed.
"So how long were you planning to stay in Wellington?" said Matron,
after a while.
"I don't know," said Raoul, "I'm only here on loan."
"What?"
"Well, I'm not sure where God wants me to go next, or what I'm supposed to
do. I just take things one day at a time and see what happens."
"You're not going to get into a sermon are you?" chuckled Ron.
"No way" said Raoul.
"But seriously" Ron continued, "I've been thinking about God
lately. You know, when the brakes failed, and we were rolling to a stop in the
middle of the road, I was thinking 'Any second now and we'll be hit from
behind!' I was wondering about where I'd go if I died that night."
"I can tell you," said Raoul.
"OK," said Ron.
"Is Jesus your Lord?"
"No."
"Do you confess him as your Saviour?"
"No."
"Do you live for Jesus or for yourself?"
"For myself I guess."
"Then you would have gone to hell. The Bible makes it that clear. There's
no way you can expect to go to heaven if you reject the Lordship and authority
of Jesus."
Ron put his cup down.
"Then I'd better do something about that right now" he said,
"I've already got a dickey heart. I might die tonight."
Much to Matron's surprise, Ron and Raoul went through a prayer in which Ron
accepted Jesus as Lord and Saviour, and then Raoul explained some of the things
that God expected of Christians. Ron nodded his head gravely as he listened,
then he went to the shelf and pulled a Bible down - an old, dog-eared Bible,
which his grandfather had passed down to him - and gave it to Raoul.
"I'd suggest you start here, in the gospel of John," said Raoul,
"Then just read it anywhere. Its all God's Word, so you won't find any
mistakes, and everything in there is good for you. I'd also suggest taking some
formal lessons, so you get the Christian basics right. Cults prey on Christians
who don't know the Word."
"Well," said Matron with an amused sigh, "I suppose now I'll be
dragged off to church every Sunday!"
"By the hair!" said Ron with a smile.
Raoul stayed another hour, and then he made his way down to his room and relaxed
on his bed for a while. He stuck his hands behind his head and stared at the
ceiling, fell asleep, woke with pins and needles in his arms, and sat on the
edge of the bed feeling hungry. He noticed that the sun was beginning its
descent into the city and ruminated, as he often did, on the brevity of life.
"So much to do, so little time," he thought as he left the hostel and
walked round to see Gerald and Sophie.
When he reached their door the night had closed in. He knocked and waited. He
knew they were home because the lights were on and he could hear Cynthia running
through the house squealing.
"Sorry if this is a bother" said Raoul, when the door opened.
"But you did say I could come round any time?"
"Of course!" said Sophie, swinging the door wide, "Cynthia . . .
guess who's here?"
The little girl dashed into view and threw herself at Raoul, nearly knocking him
over. He hugged her and flipped her up on to his arm."
"Well" laughed Raoul, "There's not much chance of me getting away
now!"
Gerald was also pleased to see Raoul, but unlike Cynthia, he merely shook his
friend by the hand and ushered him into the lounge.
"You'll stay for tea?" asked Sophie.
"That would be nice," said Raoul, passing a bag of groceries to
Sophie. She took them gratefully, telling him very unconvincingly that he
needn't have done that, then she disappeared into the kitchen.
Cynthia sat on Raoul's knee for the next half hour, interrupting and laughing
while Gerald talked to Raoul about the events of the last few days. More people,
he said, had made commitments to the outreach plans, and a large number of
donations had come in. But as Gerald explained these things he looked a little
sad. Raoul noticed this and asked him what was wrong, so Gerald explained that
his job was about to be terminated, and he had no other employment to go to.
"It's going to make things difficult for us" he said, "We have a
mortgage to maintain, plus all the other usual bills."
"It's a challenge all right," agreed Raoul, "But you know the
answer don' t you?"
"Of course," said Gerald, "God is our supplier."
"Have you made a detailed prayer for the sort of job you want to go to
next?"
"No," said Gerald, "I didn't know you had to?"
"Well, imagine a child asks her Dad for "a bicycle"? What sort of
bike will she get? A large one, a small one, a racing bike, a dirt bike, a
tandem, a monocycle, or maybe an Olympics racing bike? How can the Dad give the
right bike if he doesn't know exactly what she wants?
"It's the same when we pray. We have to let God know exactly what we need,
point by point. Get specific. Get it focused and God can answer appropriately -
if He says yes to your request."
"I've never done that," said Gerald, "I thought it was a bit
cheeky to get into details, like a spoilt brat, demanding stuff off a rich
Dad."
"Nothing of the sort" said Raoul, "We are the children of God,
and He is our Father. As His royal children we have every right to go into His
Throne Room and talk to him about whatever we need. Come on man! Get into the
Family!"
At that moment Sophie called the men to the table. Gerald repeated what Raoul
had said, and Cynthia chattered and laughed like a little bird, all through the
meal. At bedtime Raoul had the joy and privilege of reading to her, then he
stayed up, relaxing on the couch, talking and listening, enjoying the warmth and
fellowship of his brother and sister. Finally, with a yawn, he left. It was
midnight.
18.
The following Sunday the hall was packed. There was only standing room at the
back, and everyone was talking as Raoul entered. He squeezed between several
people and found a small space against the wall, where he was able to stand for
the service. Several people turned their heads and smiled, or waved to him, and
Raoul returned the greetings. The piano started into a tune and the songs began.
A sense of suppressed excitement seemed to pervade the building. When James took
the microphone he had to wait nearly thirty seconds for the rustling and
whispering to die down, but there was no annoyance showing on his face. With
great delight he led the church in prayer and then told it briefly about the
decisions which the elders and deacons had made concerning the outreach, then a
hymn started and many people clapped in time.
When it came to sharing time, several people presented wonderful testimonies, of
answered prayers, or needs met, or conversions, and then a young man with
dreadlocks and a short beard stood up. He mumbled an apology for his appearance,
then he told the church how he had been on his way to a friend's place, to
"do some drugs" when he had noticed a word, written on the footpath.
It was just one word, written in red chalk, and really faded - almost worn away.
"Eternity". The word had made him think, he said, about life and
death, and where he was going in life, but he dismissed it and walked on. Again,
he saw the word on the path on front of him, and again he thought about
"the big questions." He decided that if he saw the word again he would
go to church, and there, on the corner right by the letterbox of his friend's
house, was the word.
"Eternity" said the young man, "It's a long time ay? I reckon I'd
better find out where I'll be spending it." Sheepishly, he sat down again.
Raoul slipped out of the church and started to walk back towards the harbour. He
knew it was time for him to go. He went to the booking office and bought a
ticket with the last remaining money in his pocket, and then he went down to the
edge of the harbour and sat with his legs hanging over the water. The water was
calm and green. It moved like cold glass, slapping gently against the piles, and
the sun shone down, spreading its light in a haze of tiny fragments.
What Raoul didn't know until later, when Gerald wrote to him about it, was that
not far from where he had been sitting on that fine Sunday morning, a man he had
met was hanging by his neck, on a rope, in his garage. This man had tried to
sleep but all night he'd heard words going through his head. "The Lord
knows them that are his." The words went over and over, like a needle
following the same groove in a record. Over and over. "The Lord knows, the
Lord knows," and finally it had been too much for the man. He'd left his
bed and gone to the garage. "The Lord knows, the Lord knows . . ." The
rope was strong and easy to tie, and the rafter was easy to reach. The man stood
on the top of a box and placed the noose round his neck. "The Lord knows .
. ." and then it was all over.
Judkins hung six inches above the floor and died.
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HERE TO RETURN TO PART ONE