Stephen Arterburn - The Encounter: Sometimes God Has to Intervene

The Encounter

Sometimes,
God Has to Intervene

The Encounter

Stephen Arterburn

2011 Stephen Arterburn

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Arterburn, Stephen, 1953
The encounter : sometimes God has to intervene / Stephen Arterburn.
p. cm.

ISBN 978-0-7852-3195-0 (trade paper)

1. Forgiveness--Religious aspects--Christianity. 2. Providence and government of God--Christianity. I. Title.
BV4647.F55A783
2011 241.4--dc23

2011025326

Printed in the United States of America

11 12 13 14 15 QG 5 4 3 2 1

To Gary Stump
So grateful to be ministering alongside you

Contents

H ow do you tear down a wall youve been building most of your life?

I looked out the window of my Gulfstream G650. It was the middle of the day, but youd never guess that by looking at the sun. Alaska was progressing through the long polar night, and the periods of daylight were slowly growing longer, but the sun stayed close to the horizon most of the time.

My pilots voice echoed through the cabin: Weve begun our descent into Fairbanks, Mr. Rush. Well be on the ground in about twenty minutes.

What in the world am I doing here?

I enjoyed visiting Fairbanks. Its where I lived until I was nine. But I had spent the last twenty-six years in Miami, and my tolerance for the Arctic climate was considerably lower than it was during my youth.

January was definitely not the time for me to make this trip.

But I didnt have a choice. Not really.

Jonathan, youve got to get to the bottom of this, and you have to do it now. Its eating you alive.

You mean, just drop everything and jet off to Fairbanks? I protested. Just like that?

Tim Moser, my counselor, was adamant. Yes. Just like that.

I cant just walk away and go off on some wild-goose chase, I told him.

Tims face filled with concern. Dont tell me you cant get away, Jon. If you dont, its going to destroy you.

What if I hired a private investigator? Wouldnt that be as good?

Tim leaned back in his chair. Jon, you came to me for advice, and Im giving it. I think this is something you have to search out for yourself. I know youre great at delegating, but this is your task. No one else can do it.

I tried to think of other excuses, but couldnt muster anything. And now here I sat aboard my private jet, about to revisit the ghosts of my past in hopes of finding peace.

Realistically, peace was more than I could hope for.

And love?

Id abandoned that hope long ago.

My driver, a tall young man who looked like he was in his twenties, stood in the terminal. He was holding a fur-lined parka.

I gave him a little wave. The gold name tag on his uniform said Ryan.

Welcome to Fairbanks, Mr. Rush.

I nodded and traded my briefcase for the parka. I glanced down at his feet, then at mine. My Italian loafers were definitely not the best choice of footwear, but Id forgotten to ask him to bring a pair of bunny boots.

Too late now. I hope my feet wont freeze before I get to the limo.

Right this way, he said.

As I followed Ryan toward the airport exit, a young woman came running up. She was short and disheveled, with curly blonde hair trailing down into her eyes.

Mr. Rush, she said, Im Erica Bingham, a reporter for the Daily News-Miner. Could I ask you a few questions?

I shook my head and kept walking.

She fell in step with me. You know, its not often our only local celebrity comes to town. Cant you spare a little time for an interview?

The last personal interview I gave was to Barbara Walters, and she had a tough time convincing me to do that one.

Why is that? Erica asked.

I dont like reporters, I said.

She was undaunted. Oh, come on. Were not all that bad.

True, I said. There are a few reporters I like, but its a very short list.

Could you at least confirm or deny the rumor?

Which one?

That Advanced Data Systems is planning to open a branch office here in Fairbanks.

I stopped and flashed a smile. Do you know what I dislike worse than a reporter?

She shook her head.

A reporter who cant take no for an answer. I nodded to Ryan. Lets go.

Ryan picked up my bags, and we headed for the terminal door. As we walked away, I felt a twinge of guilt. My pastor would not have approved of the way I had treated the reporter.

I dont suppose God approved either.

Old habits die hard.

Near the terminal door, my driver said, Mr. Rush, if youd prefer, you can wait inside the terminal while I get the limo.

I shook my head. I can handle it.

When I followed Ryan out of the terminal, the cold air hit me like a baseball bat to the chest. I kept my mouth shut and breathed through my nose, but it didnt help much. After living most of my life in Florida, breathing Alaskas winter air was almost as bad as taking a polar bear jump into freezing water.

We made our way out to the limo, and I settled in the backseat while Ryan took care of my bags and then slid behind the wheel. I closed the partition between Ryan and me. He hadnt seemed overly chatty, but I didnt want to give him the chance to start. My business in Fairbanks was my own, and I wanted it to stay that way.

Ryan had barely pulled out of the airport parking lot when my BlackBerry chirped, signaling an incoming e-mail. I was surprised it had taken this long for someone from the office to contact me. Theyd managed on their own a lot longer than Id expected.

I pulled it out and looked at the sender. It wasnt from the office; it was from Tim.

The e-mail had only one line: Have you written the letter?

I sighed and wrote back, Not yet.

Seconds later, the phone rang. I was tempted to let it go to voice mail, but I knew that Tim wouldnt let me off the hook that easily.

Hi, Tim, I said, hoping that I didnt sound as guilty as I felt.

Tim got straight to the point. So why havent you written it?

Ive been trying, but I cant find the words.

Where do you get stuck?

I hesitated a second and then said, At Dear Mom.

I never said it would be easy.

You were right.

This is important, Jonathan. Promise me youll write the letter today.

Tim, I

Promise me.

I didnt reply for several seconds. Tim knew that although I had many faults, dishonesty was not among them. If he could get a promise out of me, he knew Id be honor-bound to fulfill it.

After a few more seconds of silence, Tims gentle but insistent voice broke through. Im waiting.

All right, I said. I promise. Ill do it before I go to bed tonight.