He sat in his car and watched. He’d never been particularly good at lip reading — especially not at this distance — but he could pick up a lot through body language. Not that anyone wouldn’t be able to decode the shaking, heaving shoulders of a man who’d watched his wife die earlier that day, speaking to two police officers in the living room of the house he and his wife had shared for so many years.
It was a sort of morbid curiosity that had brought him here. The commotion at the church that morning had been an eye-opener, to say the least.
He’d kept himself in the background, for the most part, confused and conflicting feelings running through him. He’d wondered if there would be a sign. He supposed there had to be. Otherwise, how would he know? It was all very well for God’s will to be done, but what use would it be if it wasn’t known?
He’d often questioned the omniscience of God. Omnipresent, yes. There could be no physical place left untouched by His presence. He felt Him everywhere. Omnipotent, certainly. God’s power was indisputable in both reach and gravity. He’d experienced that, without doubt. But omniscience? He wasn’t sure. Could God truly know all? And even if He did, would He make his own knowledge known?
These were the thoughts that kept him awake at night, no matter how much they hurt his head. After all, it was human nature to ask questions. To find reasons. To seek justice. And he’d had more reason than most to chase all those things.
Of course, the human impact couldn’t go unnoticed. He could see it now, right in front of his eyes, as Brian Patchett recalled the horrors he’d witnessed only hours earlier, now indelibly printed on his mind for eternity. He knew what was to come for Brian. He’d been there. He’d wake in the night, shaking, dripping with sweat. He’d see her face in the bathroom mirror, obscured by steam and wishful thinking. He’d read an article in the newspaper and lift his head to read a section out to her, before realising she’d never hear.
He was only human himself. Expecting not to feel empathy was like asking a banana not to be yellow. But that didn’t — couldn’t — override the power of God, nor the awe he felt at having seen it enacted before his very eyes.
It was real. It was true. Whatever human emotions presented themselves, this was so much greater. He’d seen His power, right there in the house of God. The Lord had answered him, and He had done so in the clearest way possible.
He felt justified. He felt vindicated.
He had been absolved.