9 THE EIGHTH FACE

9 THE EIGHTH FACE

... And also upon the servants

and upon the handmaids in those days

will I pour out my spirit.

Joel 2:29

Nita was in no mood for company. Another in the endless series of tests had just been completed - a lumbar puncture, which was very painful - and furthermore the nurse had accidentally cut her with a surgical knife. After patching the wound they had wheeled Nita into radiology for another in the endless series of scannings, and then trolleyed her back to her ward. It was always awkward, trundling her limp body from the rolling cart back into her bed, but today the aides had struggled more than usual, and had bumped her spine on the railing. Nita felt like crying - in fact, loudly, - but she still refused to give in to it.

She lay sulking in the bed, a bag of bones, praying, "Why me, God?" and angrily holding back the tears, when the husband of another relative walked in with Colton Wickramaratne. For a long time he had wanted Colton, his pastor, to pray for Nita.

Nita made every effort to be pleasant, as always, as they were introduced, but she was not disposed toward socializing at the moment. She was still mad at God. She answered the preacher's questions, smiled sweetly, and closed her eyes as he prayed. As he left she said, "Thank you for coming," but she really meant, "Thank you for going."

As a matter of courtesy Colton returned once a week. He normally did the same for anyone in the hospital. He prayed for this young person's healing, and shared the Word with her. Occasionally he would drop by twice in one week, but Nita was never more, or less enthusiastic than before. She had scores of visitors, and as her condition deteriorated she tired easily and they wore her out faster.

She said she was Spirit-filled, but Colton wondered about that. She never prayed aloud with him, never said hallelujah, never responded with much more than a nod or a pleasantry. Colton had prayed for hundreds in his lifetime; he had seen cancers cured, heart problems solved, and even more dramatic healings of life and limb. But with Nita, he felt he was getting nowhere. At times Nita would grow impatient with his childlike faith. Indeed, she could see that none of his faith-talk was slowing the decay of her body, so she analysed his statements, piece by piece, challenging him to answer her scepticism. Colton grew impatient too. This wasn't just spare time he was spending, after all! He was a busy man. His church was in a big building programme. He had dozens of others to visit and counsel, and the hospital was a good distance from the church.

Colton was always pleasant and polite - so was Nita - but each day as he left, he simmered a little hotter. He could hardly understand her Episcopal decorum since he himself worshipped passionately in the typical freewheeling Pentecostal style. And Nita, after ten nerveracking, exhausting months in the limbo of paralysis, was not inclined to humour any preacher's peculiar mood swings. Their plastic smiles hid a small hostility between them.

Finally one day, as he walked out of the ward, Colton decided he had dawdled long enough.

"Father, it's a waste of my time," he began in prayer as he walked down the hall. "She's a brick wall. I can't get through. She won't exercise a bit of faith. She will not even say hallelujah."

He walked out the door and toward his car. "It would be different if I had nothing else to do," he grumbled.

Colton got into the blue Volkswagen and slammed the door. "I'm not coming back to visit this girl any more. I've had enough of her. Who does she think she is?

He revved the engine angrily and turned around in the seat to back out of his space, but something unexpected caught his eye. In the window a few paces behind him, he saw a face - Nita's face.

She was looking into her mirror, smiling pleasantly, onto the parking lot as she always did when a visitor left. Colton stared hard. He knew it was Nita's face, but somehow it was different. He had seen it somewhere before. He slumped back into his seat and stopped the engine.

His mind drew back to that day, twenty years ago, when the eight faces appeared on his wall. He recalled each man's face, and he recalled meeting each of the seven.

But the final face, the woman ...

Colton's heart began thumping.

"God, either you're making a mistake, or I'm making a mistake.

"It can't be," he prayed nervously. "That's the face I saw in my vision!"

He sat stunned, and then arousing himself after a final look, he started the Volkswagen. He pulled the car into gear and dashed out of the parking lot, headed for the ocean. He raced to his usual place, his rocky hideaway, and cried out to his Father.

"That girl can't be the eighth face. That girl was only four years old in 1957 when I saw the vision!" he argued with God.

Deep into the night, Colton was still petitioning. "How can she have a role in the Asian revival? She doesn't accept anything on faith! She analyses everything."

Till two in the morning Colton sat in his hideaway wrestling with God. The sea crashed on the rocks nearby with insistent faithfulness.

"No God, she never even says hallelujah!"

But the conviction would not wash away with the tide,

the Lord's answer was simple and direct.

"She is the eighth face!"

Colton dragged himself home, in the early morning darkness. His wife Suzanne and their sons had come to the hospital searching for him, and Nita had told them he had left around six o'clock. They were afraid his car had crashed and that he was lying helplessly in some forsaken ditch. They had called the police and spent the night praying tearfully for his safe return. But Colton had been so shaken in his spirit he totally forgot his family's concern for his safety as he spent the hours in passionate prayer.

Colton came home a different person. His eyes were red, but gleaming. He had a new touch from God, a new hope for Nita's future - and the future of all Asia. By some miracle, this hopeless paralytic girl was going to be an instrument of revival in Asia. And now, finally he, Colton, could declare his vision! He could share the fascinating promise of God with each of the eight people.

The thrill of his discovery, however, soon wore off. Colton arrived at the hospital early the next morning with Suzanne and unloaded the entire story ... the collection of faces on the wall ... and the part that each of these eight people was assured of playing in the Asian revival.

Nita was unimpressed! She was dying of myelitis, a creeping paralysis that was destroying her limbs and vital organs, and, apart from that, she had always been cynical about visions and dreams and voices. The story Colton told her really bore no relevance to her.

"God is going to heal you," Colton insisted. "You're going to have an impact on all of Asia."

"You can't be sure of that," Nita replied coolly. "I come from a family of medical people. I know full well that my disease will eventually reach my heart and lungs, and I will die. But you're good to try and encourage me."

"I would never give you false hopes," Colton answered. "But I saw your face in the vision. You are going to live."

Nita shrugged. The preacher could believe whatever he liked. She couldn't stop him.

"I don't expect anything of you," Colton finally said before he left. "I just want you to know what I believe about you, and how I care about what happens to you. I believe God has a purpose for your life, and He wants Suzanne and me to stand with you."

Nita said nothing. He wasn't even her pastor and he was a little too emotional to please her. But if he wanted to believe, that was his business. He would learn soon enough that her case was hopeless.

Colton promised to return. He had to counsel a young couple across town that afternoon, but he would come back the next morning to pray with her.

God had a different agenda.