The Devil in Pew Number Seven (32 page)

Such was the case with Harris.

Say It Isn’t So

Things aren’t always as they seem.

When Harris Williams was sentenced to life in prison, I thought that meant exactly that. He had taken my mother’s life and robbed Daddy of his wife and livelihood. The court said Harris would have to serve those years behind bars for his crime. But in April 2005, out of curiosity, my husband, Kenny, looked up Harris’s status on the Internet. Much to his amazement and to my shock, Harris had been released from prison in 1999 and given five measly years of parole.

Ironically, in 1999 we lived in North Carolina, working just two-and-a-half hours from where Harris was living. Did anyone contact me or my family to inform us that Harris was up for parole? No. Did anyone ask us if we wanted to be at the parole hearing? No. Did anyone tell us that he was released after serving twenty years and that he would return to the same town he had lived in before he was imprisoned?
No!

The news tore open my old wounds.

Where was the justice?

If given a million years, I would never have thought that a man could take someone’s life—and shoot with the intent to kill another person—and then, after a short stint in jail, be walking around as a free man. So many questions ran through my mind when Kenny told me this news. The feelings I had laid to rest regarding the loss of my mother reemerged.

I knew I had a decision to make.

I had to choose to forgive Harris all over again.

The first time I worked through the forgiveness of Harris, I was an innocent child; I had been following the teachings and the example of my parents. Now, however, I would have to forgive Harris on my own, as an adult. It would be harder for me this time. I kept dwelling on how unfair it was that Harris had his freedom back while I was still without my parents.

It bugged me that Harris had served less time than my mother had been gone. He got his life back, while mine would never be the same. I found myself wondering what he was doing with his freedom. Had prison reformed him? Would he return to his drinking and hardened behavior? Or would he make something of his second chance?

I wish I had a second chance with Momma.

I had to let go of my anguish over and over again. I called a friend and shared with her the endless mental gymnastics I was having upon hearing the news that Harris was out. She said, “Becky, you have two choices. You can let these negative thoughts continue running through your mind like a locomotive, robbing you of the God-given peace that you have, or you can stop these thoughts right now dead in their tracks by forgiving him again.”

Did Harris deserve my forgiveness?

That wasn’t for me to decide.

I’m not his judge. God is.

Besides, Jesus commanded me to forgive him. Did that strike me as being unfair? Of course it did. And yet, as I pressed myself into the Scriptures for answers, I was drawn to the story of the criminals who were crucified beside Jesus on the two adjacent crosses. It dawned on me that if I were to ask the families who had been wronged by those convicts if they thought the felons should receive the full penalty of death for their crimes, they’d say, “Absolutely.”

But Luke, the only Gospel writer to give this version of the incident, describes a conversation between one of the criminals and Jesus. During their exchange, the criminal freely confesses that he deserves his death. He makes no excuse. He doesn’t shift blame. He accepts his punishment. That’s when an interesting thing happens.

This condemned man, after asserting the fact that Jesus has done nothing wrong, says, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

Jesus replies, “I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise” (Luke 23:42-43,
NIV
).

As I reread that familiar passage, I didn’t understand how Jesus would forgive a criminal who had broken the law and hurt people and then allow him to receive the same eternal salvation as someone who had led a godly life. I still don’t know the answer to that mystery, but I do know that God, in His wisdom, knows why He extends the gift of grace to any of us. That’s His business. My part is trusting God and praying for His will to be done in my life.

After the initial shock of hearing that Harris had been released from prison, I spent some time listening to my daddy’s testimony, which he had recorded on a cassette tape before his death. When he got to the part about Harris and the shooting, Daddy’s tone changed; there was an unmistakable compassion ringing clear in his voice as he said, “I forgive the man who shot me and my wife. I know alcohol makes people do things that they would not normally do. My hope for him is that he would be saved.”

His words touched my heart in a deep and profound way, both then and even now as I write these words. My daddy and hero displayed the forgiveness he had modeled so many times before. His words reminded me that I have to walk in forgiveness and that my prayer for Harris should be the same as that of my daddy’s, namely, that Harris would be saved. That Harris, like the criminal on the cross, would know the saving power of Jesus; that nothing he has ever done would be unforgivable to His Creator.

That Jesus loves him and died for him.

Once I prayed that prayer for Harris, the burden and accusation lifted.

I felt free again.

The Heart of the Matter

If I were to boil down what I’ve learned about forgiveness, I’d say it’s ultimately a matter of the condition of my heart. Momma demonstrated that reality with her life. Her goal, her driving purpose every day, was to become more like Jesus, to conform her heart to His heart. He forgave, so she forgave. He loved without placing conditions on His love; she loved others with the same fervor.

He extended grace; she did the same.

Because Momma was teachable and tender toward the things of the Lord, her heart was highly receptive to the things that the Lord wanted to plant there: love, joy, grace, peace, kindness, and forgiveness, among other things. Momma was willing to do anything God asked her to do. And because she kept the garden of her heart free from the weeds of anger and bitterness, those weeds were powerless to choke out her love of people. In turn, she found it easier to forgive those who persecuted her . . . even if it cost Momma her life.

Perhaps the clearest enduring example that Momma’s greatest desire was to align her heart with that of the Lord is represented in a poem she penned in 1966, twelve years before her death. You can almost read between the lines the words of Jesus in John 15:13 (
NIV
), which says, “Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.” She wrote,

Has the meditation of my heart been acceptable to my Lord, or have the words of my mouth caused some soul to go astray?

Have I shed enough tears to wash my Savior’s feet, or is my hair long enough to dry them with?

Have I pointed Him to the world with Judas’s finger, and lost my love for Him because of gold?

Have I forsaken all to follow Him the last mile, or do I prefer the mob that scorned Him?

Could I have watched His blood trickle down the stones without a guilty conscience, or stood in silence from fear of man?

Did I hold the nail they pierced Him with, or did the thorns pain Him with my sins?

Do I, as Peter, deny that I ever knew Him by not confessing Him to my friends?

Do I love my brothers and sisters enough that I would lay down my own life for them, or do I love Him enough to introduce my Savior to a lost world?

Oh Lord, may I be aware daily of Thy sufferings for me, for I am not worthy of Calvary.

I think Momma would agree that I’m the keeper of the door to my heart. To love and forgive others as I’ve been loved and forgiven by Jesus, I have to guard what I allow to take root in my heart. If I open my heart to self-pity, anger, grudges, and unforgiveness, I give the enemy of my soul an invitation into a very expensive home—a home purchased by the blood of Jesus. But as I become fluent in the language of heaven, as I open the door of my heart to Jesus and in His strength forgive others, that’s when I’m set free.

Afterword

After I share the details of my story and how I survived those unbelievable years, I’m often asked, “So how’s your brother, Daniel? Where is he now? And how did he cope with everything?” I’m happy to report that Daniel made it through those storms as I did. He’s been a strength to me when the waves are high and winds are blowing.

I credit much of our “post-traumatic success” to Aunt Dot. When she promised Daddy that if anything happened to him, she’d take care of his children, she became both Momma and Daddy to us. She made a decision to do everything in her power to give us the life that our parents would have wanted us to have and enjoy. I am forever grateful for her love and investment in our lives.

For example, in middle school when Daniel showed an interest in music, Aunt Dot didn’t hesitate to help him get a saxophone. He polished his skills and ultimately played in the band from those early years well into college. He’s so musically inclined he plays the guitar by ear and can read music—just as Momma did. I know Momma would be pleased that her love for music and talent were passed down to her son.

One of Aunt Dot’s goals was to help us get our college degrees. Having pieced together a patchwork of grants, scholarships, and personal savings, we did. I graduated from Missouri State University with a bachelor of science degree in interior design; Daniel graduated from the University of Alabama with a mechanical engineering degree. I know Daddy would have been proud of Daniel for working so diligently to obtain that degree.

I should point out that Daniel is a spitting image of Daddy. He’s six foot three and handsome just like my daddy. He loves the Word of God and cares about people and living out his purpose here on the earth. Even though Daddy is gone now, we have a big part of him here in Daniel. I’m so proud to call him my brother.

What’s more, my brother has felt the tug of ministry on his heart. Loving and serving God has taken him to Scotland and Mexico on mission trips as well as on several homeless-outreach missions. Daniel followed the call of serving others just as my parents did. It has been a blessing to me to have such a friend in my brother and to watch him walk out a life of integrity and service.

The world would have lost a lot had Daniel died the night Mr. Watts blew out two windows in his bedroom, sending glass and wood into his crib. God obviously had—and continues to have—big plans for my brother.

After I got married and Daniel graduated from college, Aunt Dot was left with an empty nest. Through the years she has kept herself busy going on mission trips to India and holding women’s conferences along the Gulf Coast. She continues to work part-time in the legal profession. Aunt Dot still lives in the Nichols family home in Mobile where she finished raising me and Daniel. She loves the fact that Daniel bought a house only a few miles from her. Although I’m living in the Nashville area, we all get together on holidays and other times during the year, visiting and building memories together in our old homeplace. Aunt Dot says that one of her greatest joys in life now is being “Grandma” to Kolby and Katelin.

Permit me a final thought.

One of my favorite verses is Job 42:10, which says, “After Job had prayed for his friends, the L
ORD
made him prosperous again and gave him twice as much as he had before” (
NIV
). Like Job, I’ve experienced suffering. And yet, like Job, I believe that God has given me blessings beyond my imagination. For me, my “twice as much” is my family.

Take, for instance, my incredible husband, Kenny. When we first started dating, I felt the need to warn him that, because of my past, I was probably going to be a “high maintenance” person. I put Kenny through a small tidal wave of emotional testing just to see if he was in the relationship for the long haul.

In a way I was surprised when Kenny passed my exam, proving to be even more than I could ever have hoped or asked for. He was not scared off by my brutal honesty and continues to stand beside me when my past, like a thunderstorm, rains on the present moment. On my wedding day, Daddy’s absence was felt. Thankfully, I had Daniel, who did a first-class job filling Daddy’s role of giving me away.

Then there are my two heaven-sent angels, Kolby and Katelin, who complete me as a mom and are a daily reminder of God’s goodness and restoration. I pray that when they grow up, they will carry with them the insights into the Lord that Kenny and I have imparted to them and that those life lessons will sustain them until their race is finished. My life is beautiful because of the love they so freely give me.

Acknowledgments

In a moment of panic, realizing I needed to somehow try to thank all the wonderful people in my life who stood with me through thick and thin, I grabbed book after book off the shelves in my office. With books piled high, I read at least a dozen different acknowledgments written by both the famous and the everyday writer. My hope was to find just the right words to express my gratitude.