Page 69 of Perilous Healing

“She spoke of Lord and joining Him in His kingdom. What does that mean?”

I start to turn toward the building to grab Bianca. After all, she’s much more qualified to answer this than I am, but seeing the hope on their faces, the interest, I can’t bring myself to step away. Who am I to squash the seed of faith Bianca helped plant?

So even though I have no idea if what I will say is accurate, I kneel. “She was talking about God,” I tell him. “The Bible tells us that God sent His Son to die on the cross so that we might find eternal life with Him.”

“He sent His Son to die? Why?”

“Because people are wicked,” I tell him, gesturing to the street around us. “They do wicked things like lie, cheat, steal?—”

“Kill?” Neo asks.

I swallow hard. “That too. But if we ask for forgiveness, believing that our only way into heaven is through the death and sacrifice of Jesus Christ, and we work really hard to try and follow His way and get to know Him, then we can join Him in His kingdom someday.”

Neo beams. “A kingdom?”

I nod. “Bianca knows more about it than I do, but that sounds pretty nice, doesn’t it?”

“It does!” he exclaims, then turns to translate to the others.

The children’s faces completely light up, their expressions turning brilliant. They all begin talking at once and Neo laughs, then turns back to me.

“They are quite excited about it.”

“I can see that.”

“Do you know if she will read us more? We want to know more about Jesus,” he says. “We want to hear more.”

“I’m sure she will,” I reply, standing once more. Warmth spreads through my chest, happiness at the smiles I put on their faces by not turning away. So much hope, so much joy… Why can’t I find that for myself in the word of God? Why can’t I put aside my pain to push forward?

Commotion near the pit draws my attention, and the kids turn and sprint down the street, with Neo lifting his little sister and carrying her off and out of view.

I shift my gaze toward the pit, watching as a man climbs out.

The guard raises his weapon toward the man, and I sprint forward, dread coiling in my stomach.

“Get back in the pit!” the guard orders. “I will shoot!”

I pump my arms faster, running as quickly as I can. “Stop!” I yell. “He doesn’t understand you!”

Though I can’t imagine that’s entirely true—having a gun pointed at you is a universal language most understand. The ferocity in the man’s eyes, the fury reflected in them is also a universal language.

He doesn’t care if he lives or dies.

But I do.

All of these people need to live so they can enjoy peace again. I slam into the man, taking him to the ground. Pain shoots through my gut, but I ignore it as the man squirms, trying to break free. “Stop!” I yell. “You’re going to get yourself killed!” When he doesn’t stop moving or yelling, I call out, “Translator!”

The same man who’d translated in the pit yesterday rushes forward.

My vision wavers. Did I hit my head?

Suddenly, the world begins to spin, and I fall back, breathing ragged. I suck in a breath, but the air doesn’t come. The man’s face swims into view above me. He’s talking fast, too fast for me to understand.

I look down at my gut and see that the man I tackled was not unarmed. Something I should have noticed well before taking him to the ground.

A rusty knife sticks out of my chest. The guard reaches down and rips it free, glaring at the man who’d stabbed me. A man who is staring down at me with horror in his gaze.

The translator presses his hands to my chest and yells an order, but I can’t tell if anyone moves. All I can feel is the blood pouring out of my chest, and the world around me growing dark. Is this how I die?

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