It’s dead silent down here. Hawaii went to jail this week and Jeff is nowhere to be found. Cliff sits on the ground fixing up his bicycle. A new girl, Anna, visits and listens to Pat playing guitar. Before she arrives, the guys warn her that the “church people” are here. I guess that keeps the drugs hidden and behavior on the best terms.
I didn’t expect to see Beverly down here tonight. Usually she spends Saturday night at a friend’s house, cleaning up, taking a shower, and getting away from camp. It’s a pleasant surprise to see her. She’s smoking a broken cigarette, holding both ends together with the tips of her fingers. Every busted cig counts.
Over the past few months I’ve watched as God has pursued Beverly. She got her first Bible back in June. She just got a job. She seems to be hungry for God. But there’s always been something that’s held her back. Maybe it’s the beer. Maybe something else… I’m not sure.
Two weeks ago, she was captivated and moved by Pat’s worship. The whole camp was, really. People were crying. God was moving. We walked out of camp to leave and Beverly followed, hungry to hear more. She kept asking Pat to repeat the lyrics, “Holy Spirit You are welcome here.” Something awoke in her that evening.
“It just made me feel good to watch everybody else get moved,” Beverly acknowledges.
“Every time Pat comes down here with his guitar – somebody’s crying. Why?” I question.
“It’s just in the words and the music and the love that comes out of the words and the music.”
“You think God’s – I say this in the best kind of way – got a bullseye on you guys?” – Keep Reading
