Redemption

“So is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.” Isaiah 55:11 (NIV)

The fireworks shot off the stage, filling the arena with smoke and lights. The crowd roared in response to the final soaring notes of the performer’s concluding song. He stood on the stage, blinded by the bright stage lights, chest heaving with exertion from the song he had just sung. The thousands of people in the stadium were a blur of faces, concealed in the darkness beyond the lights that illuminated his performance.

He raised a fist, swaying slightly to the final beats of the drum, fading out with a colorful descending array of piano notes. “Thank you,” he spoke into the microphone, looking out over his faithful fans, smiling at their vigorous roar.

            Then he turned, disappearing beyond the drums and the smoke, into the backstage where his faithful support crew waited. They erupted into cheers and clapping, surrounding him with high-fives.

            “That was—hands down—the best performance of this tour,” His manager Mike, dressed in his usual jeans and suit coat combination, grinned and gave him a fist-bump. “They love that new song.”

            “Can I see top of the charts on our horizon?” Kathy, the exuberant make-up artist waved her hot-pink nails through the air. “You nailed it, Jaden.”

            Jaden nodded appreciatively, taking a water bottle from his voice-coach, Steven, and gulping half of it in two swallows. “Thanks guys,” he lifted the bottle toward them as he worked his way past the group into his dressing room.

            With a sigh, he shut the door and collapsed into a nearby chair, the darkness of his mood clouding his vision. Lethargically, he leaned forward to remove his boots, dumping them on the floor. He stood, pulling off his leather jacket. Pausing to take another gulp of water, he turned toward the mirror, frowning at his reflection as he tossed the empty bottle into the nearby trash can.

            What has my existence come to? He glared at his face; the dark smudges of make-up around his eyes gave him a haunted look. There had been a time when he thought the eye-liner defined his rebellious attitude, but now it seemed like a mask. He hid behind the make-up and costumes, never showing his real face to the world. His life was complete facade. He entered the bathroom, turning on the hot water in the sink and reaching for the makeup remover, disgusted with his own life.

            A knock sounded on the door to his room. “Hey, Jade,” Mike’s voice called from the other side of the door, “you doing OK  in there?” Not hearing a response, Mike cracked the door and peered in. Spotting Jaden, he entered, carrying an unused water bottle in his hand. Coming to a halt, he leaned on the doorframe and raised his eyebrows as he handed Jaden the water bottle.

            Jaden took the water, “Got anything stronger than this?” he growled, setting it aside.

            “You just nailed that performance,” Mike rubbed his dark goatee, his eyes showing a hint of worry. “You should be celebrating; we might top the charts again if you keep this up.”

            Jaden shrugged, ignoring him to splash the hot water on his face.

            Mike frowned, “Look, I know things haven’t been the same since Jason died, but you’ve got to get a grip. You have hundreds of faithful fans who worship you, and you don’t give them a second thought!”

            “Don’t talk to me about Jason,” Jaden snapped, turning to snatch a towel off the shelf and patting his face dry. “I was strutting around on a stage in front of my fans while he was overseas dying! Their cheers should be for people like him, not me! I wouldn’t die for anyone.”

            Mike shrugged, “I didn’t mean to tick you off. I’m just worried. It’s my job to make sure you don’t go insane, and last time I checked, it looked like you could use some moral support.”

            “Yeah, well, lay off,” Jaden brushed past him, pulling a sweater over his head.

            Mike headed for the door, shaking his head. He paused before leaving, “Some of us are going over to the club to celebrate. You want to join us?”

            “Not tonight.”

            “Well,” Mike opened the door, “get some sleep or something.”

            Jaden shook his head. Stepping into a pair of slippers, he left the room and headed to his trailer, body guards in tow. As soon as he was alone, he pulled his fridge open and snatched a cold beer. Popping the lid, he dropped onto his couch and downed several swallows. Then he closed his eyes, but the hated memories wouldn’t leave him alone.

~~~

“Jason won’t be forgotten,” the tall woman spoke softly, facing the small group of mourners at the funeral of his only sibling.

Jade sat in the back, flanked by Mike and a single body guard. He stared at the open casket, the outline of his brother’s corpse a sight he wouldn’t quickly forget. Tears didn’t wet his eyes, but the pain in his chest hurt like something was strangling him. He watched as his brother’s fiancé, Brianna, continued to speak.

            “You know,” she turned to look at the body, her gaze sad, “this person lying here, isn’t really Jason. It’s just his shell—the face we knew him by.” She paused to smooth tears off her face as she turned back to the audience, “Jason is still very much alive, because while he was overseas, he discovered a call greater than stopping the Taliban. He placed his faith in Jesus Christ, and found a new purpose for his life. It’s because of that decision, I know without a doubt that Jason is in the presence of God right now.”

            Jaden frowned; he had heard Jason had embraced religion during his time in Afghanistan. Guilt weighed down on his shoulders. Jason had been overseas for almost five years, and during that time Jaden had made little effort to communicate with him. Apparently he had a God moment . . . he recalled a long letter Jason wrote, in it he had said something about finding God, but Jaden hadn’t given it a second thought.

            “I don’t want to preach at anyone,” Brianna said, her sad eyes looking over the crowd. “But I want everyone here to know that you can see Jason again. You can enter heaven someday, too. Jason gave his life for his country—and I’m proud of him for that—but he would want you to know that Jesus died to save all of mankind. You can have the same new life that Jason had. All you have to do is put your faith in Jesus Christ . . .”

~~~

            Jaden threw the beer bottle onto the floor, it shattered, scattering pieces of glass across the room and staining the carpet. But he didn’t care. He had enough of this hopeless pain in his chest. He felt completely lost and unwanted, and performing his music for thousands of noisy fans wasn’t filling the void he felt.

            He had wondered about the words Jason’s fiancé had said, drawn to the idea of a new life and assurance that he wasn’t damned to hell. He shook his head, tottering to his feet and shuffling to his bedroom. He dropped onto the bed and threw his arm over his face. If anyone was going to hell, he was the one. He had committed innumerable sins, and cursed God’s name on a regular basis—intentionally mocking faith and religion.

            They’re all a bunch of spineless lunatics anyway. His thoughts carried him to the way Jason’s fiancé had treated him. Unlike most people, she had acted as if he were a normal person, never focusing on his wealth or fame. She had seemed sincere in everything she did, unlike the fake life he lived. She actually seemed happy. Even after Jason died . . . she had an atmosphere of peace about her.

            Jade rolled over to stare at the ceiling, “God, I don’t know if you’re up there, but I’m sick and tired of living in this lifeless shell.” He stood, frustration rising in his chest, “I don’t understand who or what you are! Where are your answers?”

            He growled at the silence that followed, a feeling of hopelessness rising to choke him again. He headed for the fridge, determined to drink away his frustration. He paused, noticing his cell phone sitting on the kitchen counter. He faintly remembered Brianna putting her number in his phone and saying something about Jason.

            His pulse sped up as he lifted the phone and scrolled through his contacts, suddenly feeling like there were answers just beyond his fingertips. He froze as her name crossed the screen—Brianna Holly. Before he could change his mind, he touched the call button and lifted the phone to his ear, wondering if she would answer at such a late hour.

            It rang three times; then her voice filled his ear, “Hello, this is Brianna.” His mouth felt dry, and he swallowed, suddenly unable to find his voice. “Hello?” she asked again.

            “Brianna,” he licked his lips, his heart thundering in his ears. “This is Jaden,” he paused again, wondering how to express his thoughts. “Can you tell me about Jason’s God?”

© Copyright Charity K, 2013