Page 19 of Fearless
Clasping my hands atop my head, I take several deep breaths to slow my heart rate back to normal. I find a small bench along the paved path and take a brief respite to collect my thoughts. The entirety of Psalm 112 is a poem about praise and blessings for those who fear the Lord, but sometimes I get a snippet of a verse or verses that are meant to address my specific situation.
Bowing my head and holding my hands between my legs, I continue my conversation with God. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to interpret Your answer. I’ll admit, I like the ‘triumph on his adversaries,’ part, and you know that my heart is ‘firm and trusting’ in You. It’s the ‘bad news’ that I’m not looking forward to. Is it going to rock my world? Of course, it is; otherwise, You wouldn’t have used this particular verse to communicate with me. The fact that ‘not afraid’ is uttered twice means that it’s going to be really bad news, but that You have a plan. I’ll trust in that, and in You, for whatever is to come.”
“Who are you talking to?” Harper asks as she wipes sweatfrom her face and neck.
I stand up and stretch out my back. “Just having a one-on-one with Jesus.”
Harper tilts her head and peers at me curiously. “You say that so casually as if you talk with Him all the time.”
I shrug. “I do. When you’re close to someone, you want to share everything with them. You want to share your hopes and dreams, your fears, your needs and wants, as well as your burdens because you know that they’ll love you no matter what. You want to show them gratitude for always being there for you, even when the times get tough. That’s the way I feel about God. He’s not only my Father; He’s also my best friend.”
Harper smiles. “I like that. I’m not sure what possessed you to have a conversation with Him on a bench out in public, but I love that you don’t care what people think or say. Do you want to share your burden with me? I’m willing to shoulder it with you, and not just because I’m technically your wife, but because I’m also your friend.”
I want her to be so much more than that, but I know her father would never approve—not because I’m not good enough, but because he views me as family. But Harper’s right; she is my friend, and I don’t have any issues with sharing what’s on my heart.
For the next few minutes, as we walk back to the cabana, I tell her about my prayer and God’s answer. Like me, she’s not particularly fond of the idea of bad news heading our way, but she agrees that whatever is to come is what’s meant to be.
“Does God always answer you through Scripture?” Harper asks. “I pray, too, but I’ve never received an answerlike that.”
I leave the “Do Not Disturb” sign hanging on the door as I open it for Harper to enter. Once we’re inside, I grab two bottles of water and hand her one. “Not always, but reading scripture regularly helps. How He answers depends on what I’m asking for.”
“Why does what you’re asking for matter?” She asks.
“If I need clarity, scripture gives it to me. But there are times when I just need to know if what I’m doing is the right thing. That’s when His answer most often comes in the form of a strong urging. Sometimes, I get a sense of peace reminding me that He’s in control when worry and doubt slowly creep in and take over my thoughts. More often than not, I don’t get any answer at all,” I explain.
Harper takes a few gulps from her bottle of water, and I watch as a few drops dribble down her chin. She wipes them away with the back of her hand. “Don’t feel alone. God almost never answers me.”
“He does. The real question is, are you listening?”
We each take turns using the bedroom to take a quick shower and change before we link up for a video call with the rest of the team. I mirror the laptop onto the large television screen hanging on the far wall so that we can see everyone’s faces clearly. The screen is divided into blocks, each with a camera view.
Jessie and Elijah are together in one block, Carter and Leanna in another. Ben, Ethan, Patrick, Jerry, Savannah, and Jaxon take up the remaining spaces as they connect. Once everyone is onthe call, Harper stares at the big screen and starts giggling.
With the microphone still on mute, I ask her, “What’s so funny?”
She points at the screen. “Do you really not see it? It’s like watching the opening intro to ‘The Brady Bunch.’”
I raise an approving eyebrow in her direction. “That was one of my favorite shows as a child, and even then, they were reruns. The show ended two decades before you were even born.”
“It was one of my mom’s favorites, and we watched it together. I always dreamt of having a big family. Maybe not six kids big, but as an only child, the idea of siblings was always appealing to me.”
“Maybe you and Roger can have a couple of kids together. Roger, didn’t you say once that three was the perfect number?” Savannah says, snickering and shocking us both. I glance at the microphone icon in the lower left of the screen to see that it no longer has the slash through it.
Ethan laughs. “I should have warned you that I had remotely taken control of the session and unmuted your microphone. I thought maybe you were having technical difficulties when we could see your mouth moving but not hear you.”
I narrow my gaze, “I may not be as tech-savvy as Patrick or Jerry and able to hack into secure systems, but I do know how to do the basics. I even know what the ‘O-F-F’ button means.”
“That’s a start,” Jerry retorts. “And speaking of hacking, I was able to access the FBI servers using the credentials that Director Whitman provided, but I went a step further and gained access to Deputy Director Finnegan’s computer to get a peek at what cases he was directly involved in. Most of it was cleanup from thecase we had six months ago involving the cartels and the CIA. Trials are still ongoing, so he had his hands full. However, there was a file labeled ‘Vacation Plans.’”
Harper leans forward eagerly. “That has to be about his trip down here. What was in the file?”
Jerry frowns and shakes his head. “I don’t know. The file is encrypted using AES-256 protocols, which is the Advanced Encryption Standard that uses 256-bit blocks and...”
“You’re speaking a language I don’t understand,” I interrupt.
Jerry sighs. “It would take me more than a hundred lifetimes to brute-force my way into that file. Without the key, it’s locked up tighter than a vault. I find it hard to believe that Finnegan’s vacation plans are worthy of Fort Knox-level security.”
“Sorry to have wasted your time,” Harper says, despondent.
