Revival - Sex Cult Suicide 14

James couldn’t get used to Stephanie’s old electric scooter. He drove it around the garden. He reversed into a plant pot, flew the other way and knocked over a wheely bin, turned around, came forward and demolished another plant pot. Sam was walking along the garden path. He didn’t see James coming up behind him. Wallop! Sam examined himself, lifting up his foot and rubbing his ankle, wondering if it was broken. Stephanie was watering the plants nearby.
 “Sorry,” said James.
 “Praise the Lord! I’m just so glad you crashed into me and didn’t crash into Stephanie. She’s just over there. Stephanie’s got brittle bones. She would have been badly injured. You haven’t broken my ankle, but you would have broken hers. She’s disabled already. If you broke her ankle she’d never be able to walk around the house again, like she does now. I shall limp around for days, happy in the knowledge that I was a human crash barrier and saved Stephanie from serious injury.”

James drove down to the woods. He loved being by the stream in the woods. It was his favourite place. He hadn’t been there for six years. Now he was 96. He was delighted to be by the stream again. He wondered if Heaven was like this, the woods, the stream, the Sun shining in the sky. James would soon find out if his understanding of Heaven was theologically sound or heretical. He was going much too fast. The scooter went flying off the path right into the stream, where it landed upside down, trapping James underneath it. It was much too heavy for one person to lift, and James was too old and frail to pull himself out from underneath it. He drowned.

Jonah made the announcement to all the members of the community house, who were gathered together for their evening meal.
 “James is dead. He lost control of Stephanie’s old scooter in the woods. It went into the stream and turned upside down. He was trapped underneath it.”
 “I shouldn’t have given it to him,” said Stephanie. “It’s my fault.”
 “No it isn’t,” said Sam.
 “Yes it is. Someone has to blame themselves.”
 “Have you seen the evening paper tonight?” asked Rachel, passing around a copy. The headline said, “Sex Cult Suicide.” There was a picture of the overturned scooter in the stream.

There was an inquest. Sam gave evidence. He hadn’t given evidence in a court before. Sam was terrified. The court looked exactly like a court would on a television programme. It really did have a plaque on the wall that said, “Dieu et mon droit,” which Sam new, from his limited knowledge of French, must mean, “God and my right” or wasn’t it something equivalent in Latin? Sam was not under oath but he was determined to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
 “How well did you know James?” asked the solicitor.
 “I shared a room with him for two years.” The solicitor seemed impressed by that answer.
 “Sam, did James ever discuss how he felt about living in the community?”
 “He complained about the shower. It never worked properly. One moment it was boiling hot, the next it was freezing cold. It had never worked since they had got that new boiler.”
 “Did James ever discuss how he felt emotionally?”
 “He was lonely. I know he had 16 people living with him in the same house, but he was still lonely. He told me that he had prayed, ‘God, either give me a companion or end my life.’ That’s why –“ The coroner interrupted.
 “- I need to write that down. He asked God either to give him a companion or to end his life. Now you’re probably going to tell me something else.”
 “That’s why I shared a room with him. I became his companion.”
 “What was James like on the morning of his death?” asked the solicitor.
 “He destroyed 3 plant pots with the scooter and crashed into me, nearly breaking my ankle.”
 “Were you aware of his state of mind?”
 “He seemed to be quite happy. He wanted to go to the stream in the woods. It used to be his favourite place. He would walk there all the time when he was in his 80s. I think he lost control of the scooter. He didn’t know what he was doing with it.”
 “If it was an accident, why didn’t he just get out of the scooter and walk away?” asked the solicitor.
 “It’s a big heavy scooter. It takes two people to lift it. He was trapped underneath. He couldn’t just pull himself out and swim for it, he was 96 years old.” The coroner spoke.
 “I have had a number of cases, in recent months, which have required me to look into men’s souls. It is not easy. I think the right decision, in this case, would be an open verdict. We will never know whether James intended to end his own life.” Sam was shocked. So were the other church members sitting with him in the court.
 “But it was an accident,” shouted Rachel.
 “He didn’t know what he was doing on that scooter,” said Sam.
 “He lost control of the scooter,” said Stephanie. “Anyone can see that.”
 “An open verdict,” said the coroner. “It could have been an accident, I admit. But who knows what life in your cult is actually like?”

Next Sunday the church was full of people. It seemed that the negative newspaper reports brought the oxygen of publicity. One person there was Wendy. She was 11 years old. She sat on her own, sobbing to herself. Her father had been a lovely man. Not at all suited to her mother, rather accustomed to spending too much time at work or on the computer and away from the family but nevertheless, kind. The new man her mother had married was a monster. He drank too much, he argued with everyone, and he made no secret of the fact that he regarded Wendy and her sister as a nuisance. He had fallen in love with Wendy’s mother but hated her children. Wendy had begun drinking to ease the pain but drinking fruit flavoured alcopops just made her more depressed.

A picture of James’ scooter, upside down in the stream, appeared on the screen. Jonah began speaking.
 “James died this week. He was 96. The papers said it was suicide, but it wasn’t. He lost control of his mobility scooter.” Wendy burst into tears. She wanted to die like that. She had always been bullied at school for being clever and gentle natured. They said she was soft. They said she was a swat. Now she had tried to make some friends by drinking with the ‘hard’ people, but they were cruel to each other, stole money from each other and beat each other up. Now she was in trouble with the head teacher. Wendy had no friends. Even the teachers weren’t her friends anymore. She wanted to drown herself. She would think of it as a scientific experiment to prove the theory that no one would care. Jonah continued speaking. “Jesus loves you. Jesus loves you more than you could ever know. Jesus thinks you’re wonderful. Jesus wants you to come to him just as you are. Jesus can forgive you for all the things you have done wrong. He took the punishment. He died in your place.” Wendy was amazed. Christ was the answer. Her tears stopped. She smiled.

“I was going to preach a long sermon today but I’ve decided not to. I want to worship God. The Spirit is moving. I can feel it.” There were a few minutes of silence. Stephanie prayed in tongues boldly. She was a tiny woman, with a tiny voice who usually struggled to make herself heard. Now she prayed with fire and passion, in a voice that could be heard clearly all over the church without a microphone. One of the men stood up to give an interpretation of what Stephanie had just prayed.
 “There are people here who are tied up in chains in dark dungeons. Today, God will set them free. God is light. God’s light will break through to set free the prisoners who are in the dungeons. Come and be healed. Come and be forgiven. Come and be filled with joy.” Wendy’s face lit up as if it was an electric lamp and someone had plugged it into the mains. She started praying in tongues loudly so that everyone could hear. She had never been to church before. The Spirit was moving in her so strongly. She walked up to the front and picked up the microphone.
 “I came here today thinking about suicide. Now I have found freedom in Jesus. Now I am full of joy. God has healed me and I want to praise him.” She now prayed in tongues over the microphone. It sounded like angels singing. The crowd of people in the church began to join in.

Wendy felt that God wanted her to leave the meeting. She was led to the derelict old Methodist church at the end of the street. God told her to say, “Wakey, wakey!” Wendy said, “Wakey, wakey!” in a normal voice. She soon realised she would have to shout louder than that if she wanted to wake a sleeping angel. “Wakey, wakey!” she screamed at the top of her voice. A huge angel appeared. It looked like a man made of glowing bronze. It was taller than the church tower.
 “I am the angel of the English Methodists,” he said. “They were the first people to be born again, they were the envy of the nation with their godly Christian lives, they taught people to read, they helped the needy, they probably prevented a violent revolution. I have been asleep for 120 years.”
 “Why have you been asleep for 120 years?”
 “Because there are so few Christian Socialists around these days. You’re the first one I’ve met.”
 “What do you want me to do?”
 “Nothing. I’m going to do it. God’s going to do it. You are Wendy the Warrior. We will do mighty miracles through you. At Hope Village Community church there is a man praying for people to be healed. He’s really struggling. He’s been trying really hard, and nothing’s happening. Go there and pray for him.”

Wendy returned to the church. Sam was standing at the front, praying for a teenage boy who had a wrist in plaster.
 “If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can move a mountain,” said Sam. “You might find that when you go back to the doctor it’s so much better than he thinks it should be.” Wendy walked up to Sam.
 “Can I pray for you?” she asked.
 “Yes.” Wendy laid hands on him and prayed in tongues. Sam flew across the room as if he’d had an electric shock. He got up from the floor and touched the bandaged wrist of the boy he had just been praying for. The bones clicked back into place with a loud crack.
 “I’m healed,” said the boy. “I’m healed.”
 “Praise God,” said Sam. “I can’t see, what’s wrong with my glasses?” He took his glasses off. “Now I can see.” Sam took the microphone. “Is there anyone here who is ill, any kind of illness at all, whether it’s really serious or really trivial? God wants to heal you today.” About a hundred people came forward and were healed.