The Unseen


mansionThe realtor waited for the county building inspector to arrive and do his thing. Bev never wanted to take on the Crookshank mansion. Old rumors persisted … bad rumors, both about its history, and about the ghost that supposedly “lived” there. Fat chance Bev could ever move this white elephant, as whoever bought it would have to commit to renovating the overgrown shack. And as the building was included in the National Register of Historic Places, there was no way she could sell the land for its juicy commercial value.

And still she waited, as the winter Sun dipped over the hills for an early afternoon sunset. The mansion had seen better days, and now that the light was fading, its dismal facade transformed into a menacing—dare she think it?—spectre!

Bev tried calling the inspector again…was this the fourth, or the fifth time? Again, the infuriating voice mail message telling her what she already knew; he will be in the field this afternoon, and leave a message, etc. Fat lot of good that would do her. This inspection was scheduled three months ago. Pity the county couldn’t cut loose some funds for another building inspector.

All these unbidden thoughts coursed through her mind, even though, by faith, she was secure in her safety as God’s kid. Even if ghosts and such immaterial things existed, they wouldn’t have a chance against her Big Brother Jesus. Yet, she couldn’t shake the thought of menacing, unseen things waiting inside for the unwary intruder, be they living, or be they dead.

Bev switched mental gears to consider the positive side of the unseen, and recited aloud one of her many favorite Bible verses: “For we are saved by hope: but hope that is seen is not hope: for what a man seeth, why doth he yet hope for? But if we hope for that we see not, then do we with patience wait for it. Romans eight, verses twenty-four and twenty-five.

Patience! What a rare commodity. Bev again searched her Bible memory bank. Didn’t King David have some choice bits of wisdom regarding Patience? Okay, there’s Psalms forty, verses one and two: “I waited patiently for the Lord; and he inclined unto me, and heard my cry. He brought me up also out of an horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings.

Bev wracked her brain for more Davidic encouragement. She knew it was there somewhere … “Oh! Well, duh. Psalms sixty-nine, verses one through threeSave me, O God; for the waters are come in unto my soul. I sink in deep mire, where there is no standing: I am come into deep waters, where the floods overflow me. I am weary of my crying: my throat is dried: mine eyes fail while I wait for my God.”

She thought of how many times King David, the man after God’s own heart, fussed at his beloved Lord. Yet, he always ended his fussing with praise for God’s unending faithfulness and magnificent glory. So she recited the end of Psalms sixty-nine: “Let the heaven and earth praise him, the seas, and every thing that moveth therein. For God will save Zion, and will build the cities of Judah: that they may dwell there, and have it in possession. The seed also of his servants shall inherit it: and they that love his name shall dwell therein.

What a beautiful promise, and she reveled in it. She already knew she was a faith-child of Abraham, but she loved it when King David reminded her of the fact.

Twilight had faded quickly to blackness by the time the tardy building inspector drove through the wrought-iron gates and up the long, tree-shrouded drive to where Bev waited. She hadn’t even noticed the darkness and gathering ground fog with her mind so occupied by Scripture and praise. Why, she even found a cordial greeting for the inspector. So, into the “haunted” mansion, with God’s Spirit leading the way.

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