The Final Adversary (14 page)

Then he remembered where he’d heard the words. In his church, growing up as a child—and later in the prison chapel—the men had sung the song.

Something began to happen to Barney as he stood there.
He was quaking with a chill, and his mind was not clear, but the words of the song hit him in a way they never had before. All his life he’d heard about the blood of Jesus, but it had been only something the preacher was saying.

Now he suddenly saw the cross of Jesus; it was not a vision, but almost so, for in his mind he could see the bloody form of one stretched out on a cross, dying in agony.

The singing stopped, and Barney walked to the door. When he pushed it open his mouth dropped in surprise. Awful Gardner!

Gardner had just stood up to preach to the small group when he saw the door open. He thought it was just another latecomer—until he saw the battered, filthy form of Barney Winslow, and he knew it was God’s timing.

He lifted his hands and cried out, “Come unto me all you that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest!” He quoted verse after verse, and Barney began to weep, tears washing down his face.

“You’ve sinned, but Jesus is the friend of sinners,” Gardner cried out. “You’ve hit the bottom, but Jesus stands ready to lift you up. Oh, the blood of Jesus! The blood of Jesus! It makes the foulest clean!”

Barney didn’t understand what was happening to him. He was weeping and shaking like a leaf. All the misery and unhappiness of his life were like a ton of bricks on his shoulders. At the name of “Jesus” he flinched as though struck—and yet there was something deep within him that longed to hear more. As Gardner spoke of the love of God and the mercy of Jesus Christ, it was water in the desert for Barney.

He took one step forward, not knowing why—and then when Gardner lifted his hands toward him, he staggered down the aisle. Gardner met him, threw his arms around him, crying, “Thank you, Jesus! Thank you, Lord God!”

He drew Barney to his knees and began to pray, tears streaming down his cheeks. When he lifted his head, he said,
“Tell the Lord you’ve sinned, and ask Him to save you for Jesus’ sake!”

Choked with emotion, Barney tried, but the words were stuck. Finally he managed to cry out, “Oh, my God! I’m so rotten! Save me for Jesus’ sake!”

Over and over, he repeated the phrases until a most wonderful thing happened. The despair and fear that had gripped him began to lighten. He continued to pray, and soon his tears flowed like a river—but now, tears of joy!

“You’ve got it, dear boy!” Gardner could hardly contain himself.

Barney lifted his face to his friend. It was a battered face, but the eyes were bright, not with fever, but with joy.

He nodded, and the words came out in great sobs. “Jesus! He’s come to me, Awful! Oh, the love of Jesus!”

Awful Gardner lifted his voice to the Salvation Army Band.

“Beat your drums! Play those trumpets! The prodigal—he’s come home!”

CHAPTER TEN

A New Barney

Mark led the way down Water Street, closely followed by Lola, Andy, and Esther. It was the first of April, and the last feeble rays of the sunset filtered over the rows of buildings, mixing with the yellow gleam of light emanating from the streetlamps. “It’s toward the end of the street,” he said.

Here and there sallow-complexioned children played in the filthy alleyways. In the gutter, a girl, no more than four or five, was enjoying the antics of a boy in ragged overalls tossing a dead rat around with a stick. The air reeked with old cabbage, liquor, unwashed clothes, and smoke. “It stinks!” Esther said, wrinkling her nose. “I can’t believe Barney actually
lives
down here!”

“It’s pretty rough,” Mark agreed. “But we’ve seen as bad, haven’t we, Lola? Some of those hell-on-wheels towns we lived in when the UP was crossing the country were worse.” He glanced at a small sign in front of a three-story house, peered at it, then said, “This is it.”

He ushered Lola and the others up the walk, and held the door as they entered. He was surprised at the small room. A simple platform with a table took up a strip in the front, with rows of plain wooden benches filling the rest of the room. Many of the seats were already occupied, Mark noted as he looked for a place to sit.

“Mr. Winslow—and you, Miz Winslow!” Awful Gardner smiled as he spotted them. “What a joy to have you!”

“Hello, Awful,” Lola smiled, holding out her hand as he
hurried over to greet them. “It’s nice to see you again.” She and Mark had met with the Australian twice while making plans for the Rescue Mission, but this was their first visit to the place. “You’ve done a wonderful job,” she said.

“Oh, it’s Barney who’s been doin’ most of the work, Miz Winslow,” Awful acknowledged. “Since he got saved, I’ve had to step lively to keep him from runnin’ over me!”

“Is Barney here?” Andy asked.

“He’s gone to get a poor chap who’s too weak to make it alone. But he’ll be comin’ in soon, no fear. Now, just find yourself a seat, folks, and we’ll be gettin’ started in no time.”

The family sat down on the rough seats, and as the building filled up, Lola and Mark looked around with interest. Both of them had wanted to come, but after talking with Gardner they had wondered if their presence might inhibit the regulars. However, Lola observed that among the obvious drunks and roughly dressed women were several middle-class couples. Mark commented on this. “I see we’re not the only new ones here. Awful said a few curiosity seekers have come now and then since the newspapers got wind of Barney’s conversion. They printed the story, FIGHTER GETS RELIGION.”

“That’s not good,” Lola said. “As a matter of fact, I feel out of place.”

“Doesn’t matter, Mother,” Andy interjected, thinking of the positive side. “It’ll help, the publicity, I mean.”

Lola couldn’t agree, but didn’t voice it. She continued watching the door for Barney.

“There he is, Mark!” she exclaimed.

Barney entered the room pushing a wheelchair. The somber thin-faced man in the chair had only one leg. Barney wheeled him right down to the front and bent over him with a smile. Mark noted the evident happiness on his face.

“He looks good, doesn’t he?” Mark whispered to Lola. They had not seen him since he visited them a few days after his conversion. Then he had looked bad, though remarkably changed. It had been a joyous reunion, a time of open sharing
of hurts and mistakes on both sides, ending in forgiveness and tears. But now there was a fullness in his face, and the wounds and bruises from the fight were almost gone.

“Yes, very well.”

Just then Barney looked up and saw them. His face broke into a smile and he walked quickly to where they sat. After greeting the others he turned to his mother. She couldn’t refrain from hugging him and immediately wrapped her arms around his neck, so grateful for God’s miracle in her son’s life. When he returned the hug, Lola warned, “Don’t hurt your ribs, dear!”

“Ribs!” he grinned, his brown eyes warm with welcome. “That’s ancient history, Mother!” He looked at his family and waved his arm in a circle. “Isn’t it great?”

“Yes, it is,” Mark said. “We’re all very proud of you.” Seeing the light flush in Barney’s face, Mark thought,
Probably the first time I’ve ever said that to Barney! But it won’t be the last!

“Awful’s told me how much you’ve helped him,” Barney said.

“That’s nothing compared to what you and Awful have done. You’re the ones who are doing the work. Are many getting saved?”

“Every night!”

“What about afterward?” Andy asked. “Do they stay faithful?”

“I haven’t been here long enough to tell, but Awful says some of them are doing well, but not all,” Barney said. “That’s what Awful and I do all day and late at night. They’re just like children, you know, and the temptation is hellish. Don’t I know! But we never give up! I just keep reminding myself how long it took before I really came to the end and was willing for God to take over. I don’t want them to go through what I did.”

“You really have changed. What’s Awful like as a preacher?” Mark asked, adding, “I doubt if he’s as good
as your grandfather.” He put his arm around Lola. “What would your father think if he could see the work your two sons are doing?”

“He’d be very proud! I think he probably knows.”

Barney nodded, then said, “Well, it’s about time to start. I’ll see you after the service.”

“All right, Barney,” Lola said. When he walked away, stopping to speak to men as he moved across the room, she said, “It’s a miracle! He’s so—so outgoing! He was always so shy.”

“I noticed that,” Mark nodded. “Thank God for Awful Gardner and the Rescue Mission!”

The service was boring and distasteful to Esther. She sat bolt upright as the singing went on. “Why,” she grumbled to herself, “they can’t even carry a tune!”

The singing
was
a little rough, but to Mark and Lola, who had spent many hours in services much like this on the UP as it went across the country, there was much more. They loved their own church, but once Mark leaned across and whispered, “I wish our deacons would come down here! They might get a touch of real old-time religion!”

Lola agreed that the fervor of the service was something she had missed, too. The Salvation Army Band performed with zeal, if not with musical excellence, and Awful was a good song leader. It was refreshing to hear the old-time songs again, such as “Rock of Ages” and “There Is a Fountain Filled with Blood.” From time to time he urged the congregation to liven up.

“You’re like a bunch of Egyptian mummies!” he exhorted once. “Open your mouth, Mick, and let me hear you! Open the door, too! Now, sing so they can hear you clear down to Dover Street and up to James Slip!”

The volume increased, Esther cringed, but Gardner was satisfied. He put down the tattered songbook and said, “Now, we’ll hear from the saints, how Jesus saved you. You see that sign? It means what it says!” He pointed to the crude
handwritten letters splashed across the front wall: SPEAKERS ARE STRICTLY LIMITED TO ONE MINUTE!

“I want you all to tell what God has done for you,” Gardner said. “Be as short as you can. You’ve heard of the three men with a pot of stew, ain’t you? Three chaps had a pot of stew, but only one spoon, and the stew wuz too hot for the hands. One man had to use the spoon, then pass it on to the second, and so on. Now, what would they be thinkin’ if one fellow took the spoon and kept it all the time and let the others starve? Well, pass the spoon!”

A small man with a pinched face stood up near the back of the room. “I wuz once a sinner, but now the Lord Jesus Christ is in me heart! Praise the Lord!”

“Short and sweet, dear brother! How about the rest of you!” Gardner urged.

The testimony service continued for ten minutes, and then a lull hovered over them. Gardner’s eyes swept the group. “Ain’t there one more sinner saved by grace? Come on, let’s have it!”

Lola’s heart raced, the flush rose in her face, her stomach churned. She tried to resist the impulse, but finally stood up. “When I was a young woman,” she said, her voice trembling, “I worked in a saloon. I dealt blackjack in every hell-on-wheels town along the line of track the Union Pacific lay. . . .” As she went on, her words became clear and strong. A reporter in the back shot up in his chair and began writing furiously. Every eye was riveted on the beautiful woman who spoke.

“It is only by God’s grace that I am not in the depths of sin right now. I thank Jesus Christ that I am saved—and I thank Him for saving my two boys and my daughter.”

She sat down and a murmur ran through the room. Lola’s eyes were filled with tears so that she could not see Barney staring at her with love in his eyes, but she felt Mark’s hard hand gripping hers and heard him murmur, “Fine! Fine!”

Gardner looked out over the congregation and seemed to have forgotten what to do momentarily, then said, “It’s my
custom to preach after the testimony service, but tonight I feel the Spirit of God is doin’ somethin’ different. So, I’ll not preach. Instead, we’ll have a message from a young chap who’s new to the army of the Lord. Most of you have seen him fight in the ring, but I’m tellin’ you he’s goin’ to win greater victories for God outside the ring than he ever did inside it. The fight crowd calls him Battling Winslow, or sometimes just ‘Bat.’ I calls him a dear brother in the Lord! Come along now, Barney. Let’s hear what the Lord Jesus has done in your life!”

Barney sat stock-still. If Gardner had told him to fly out the window, he couldn’t have been more stupefied. Then he heard Andy call, “Go to it, Bat! Give the devil a hard knock-down!”

He looked at his family—Andy’s hands clasped over his head in the fighter’s gesture of victory, his parents beaming encouragement. Slowly he rose and walked to the table. The room grew quiet, and the reporter poised his pencil over his paper. Haltingly, Barney began.

“I’m not a preacher. You’ll all find that out soon enough!” He paused as a slight ripple of laughter ran around the room, then continued. “This time last month I was drunk in the gutter. If it wasn’t for the power of the gospel, I’d still be there tonight!”

“Amen, dear boy!” Awful boomed out.

Barney saw many of the men he’d been witnessing to lean forward, hungry for the same thing. “I was a fighter,” he went on. “And I know what it’s like to hear the crowd calling my name. It feels pretty good to have people come up and ask for your autograph, to hear them tell their friends, ‘That’s Bat Winslow, the contender!’ All I wanted was to be a successful fighter.” He smiled and raised his voice. “But I’d rather be saved and a servant of Jesus than to be champion of the world!”

Every eye was glued to the speaker. As Barney lost his self-consciousness, he poured his heart out, telling in graphic detail the terrible life he’d led, and then how Jesus had saved him.