What if God led me ... into darkness?
Except he didn’t,did he?
God had rescued him. Over and over. In Afghanistan, in Montana ... and now, God had led him home. To a second chance.
Jericho’s throat tightened.
And he’d been ready to walk away from it because of his pride.Nice,Jer.
“Maybeinstead of running,you need to figure out why you’re so scared ofstaying.”
Great, now Sully was in his head, with his diagnosis of Jericho’s problem.“Youcan’t be enough to stop,well,bad things fromhappening.And that requires you to trust.”
True, but really...
Really, it required him to surrender everything. To pull his heart out of his chest and ask God to give him one that wasn’t mottled with years of hurt and anger and shame and...
“I will give youa new heart and put a new spirit in you.”
He should have listened more to the sermon, although as he sat there, Pastor Neil’s words seemed to surface, perhaps embedded inside earlier.
“There is no fear ina heart that belongs to God. For a heart thatis from God is a heart that is not offended.It’s the heart of Jesus—trust,grace,mercy,patience,kindness,goodness...”
The heart of love.
Suddenly Jericho’s entire body ached with the need for it, the longing for something new. A heart that no longer ached, was no longer bruised, wounded, riddled with regrets, the terrible what-ifs and oh-nos that stirred his nightmares.
“God.” The word escaped like a breath. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
For his pride. For thinking he had to do everything alone. For hurting the woman he loved.
“I love her.” The confession broke free, echoing in the dark. “I’ve always loved her. And if you’d just give me another chance”—his voice cracked—“I’d do it different. All of it.”
The cold pressed in now, and he shivered. His chest ached.
“You want my heart?” His voice cracked again. “Take it. Make it new. Because this one’s not working. I can’t—I can’t do this anymore.” He leaned back, his heart thumping hard now.
His voice dropped, almost a whisper. “Please forgive me and give me a new heart.”
He put his hand to his chest. The hammering had stopped.
He drew in a breath. Opened his eyes.
And before him, the image of Harley yesterday, so much anger, even hurt, blazing in her eyes...
“If I’m never found, please help her to be okay with—”
A sound echoed through the darkness. Scratching. Whining. A bell ringing.
“Hello?” His voice cracked again.
A familiar bark.
“Orlando?”
The bell jangled, and just like that, the dog plowed him over.
Jericho fell back but put his arms around the Bernie as Orlando licked his face. “Okay, okay, yeah, I’m okay.” He caught the dog’s face, moved it away from his, then sat up.
