There S a Sound Going Out

Revival Call

By Melissa Pierce

Sacrificial Lambs

There’s a Sound going out,

A Voice on the wind,

It’s stirring my soul,

Calling me back again,

Return to me.

Tides crashed on to the shore while two figures sat under an over-sized beach umbrella. One looked forward unblinking as the sun dipped to the horizon over the blue-green water. The other spoke softly about the bayside town where he grew up. His voice raised a few decibels and quickened as he thought back on the waterfront house of his childhood. The corners of his mouth tightened into a slight smile as he reminisced. It was thirty minutes west from where the two sat on this hot and humid afternoon. He wiped at his brow with the back of his hand. Sweat was beginning to form on the young man, despite the approaching autumn season.

“I don’t want to go there, though. There are just too many reasons to stay away. I can’t seem to shake it. I’m supposed to go back for some reason.” The young man slurred the last sentence as he lost the thought. He picked up his bottle and took another long drink, letting its intoxicating liquid flow down his throat. The burning sensation accompanying the cheap liquor was long lost.

“Many times you find what you’re looking for when you return to the place where you left most of yourself.” The older man was unusually tall and wore white linen pants and a matching tunic. The more the younger man looked at him the more confused he became. This guy looked unreal – like a guy from the cover of a magazine. He was perfectly tan with blinding white teeth. Things weren’t adding up at all for the young man. He was sitting out on the beach with a perfect stranger sharing his deepest thoughts and feelings. Is he a mirage? Am I imagining this whole conversation?

“What did you say your name is?” The young man closed one eye hoping to get his boozed head in focus. He noticed the guy was not sweating and was quite overdressed to be sitting on a beach. This guy was odd, but something was very compelling about him.

“It sounds like your hometown is important to you. A good and sweet land has a way of calling you back. I’d like to visit there one day, if the Lord wills.” The tall man smiled while still looking forward.

“More like bittersweet…” The young man said this more to himself than to his companion. He lowered his head and studied his bare feet covered with sugary-white sand. He buried his toes and looked back up slowly.

Two kids were playing about twenty feet down by the shore. They took turns carrying buckets of ocean water to the sandy bank. A couple of bathing suit clad adults were sitting in bright beach chairs facing the children. Other than the family and the two men under the umbrella, everyone else had abandoned the beach area earlier that day.

“It seems the sun is setting and night is coming. Do you know what you’re going to do tonight?” The man in white cocked his head to one side. His face was shining and reflecting the setting sun, as he looked onward.

“You know… I think I’ll go to Bayport, and maybe visit my Gran’s grave. I don’t even know why I started talking about this, but I think I should go there.” The young man shook his head, willing his thoughts to clear. “I guess it’s time to go. It’s getting late… See you around?” The two men rose and shook hands.

“It is time to go home. Sounds like a good plan to return. Enjoy your journey, Heartline.” The tall man turned and faced the younger man as he replaced his intense expression with a wide smile.

I’m not just imagining this guy. His hand is definitely real. The young man staggered back from the man and bobbed his head up and down in a final gesture. He then turned and walked toward a parking lot behind the beach houses and boardwalks. He paused before ascending the wooden stairs and retrieved his shoes.

As he turned and looked back, he expected to see the guy still seated at the umbrella, but to his surprise he had vanished. He strained to look both ways down the beach, and to several wooden stairs leading into the parking area, but there was still no sign of him or the footprints he would have left behind. He shuddered a little and wondered about the man. His thinking was so garbled from the alcohol that he couldn’t recall when the man had showed up beside him under the umbrella. What did he say his name was? He shook his head again while pushing the thought aside. In less than a minute, he made his way back across the street to his friend’s house where he had been spending the last few nights.

It was time to leave. Heartline had used this place to crash just like the other ones. His friend was ready to resume his life and didn’t need the constant party atmosphere now that summer was ending. Heartline would hitch a ride to his hometown of Bayport and try his luck there for a while. He sobered slightly and felt the familiar weight of loneliness before opening the sliding-glass door. He packed light and remembered his booze and a change of clothes. His whole life was now fitting in his worn leather backpack. It was comforting somehow to live so simply. It made him feel free. But now, since the beach conversation with the strange man, there was a stirring. The unsettled rumbling was making its way from his stomach to his head. He felt compelled to go home for the first time in years. I’m going back. It’s time to return.

In the town of Bayport, a bright heart cried out in a stately church by the bay. A mid-week prayer meeting was underway and a deep voice reverberated throughout beautifully paneled walls and floors. The old and thoroughly prayer-soaked church had been home to several congregations over the last hundred years. Bill Glen knelt, as was his custom. He asked God for an awakening of hearts and for grace to be poured out on his community. A special prayer rose to the rafters. There was a confident release from the tall-steepled church that rivaled the stateliest prayers. Bill stood slowly and remembered a phrase from the deep recesses of his mind. It was a phrase he had read about years ago from the Moravian Christian missionaries of Germany. May the Lamb that was slain receive the reward of His sufferings. He remembered a story of two young men in the eighteenth century. They agreed to sell themselves into slavery. They did this incredible deed to reach the African slaves on the Caribbean islands. They were stirred by the needsof these slaves,and in much the same way a stirring for souls was also happening for Bill. This Wednesday night ritual was to have eternal implications for many souls in the bay community of South Alabama. An awakening was not just hoped for by the aging congregation; it had become absolutely necessary. The crumbling of morals and the lost condition of a generation of people was rising steadily in the Bible belt.

Bill could not truly understand the impact his prayers would have on his community. He meditated on the scripture: God’s ways are higher than man’s ways, and God’s thoughts are higher than man’s thoughts. As was his habit after prayer, Bill began to thank God. He raised his hands as tears streamed. They were tears of joy mixed with tears of relief.

I’ve touched God’s heart and I know He has plans for this community. Bill smiled and reached for the tissue box standing like a soldier on the altar steps. Realizing how much he was crying, he figured he would take the whole box just in case.

As he walked down the long middle aisle, his attention went to the small group letting out into the foyer. Fresh faces with the light of God emerged, laughing and talking about the Lord as they exited. We are about to experience something new. Bill became keenly aware of the church people at that moment and imagined how God might use them in the community. Now, they were about to help many people. Bill’s young pastor peeked in from a side door and saw him.

“Who is still here?” Reverend Cameron Shivers questioned. He was the new pastor from a sister church who had moved up the ranks to senior pastor.

He ambled around a little overwhelmed and seemed to show his youthfulness at every turn. Known as Pastor Cam, he kept an informal tone with his congregation. Within a week of turning twenty-seven he had committed to BayportCommunity Church and suffered the break-up of a long engagement with his previous pastor’s daughter.

The beautiful Cierra Caldwell deserted himand stopped all wedding preparations. He realized the church expected he was going to be married soon, but for a myriad of reasons, mostly involving the meager lifestyle pastoring provided, he was still a bachelor. His charming way and good looks attracted the ladies, however, his lack of income didn’t seem keep them.

“I’m just leaving and I believe that the others are gone.” Bill informed the young man. He smiled and blew his nose in a couple of tissues before tossing the tissue box Cam’s way.He dutifully took the box and turned toward the altar. As he stacked the box on the last step he turned quickly to ask Bill a question that had been lingering for the past month. Where were all the youth?It was too late. Bill had exited and the only sound Cam heard was the whistling of an air vent above his head.

The young pastor was feeling low and vulnerable. He fidgeted with his cell phone realizing that Cierra was only one text or phone call away. It was tempting to reconcile, although it would only prolong the inevitable—they were not meant for each other. He could probably rekindle the spark and have a few more good times, since she was constantly on the move and finding exciting things to do and see. This had been enough to keep them steadily dating for years. But they did not value the same things, and he supposed she would never be happy with him. Cam missed the fun times as well as the companionship they had when he was younger and not responsible for much. It was not unusual for her to just leave for a week to go snow skiing or fly to New York to check out a Broadwayshow. She could travel on a moment’s notice because she had money, plenty of it. Not only was her father a pastor, but he also had a sizeable income frombeachfront rental property left to him by his family. As if on cue, Cam’s phone vibrated with a text from Cierra. It was short and sweet, but had plenty of meaning. I miss you. Let’s get together and talk.

Cam’s heart skipped a beat. A flood of desire hit hard and was threatening to overtake him. He knew he had already chosen his path, and Cierra would never fit on his journey. He kidded himself for so long that she would change and adjust to life as a pastor’s wife, but in his heart of hearts, he knew the truth. Camturned his phone off and struggled to ignore the text. It was a fight he had to win. The future was ahead, not behind.

Bill made his way out to the palm trees clustered at the edge of the parking lot. His white Ford truck sat surrounded by various SUVs and sedans. The truck, by far, was the most used and dented.Laughter came at this point when he thought about what had been accomplished with this truck. The antique vehicle reminded him of his own life. He had built a business, raised a son, was raising a grandson, prayed for revival for over twenty years and now…he knew God had heard and was answering the prayer soon. I probably have about as many dents as my old truck, he thought. Just then Bill turned back to the church and began praying for Cam Shivers. He felt a heavy burden for the young man. At that moment, Cam exited with his shoulders slumped. Lord, I really need to check up on him more often.

Up from the bay another prayer warrior was on her knees crying out to the Lord. As her heart cried out, prayers were being answered. The theme this very night was for one thing, awakening. The prayers rose up heavenward as a fragrance to the Lord.

“Oh, Lord Jesus, I humbly ask for you to change the atmosphere here. We need breakthrough.” Mary Jolly lifted her eyes as tears streaked her cheeks. Her time with the Lord had been especially sweet this night. The beautiful full moon shone through the storefront theater building where the brethren met each week for service. She felt an unprecedented newness of spirit as her singsong prayers rose to a crescendo. Something happened in the heavens that left her mind at ease and heart overflowing.This was a breakthrough.

Mary lifted up from her tired knees and walked out the double glass doors into the chilly night air. Her beautiful ebony face didn’t show the years she had lived. And now a glow adorned that same face and illuminated her with even more vibrancy. She pulled her coat a little tighter over her full figure and turned the corner leading downhill toward the city. She felt such confidence tonight that her prayers were accompanied with a bright, big smile. She knew that things were changing. The atmosphere around her was electrified by a Presence she knew well.

“Thank you, Jesus!” she shouted to the night air. Mary turned uphill and walked back to her parked car. It glistened under the bright streetlight acting as a beacon of warmth awaiting its passenger. She slipped in and cranked the heater high on her aching feet. The contented smile remained as she nestled into the large leather seats.She turned left heading away from the bay and drove the thirty-minute route from work to home.

Mary pulled into the double car driveway and clicked the button for the huge white garage door. The house alarm welcomed her as she crossed beautiful cherry wood floors leading into a great room. She passed pictures of her mom and dad who had died five years ago. First her dad passed away and then her sweet mother three months later. It had been hard and the family business had fallen to her. Mary was fifty at the time and already knew everything necessary to grow the business into a million dollar enterprise.

The Jolly family had gotten great at selling ocean front real estate and was known far and wide for their knack to put their prestigious clients into the perfect property. Mary was a single mother since her divorce ten years earlier. Her husband left and gave full custody of their son to her. He was ready to move on with his new girlfriend and crushed Mary in so many ways. She threw herself into her work and didn’t look back until both of her parents passed away. At this point she had to face the feelings she had been avoiding for years.

Marynow smiled for another reason. Her parents could not have imagined what their only child was going to do when they were gone. In fact, she had no idea the journey she would embark on only five months after her parents were gone. The real estate company had been a family venture, and all she knew growing up. She was great at the business and taking the CEO role was second nature to her.

The stately portraits hung over the massive fireplace. The house and the beauty of a car in the garage were the only residue leftover from those days. Well almost all…there was also the rehabilitation center she bought one year after her mother’s passing. The company was left to her only child, Bernard. He graduated that same year with his business degree from Georgia Southern and was itching to get started. Mary was itching to make sense of her life and continuing the business didn’t hold the same charm as before. She opted out and went into depression until hearing from the Lord one night. The company had sold an old theatre to a local congregation and she thought about visiting. She felt like shaking it up a bit and getting out of her pajamas.