That’s when I found the truth about prayer. Like Mark Twain wrote, “You can’t pray a lie.”

I continued my prayer. “God. I want to beat Kyle Craig to a pulp. What he did was despicable. It was vicious and cruel and he is a bad, evil person.” Oddly, I felt at peace saying this. Now I was getting somewhere. “I want him to suffer, even as I have suffered.” I let the words ring. Powerful feelings began coming to me. “I don’t know why he’s that way. But I don’t want to be like him. I don’t want him to be a part of my life. I want to be free of him. I want to be free of this burden. I don’t want hate. I don’t want this.”

I stopped and sat in silence. Then I felt a remarkable thing. A warm feeling of peace came over me. “I want to forgive him.”

That was the answer. Desire. It is not the ability to walk that pleases God, it is the desire to walk. The desire to do the right thing. The truest measure of a man is what he desires. The measure of that desire is seen in the actions that follow. “I want to forgive Kyle Craig,” I said aloud. This time I meant it.

I picked up the phone and dialed Kyle’s phone number. His number had been disconnected. From what Falene had told me back in Spokane, I should not have been surprised.

I put the phone down and thought about what time it was on the West Coast. I had crossed into Central time, so it was only a little after eight. I dialed Falene’s number. She didn’t answer. I had forgotten that she never answered calls from numbers she didn’t recognize. I hung up and tried again, thinking to leave a message. To my surprise, she answered.

“Hello?”

“Falene, it’s Alan.”

There was a momentary pause. “Alan, where are you?”

“I’m in South Dakota. How are you?”

She paused. “I’m fine,” she said unconvincingly.

“How are you really?”

“I’ve been better,” she said softly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you remember me telling you about my little brother?”

“Didn’t he just get out of rehab?”

She sniffed. “Yes. But he’s gone back to using. I haven’t seen him for eleven days.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’m really worried,” she said.

“I’m so sorry,” I said again. I didn’t know what else to say.

After a moment she sighed. “But that’s not why you called. What can I do for you?”

“I’m trying to reach Kyle.”

“Kyle Craig?”

I knew this would surprise her. “Yes. I tried to call him but his number’s been disconnected.”

“That’s because there’s a long list of people who would like to lynch him. Why do you want to talk to him?”