I prayed that the shadows would hide my form. I pressed myself as flat against the wall as I could possibly manage. I held my breath and refused to permit so much as a muscle to spasm or twitch. With every ounce of my will, I held still. Too much was riding on this. The desperation in my heart clutched at me with raw intensity and a relentless fierceness that drove me with laser focus and determination. I would not disappoint or fail those who waited on me even now.
I was exposed. I could feel it. Though the night was dark, and few lights were lit; though I was garbed in all black and hiding now in the shadows, all the man had to do was turn and he would see me. His back was to me. His patrol path had brought him down the east wall and to this corner where I stood just out of sight around the corner. My eyes noticed everything about him. He was relaxed at the moment. A pistol holstered on his hip. An automatic rifle slung over his shoulder. I knew, however, that he would have those weapons drawn and ready for action in a mere breath if he detected anything out of place. He wore the official uniform of the state’s law enforcement. He stood gazing out away from me. His breath exposed in the cold of night. He shifted his weight, the gravel crunching under his boots. I was mere inches from him. One wrong move would alert him of my presence here. Flat against the wall, covered by the shadow of night, I began to experience physical pain from the stiffness I forced to make my body hold. I knew that I did possess a slight advantage that might grant me a few seconds to escape should he turn in my direction. My eyes had been shielded from the light and were far more adjusted to the dark than his. He stood in the light. Even if he turned, it would take a few moments for his pupils to adjust to the dark of the corner before he would be able to spot me. I prayed that if he turned, I could silently shuffle away before his eyes adjusted.
After a few tense and exhausting moments, he turned to his left and sauntered further down the wall and away from my hiding place. I continued to hold my breath until I was sure he had walked far enough away that I could move without detection. To my benefit, he did not appear all that engaged in his job this evening. For a guard who was alert and sharp most assuredly would have glanced down the south wall before retracing his steps back to the east from where he had come. When I felt certain the danger had passed, I released by breath quietly and slowly.
My heart was racing. My stomach churned. My pulse pounded in my chest like a man buried alive might pound in his coffin seeking release.
I clutched at my breast pocket, sudden fear overtaking me. I felt for the package I had acquired, reassuring myself that it was still there. Everything depended on this. So many were counting on my return with it. I had to get back to the hiding place before the light of the morning sun crested over the hill. Glancing at my wrist watch, I realized I had very little time left. I had to get back before I was discovered and all was lost.
Waisting no time now, I sprinted away from the wall and away from the village. I bolted for the cover of the trees and the refuge of the wilderness. The village was too exposed and too dangerous. Too vulnerable.
God, shield me now and get me back safely! I prayed as I ran, still clutching at my chest protecting the prize I had acquired. In the woods now and away from the danger of exposure, I ran harder now, not caring how quiet or noisy I was. I didn’t stop until I reached the haven. It was an old dilapidated house that bordered an expansive lake in the middle of the forest. No one ventured this far into the woods anymore, except perhaps for a hunter or two, but none ever came near this worthless piece of rotting lumber. Which made it perfect for our sanctuary.
I knocked quietly using the code that had been set for today’s day and time. The code was ever changing and shifting to avoid exposure. It sometimes made it hard to remember, but with what was at stake, none had ever messed up. All knew it by heart and kept track of the rotating code as if their very life depended on it. Because, well, in fact, it did.
The door opened upon my knock and I silently slipped in. My eyes, already adjusted to the dark, had no problem discerning the 20 people huddled in this room. Their eyes peering at me with brute intensity and THE unspoken question. A hunger and passion filled their eyes with a yearning and imploring plea.
With a simple dip of my chin, I acknowledged their question and watched as smiles lit upon their faces and joy exploded upon their features. Silently as could be, they celebrated. They clutched at each other in hugs and embraces and then settled once more to peer upon me with that same longing intensity that they had when I had first arrived.
With great care and caution, I pulled the package from my breast pocket and held in my hands. I cradled it with devotion and grace, letting my fingers run over it with great affection. The torn pages in my hands were life. They were everything.
Looking up once more at those in the room with me, I saw their hunger and desire. I saw their urging to get on with it. Opening the pages with meticulous care, so as not to tear them, I began to read softly, each word spoken as the choice morsels they were.
John 1:1 (ESV): 1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God…..
I did not stop reading until the entire gospel of John was complete. As each word was read and spoken, the hunger in my soul was satisfied and I was filled up with joy and delight. Not a soul in the room moved or stirred during the reading for fear of missing a single syllable.
As I fell silent, the room broke out in whispered praises, hallelujah’s, and prayers as the assembly spoke to God. All day, we remained huddled in that dark shack, shielding from the outside world. Praise and prayer never departed from us, nor did we ever tire of it.
Upon the fall of night once more, we knew our time had come. One by one, we began to make our departures. The word was clear. We still had a task to complete.
After all had gone, I remained. This room felt…..holy….special. And I suppose it was now. The body had met here. Worshipped here. The Word had been read here.
Even as I slipped out into the night, the glory of this moment clung to me. Another night stood waiting. Another transfer. Another body. Wrapping the text carefully up once more, I set out to meet another who awaited this text. It cheered me to know that this night, another assembly would worship and praise Him; another assembly would be equipped and set forth with living word.
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I cannot escape one single question that this story poses.
Do I long for and crave the living word of God in such a manner as this?
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1 Peter 2:2–3 (ESV): 2 Like newborn infants, long for the pure spiritual milk, that by it you may grow up into salvation— 3 if indeed you have tasted that the Lord is good.
A Singular Passion 