AT A STOPLIGHT ON THE way home from work the next day, Allison pulled out Richard’s card and stared at the number. She wanted to talk to someone other than her mom about the journal. Mom was great, would drop anything to talk for as long as Allison liked, but the subject matter was too close to home. Plus, Richard hadn’t answered her question about the writing being—or not being—from God. This guy knew something. Had to. And he’d said he’d talk to her anytime.
She dialed his number, and he answered on the second ring.
“Richard here.”
“Richard? It’s Allison Moore. We met on the—”
“Have you dried out?” Warm laughter came through the phone.
“Yes, thanks. You?”
“Yes.” She could tell he was smiling. “I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to finish our conversation. You wanted to know if I thought the writing in your journal was the hand of God or something else.”
Allison almost laughed. So she wouldn’t have to drag it out of him. How refreshing.
“I did. You’re right.” She paused. “So can we talk?”
“Love to. When? Where?”
They met the next afternoon at The Vogue, and Allison didn’t waste any time with small talk.
“The first two times I wrote in the journal, it changed, but the third time it didn’t. What does that mean? And the first two times when it did, are those changes from the hand of God?”
“That’s what Alister came to believe. And if it is God, then I suppose he gets to choose when he changes the writing and when he doesn’t.” Richard leaned back and crossed his legs. “What do you think, Allison?”
“I don’t know.”
“Which is why you want to know what I think. As if my opinion is the one that matters, which I don’t think it does.”
“Yes, it does matter.”
“Why is that?”
“Because you were with Alister. You were around during the time he had the journal. You had to have gained some kind of insight or knowledge about the journal.”
“Regardless of what I saw, it’s still only my opinion. What matters more is yours.”
“Will you tell me what you think anyway?”
“Yes.” Richard uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, hands clasped, elbows on the table, and lowered his voice. “I do think the journal is real. I do think something supernatural is going on with regard to the writing in your journal.”
“What do I do about that?”
“Read what it says, embrace the changes.”
So simple to say, so hard to do. Time to shift gears.
“Why did Alister choose me?”
“He told me he would listen to the Spirit and give it to the person he thought the Spirit told him to. Apparently that is you.”
“But what’s happening in that journal is impossible.”
“Is that so?” Richard arched an eyebrow. “We’re talking about a God who can create a universe so vast we cannot comprehend it, a God who makes blind eyes see. This is a God who raises people from the dead, a God who makes lame men walk. You think he isn’t capable of putting things in motion to change a word or two in an ancient journal?”
“Those miracles were thousands of years ago.”
“No, they weren’t. We are bound by time. God is not. Those miracles happened just a moment ago.” Richard smiled as if Allison were his daughter. “Yesterday I saw a man’s leg grow to match the length of his other. Two weeks back I watched as a man who hadn’t heard in twenty years regained his hearing. And a month ago I watched a woman extend forgiveness, truly extend forgiveness, to her sister, who had defrauded her out of her life’s savings. God still does miracles in this day and this age. But then again, you just met me. Maybe I’m making those things up.”
“I want to believe they happened. I’m trying.”
“‘It will happen to you just as you have believed.’”
“Don’t go all spiritual and start using the Bible against me.”
“Sorry, won’t happen again.” Richard laughed. “I hope.”
“I’m still having a hard time wrapping my mind around this.”
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe there was no change. You imagined it, or you’re simply going crazy.” He winked at her and smiled.
She didn’t. “I’ve considered that.”
“You’re not going crazy.”
The sounds of U2’s “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” floated down on them from the speaker above.
“Where do I go from here?”
“Good question,” Richard said as he tilted his head toward the speaker above. “My suggestion, dear Allison, is to climb the highest mountains that come into your world. Scale the city walls. Keep running even when this journey overwhelms you. Believe your bonds have been broken. Believe Jesus carried the cross of your shame. Believe in kingdom come. Not in some age to come in the future, but right now. Choose to believe the kingdom is in your midst and is here to set you free.”