Our lives were interrupted one evening, when my boyfriend and I were approached during dinner at a quiet café and told we must come with two men immediately. They were dressed in gray suits, and there was nothing notable about either of their faces. The surprise of it all took me aback and kept me from focusing on their appearance.
“Why should we?” I asked indignantly. I could tell by their energy that we were in trouble, or at least, I was. They didn’t seem to care whether my guy came along or not. Thankfully, when they grabbed my arm to ensure I complied, he also stood and came with us, walking beside me the whole way.
We walked in silence for several blocks toward the center of town, and my mind raced with a thousand reasons they might have come for me, but none made sense. I’d made my living helping people. I listened, I advised, and I healed them. I’d only ever done what came naturally to me. My gifts were just that – gifts from God. So, why would they come for me?
The men led us through the dark corridor and up several stairs to a raised platform. It was a circle with a diameter of about 50 feet. The lighting was dim for what felt like a stage, but I could feel eyes on us as if they were a thousand blinding spotlights. We stopped in the center of the circle and were told, “Wait here,” and they walked to the other side of the platform.
I slowly lifted my eyes to try to get my bearings. Straight ahead of me was a three-story building. In the darkness, it looked more tan than white, but the columns conveyed its importance. It was the Hall of Justice, and we should have been inside, but the crowd was too large to fit.
To my right, there was a wall of people. The bleachers must have been 20 rows high because it felt like amphitheater seating, but I knew that normally, this was just a city park. I didn’t dare turn my eye to face them, but from my peripheral vision, I could sense the intensity of their stares. Their chatter was a dull roar, but I couldn’t make out any specific words.
A red glow slowly filled the area and cast dark shadows from the isolated trees at the edge of the park. We stood barely moving and waiting. I looked over at my boyfriend. He gave me a reassuring smile, but his eyes showed concern. I looked down at my feet because I didn’t want to know what he was thinking. The weight of the moment was heavy, and fear started creeping into my heart.
Over a PA system, a man’s voice said, “Prove you’re Christian. Your faith will save you.”
My eyes darted back to my guy. He whispered, “It’s okay. Just do what you think you should.”
But I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t expecting a challenge like that; it was so vague. I took a long breath, closed my eyes to steel my nerves, and I started to sing. At first my voice was unusually low and gravelly, and I wasn’t sure anyone could hear me. “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound…” I paused because it sounded horrible. I never sang in front of anyone but family, and now the world was staring at me. Even with my eyes closed, I could feel their judgement.
My guy said, “Keep going.” So, I started the next line, and to my surprise, a beautiful female voice from the audience joined me loud and clear. I adjusted my pitch to try to match hers. Although mine was still weak, hers carried me from line to line.
“… That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now I'm found,
Was blind but now I see.”
Two more voices joined in and gave me the courage to keep singing, eyes still closed so I could concentrate only on the words.
“'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears relieved.
How precious did that grace appear,
The hour I first believed.”
By the third verse, it sounded like most of the people in the bleachers were singing with me, and I could feel my voice getting stronger with their support.
“Through many dangers, toils, and snares
I have already come.
This grace that brought me safe thus far,
And grace will lead me home.”
But as I finished the fourth verse, the voices gradually stopped singing with me until it was just that first other woman still giving me courage.
“When we've been here ten thousand years,
Bright, shining as the sun,
We've no less days to sing God's praise
Than when we first begun.”
It was quiet, and I opened my eyes and looked toward the stands. The throngs were quietly filing down the bleachers and walking into the darkness, leaving us there on the stage in the red glow.
I looked at my guy, and smiling, he took my hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Did we win?” I asked.
“Yes,” he answered.
And we were left alone to find our way back home.