Walk Run

By Anthony Van

The story of Stand continues. Jim and Maddy maintain their support for Evan Bowles as he emerges from the tragedy of his wife’s death and renews a friendship with Belle. Inspector Burton and his team become enmeshed in a series of political murders that reveal a deepening conspiracy. Pastor Able is dragged into a spiralling crisis and finds that trials do refine. In his inimitable fashion, Burton uncovers the perpetrators of clinical executions in the name of a future world order demanding peace at all costs. The narrative provides the link to describe how events led to the state of events portrayed in Book three, Crossed Over.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anthony Van
• Release date: Apr 5, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005249779

Anthony Van

What does a retired teacher do? Especially a teacher with a hyperactive imagination and ingrained work habits. Well this one writes. And being a Christian, each novel I have written necessarily is pieced together from a Christian perspective.I have a broad range of interests which include science and technology, mathematics, travel, sports and the interrelationship of people. Much of what intrigues me about people is that some pursue truth with the determination of a bloodhound while others almost ignore existential ideas and while away their short time spent on earth being distracted by people or pleasures or possessions or power.Writing is a hobby. It allows me to research and self educate, and it also permits me to refine my perspectives of concepts existential and theological.

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Walk Run

Published by Anthony Van at Smashwords

Copyright Anthony Van 2022

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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A Prayer Pilgrimage

Where to now Lord? It was a silent request expressing the dearth of inspiration for my next writings. The prayer was concordant with the notion that it was God, through His Spirit, who was creating this almost obsessive desire to record thoughts, perspectives and narratives into print. And, in the process, integrate some theology, teasing out ideas that are initially murky in my head.

I’m not often conscious of immediate replies from my Heavenly Father, but this time the idea was relentless. Write about Prayer…You’re not very good at it…You analyse it academically but you don’t exercise it practically. Did it ever occur to you that I just want to talk with you sometimes? That talking strengthens a relationship. When we communicate, we listen to each other, you get to know me better. I’m always present.

In response, this is my attempt to write something meaningful about prayer, about talking with God, set in a narrative that has a path unknown to me as yet. The contents will be in an entirely fictional framework, used to try and depict concepts about prayer as I perceive them, along with a broader based story line. I admit I may be quite mistaken regarding the nature of prayer; nevertheless, it is my attempt to put my understandings into an imaginative narrative.

Chapter 1

Wandering through life, wondering what life was all about. He had a faith but what did it mean? Was it merely academic, a result of childhood inculcation? No, it was more than that. He had feared judgement. There were plenty of occasions where the spectre of eternal damnation had caused him to examine himself, to read screes of holy writ and to, associate with other believers. Somehow, the reality was missing. He wanted feelings but knew, intellectually, that feelings were unreliable, haphazard. He wanted some sign but had learned that ‘a wicked and adulterous generation seek a sign.’ It diminished faith. It tested God as if God was some sort of product that required our approval.

Why did he still believe then? Well, the philosophical rationality satisfied the big questions of existence that humanism, materialism and atheism managed to ignore, side-step or discount as unnecessary and non-questions. He quickly reflected on the concepts of first cause, self-awareness, morality, information and life itself in absolute contradiction of inanimate matter and yet supposedly stemming from it. He knew they argued from a presupposition that deity couldn’t exist so the next best explanation is such-and-such. And that was irrespective of how irrational the reasoning, with its inherent contradictions, is.

Philosophical rationality wasn’t enough. There were some life experiences of leading or guidance which challenged the notion of coincidence. He would have a need, usually trivial, and the need was met only after a short petition. Inevitably his brain would say, ‘nothing miraculous’, ‘good fortune’ or some other rationalisation but he knew the preponderance of events argued against it. There was a sense of providence when, after prayer, lost things were found, worrisome problems evaporated and the blessings he enjoyed came into focus.

Nevertheless, he was in a rut. There was a certain performance quality to his Christian walk which desperately required a dose of authenticity. He looked about at other believers and felt inadequate, maybe faint hearted and even hypocritical, like he was in some sort of points scoring denomination.

In the past his secular life had been unsuccessful; his life had faith wavering with repeated failures and he found himself battling to appear pious when asked to serve in some church role. It was the comparing that was painful. Others had better jobs, better relationships, better testimonies, and were…well, better. That battle had been years ago.

Now he considered the fact that he pastored an average sized church. It wasn’t thriving, nor was it in decline. There were periods of growth and times when attendance and enthusiasm waned. Every time he challenged his congregation with self-examination, feeding on the Word and being ‘doers of the word’ there were repercussions, grumblings and criticisms of him being out of touch with the demands of a busy life. People would leave. And when he highlighted the blessings of being recipients of God’s grace, chosen and elect, secure for eternity and loved by the Good Shepherd, members were satisfied, even grateful. Numbers would increase as news of his positive mindset spread.

Thinking about it brought an internal rebuke. He had no doubt of its origins. He had taken on the ‘Elijah victim mentality’ that he had once coined. He wasn’t alone. There were faithful brothers and sisters. They remained. They took much of the load of administration, finance and plant. Without them he probably would have given up years ago.

He spent another hour at his desk battling through his sermon notes. He was conscious that a number of online teachers were using the word ‘posture’. His last week’s subject had been Stand. He figured he would continue to do the series on posture without mentioning the word. It was indicative of his individualistic approach. He had alluded to the notion of posture by describing a Christian’s bearing, their attitude, and the position they took and had. But now he was convinced that these were all static terms. Paul used them but he also majored on action words, on movement and progress. Innes decided that he would home in on Walk this week and then focus on Run, Fight, and then return to Rest to complete the series. The last being a static position of recognition that ultimately their position was in Christ, in the heavenlies, already attained and yet to be realised.

Innes had outlined five points with references for his sermon. He had already noted a couple of key statements in the passages. He would refer to the Christian walk, in terms of Pilgrim’s Progress and the pathway to the celestial city. But it was also strongly linked to following Jesus. He liked it that the Ephesians’ reference mentioned following God in love. He would place that near the conclusion where another text spoke of walking in love that was enacted by obedience. Innes was pleased with the sequence of points beginning with Walking in the Light. That could be used to depict conversion. It was out of darkness into light; and Jesus had been described as the light of life. He would follow that with walking in the Spirit, emphasising that Christians were empowered, they were not alone, and it was a counter to the desires of the flesh. He would then focus on the growth necessary in the Christian walk. It was a growth based on truth. John’s letters were a reservoir of his appreciation of those walking in the truth. To highlight the alternative, of walking in a lie, would help identify the contrast between believers and non-believers.

Though it wasn’t late, Innes decided to go to the bedroom. Leana was reading in the lounge so he could have a quiet prayer time before she showered and came to bed.

***

Innes was on his knees…He’d tried sitting in bed, but he lost concentration and almost nodded off. He figured the discomfort of kneeling would keep him attending to his prayers. Things were not going well in something that he had often said was essential for a Christian. He decided it needed some sacrifice, maybe some pain to emphasise his sincerity. In his mind he questioned God on why he found prayer so difficult sometimes. He started listing everything he wanted for the church. People in leadership and better facilities featured in his attempts to keep a coherent train of thought. He was tired. He showered and went to bed.

He was tossing restlessly when his wife, Leana, came to bed. She had been reading and been gripped by a missionary biography. She shared. Inness tried to show interest. His succinct compliant remarks did little to promote discussion. When asked his opinion he responded that he didn’t know. Would he read the book? He wasn’t sure. He was reading something else at the moment. He was lying with eyes closed thinking of his prayer. Innes went to sleep wondering if it would make any difference. Would God give him what he wanted?

***

Sometime during the night, he saw a glow coming from the kitchen. Had Leana left a light on? She was breathing heavily so it would do no good to ask. He eased himself out of bed silently, complimenting himself on his thoughtfulness, and walked to the kitchen. The light had moved. It was now near the double doors leading to the patio. An intruder! He needed a weapon. Maybe he should call the police. A large, decorative wooden spoon, leaning against the bookcase was the only implement he could find. It was too light and fragile but it would have to do.

Edging his way toward the double doors, he gripped the spoon with both hands. Suddenly all strength left him. He was confronted by a man, though not a man. It was a being surrounded by light.

Innes Tim Able, you are to come with me. There is much you need to learn.

I’ll need to get changed, stuttered Innes, unsure whether he was willing to pursue this dream.

He couldn’t turn about. The being of light chuckled. Innes was aware that he was now wearing jeans and a tee shirt. The effulgent man was impressive, noble, even handsome, but if Innes had to describe him, he would not have been able to.

The man reached toward him and touched him. Immediately he was filled with an exhilaration, a delight and contentment. Light bound him and swarmed around him. He felt translucent. There was only light, only him and the man. Now, all about him, the world chorused in harmony, nature sang with a hallowed melody. The colours of rolling hills, of steepling mountains, verdant with growth under the indescribable blue of the skies were all vibrant and calming in apparent contradiction.

Who are you? Innes asked, confused by the man’s use of his name.

I am Angelo. You have been heard. You are here to learn.

He noted the man was no longer brightly shining.

Angelo, I can look at you without squinting now. How come?

Your eyes have adjusted. Here, everything is more glorious. The contrast is no longer noticeable.

He looked around again. He was overcome by the beauty. Moisture came to his eyes as he was moved with awe.

Without any perceptible movement the two of them were translated onto a huge ornate, Greek style pavilion. While he was scanning the soaring columns, his guide had him walk further into the immense structure. Angelo showed Innes a large slab of basalt like rock. They drew closer and he could see there was writing all over it.

What’s it say? asked Innes as he turned to Angelo.

Go closer and read it.

Innes stepped nearer. He read the opening words: ‘God, I can’t stand what I’m doing now…I know I’m being punished for things I’ve thought and done…but can you get me out of this? There must be something better that you have for me to do…Things haven’t worked out as I imagined they would…"

He didn’t need to read anymore. It was his prayer.

Two others came and lifted the slab effortlessly and placed it in, what appeared to be, a furnace. He watched as an orange glow radiated from the observation window. Connected to the huge equipment was a series of clear tubes. Others watched as tiny condensates formed along the line. Innes concluded that they had processed the slab and out of it had come a few droplets of essence.

What is that?

That is the eternal substance of your prayer. It is distilled from the rock before the slab becomes part of the celestial city.

Why is there so little?

Well, it’s very precious and it’s incredibly powerful.

They watched as another huge slab was processed. This time there was a half-filled vial of fragrant perfume.

Why does that one have so much?

That belongs to a humble prayer warrior. The essential oils consist of praise and worship. Added to that are the tinctures of the Father’s will and faith, necessary components of effective petitions. And, also extracted are the honest emotions…You had some of those in your prayer…Also the tender heart of confession infused with lament and sorrow are substantive ingredients. And, finally, the bouquet of thankfulness adds character to the incense.

But there were not many words in that prayer.

The weight of the few words made that stone so big…and the submission of the will filled the words with the aroma of obedience…Sometimes a few words can say more than lengthy prattling.

Inness sat down on a wooden bench and watched the slabs of rock being treated.

It must take a long time to have every prayer handled like that.

Angelo had a broad smile. No time has passed. We could watch all the prayers of history and not a second would be spanned.

Innes gathered that his new acquaintance was trying to give him a flavour of eternity. Something without dimension cannot be calibrated.

Angelo, what happens to the oils in the vials?

They are used in worship…Forever the fragrance surrounds the throne. They are a testimony of faithfulness to the one, the Lord God Almighty.

What happens to the rock?

It becomes part of the building. The words of eternal merit remain imprinted and are raised on the foundation.

It is good to know that prayers are recorded…I hope it makes me more prayerful.

Innes was confused when his companion shook his head.

"You underestimate the Father’s care and attention to you…Every word…every action is recorded…It will all be tested for building material. Wood, hay and straw will not survive the fire of judgement, but precious stones and metals will adorn the building…If you serve…If whatever you do is unto the Lord then it will have eternal value…the rest is useless. It has no value here because it was for temporary gain; it has no substance.

The direction of the conversation made Innes defensive about his prayer.

You know that I was only telling God about my circumstances…How unhappy I am?

He knows…He knows everything…every thought, every feeling.

Then why am I praying?

"That’s a good question…Why are you praying? Are you seeking your Father’s will? Is it your desire to build for the kingdom, to pursue treasure in heaven? You know he wants to give what is best for you. That’s why he often says no.

So, if I ask for it and get it then it’s good for me…It’s God’s will?

It would seem so…but God’s wisdom is unfathomable. His ways unsearchable. The people of Israel continually demanded a king…and they got one. Things went wrong. The harsh lesson learned about going their own way instead of waiting on God’s will…waiting for his choice…for his timing, came at a cost. And even now not many recognise their true king.

How then do I know what his will is?

Read the Word. What does it say? If you abide in Him his will is made known to you…You will delight in it…And everything you ask according to his will you will receive.

***

Innes felt diminished. Angelo led him away from the majestic essence extraction facility with its huge white columns and white marble floor. Angelo reassured the chastised visitor that he should not discard all his prayers as earthbound or insignificant because of his preoccupation with worldly problems and issues. He led Innes up a paved path through a flower strewn meadow and Angelo explained further.

Do not think, Innes Tim Able, that every word and thought must be fixed on heaven. No…the kingdom begins on Earth, has begun. Your actions and words interceding for your fellow man, your motives of kindness and care and your desire to ease another’s burdens, those are the eternal values your Father seeks. Though the intervention may be temporary, the motive is eternal.

And yet here I feel, all I did was complain, murmured Innes.

They crested a hill and saw a winding pathway to a manicured park with many beings like Angelo standing on tessellated paving of crystalline brilliance watching something in their midst.

Come, encouraged Innes’ new friend. Let me show you where prayers like yours come after the Father has heard them.

The two of them walked down the way between hedges of flowering plants and green fronds till they arrived at the glowing pavement. Slowly, as each slab of rock arrived it was sorted. Innes read on them lengthy accounts of injustice, expressions of grief, appeals for relief and wailing sorrow. Some words stood our emboldened. There were the plaintive ‘whys’, the almost despairing ‘whens’ and the desperate pleas for intervention. Some even appeared blank.

What of those? queried Innes pointing at a ragged edged piece. It has nothing written on it at all.

"Their struggle is so intense, their oppression so distressing that only the groans of the Spirit within them are contained in the rock. No writing could describe the emotional torment, yet it has been truly expressed. These are laments that define the Father as the one who has the power, who holds sway…who alone is in charge. It is a process of restoration where the supplicants cry out and pour out their inner turmoil. These cries follow a pattern; they begin by reaching up to God and then in recognition of His sovereignty, lifting him up as the one who alone is worthy and holy and able to satisfy their needs and solve their problems.

The quiet dale seemed to reinforce the sombre mood conveyed by the struggles of the supplicants.

There seems to be a holy, reverential respect for the lament prayers, remarked Innes.

Yes…to suffer and reach up to the Father is to identify with the Son…He also groaned within his Spirit.

I never knew that complaining to God was acceptable.

To lament…to groan is God honouring but not all complaining is so. Some complaining is rebellion against God and leads to judgement.

But aren’t they still recognising God?

The complaining I’m referring to is grumbling…Grumbling is different because it infers that God has made a mistake. The error is that the person has therefore placed themselves in authority over God; they focus on themselves and sit in judgement of God. That is the hateful sin of pride."

Innes took in the scene thoughtfully. Are any grumblings written on those rocks?

That is an astute question…It is the clear difference between the two. Groanings and laments seek the mercy of the Most High. Grumblings are addressed to one’s fellow man or to one’s self, so they don’t register as prayers. I would suggest that the very act of addressing God changes the character of the complaint from a grumble to a groan. To speak to God is to recognise that He is sovereign and able to act.

I am conscious of my shortcomings with my prayer, admitted Innes. Will my prayer be rejected?

No prayer is rejected. Everyone is heard. All are answered, but often the answer is no. And when that is God’s will then it is better for you than yes. He looked steadily at the mortal man whose head was bowed.

"That you prayed at all, says something of your consciousness of the Almighty. That you complained suggests you have an understanding that He is one who can set things aright…

Might I suggest that the more you talk with the Father the better you get to know Him, and that means you will be less likely to ask for things He doesn’t want for you. When you start to enjoy the things that He enjoys, the things you want, the things you delight in are the very things the Father wants for you. Those are the prayers that are in harmony with the Will of God.

***

If Innes were to relate the contents of this journey, he would describe it as epic. Angelo took him on a tour of Foolish prayers, Selfish prayers, Misplaced prayers, and examples of moving prayers, heartfelt and persistent. Often, he would ask Angelo what road he was on or how the situation turned out with some desperate petition.

That is not for you to know, Innes.

Innes found himself commenting on the journeys of prayerful people and how remarkable and stirring he found them. His companion spoke on the dangers of comparing one prayer with another. Angelo had warned that the detail of the prayers was in the unspoken expressions of the heart.

Nevertheless, I feel that you have helped me discover some of my many errors, confessed Innes. My problem has been where my eyes have been looking…at myself. I need to look to God and listen to his word.

Yes, of course… although… Angelo had a warming grin on his face. The Father does encourage you to look at yourself through the lens of his word…I think that’s what you are doing now…It’s called self-examination.

I think this will make me more prayerful, surmised Innes as they walked though caressing grass up a gentle hill.

This is not only for you…You need to write all you have learned…It will be an allegory for prayer.

Is that all this is, Angelo…an allegory?

This is as real as it can be…as real as you can comprehend, as real as a revelation of the infinite to the earthly…as real as a dream, may be. There was a curious smile on his face.

Is this only a dream, then?

Don’t say, only a dream. A dream of eternity is, in some ways, more real than the preoccupations of the world.

A dream…a dream? Words inaudible in the wakeful world, triggered his eyes to open. It was still dark. He closed his eyelids and slept soundly.

Chapter 2

Waking up the next morning had him filled with doubts. Was it all a dream? It had seemed so real. Maybe this was like the revelations the prophets experienced. He certainly remembered the events, the angel—was it an angel? —the precious nature of prayer and the details of an indescribable glorious place where even the uncouth mutterings of the untrusting were taken into consideration.

It was still early. He opted for