Letters from God: a tale of romance, suspense and the supernatural power of God

By Jan Lemon

Part Christian miracles in contemporary culture, part Dan Brown page-turning religious mystery dictated by evil forces, part conspiracy theories of dark forces, and part a forbidden romance between a priest and beautiful reporter. Letters from God is a thriller, which gives readers an opportunity to embrace their faith and rejoice in th

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trilogy Christian Publishing
• Release date: Jun 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9781637692776

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Letters from

God

a tale of romance,

suspense, and the

supernatural power of God

Jan Lemon, Ph.D.

Letters from God

Trilogy Christian Publishers

A Wholly Owned Subsidiary of Trinity Broadcasting Network

2442 Michelle Drive Tustin, CA 92780

Copyright © 2021 by Janice Lemon

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without written permission from the author. All rights reserved. Printed in the USA.

Rights Department, 2442 Michelle Drive, Tustin, CA 92780.

Trilogy Christian Publishing/TBN and colophon are trademarks of Trinity Broadcasting Network.

For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Trilogy Christian Publishing.

Trilogy Disclaimer: The views and content expressed in this book are those of the author and may not necessarily reflect the views and doctrine of Trilogy Christian Publishing or the Trinity Broadcasting Network.

Manufactured in the United States of America

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

ISBN: 978-1-63769-276-9

E-ISBN: 978-1-63769-277-6

Dedication

To the Lion of Judah,

the Prince of Light,

and the Warrior Against Darkness

Foreword

The author has spun a remarkable story with heartwarming characters and a riveting plot. It is an entertaining and thought-provoking tale that beautifully reveals man’s need for God and God’s need for man. The story unfolds the amazing love of God for all mankind. The presentation of the Gospel was masterfully done, and I believe it is timely and persuasive and a good reminder of our God’s goodness and supernatural might.

—Dr. Jerry Savelle,

Jerry Savelle Ministries International

Contents

Dedication

Foreword

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter One

The coffee shop was busy, and the worker behind the bar could not distinguish the multitude of conversations and requests among the customers. He turned to the large man at the bar and said, What did you say? As soon as he focused on the man’s face, he froze in awe—not in fear or apprehension—but in reverence.

The customer was extremely tall with wide shoulders and had an air of confidence about him. His physical presence was imposing; however, it was his face that drew the young worker’s breath. The man’s face shone with a brilliant glow, and his eyes were like piercing arrows of divine peace. It took the young worker a few seconds to focus again on the customer’s words.

What can the eye see? repeated the man.

Taken back by the unusual question, the worker was speechless as the visitor left his money on the counter and walked out into a typical spring morning in New Orleans.

Father Jake Durand was an early riser and was already out in the city while most people were just stirring. He never tired of the morning sights, sounds, and smells as he made his way through the empty streets. New Orleans in the first hours of day was a venue of delight—fresh bread, flakey croissants, hot beignets, and strong coffee. Breathing in the fresh air was like breathing in new life. As the sun began to break through the clouds and shine light on the metropolis, the atmosphere was filled with celebration and joy. The constant sound of music hung in the air even though the musicians were getting well-deserved rest. Father Jake was an avid runner and prided himself on being healthy and in good shape, but his weakness was Café De La Vie. One of the owners who had bought the restaurant in 1942 was a friend of his father and a parishioner at his church. There was always a special place saved for him in the back of the garden area so that he could eat, drink, and think about the day.

Just as he settled in enjoying his breakfast, his server walked over and said, Mr. Roman thought that you would like to see the on-line edition of the news, especially the Life and Entertainment section.

Without hesitation, he took out his phone and pulled up the on-line newspaper, and scrolled to the society information. Jake knew what he would be viewing—the rumors had been rampant, and everyone had made sure that he knew about the upcoming nuptials.

There on the front section was a picture of Scarlet Taggart with the caption, Scarlet Taggart to Wed Lieutenant Governor John Meadows.

Memories filled his mind as he asked the waitress to bring him a refill of the strong Louisiana coffee.

It was February 2010, and Jake Durand was in his last semester of law school at Ole Miss in Oxford, Mississippi. After undergraduate school at LSU, he visited the University of Mississippi and fell in love with the beauty and charm of the campus. Jake had worked hard to excel in the law courses and would finish at the top of his class. His father, Jacob Garner Durand II, was thrilled with his accomplishments and was looking forward to having Jake join the firm in New Orleans. Living in Oxford had been a journey of wine, women, and song, so he was excited yet apprehensive about his future. The thought of having to work for a living was a stark contrast to the previous seven years of scholastic play.

Now Jake was on his way to see Scarlet with a ring in his pocket. It was Valentine’s, and he wanted to surprise her with a romantic proposal.

Scarlet was the daughter of J. W. Taggart, the Governor of Louisiana, and a perfect match with his family. Jake’s parents were thrilled with the idea of the marriage, and his dad had even bought the ring. Payback would come later when he sold his soul to the firm. Scarlet was charming, spirited, spoiled, and ambitious. Jake was aware of her shortcomings, but he too had been raised as the fair-haired boy and likewise wanted a marriage of convenience. At least she was beautiful, and sex was a constant adventure into pleasure. His life was perfect—he would finish in the top ten in his law school cohort; he was rich and had a place waiting in his father’s law firm, and he had a beautiful woman to marry. It was very important that he meet all the criteria to move up in society and be successful.

Scarlet’s parents were thrilled with the idea of the marriage. Like a good southerner, Jake had asked her father for her hand in marriage. Governor Taggart had rejoiced and hugged him, and Mrs. Taggart wanted to immediately throw a big engagement party. Wanting to surprise Scarlet, he asked them to keep silent for a few weeks until after Valentine’s Day. The Taggarts knew that the two families together would form a political and economic alliance that would be unparalleled in Louisiana’s past.

Jake was in a hurry to get downtown and see the restaurant had everything in order—the flowers, the wine, and the perfect dinner. Oxford was such a beautiful place with lovely old buildings lining the square—the quintessential place of southern grace and charm. The town had been burned by the Sherman invasion in 1864 but was rebuilt in 1872. The shops encircling the courthouse were upscale, and the restaurants enticed with some of the best food in the world. Jake had made reservations at City Grocery and had asked for a quiet table in the back of the room. He had not left the particulars of the menu up to the owner and Chef John Currence. He asked specifically for seared duck breast with sweet potato puree, braised winter greens, and toasted banana walnut cake.

Jake was aware he and Scarlet turned heads when they were in public. He was tall and ruggedly good-looking with a muscular build and vivid green eyes. His olive skin gave him a mysterious aura, yet his smile conveyed the impression that he was just the boy next door. Scarlet could have been the poster girl for any university. She was pretty and blonde with beautiful blue eyes, and even though Jake was amazed at how perfect she always looked, he was never sure that he knew the real Scarlet. In all honesty, he did have fleeting concerns about the fact that he really did not know the woman behind the plastic façade. Scarlet was petite in stature but bold in her desire to garnish a ring from Jake Durand. She knew that Jake would be governor of Louisiana one day, and she had every intention of being the First Lady. Being the daughter of a governor was one thing, but being the wife had a whole new meaning.

Jake was speeding through campus without any regard for law or safety. He was too busy planning his future to be concerned with the present and was more focused on his daydreaming than his driving. At that moment in time, life was complete—he could hear the rain of success beginning to pour from the open sky of elitism. He was Jacob Garner Durand, III, and he had it all. As his platinum silver, metallic 640i BMW Coupe raced down the street, Jake was oblivious to the light turning yellow ahead of him, cautioning him to slow down. In his self-induced trace, Jake was unaware of the red light and entered the intersection. The next few moments would freeze forever in Jake’s mind and bring him into an experience full of depth and meaning, which was unthinkable before this moment.

Like a fleeting shadow, Jake was aware of the approaching car from his left even before the collision occurred. Impending awareness of the accident triggered a physiological reaction, which caused a rush of adrenaline to flow throughout his body. Jake never felt the impact, and his consciousness was somewhere between pure body and transcendent mind. The intensity of the impact crushed the driver’s side of Jake’s car, forcing it to spin to the right. The other car endured the full impact, skidded to the left, and careened into a large oak tree. Jake’s car plunged through a ditch and landed in a parking lot.

Once his car stopped, Jake’s analytical mind took over, and he carefully tried to evaluate the situation. He knew the car was badly damaged on the left side, but remarkably he felt no physical pain. He cautiously checked his face and head for injuries—there were two scratches on his forehead, which must have come from flying glass. Incredibly, he was stunned, but there were no other injuries. Jake had heard the impact of the other car hitting the tree, and he was anxious to exit his vehicle and get to the other crash site. The airbag and twisted metal prevented Jake from opening the driver’s side door. Using his athletic strength, he wiggled and pulled himself into the other seat, opened the door, and stumbled out onto the hard concrete.

People were beginning to gather, and one outraged bystander looked at Jake and shouted, Hey, man, you ran that red light. You tryin’ to kill somebody? The force of those words hit Jake in the gut, and a tidal wave of fear swept over him.

Even with the adrenaline pouring through his body, he fell to his knees when he reached the door of the mangled car. The driver was male and young—probably nineteen or twenty. The car was typical for a struggling student—a small, older model with few safety features. The front of the car was simply gone, with most of the damaged remains compacted and forced into the driver’s seat. There were no airbags deployed; there was no sign that the driver had buckled his seat belt. There were obvious injuries to the boy’s head and, with the look of the twisted steering wheel, internal injuries to his chest. Jake managed to stand and struggled to open the car door. A cry came from some place deep in Jake’s soul, God, help me, he uttered just as the door flew open.

The young passenger opened his eyes and responded to Jake’s cry, Don’t leave me, he said. He took Jake’s hand and began to whisper, My cross, I want my cross. There was a crucifix hanging on the broken mirror, and Jake retrieved it and managed to fold it into the boy’s hand.

The bystander’s word echoed over and over in Jake’s head, You tryin’ to kill somebody? No life experience had prepared him for these raw emotions, and suddenly Jake knew all his money and flair could not justify nor deliver him.

The next few hours seemed like days—the police, the sirens, the medics, the ambulance ride, and the hospital. Jake never left the boy’s side, which was some sort of aberration since he seemed invisible to the hospital staff. Finally, when the medical team had done all they could do, the two were left alone in a small veiled compartment. The hospital staff had called the boy’s family, and they were on their way from Jackson. Jake had not called his father, and he knew there would be a display of parental relief and genuine concern, yet anger at Jake’s lack of litigious care—Jacob Garner Durand, II, was always concerned about the legal aspects. The shock was wearing off, and Jake was beginning to feel literally ill with despair. This was pain he had never felt—self-condemnation, loss of control, panic, and terror. He could feel death in the room like a blanket of darkness.

The crucifix was now safely tucked into the boy’s hand, and somehow this symbol of goodness provided a glimmer of light. Being raised Catholic, Jake had participated in all the ceremonial events but had never really been serious about God. He embodied the concept of humanism—he was god—handsome, intelligent, witty, and creative. When he had needs, he drew from the fountain of personal enlightenment and the treasure chest of family wealth. Jake sat in that room with no source of hope, no well of empowerment, and no waters of redemption. The spirit of death in the room was as much in his heart as in the boy’s body.

Walking away from the bed and trying to distance himself from the labored breathing that echoed in the small chamber, Jake kneeled and in desperation began to pray, God, I do not know how to pray—I have spent most of my adult life becoming an advocate of the law. If this were a case brought before an earthly court, I would be a soul with no witness to testify of my great deeds. The evidence presented on my behalf would indicate that I have taken what I wanted, when I wanted it, from good men or bad men, without a thought for the well-being of others. It would further be proven that I have consumed my life with personal pleasures and self-serving goals. My adversaries would say that I am never without words—that I have a gift to persuade and change hearts. So, it is with this very gift of arbitration that I cry out for mercy today. Please forgive me. I am broken in my heart and need your help. Somewhere in my spiritual understanding, I believe that you are the supreme judge of the highest authority; therefore, I am appealing to your court for divine intervention. I am asking you to enter into a legal contract with me, which would empower us to predict and change physical aspects of the future. To create this binding contract, the law states that both parties must be part of the same organized society. Since I have no hope in this earthly system, I change my citizenship to your realm of authority. In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, I give my heart and life to you. This is my offer—I have no other power or possession. Your part of the contract and proof of acceptance would be to heal this boy and make him perfectly whole. I rest my case and believe that our contract will change the course of events.

Never in all his scope of law school had Jake presented an opening statement and a summation in such a concise manner. The sincerity of his prayer took Jake to an unfamiliar dimension—a place of deep peace and tranquility. He felt as if he were wrapped in a mantle of love and sensed a holy presence. He literally had to shake himself back into the physical realm of the hospital.

Just as he rose from his knees, a priest pulled back part of the curtain and entered the small cubical. Acknowledging Jake’s presence, he said, I am Father Michael from St. Mark the Evangelist Catholic Church. One of the nurses in the emergency room called my office when the patient was brought into the hospital. Without further explanation, Father Michael walked to the side of the bed and laid his hands upon the boy’s chest, and said, By the wounds of your dear son, I speak healing to this boy. Let your light penetrate his body and make him perfectly whole. As the priest continued to pray, his hands began to illuminate and slightly shake. He added, Dear Lord, let the grace of your resurrection penetrate this boy and bring healing rivers to him.

The light became brighter and brighter and spread throughout the cubical. Jake was frozen during the supernatural experience—he was bathing in the pure presence of a new dimension. The light was so bright that Jake’s view of the bed was obscured. All darkness and presence of evil were gone, and Jake was sure that he could see multiple angelic beings joining with the priest in prayer. Time and space ceased to exist, and Jake simply yielded to the waves of power. With every wave, he became a new man—old thoughts, emotions, and desires were simply no longer important.

After what seemed like hours, Jake came back to his current reality even though he was confused and dismayed. To his utter astonishment, the boy was sitting up in bed talking with Father Michael. Before he had a chance to say anything, his father’s legal colleague in Oxford burst into the compartment, Son, your father called me and asked me to come and get you. Are you alright? What have you done, man?

Jake answered in a trembling voice, I am fine, Mr. Connor. I am not hurt, and Dad has nothing to worry about. I can’t really talk now, but I believe that everything has been resolved. Jake was not surprised that his father had spies everywhere, even at the hospital in Oxford. He wanted to speak with the boy, but the doctors were entering the area, and the young man’s family had arrived. As Mr. Connor was ushering him out, Jake could see the look of surprise on the doctors’ faces as they examined the patient.

Jake.

Jake heard his name as he was entering the parking lot. He turned to see the priest standing at the door of the hospital.

Father Michael winked and said, Excellent job, counselor. Jake knew he had not told the priest his name, and he certainly had not shared the nature of his prayer. Jake began to laugh—a deep, joyful laugh—but before he could respond to the priest, Mr. Connor pushed him into the car and quickly drove away from the hospital.

Jake’s eyes had been opened—he would never see the same again.

Chapter Two

Father Jake, would you like some more coffee? asked the waitress. The intrusion into Jake’s daydream brought him back to reality,

No, thank you, Karen. I need to get to work. I have a lot to do this morning at the church, and my secretary will be socializing her way through the French Quarter looking for me. Jake drank the last sip of coffee, mopped up the remains of the powdered sugar with a final piece of the beignet, left the paper on the table, and began the quick walk to the church.

Jake loved that he lived and worked all within the French Quarter. His grandmother had left him a beautiful townhouse on Royal Street just a short ten blocks from his church. The lovely home had three floors with balconies overlooking the street with a large brick courtyard in the back. His grandmother took great pride in her garden and had decorated the area with flower beds, fountains, and dogwood trees. Jake was grateful to have an oasis from the busy city and a peaceful place to pray and study. She had also left him a large trust fund, but Jake had taken the money and established The Haven Children’s Home in New Orleans. There was enough money to inaugurate the home and pay for the monthly bills for many years to come. When he felt sad about not having his own family, he would visit the children and would find renewed meaning in his life’s purpose. He knew making the choice to be a priest would be difficult, but he was not prepared for the continuous pull to worldly desires. His deepest fear was that the carnal lusts of the world would overtake his path of light and purpose. It was not the obvious profound evil of dark sin and wickedness that scared Jake—it was hidden elements of the heart such as pride, jealousy, sensuality, and anger. Remaining holy was a constant battle against the discordancy and callousness of secular existence. Being in the world, but not of the world, was his greatest battle, and his alter ego, the analytical attorney, was always hiding in his psyche, reminding him of his shortcomings.

The walk from the café to the church was a heavenly play for Jake because he knew all the store owners—their families, their victories, and their sorrows. New Orleans was opening for business, and he was a part of the ritual of life. Going from store to store blessing the day and the proprietors, Jake found great delight in interacting with the community and imparting St. Joseph prayers for peaceful, prudent, and patient work. He also loved giving each child a blessing on his or her way to school. They would follow him in Pied Piper fashion along the street—singing, dancing, and skipping. It was a sight to behold with the tall, handsome, manly priest laughing and frolicking with the young parishioners.

As Jake entered the church, he was flooded with the familiar feelings of holiness