Ben’s Tuesday Evening
Brown Palace Hotel - Denver, Colorado
Ben Johnson scanned the jovial crowd in his suite watching the networks reporting the results of the day’s primaries. He had planned to spend a quiet afternoon with a handful of campaign workers and supporters in the comfortable Eisenhower Suite. Instead, he found himself in the middle of a noisy and spirited crowd. With each new announcement of results from exit polls or precinct tallies, a cheer rose from the gathering. At the same time, Ben was having trouble grasping the reality of the day. He had dominated all twenty-two Super Tuesday primaries. He and his campaign manager and best friend, Gary Rose, had planned to determine their strategy for the rest of the year based on today’s results, which included his home state of Colorado. They never thought it would be this easy. Today’s overwhelming wins seemed to be setting a very definite course for him for the rest of the primary schedule and ultimately for his nomination as the Party’s candidate for President. Of that fact, he was pretty clear. Shaking his head, he asked himself, “Then, why do I have such a bad feeling?” From the TV coverage of the hotel’s Grand Ballroom downstairs, he could tell that his victory party was in full force and the alcohol was flowing from the bar stations. Seeing Gary being interviewed in the ballroom on one of the television, Ben felt very alone in the ecstatic crowd. Suddenly, it was time for his entrance to the party. He put his candidate face on and went with the rowdy crowd down to the ballroom. In the room, the feeling something was wrong had encircled him in a trap as he made his way to the podium. He gave a rather routine but grateful victory speech, thanking everyone for their support and confidence. As a Senator, one of his greatest strengths was discerning the mood and response of any crowd he was addressing. His stomach was tightening as he sensed no one was really listening to him. He hoped Gary was listening somewhere in the room. Scanning the faces in the ballroom, he felt a wave of horror fill him. It wasn’t the crowd’s response that brought him fear. It was their actually faces. Quickly, he recognized the faces of most of his opponents and some of the party leaders. They were celebrating and drinking at his expense. No wonder no one was listening to him. This could not be good. Amid all the excitement of the party, the sinking feeling he had all day now overwhelmed him. He brought his speech to a swift conclusion and immediately found he was having trouble breathing. He ducked out of the ballroom and snuck past Chet Brown who served as the head of his security and often as his driver. He left the hotel in one of the team’s black Escalade and started driving. He needed some fresh mountain air.
* * *
Up the Mountain from Denver, Colorado
At first, Ben thought he would drive out of the city. It wasn’t long before he knew he was going to the top of a mountain. For whatever reason, it seemed like the first right thing he had done all day. Yet, as he drove into the scenic overlook’s parking lot, he asked himself, “What am I doing here?”
He walked from the car to the overlook area and took a deep breath. As the crisp, clean air filled his lungs, he felt a world of anxiety leave him. He turned his collar up around his neck. At first, he found himself full of resentment for the timing of his rise to the top of his party. How could he be sharing the same time in history with the most popular Presidential incumbent? He wanted to shout at the top of his lungs to the brilliant starlit sky, “This is not fair! This should be my time, my destiny!” Looking up at the stars, he realized he had actually raised his fist to the sky. For a moment, he actually felt that the gods of history had set him up to be a sacrificial lamb, a time marker for his fellow retreating candidates. He couldn’t believe his place in history would be as the second opponent that President Phillips had crushed. A defeat as sound as the one delivered 4 years ago would leave him with less than a footnote on an American Presidential Elections chart. He was broken-hearted. He knew his disappointment wasn’t about the lost of the Presidency. His desire was to make a difference in the world. There was so much he felt he could offer. This current scenario developing for his life seemed to offer no more than playing out a role. This time, with fists raised to the evening sky, he couldn’t help himself and cried out, “What is the deal?”
At that moment, he sunk to his knees as he realized he was really crying out to God. “Whoa”, he said. Praying was the last thing he thought he would be doing this evening. “Wait,” he said again, “that’s not right.” Actually, the thought of prayer had never crossed his mind, well, not for a long time. Suddenly, his pulse was racing. Even though he was out in the open, he couldn’t breathe. His head was spinning. What did he expect? His praying was bound to cause him to have an anxiety attack. He put his palms flat on the ground and forced himself to breathe deeply. He closed his eyes and quietly said, “God, what does this mean? Can You be reaching out to me?” In the quiet of the mountain evening, a breeze crossed his face. Sitting crossed legged on the mountain top, he felt peace flow over him that flushed out every ounce of anxiety from him. Before he knew it, he was speaking, “Lord Jesus, I don’t know what to do now. The truth is I am reaching out to You.” He closed his eyes. He could see a seven year old version of himself sitting next to his grandmother in church. He remembered exactly how he felt the morning when he asked Jesus into his heart. But that time was so long ago. He thought he had changed too much to ever go back to that day. Yet, here he was.
In his political career, he had always been glad he left his Christian heritage behind. It was not that there was anything wrong with that way of life. It just didn’t work in the fast paced, cut throat life of national politics. He didn’t want to be obligated to anything, including preachers, doctrines or supreme beings. He built his reputation and career by following his instincts and his personal beliefs. No one dictated how he voted or what agendas he supported. The last thing he would ever want was to have a bunch of preachers telling him how he should he should think, how he should feel, how he should vote. More than that, he didn’t want some Higher Power influencing him, either. Yet, here he was, just him and God. And he, himself, had just called on the Lord Jesus.
On one hand, he was unsettled by the deep sense of total peace that was falling over him. He could not ignore this peace or the implications of this peace for him. He knew it was not the altitude that was affecting him. His breathing was calming down, and that frightened him, too. Taking a slow, deep breath, he said out loud, “Alright, let’s get to it. Father, God, You have brought me here. Although for the life of me, I can’t understand why. How I am going to understand what You would want or what You could do about my current situation? We, I mean, the public, are being told constantly how President Phillips is Your man. I would think that he would have full Your attention.” At that thought, he gulped, “Up oh, what if he is not in Your camp after all? What would that mean to me?” He felt his stomach drop. He felt another crisp wind across his face. This brought his focus back to the view of the brilliantly lit starry sky. He saw in the heavens, for the first time in a long time, how much order there was in God’s universe. There was something very calming about that order to him. And, the calm caught him by surprise. Actually, he was unnerved. He felt something change in him. The order he was seeing all around gave him a new foundation. When he glanced at his watch, he was surprised how much time had gone by. He was not ready to go back to his life yet, but he was also suddenly very tired and cold. He knew that there was nothing on the schedule for tomorrow. His campaign manager, Gary Rose, never planned an event for the day after a primary. He pulled out his blackberry and sent Gary a text that he was tired and need some time alone. He would call him tomorrow. He turned off the blackberry, without checking his messages. He knew Gary was celebrating too much to miss him tonight anyway, even if he was the actual candidate.
For another moment, Ben looked at the sky, the trees and the view below. He took another breath. For the first time that evening, he noticed all the different scents in the air. He heard the quiet noises that were all around him. He shook his head and walked back to the car. Not far from where he had stopped, he had seen a motel with a lit vacancy sign. He drove back to the motel and booked a room for the night.
The room was simple but comfortable. He had picked up an emergency travel care package with a toothbrush and razor at the registration desk. He sat down on the bed and put his hand on the nightstand. For a minute or two he nervously drummed his fingers on the stand’s top. He wanted to open the drawer, but he knew what he would find. Even though the urge was great to do it, on the other hand, he didn’t want to open the drawer. It wasn’t long, though, before his fingers had moved down the front of the drawer to the handle. He slowly pulled opened the drawer. He took out the Bible, and placed his right hand on the cover. He closed his eyes for a moment and said out loud, “Okay, God, here I am.” His thumb moved down the edges. He opened the book, fairly randomly, so he thought. His eyes fell on this verse:
For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.
Mumbling “God has a plan”, he fell into a deep sleep.
* * *
Ben only thought he slipped by Chet, his security chief, at the Victory Party. Chet followed Ben at a distance. He sensed his boss needed some time alone. Watching Ben on the mountain, his heart began to break for the pain he saw in Ben. Chet always had a soft spot for Ben. He had been around enough politicians to know that what happened tonight in the ballroom was not normal or right. Chet bowed his head, and began to pray for his agonizing employer and friend.
* * *
