“Step out of the boat, Eden!” he cried, eyes fired. “If you can do it here, in your dream, you will be able to do it when you wake!” He pointed to his right. “Take a leap of faith and see that these troubled waters have no power over you unless you give that power to them, and even then they lie.”

I took his outstretched hand to mean I could look at the water, so I did. Fear battered me and I lost my train of thought. All I could see were angry waves.

“Everything in you cries out to remain in the safety you believe the boat offers you, doesn’t it? Of course it does! The boat is your defense against the water! But the very defense is what empowers the water to trouble you. Let go of this understanding. Faith, Eden. Faith!”

He thundered the word above the storm and I felt a surge of confidence rise through me—just enough to give me the strength to take a step forward and grasp the hull with my right hand.

But the threat of those waves looked utterly real to me. And the last time I’d stepped out, I’d gone under! And this time he wasn’t there to catch me!

“I can’t!”

“Well then . . . you’ll only drown here in your boat, won’t you? You will lie there in your bed with a broken leg, seething with anger and bitterness and you will live in terrible suffering, all because you can’t bring yourself to let go of your offense.”

He’d said it all matter-of-factly, but he now jumped up next to me and yelled above the story, eyes wild.

“No, Eden! No! You will not take the path the rest of the world takes. You will find the narrow path because it’s your destiny! Stepping off the edge may feel like death, but trust me, letting that old self die is no loss.”

“I’m afraid!”

“And yet perfect love casts out fear.”

“I don’t feel perfect love!”

“Nothing can separate you from that love. Nothing! It’s already inside of you, only forgotten.”

He thrust his hand out to the waves.

“Now step out!”

“You’re pressuring me!”

He withdrew his hand and stepped back as if reprimanded.

“I’m simply passionate about showing you the only way you can be saved from these troubled waters. I didn’t make this stuff up. I’m only sharing it with you.”

“Then who did make it up?”

“It’s always been this way. You were raised in a monastery, didn’t they teach you?”

I was?

Like a blossoming fireworks display, some of the memories so long suppressed by my mind suddenly erupted to life. By that light, I suddenly saw.

My many prayers and invocations.

The simple faith I’d had as a child a long time ago.

A field of flowers under a bright, blue sky, swaying lazily in a peaceful breeze.

And in that vision I suddenly knew that everything Outlaw had said was true. Our Master had made it so. Not the vengeful God that Kathryn had shown me, but the one who’d calmed the storm and walked on water.

Oh ye of little faith. Peace be still.

Outlaw started to speak, but I was suddenly moving, fixated on the simplicity of the path I saw in my heart, illuminated by even this thinnest sliver of light.

I didn’t crawl over the side as I had before. I gripped the hull with both hands, jerked my right foot up and onto the bench-seat to give me a launching point, and, before I could reconsider, I shoved off my right leg and leaped over the side.

I was midflight before my fear vanished completely and I realized what was happening.

Oh, I thought, Outlaw’s right. There never was a storm. I only thought there was.

I didn’t see the change at first because my eyes were closed, but I felt it when my feet landed in the water. I felt it because I didn’t sink.

And then I saw it, because I opened my eyes and saw a crystal-clean surface stretching out in all directions. There were no clouds, no wind, no waves—only water perhaps an inch deep, before turning spongy solid, holding together in a way that prevented me from sinking.

I stared in amazement, stunned. The glossy surface under my feet bowed slightly as I applied pressure.

“Stephen!” I cried, spinning back, expecting to see him in the boat.

But there was no boat. Stephen stood on the water where it had been, arms crossed, smiling wide.

“Now you’re talking,” he said.

I was so relieved, so excited, so overwhelmed with this turn of events that I let out a squeal.

Outlaw raised his brow. “Indeed.”

I walked to my right, testing each footfall, and then marched back.

“I’m walking on water!” I exclaimed.

“You’re walking on water.”

“Can I run on it?”

“You can dance on it if you like. Do you know how to dance?”

“I don’t know. Do I?”

“Well . . . you aren’t operating under the old laws anymore. You can probably do anything.”

I turned in a circle, still flabbergasted by the miraculous shift that had transformed my world. But even in that, I was wrong wasn’t I? The world hadn’t changed—I had. Or, more accurately, my perception of the world had changed.

I had forgiven—let go of—the old offense and saw none of the threat that had once promised to drown me. And I’d done it by stepping out of a boat I was sure would save me from all of that trouble.

“So now you know,” Stephen said.

“Now I know.” I faced him, curious. “But I’m dreaming, right?”

“It doesn’t matter. If you think about it, your reality is only as real as you perceive it to be in any given moment, wouldn’t you say?”

I got his meaning immediately. “And so all of my troubles are only as real as I believe they are.”

He dipped his head. “Bravo, my dear. Now you see.”

“Now I see,” I said grinning wide. “Nothing can hurt me unless I say so.”

His smile softened. “Always remember . . . You have been given the power to forgive any offense, and in so doing, remove it from your awareness as far as the east is from the west. True vision is his gift, allowing you to see no blame; forgiveness is your truest purpose in this life. Seventy times seven, always, leaving the old self in a watery grave and rising to find no fault. That’s grace, that’s true baptism, and that’s good news, wouldn’t you say?”

My mind spun. A lump formed in my throat.

“It’s fantastic . . .”

“Fantastic.” He winked at me.

“Far better than the watery grave my mother baptizes me into each week!”

He nodded. “So then, take care not to forget just how good this news is when your eyes open in your mother’s house.”

And with that, Outlaw unfolded his arms, clapped his hands together, and vanished.

But then so did I. So did everything.

I snapped my eyes wide.

It was dark.

I was lying in my bed.

And every inch of my body was soaked.

27

IT WAS DARK and every inch of my body was wet and I thought, Dear God, was that real?

I didn’t necessarily mean it as a prayer, but that’s how it came out, and immediately I knew the answer, as if a voice deep in my soul had answered.

Yes, Eden. More real than anything you have ever experienced.

I closed my eyes, and a gentle portion of the staggering truth I’d just observed washed through me. My body began to shake, from my head to my feet, and my breathing came in deep, heavy pulls.

I didn’t dare move because I was smothered by a knowing of good news so profound that I could barely grasp it, and at the same time so outlandishly contrary to the beliefs my mother had drilled into me that I was afraid I might forget the goodness of that news.

In reality, I was invulnerable, and nothing—no power on earth or in heaven or under the earth or under the heavens—could separate me from the infinite love that held me secure, right then, as I lay trembling in bed.

Not Kathryn; no, she was only a lost soul trying to find her own way.