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TABLE OF CONTENTS
Joanne Thomson didn’t like flying or being cold and it didn’t matter if she was on an assignment to meet a holy man. She was an attractive woman with wispy blond hair which curled slightly upwards just past her ear lobes. She had full lips, which were accentuated with red lipstick, but her most striking feature was her large china blue eyes highlighted by dark pencil black eye lashes. Her hair framed her face and her eyes were soft and would invite nearly any man. She was too beautiful to be just a normal woman with a normal job. She could have been a model except for the fact she was about 5 feet 3 inches tall, with a small bust and slightly broader hips. Her face was picture perfect but her body wasn’t tall enough or proportioned enough for the catwalk so a career in television journalism rather than modeling or acting was suitable for her. As she sat on the plane in her pink jacket, black skirt and stockings with high-heeled shoes, her feet were cold. It was 7.30pm. She was in a window seat and occasionally her left arm pressed against the aircraft wall. It was cold. She was flying approx. 25 thousand feet above sea level and she was not happy. Occasionally she looked at the passenger on her right, a large man in his forties with curly dark hair. He would look at her and smile sheepishly. Aircraft seats are small and his large body seemed to spill over into her seat. She wondered if he recognized her as one of West Australia’s channel nine reporters, or was it that he just thought she was lovely. Either way on this flight at 7.00 pm from Perth to Melbourne she was not happy and the cold was not the only thing bothering her.
Joanne Thomson had a good job right until now. She was one of the main reporters for channel 9. She had a regular camera crew and they did all sort of assignments. Her favorite were the heart warming stuff like the little girl who found her lost dog but Joanne didn’t mind doing some serious stuff too. She once chased a hit man down a lane for an interview only to realize she had run so fast that she had left her camera crew behind. When she turned into the lane the cornered hit man told her “listen lady, you are beautiful but I will shoot you if don’t stop harassing me.” She stood there for a moment not knowing what to do. The camera crew came around the corner with their camera light on. The hit man just looked at them and said quite calmly, “I have nothing to say”. He then just walked into the rear of a restaurant and was gone. They were going to follow him but the owner came out and blocked the doorway and wanted to know what was going on. Would the hit man have said that on camera, probably not but either way if it isn’t on tape it is not worth anything. The work was steady and interesting and she had her fan club. Men wrote to her, proposed to her, sent her chocolates for about six months it was going so well, until May 2006. One evening her production manager John Sinclair called her into the office. He wasn’t the most handsome man. He had brown tight curly hair, always immaculately dressed, but guarded with his thoughts. They talked briefly and he told her he wanted to talk to her about something but that could only be done at dinner, blah blah blah, the standard “I want to take you out” line that men of power like to use. She said yes, because he was her boss, he was 48 and she was 25 and she really didn’t know how to say no to him. Mr. John Sinclair took her to a lovely romantic expensive restaurant where the champagne flowed. He told her how great her career was and he was under pressure like you would not believe at work and he was stressed. He touched her a few times and apologized to her and asked for her forgiveness in that pretentious vulnerable way like a school boy wanting to kiss an older girl without her laughing in his face. He started talking about his car, a Mercedes Kompressor, convertible and “haven’t you seen it, oh why don’t we go for a ride” !!!! blah blah blah. Before she knew it she was in his convertible, then in his bed. The following morning she was supposed to go to work but stayed home. She was supposed to call him if she was sick but she didn’t think he would mind. She didn’t know what to think. She was dating a nice man until this happened and she just didn’t know what to do about it all. It was Friday when she came to work and pretended nothing had happened. He had called her into his office. He usually did this to discuss assignments. On this particular occasion he had a bar bell on the floor behind him with some weights attached. He seemed larger across the chest and flushed. It appeared as if he had been working out only a few minutes before she had come in. He talked to her at first about her next assignment that was supposed to be an interview with the retiring Premier. Then suddenly, as if nothing had happened between them he told her had booked a weekend for two at a winery and he would pick her up about 6pm. She noticed he wasn’t shy any more; he didn’t need any alcohol to make him brave either. She had been conquered and now ruling would take place. This time she said no. He looked puzzled. He raised his eyebrows for a moment as if he wasn’t sure what the word “no” meant. There was awkward silence for a moment so Joanne left the office. Things were ok for about a week when she received detailed instructions from Mr. John’s Sinclair’s secretary Fiona as to what was happening next week. She was to fly to Melbourne to do a story about a weekend festival of healing about to take place and the apparently miraculous cures that were happening in a small church in Frankston. Joanne had a brief handwritten outline in Mr. Sinclair’s hand writing with words like “opportunity” and “career expansion” in it but most of the details was coming from Fiona’s mouth. She would forward the details to the Melbourne office and a crew would go with her and do the story. She tried to take it all in; she was to fly to Melbourne across the country for a story. She didn’t bother to ask why. She looked at Fiona for an answer but she said nothing. The conspiracy of silence speaks louder than any words. She just looked down. How much did she know? John Sinclair had a way of “being out of the office” or far away when such controversial decisions were made. He was an assassin. Joanne was in no position to complain, her contract was up for renewal in a few months time and she had agreed to accept travel as part of her job description. “Travel” could mean only a few miles or all the way to Europe. She walked away and tried not to show her anger and disappointment. This is what happens often to attractive women who are strong.
As Joanne sat in the departure lounge waiting for her flight to leave Perth, she received a sms message from her friend Julia. It said, “you are right, Rosaline is coming next week”. The missing pieces of the jigsaw fell into place. Rosaline De Angelo was a new reporter from Melbourne Channel 9. She had long dark curly hair, an olive complexion and wore large gold or white earrings. She came to the attention of all the reporters and management in Perth when she did a report on a credit card fraud in Melbourne. The camera angle was high and as Rosaline gave the report it appeared as if she was topless. She tossed her long dark Latin hair and that just got everyone going. The production crew in Perth watched with more than a little enthusiasm when she moved a little upwards revealing that she in fact was wearing a cocktail dress. Rumors abounded that Rosaline De Angelo was coming to Perth and now it seemed to be true. She was probably given more scope to broaden her experience in Perth. John Sinclair would try and broaden her experience. In this business, for women, beauty still counts.
The flight was a little
bumpy and Joanne decided to take out her manila folder and look at her
notes as the plane made its way across the continent towards Melbourne.
In front of her was a photocopied article from a newspaper and some A4 notes attached. The article showed the photograph of a smiling Mrs. Lockington, “kicking up” her heels. She was 82 years of age and had arthritis in her left leg since she was 38. Now she was completely cured of arthritis not only in her leg, but also in all of her body. Apparently after 44 years of pain she had been cured of arthritis not by any medication, but by prayer and the work of the Frankston Inner healing group of St.Luke’s Church. The article went onto say that Mrs. Lockington’s condition was a direct result of demon possession in her body, rather than any other biological condition. Mrs. Lockington was in perfect health; the story went on, until she was 38 years of age. It was 1962 being married to a truck driver Mrs. Lockington became lonely and missed her husband while he was away driving interstate. When he did come home, she felt the love in their marriage was gone and she no longer had feelings for him. During one of his long road trips she had an affair with a man who was a mutual friend. She loved him so much and was considering leaving her husband. What transpired then is not what Mrs. Lockington had expected. Her husband returned home early one day from his trip after resigning from his job. He had been thinking about the strain his job had put on his marriage and he decided to quit. He was going to concentrate on being a driver only on a daily basis. Mrs. Lockington did not know what to say and so said nothing. To her surprise her husband became more loving and found a job as a bus driver with more acceptable shifts. Mrs. Lockington was now torn between her husband and the man who had been her lover. She no longer saw her lover and he made no attempt to contact her. Wondering what was taking place in both of her men’s minds was tormenting her. She became ill and was hospitalized. Her husband blamed himself for her attack of “nerves”. He promised he would be a good husband if she would just give him a second chance. She considered it, and then decided she would give her husband a second chance. She didn’t tell him about her affair and she was discharged from hospital with a slight arthritic pain in her left leg. Her mother also had arthritis so this was nothing unusual. The arthritis did not go away. On May 2nd 2006, Mr. Lockington was taken to hospital after a heart attack. He lay in Frankston public hospital on the edge of death, drifting in and out of consciousness. He had been a loving husband since he had given up his long distance truck driving. Mrs. Lockington came to the conclusion that he really did love her; it was the stress of the job that had strained him and their relationship. She felt guilty that she had the affair and felt guilty that she had not told him. Now that he was on death’s door she agonized whether to tell him and ask for forgiveness or allow him not to know leaving her in terrible conflict. She didn’t have too long to think about it because he passed away that night when she had gone home to rest. Mrs. Lockington drank celery juice, rubbed the oil in her hip and leg and began drinking Penny Wort tea because she had heard it was good for arthritis. One doctor said that at 82 she shouldn’t expect the condition to disappear. She renewed her faith and began attending the Anglican Church serves again. She spoke to her reverend Charles Torney and he suggested the inner healing group. With prayer the arthritis left Mrs. Lockington instantaneously. It left because her demon of guilt left. The comment “demon of guilt” was made by the intercessor Robert Hills. The article then finished off that a healing weekend would be held next week for all those in need of healing to attend. “Intercessor” is an interesting word; Exorcist. Joanne flipped the article behind her A4 notes and looked at the article about Robert Hills from another newspaper. It showed a picture of a man about 30 years of age seated on a park garden bench. He had neat cut short hair swept to the side like an American college boy. He was wearing a black t shirt, blue jeans and white tennis shoes. He looked like so many other young men except for the look on his face. He had a stare; an intensity not found in the face of young men very often, like the photographic session was of great inconvenience to him. It was a black and white photo but she could tell that his eyes must be blue. The article told how Robert Hills was a nutritionist then “suddenly” he had become interested in spiritual healing. This occurred over 6 months ago, and in that time he and his group had healed a great deal of people in the Frankston area, many suffering from cancer and other serious illnesses. The story probably would not have even made it to the papers except for the fact that the healing weekend was approaching. Joanne flipped the article and had a sheet of “links”. She had written the name of the movie “The Exorcist” as well as the names of some occult websites. She also had some references to the Melbourne office who could help her build her story if need be. She knew very well that modern TV. journalism wasn’t about information it was about entertainment. She also knew she was in a catch 22 situation. If she did a poor job on this story, she would have to stay in Melbourne, to “develop more”. If she did a good job, then her skills would be self evident and she would need to stay in Melbourne where she would be of great value. She didn’t want to stay in Melbourne, she was a Perth girl, her family was in Perth but there was little she could do. She knew right from the time she left college that attractive women become TV. Journalists or anchorwomen. She was ahead of most in her class in terms of looks and she knew it. She was the flavor of the month until she rejected her boss and Rosaline De Angelo came along. Her boss now had a desire for the woman of Italian descent. If she became pregnant or ugly then she would drop down and then Joanne would come up. This healing weekend was a minor story for television but it was a major story of Joanne’s life. She put her notes away as she felt a slight change in the pressure in her ears. The plane must have been descending. It started to feel bumpy and she was still cold. She looked at her watch and it was another 15 minutes to landing. She took the ear phones out of her ears and put the ipod away. “Are you here to see friends”? The man beside her asked. She looked at him and he was smiling broadly. “No I am here for work” Joanne replied “Oh what do you do”? The man asked again. Joanne thought about it for a moment. She could have lied, said anything but she felt it wouldn’t end the conversation no matter what she said. “I work for channel 9” “Wow that would be a good job, what do you actually do….” For the first time in her life, Joanne couldn’t wait to be in Melbourne.
While Joanne was still in the sky flying towards Melbourne, Bruce Cartwright had just finished delivering the “Frankston Leader” in his area. It was the local paper, and even though it didn’t pay well, Bruce was happy to deliver it in his area as a second job. He was a stocky man, 35 years of age. He had shoulder length brown hair and a moustache. As he approached his block of flats in Petrie Street Frankston, he was tired and cold but satisfied he had completed his deliveries. He had one newspaper left and that was for him. The flat where Bruce lived was a very average place. A row of 10 flats made with grey concrete bricks with white painted window frames and guttering. It would have been a nice place about 20 years ago, but now it looked run down and unkept. The white paint was chipped and flaking off the wooden frames and you could see patches of grass growing here and there in the spouting. It was home for single mothers, alcoholics, people with other addictions, non-English speaking immigrants and an ex prisoner like Bruce. He didn’t have much of a choice where to live with a history of assault and indecent assault. He had the flat closest to the street. You could see the Venetian blinds in the lounge room were crooked, stuck, un able to fall properly to the bottom of the windowsill in a nice level pattern. Bruce didn’t care and no one else did either. It had just finished raining and it was cold. Melbourne was having a cold and wet spring like it used to have before the drought started approx. 6 years ago. Melbourne residents had been getting used to sunny winter days when inexplicable the cold weather had returned. It was windy too, the cool window whipped around the long brown hair of Bruce Cartwright. His two jobs, one as a street sweeper and the other as a walker was helping him to trim down a little. Being a street sweeper was ok. He pushed “the green machine” around, a motorized sweeper for the City of Greater Dandenong. He was grateful for the work and so far it was steady. It was dark as Bruce felt the handle of the old fly wire door and pulled it open with a loud squeak. He felt around for the keyhole and then put his key in to unlock the door. The security light globe needed replacing but he didn’t really need it.
Bruce entered the flat and turned on the lounge room light. The weak yellow bulb showed a very Spartan apartment. He had an old green vinyl couch which he got for free from the Salvation Army and a brown chair, which he sat in to watch TV. It was an old TV. And had a cheap internal aerial on it shaped in the typical “v” pattern. There were no photographs or magazines lying around just an old bible on the coffee table. He put the heater on in the lounge room and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on. In the kitchen the weak yellow light illuminated a sparsely decorated kitchen. He had a small bar refrigerator, which is all he needed, and a few pots and pans. In the cupboards there was little crockery and cutlery. Even though he was on his own his flat was Spartan, but he saw no need to buy what he considered non-essentials. He made himself a cup of Jasmine tea. He had acquired a taste for it recently then sat back down to read the local paper he had been delivering. He opened it up and began scanning. He looked at the photos and headlines mainly. Only a few months ago he would have had difficulty even doing that, as he was semi illiterate in the past. Not much attracted his attention until page 6. In the bottom right hand corner was an advertisement for the healing weekend to be held off the Mornington Peninsula freeway, near Rutherford exit. Bruce got up and took a large pair of scissors from one of the drawers in the kitchen and put it on the newspaper by the advertisement. He read the advertisement again slowly, carefully. He ran the words through his mind…. a weekend of healing and prayer…donation only…” He looked at the advertisement one more time and thought about it carefully. Yes, he thought, he would go to that and began cutting the advertisement out with the large scissors. It was just before Christmas the previous year when Bruce Cartwright saw Robert Hills and 2 other men from the Anglican Church as they visited the Port Phillip Prison in Laverton. Bruce could see them at the end of the corridor in the distance. Through the bars of his prison cell with his arms out of the bar, his hands clasped casually together, he watched Robert Hills and the two older men walk slowly by in the corridor. Bruce thought Robert looked like a spoilt pansy college boy and he just wanted to smash his face in. He had heard they had come down to do some counseling over the next few days for prisoners who had nominated for such a service. Bruce had not volunteered. He watched them walk away then sat back on his bed. He couldn’t believe they were here. Later Bruce heard some murmuring coming from the other end of the corridor so he thought he would check it out. He went back to the bars of his cell and looked to the far right of the corridor. It seemed like the group were blessing one of the prisoners, Jack, mad Jack. He could see the hand movements, the closed eyes, the sign of the cross being made in the air and the murmuring coming from him while Robert Hills and the other 2 men stood by, eyes closed. Bruce couldn’t take it any more. “Hey, he doesn’t need a prayer, he needs a miracle” He yelled out in their direction. The older man continued to pray but Robert Hills and the other man looked in his direction. “It’s all bullshit, there is no God here man” Bruce yelled out. The three men continued to pray for Jack and Bruce kept interjecting. There was then a moment of silent prayer. Robert Hills slowly approached Bruce, who was still standing and looking down the corridor. “What, got something to say?”!!! “Peace be with you”. Robert Hills said quietly and politely. “You are full of shit. There is no peace here, this is a jail, and God is not hearing any of us” Bruce said angrily. “You don’t believe that do you”? Robert enquired. “Yes asshole, don’t come in here and tell me about God” He snarled. “Are you a Christian”? Enquired Robert “I’m nothing I’m in jail and there is jack shit you can do about it” Bruce replied. “Well that is not true, we can help you” Robert said as his companions now joined him and both were looking at him intently. “There is no God, and if you were me you would believe that too. There is nothing you can do, you can’t set me free, and I am stuck here for another 8 months and that is it. All this teaching and talking is all bullshit. You come here with your fancy talk its all bullshit this religion crap. Why don’t you just piss off” He said angrily. There was moment of silence. Both Robert and his companion were staring intently at him. “Are you scared of me”? Robert enquired. “You, me scared of you, you fucking worm, I will smash your face in you piece of shit”. Bruce yelled his right fist clenched and putting it close to his own face. “Tomorrow at 10am, we will be here again; would you like us to pray for you”?!! Robert enquired. “Up yours” Bruce replied. “You are scared” Robert said with a smile. “I am not scared of you pretty boy” “Good, do you want a healing session now”? Robert replied “What…healing what,…no I don’t want any of that shit”! “Good we will make an appointment with you tomorrow 10 am, ok, tough guy….we shall see how tough you are”. Bruce just stared at them both as they turned away and continued to walk down the hallway. He had nothing more to say, because he was afraid. 10 a.m. came slowly. As he sat on the toilet bowl in his cell, he felt like he was going to see a dentist. Bruce got very little sleep that night. He kept tossing a few things in his mind. The incident yesterday had disturbed him. He was not accustomed to some one not being scared of him. Robert had come to him quietly and with out insult had been kind to him and challenged him. He was calm and confident. Bruce was now tired and confused. He didn’t know what to expect, what would happen to him, how he would react. That morning while having breakfast, he noticed the other prisoners were looking at him a bit differently. Some looked ashamed some just smiled but most looked at him curiously. Bruce could refuse to go, say to the correctional staff that he officially didn’t consent and therefore the appointment was against his will, but then he would look like a coward in front of the other men. He couldn’t have that, he needed to be strong.
At 10.10am he heard the footsteps coming to his cell. They were the footsteps of 4 burly correction officers in blue over alls. They stopped at his cell door. They had their utility belts on including plastic wrist ties. Bruce just looked at them. They stared at him back. Bruce stood up and walked to the cell door as they commenced to open it. He felt like he was going to be executed. They said nothing. He turned his back to them. He knew the procedure; he had to be handcuffed with plastic ties to be escorted to an interview room. He was a dangerous prison, maximum security, and no chances were taken with him. He felt the plastic ties go around his wrists tightly; the correctional staff did this through the cell bars. He heard the door open. He was supposed to step out of his cell, not they come in, that would still be dangerous to the correctional officers. Bruce could still use his feet and head. He played the game and stepped out. He started walking to the interview room.
When the door to one of the interview rooms opened, Bruce was surprised to see Robert Hill sitting at the table with a woman old large enough to be his grandmother. Her name was “Elsie” as she had it on her visitor badge. She looked about 70 and had large glasses. She smiled and so did Robert. Robert was dressed in a black suit, white shirt and dark tie. He had a gold necklace outside his shirt. He looked like a Mormon preacher. Elsie was dressed in a simple purple polo neck jumper, and black skirt. She had a gold crucifix on her ample bosom. Behind them was a video camera on a stand. There was a seat for Bruce. He stood for a moment. The room was vivid white. It looked like a prison interview room. It looked like a hospital psychotic wardroom. It looked like a room where there was a lot of pain and suffering. It was sterile clean and but unhealthy. It was devoid of warmth. “Please sit down” Robert said and indicated the chair. Robert sat down. The guards stood behind him and he heard the door close. His hands were still tied and would remain that way. He was a violent man. “This is Elsie; she is an intercessor and deliverer at the Frankston church” “Hello Robert” she said with a German Dutch accent. “Inter what, deliverer what”?? Bruce thought. He didn’t reply. Robert indicated the video camera that was aiming at Bruce. “We have a camera here that will record the session. You can refuse this appointment and refuse to be video taped, that is your right. Do you wish to proceed?” Robert asked “What are you going to do”? Bruce said in a confused voice. “We are going to pray for you” Elsie said. Bruce thought about it then laughed. Robert and Elsie smiled. “Really”?? He said. “Yes,” Robert replied. “Ok, Bruce replied. “You can turn the video on” “It is already on” “What, what would have happened if I had said no?” “We would turn it off” Robert replied. “Yeah but you would already have it on.” Bruce said “We need to record your consent to tape; do we have your consent”? Robert said “Yeah” Bruce said half laughing…Ok, lets do it. Is it going to hurt?” There was a long pause. “We hope not Bruce” Elsie said. Bruce laughed again, “Ok, I am ready” he said. “Are you sure?” Robert asked. “Yeah” He said. “I am so glad to hear it” Robert replied. There was a long pause.
“Close your eyes Bruce as we pray for you” Robert said. Bruce closed his eyes and heard Elsie’s voice in a calm manner. “Lord bless us here today. We are here in the name of Jesus to pray for the deliverance of Bruce your son. Guide us and let your holy spirit enter the room and us. Let it guide us and fill us with your love and wisdom. Amen.” “Amen” Robert concluded. After a moment Robert spoke in a more authoritative voice. “In the name of Jesus, I saw to all emissaries of the evil one who may be here. I command you to leave. I claim this space, this time, this people for the Lord Jesus Christ and forbid any activity by any satanic beings.” Elsie then added “ I claim protection in the name of Jesus Christ for each one of us or families our friends our property, our finances, our health and everything else that pertains to us from any revenge or other dirty tricks from the enemy.” In a louder voice “In the name of Jesus, I cut off any spirits inside this person from any help they might get from outside spirits or from any others inside the person. I forbid any spirits inside this person to cause any violence any throwing up or other showy behavior” There was a long pause. Bruce felt his wrist ties get a little tighter. “I bless your conception, Bruce, God wanted you, and Jesus wanted you. Go back to the womb Bruce” Elsie’s voice spoke gently. “What are you feeling,”? For a moment Bruce didn’t know what to say but he did feel warm with this game so he said, “I feel warm.” “Thank you Jesus, I bless you in the womb, now we move to you being one month old I bless you at one month old Bruce, Jesus blesses you at one month” Elsie continued in a smooth soothing voice. She continued talking and Bruce was finding that he was going back in time, remembering his fetus state at 8months. He wanted to be aloof from it all but his feelings suddenly emerged. “I feel sad….. I feel sad…” Bruce said in a voice with feeling that surprised him. “Why Bruce”? Robert asked. After more than 20 seconds. “My mum didn’t want me…she didn’t want me…. I know she didn’t I can feel it and she told me later, she wanted an abortion but it was too late.” “Jesus blesses you. Give your feelings to Jesus. He was there, he knew how you were, ask him to bless you and protect you. He loves you” Robert said in a calm soothing voice and for the first time since he was about 8 years old, Bruce felt warm streams of tears flowing down his cheeks. He found it hard to stop these emotions. He didn’t think where he was or who was watching he was crying and he couldn’t stop. The tears poured and fell on his lap. His hands were tied and he couldn’t wipe them. He continued into the session, Jesus blessing his birth and his infant years. He was aware his mother was troubled but as a young boy he didn’t know what it was. He was a happy boy and had many friends. He went to a government school but occasionally went to church with his aunty. He believed in God. He grew up on a farm in Gippsland which was full of happiness until he was eight. As the intercession stopped at 8, Bruce became restless. He started to squirm in the chair and making grunting noises. “I forbid any violence, throwing up or other showy behavior in the name of Jesus Christ. I forbid any spirits inside this person from any help they may get from outside spirits or from any others inside the person.” Robert said in a more authoritative voice. Bruce calmed down. After a moment in a weak voice. “I was walking in a park, and a man called out to me.” “Why,”? Elsie said. “He had some chocolate and a red toy car. He asked me to come over. He told me his name was Mr. Henry. He gave me the chocolate. I unwrapped it and he had some two. He then pulled my pants down and I thought he was going to strap me or hit me with a piece of wood. I waited……….” There was a long pause… I felt something go in my ass, I felt his arms on my shoulders, and it was hurting.” There was a long pause. “I didn’t think something like that could happen to a boy.” “Was it your fault Bruce”? Elsie said softly.”!! There was no reply from Bruce. “No I mean was it your fault he did that to you”? Elsie said “…he said it was” “It was not your fault Bruce, you didn’t deserve that” Robert said gently, “Jesus was there, can you see him.” “No, no” Bruce said. “Look behind you” Robert said. Bruce was shocked, surprised. He started breathing deeply. “He is behind me, I could see him, I turned around” He said. “Give your pain to Jesus, let him take it from you, in the name of Jesus your pain is gone, he takes your suffering. You are forgiven” Robert said soothingly. Bruce shook for a moment and for the first time since he was that little boy he said “Help me Jesus…. please help” As the inner healing continued the layers of Bruce’s early life were peeled back exposed and healed. He ran home that day to his mother and wanted to tell her what had happened, but she was lying on the couch drunk and asleep. She often did that when his father was not home. The Police had been to his house before but he didn’t know why. He thought if he complained the bad man Henry would call the Police and he would go to a boy’s home. He went to his room, in pain and cried. From that moment on, he had a troubled life moving from victim of crime to perpetrator of crime. He assaulted schoolboys then men then women because of anger then he did it for money. He thought he could be some big time hit man but he wasn’t lucky and clever enough. He was arrested and sent to jail. He was still lucky, the magistrate was told only a little of what he had done so it was an eight month sentence. During the inner healing session the correction officers were entitled to take a break but didn’t. They were captivated by what they were seeing and didn’t want to miss it for anything. After an hour of tears, sadness and exposition Bruce sat there hunched over with his wrists still tied. He sat there quietly. “Anger, are you there”? Robert said in a gentle soothing voice. There was no response. “In the name of Jesus I command you to speak to me anger”, Robert said. “Yes I am here”!! Bruce said in a voice that was strong, and evil. “How long have you been there”? Robert said “Along time, a very long time “Bruce said raising his head. “How many generations “Robert asked “I came with his mother and I stayed”. “In the name of Jesus Christ I order you to leave Bruce now, I forbid any violence or any act that will embarrass Bruce” Robert said casually. Bruce had a look of confusion on his face then burped. “In the name of Jesus Christ I order you to leave Bruce and get in the box, or I will have the angels descend and force you in…” “I am in the box, I know about the box.” Bruce said. “Good, now in the name of Jesus Christ I order all your evil spirits, helpers to leave Bruce and go into their boxes.” Robert added. There was a moment of silence. Bruce sat up tall, he looked confused. “Are you there, guilt”? Robert enquired. “I don’t want to go not him, not now,” Bruce said. “In the box you go guilt and never return in the name of Jesus Christ.” There was not a sound or movement. “Angels of the Lord strike the evil spirit with your swords….” “Alright, I am going, I am going.” Bruce replied. In the name of Jesus Christ I forbid your return to Bruce, his family or anyone close to him or us. I command you in the name of Jesus Christ to stay in the box. The boxes are now to be thrown in the fire made by the angels, never to return. I forbid any other spirits to take their place or to enter the life of Bruce and his family. In the name of Jesus I ask the holy spirit to fill…” “Oh…my nose… my leg… “Bruce said in a surprised voice. He opened his eyes and looked up at them. “My nose isn’t blocked, my leg is loose” “That is the holy spirit Bruce. You are cleansed of evil and we ask the Holy Spirit to enter into your heart, mind, spirit and soul,” Elsie said. “Say the Lord’s prayer Bruce…Our father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name…” Robert started then Elsie repeated over again. Bruce joined in after they had repeated it three times. He looked up at the ceiling and opened his mouth. He laughed and then a tear streamed down his right eye. There was a long period of silence “Yes, thank you…I was not alone…. I am not alone” “You are never alone Bruce, Jesus is there with you and he is going to show you a better life” Elsie said. There was a moment of silence as Bruce closed his eyes. He moved his head slightly from side to side. “It is so clear to me now…. my nose is clear” “We will continue to pray for you Bruce and you can pray to. Jesus has now entered your life and he wants to listen to you and guide you” Robert said. After another round of prays for Bruce, a total of almost 2 hours had passed. When Bruce was led away from the interview room he was smiling as if he had been drugged. His eyes were glazed and he walked slowly back to his cell. When there his wrist ties had to be cut off and when they were he sat slowly on the edge of his bed. Even the experienced correction officers had never seen anything like this before. Robert then gave him a soft pocket book version of the New Testament. Bruce read it. He was semi literate but it didn’t stop him. Each night the words seemed clearer and he read it faster. The words were no longer obstacles, but flowed easily. Within 3 months he was released from prison and given a job as a street sweeper. His nose was no longer congested and his left leg felt loose and flexible. These were two conditions he had since he was very young. He felt lighter, younger and happier because a great burden had been lifted from his body. He couldn’t share this experience with anyone he knew, they would not understand or believe him but he was now a new man. He could start afresh as if he was 7 years old a time before the spirits of anger, disgust and guilt had taken over his mind and body. He would never perform an evil act again. He had Jesus by his side and he was not afraid to work an honest job or afraid to live. He would choose to walk away from evil. He was now a convert, another saved soul to add to God’s army.
As Joanne Thompson went to collect her luggage at the baggage claim, she was aware of the cold. She saw the Melbournians with coats on some of them wet greeting loved ones as they claimed their luggage. Melbourne was having a wet winter and Spring, to make up for the last 6 years of drought. As she waited patiently to get her luggage she noticed some youths looking at her. They probably recognized her. She looked down. The last thing she wanted was to say hello to strangers. When the sliding doors open, she was unprepared for the cold and wet. The wind was strong and it blew the rain at a low angle that caused water droplets to hit her with intensity. She saw a man in the distance try to open his umbrella but the swirling wind crumpled it up. He ran quickly to the available taxi and got it. It was her turn and she walked towards the next approaching taxi. She heard the distinctive sound of the tires on the wet road as the yellow taxi came and stopped for her. In an instant a smiling middle-aged Pakistan male taxi driver emerged and quickly ran to her to pack her luggage in the back. He wouldn’t have moved so fast for a male passenger. He probably wouldn’t have moved at all, just popped the rear and have the man put his own luggage in. Joanne could feel her hair being blown wildly, the cold wind against her legs. The taxi driver quickly put her bags in. Joanne got in the back seat of the car. In side the taxi, it was warm and smelt of new plastic. When the driver got in the car it was very quiet. The car was pleasantly insulated from the bad weather. “Ambassador Hotel Nepean Highway Frankston” Joanne said. He smiled but before he could even drive off, she handed him a note with hand drawn instructions how to get there, via the freeway Mentone, not all the way on Nepean Highway, that would add 20 minutes more on the trip. The driver looked at it and took it all in. “Freeway, not Nepean Highway all the way”. Joanne said. He nodded. It was just as well, he was going to go to Nepean Highway and clock up extra fare. The trip from Melbourne’s Tullamarine international airport to Frankston is over an hour. For a Perth woman this is a long trip and she watched the endless procession of city lights flash by her rear passenger window. Every so often the wind howled and the rain was constant. It is generally a soothing sound but not tonight for Joanne. With the time difference between Perth and Melbourne it was almost midnight and she didn’t feel like being in a taxi for about an hour but she had little choice. She wanted to rest her head against the window and maybe close her eyes, but she was not alone and couldn’t do that. The taxi made its way towards Melbourne and it was all a blur of lights through the water droplets of the passenger window. She saw the Crown casino, the Yarra River then highways, car after car. She felt alone, cold and even a little scared. She couldn’t let her guard down. After traveling for about 45 minutes Joanne was happy to see the large “Frankston” sign indicating the beginning of the freeway and even more happy to see her driver take the turn. She was getting sick of the trip by now and was looking forward to getting to the hotel. The rain was easing but still present. The wipers occasionally wiped the rain away on the slow setting. Alongside the Mornington Peninsula freeway, was blackness and Joanne was surprised that it was so dark, only a flicker here and there in the distance on both sides of houses. When she saw the “Thompson road” exit she looked more carefully but saw little except the road bridge. After a moment she saw “Rutherford Road” exit and then the car zipped by. She saw nothing but blackness but this is where the healing weekend was to be held in 2 days time. On the street directory it is a barren landscape and from the car at night at least that is how it appeared. She would have to return there in the next day or so to get some background footage. When the taxi arrived at the main reception door of the Ambassador Motel, Joanne was relieved. The wind was still howling and the rain was still heavy. The Ambassador Motel was a red brick hotel/motel straight from the 1970s. It was home for now and Joanne was at least happy to be off the road. It had been a long trip and it was dangerous to be on the road in such weather. When Joanne opened the door of her room number 17 she was pleasantly surprised. The concierge brought in her luggage and put it neatly by the feet of her double bed. He left her in peace. The walls were a creamy yellow color, warm, cozy very intimate, very Melbourne. The white curtains were a quaint touch framing the cottage type windows. The motel was not attempting to be pretentious by being an ultra modern style motel, nor was it a neglected building from the past. It was not the most exclusive motel but it was convenient for her and in the big suburb of Frankston. Joanne slowly unpacked her bags and looked for her favorite track pants and top. They were maroon in color, nothing fancy but she loved wearing them when it was cold. She would have a busy day ahead tomorrow so she might as well turn in soon. She opened the drapes a little and looked outside. She had a view of Nepean highway. The window was howling and flags, which she didn’t recognize, were blowing wildly in the wind. Their rope and metal clamps were tapping furiously at the metal poles. She could not see the ocean but she knew it was behind the houses on the highway. The cold wind and rain against the window made her feel lonely and sad. She was a Perth girl and this was not her type of city or weather. This was her punishment for disagreeing with her manager. He had used her “travel” clause in her contract to send her away to the edge of the country to the edge of a large city to do a story that could have been covered by the Melbourne office, if at all. A tear came to her eye. Was this the beginning of the end of her on air TV? Career. She was only 25, and each year the girls get better looking and more obedient. What would happen to her now? She closed the drapes and put a bedside lamp on. It gave out a gentle glow in the room. She didn’t like complete darkness.
As Joanne was ready to go to bed, sad and miserable, Father O’ Shea was seated in his favorite chair by the window in his room in the St.Monica’s vicarage complex in Robinson street Moonee Ponds. The dark red brick building was somber almost forbidding. It was next to St.Monica’s boy’s school, which has stood proudly since 1919.
Father O’Shea was seated in his humble room. Above his bed a simple brown cross. On the bedside table, next to his bed, the warm glow of the lamp illuminated the room. In another corner was a small fan heater that blew warm air gently through out the room. Behind it was a small open bookshelf with many books. Against one wall, was a chest of drawers, burgundy in color, old and solid that contained shirts and a few odds and ends of stationery that belonged to Father O’Shea. On top of that, on a white folded tablecloth stood a medium sized color television set. On the other side was a standing cupboard the same color with a photograph of Father O, Shea with the Pope John Paul the second. It was taken in 1986 when Father O’Shea went on his official visit to the Vatican. To the left of the contents of this room was the window where Father O’Shea sat. The humble room didn’t reflect the imposing man that was Father O’Shea. He was 66 years old, but age had not mellowed him. He still didn’t wear reading glasses. He was solid. His reddish yellow hair was just beginning to go grey.
He sat reading a biography of Bob Santa Maria, the man who made religion a political issue in Australia and kept the Australian Labor Party out of office for more than 20 years. From his chair he had a view of a large big tree, that’s all, but he liked it when he heard the birds sing. He was a retired priest and an Edmund Rice Christian Brother teacher. He had been a priest at St.Monica’s Catholic church and a part time teacher at the boys Primary School for more than 40 years. He was past retirement age but still took a few classes a month. He chose to live on the premises of St.Monica’s because he felt comfortable there and hade had been there for such a long time. He was a pleasant looking man, almost stereotypical of an elderly, cheery Irish priest, but things were different years ago. The Christian brothers of the Edmund Rice order wore black shirts and trousers in summer and a long waist robe in winter. Right up until the late 1970s he carried a leather strap about a foot long, in one of his long sleeves. When he walked the corridors of St. Bernard’s or patrolled the schoolyard of St. Monica’s boys Primary school not far away, the boys stopped their misbehaving. He strapped often, the Christian brothers were known for that and their no nonsense approach to education in general. Father O’Shea was no different. He was a disciplinarian then and age had mellowed him only a little.
He was happy because over the last few weeks he felt he was feeling the pendulum swinging away from faddist secularism to what he considered good old-fashioned Christian values. The invitation to attend the weekend healing in Frankston was just what he was looking for. He would grab the curls of boy’s hair and say “Get a hair cut”. He had seen it all, and heard it all, from what women now wanted, to boys being in touch with their feminine side. The voices of protest waned and faded over the years. He was glad the studies now were beginning to say co educational schools were not necessarily good for boys and that most boys now saw the silliness and vanity of having long hair. He had weathered the secular onslaught against the Catholic church of the 1970s and 80s, and come through on the other side. His faith was unshaken and he stood strong against the accusations of the irrelevance of religion .He was a man of unquestionable conscience and talent. He was not only a good teacher and a faithful follower of Christ, but also a demon slayer. The devil hates men of strength of character and there was no one he was more afraid of within the Melbourne Metropolitan area than Father O’Shea. There was no chink in his armor that the devil could exploit. Father O’Shea did not yearn to fondle women or boys. His greatest fantasy was to play football and wished he had the ability at his age to still go out there and kick the ball like they did. The devil can’t manipulate a man like that, quite the opposite. Father O’Shea had attended more than his fair share of house blessings, exorcisms and deliverances as a young priest that he got to be very good at it. Archbishop Little asked him to be head brother or teacher of the intervention group of Melbourne which he was happy to do so.
Many deliverances or exorcisms were now being done in a subtle way but subtle was not Father O’Shea’s style. He demanded they left their victims and gave them such a verbal dressing down they left with all their emissaries in a hurry. He wrote the book “The devil is real” and it became a favorite of John Paul the second. It was not only based on the many exorcisms that Father O’Shea had performed but also on the quintessential Christian belief and doctrine that evil has an origin and a master. The Pope was impressed by the work. It seemed old fashioned at the time to blame so much of the world’s problems on the work of Satan, but the fundamentalist Pope was of the belief the devil was as active today as he was in biblical times. Father O’Shea was irritated by much of the modern explanations of mental illness and psychotic behavior. It was as if the solution to the problem was the calming of a sea rather than building a stronger boat. After more than 40 years in God’s service he could tell the difference between a man looking for attention and the work of demons.
He saw a program on TV. a few weeks ago about the battle of David and Goliath mentioned in the Bible. Long regarded as a myth the documentary from the BBC explored the biblical encounter from a scientific point to determine its validity. It was long regarded as a myth because of the description of Goliath being 3 meters tall. This would make Goliath approx. 9 feet tall in imperial measurement, something that was considered to be unlikely. The program however highlighted the fact that the Dead Sea scrolls mentioned that Goliath’s height was only 2 meters tall. This would make Goliath approx 6 feet 8 inches tall in imperial measurement, a more realistic figure. Add to that the fact that the city of Garth where Goliath was from had a recorded history of tall men and the myth was now reality. It appeared to Father O’Shea that science rather than disproving the Bible was now confirming so much of it. The movie Jurassic Park detailed how cloning of dinosaurs could take place by taking the blood from a mosquito which had become fossilized in tree sap all those millions of years ago. The theory being that the mosquito sat on the dinosaur and sucked some blood from it. It then sat on a tree bark when it became trapped in sticky tree sap and became fossilized. It was almost twenty years since that movie was made and there were still no dinosaurs being cloned. Modern scientists had difficulty cloning a sheep yet alone a dinosaur. DNA that was supposed to unlock the mystery of creation, led to more questions than answers. It revealed that we were so unique, even members of the same family were biologically different, that we were further away from primates than expected, our so-called ancestors.
Father O’Shea had felt in his heart that man was still God’s creation and didn’t feel the pressure over the last 2 decades to dismiss the book of Genesis or refer to God as “She” because it upset feminists to think God is male. As for the word “Gay” being used to describe homosexuals was certainly not his cup of tea either. To use such a word to describe sodomites was not correct. The church could not accept such sinners knowingly and willingly in its flock as parishioners yet alone clergy, according to Father O’Shea. He had been faithful to the scriptures and it was this strength that was his armor against Satan. He felt the 1960s generation was fading into insignificance and their immoral and wicked ways had caught up with them. They were demanding to be healthy, young and promiscuous only to find that they were now ageing like everyone else and were facing their own mortality just like every other generation before them. They first tried to live with out God, then they tried to out smart him. Now they knew they could not live without him. God had won, Father O’ Shea had won. God was right and good, Father O,Shea was right and good. He would go to the healing weekend and save those who wanted to be saved. Hallelujah.
It was a cold, wet morning in Frankston but the wind had subsided. It was Wednesday, middle of the week, a nothing day. Robert Hill sat in the ABC bookshop café drinking his English breakfast tea. It was 10am, quiet, and classical music was being piped through the shop, which he liked. He disliked noise, especially now since it was school holidays and the children and their mothers would be everywhere in the shopping center especially the food court. He wanted to think to be reflective, to be still, and to pray. In his mind he was conversing with God, thanking him for the opportunity to run the healing weekend with many members of different Christian dominations. He was running it through his mind what more needed to be done. In three days the weekend of healing would begin and he wanted it to be as success.
He had first suggested the idea to his parish priest the Reverend John Fletcher who in turn mentioned it to the Synod. From there the ball rolled quickly. Robert had expected resistance but received very little. Why wasn’t there much resistance? It is difficult to say. Maybe the different factions thought they should work with each other as they had the love of Jesus in common. Maybe it was the desire to combat the publicity of the conspiracy theory book “The Da Vinci code”, or maybe the Holy Spirit working, or a combination of all three, but it was organized. He had wanted a healing place like Lourdes and Fatima where people could come together in this case on a weekend to pray for health and happiness. Maybe if it went well, it could be an ongoing event, he would have to wait and see.
As he looked around the bookstore he heard this mobile phone in his left front trouser pocket, ring. He grabbed it quickly and noticed the old cafeteria lady look at him quickly in a disapproving way. As he took the phone from his pocket he looked at the phone number on his display screen and didn’t recognize it. “Hello” he said. “Is this Robert Hill?” The female voice on the other end said. “Yes, that’s me” Robert replied. “Hello, this is Joanne Thomson from Channel 9 news, we would like to interview this afternoon if it is possible about the healing weekend.”Joanne said. He knew they were going to call; he gave the reverend his number. “Ok.” Robert replied. “Fantastic, how about 2pm at St.Luke’s in Frankston”? She enquired. “That is fine with me” Robert replied. “Ok. We shall see you at that time and that location.” She said. “O.k, bye for now” Robert finished. “Bye” she concluded. Robert turned off the phone. He said it was fine with him but it was far from fine. He didn’t want to be interviewed by a television crew with their tight schedules and superficial, scandalous reporting. He didn’t want his spiritual thoughts or concepts simplified into quick headlines or edited into catchy one-liners, but he knew he had little control of that. He felt that television reporters were creating news rather than reporting. How could they possibly understand the transition he had been through over the last twelve months and how could that be conveyed in a quick television interview?
It was July 1995 when a twenty-year-old Robert Hill had attended St.Francis’Church Lonsdale Street Melbourne with his Catholic girl friend Samantha Riley. He didn’t want to go; he was an Anglican and a very lapsed one as well. The number of times he had been to church since primary school you could count on one hand. He felt uncomfortable about the church and he felt physically uncomfortable as well. He had taken Samantha to a motel the night before in the city and had passionate sex with her. Samantha was under a lot of pressure from her parents to be a virgin before she married and of course she was under a lot of pressure from Robert to give herself to him as well. Needless to say she had done this, a few times already and she was feeling guilty. On this particularly day, they arrived for the 10am mass. Both of them felt uncomfortable wearing the clothes they had worn the night before. Robert had not been able to shave and he noticed that his stubble had made a rash on Samantha’s face. He felt dirty in his clothes as he sat down for the service. As the service began he wasn’t sure when to stand or sit and had to rely on Samantha to drag his hand down or lift it up. The priest who looked like the Hammer Horror film star Christopher Lee then gave his sermon.
Robert remembered listening to the beginning of it then losing interest. It was about the imbalance between the wealthy and the poor. It was delivered in such a boring monotone voice that Robert soon found his eyes wondering around the church, looking at the stained glass windows, the small paintings of the stations of the cross and of course the large crucifix on the back wall of the church. He noticed how realistic and gory it was, the paint that was meant to resemble blood looked realistic and the face of Jesus illustrated such pain. Robert continued to look around the church in general when he felt something delicate land on his head and shoulders. It was as if a breeze had entered the church or an air conditioner had been turned on. The unusual thing about it was that the breeze neither felt cold or warm but gave him a happy content feeling. He couldn’t help but smile at Samantha who smiled back. He didn’t really understand what had happened but it would make sense a lot later in life.
It was 2004 and Robert Hill was now a nutritionist employed by the Community Health Care Centre in Springvale on a part time basis. During the course of his duties he had learnt a great deal of how different communities used different foods not only for nutrition but also medicine in times of sickness. Some of them in particular the South American and Filipinos had a strong belief in Christian healing. He found it surprising that some people thought nothing of eating well and then seeing their faith healer for treatment. Curiosity got the better of him one day and he saw an advertisement in a newspaper about the healing service of a traveling born again American evangelist Timothy Stuart touring Australia. He was holding a service in Narre Warren, it was winter, cold, and he had nothing else to do so what the heck.
He was late and on arrival in the Narre Warren community centre he found a medium sized hall full of singing people, swaying their arms in the air with their eyes closed. He picked up a paper hymn booklet. He was unfamiliar with the songs. He looked at it, trying to be a good sport then sat down with the others for the service. Timothy Stuart then arrived on the small makeshift stage. He was at least 45 years of age, stocky in build with close-cropped grey hair wearing a black shirt and trousers with a grey tie. He started speaking slowly with his American accent, moving from one part of the stage to the other with the microphone in his left hand. As he spoke the crowd muttered, “Yes Lord, Hallelujah, Amen,” in response to his delivery. He then became quite animated, loud and enthusiastic in his delivery. The crowd was also acknowledging him more and more with responses of “Hallelujah “and “Amen”. Robert thought indeed Timothy Stuart was a great speaker but so far Robert didn’t feel any compulsion to raise his hands in the air and start muttering, praying or singing. With the crowd now standing and singing “Amazing Grace” with tremendous enthusiasm, Timothy Stuart then asked for people to come forward to receive the Lord. The First row went then the second, and then the third. With a swift motion of his right hand and yelling “receive Jesus”!!! the rows of people would fall down in a state of ecstasy. Robert watched them lay on the floor quivering for a couple of minutes as Timothy approached. Row after row of people fell to the ground. Some lay there in pure bliss, others were praying to themselves. Some were weeping with joy.
Timothy Stuart came to his row and yelled, “Receive Jesus”!!! And they all fell down on the floor around Robert, but Robert just stood there. Timothy came up to him and looked him right in the eye. Timothy Stuart had wild excited light blue eyes. He put his right hand on Robert Hill’s forehead and touched it gently. He began saying slowly, “In the name of Jesus, enter this young man’s life, he wants you to, he needs you to. If it is your will enter into this man and let him follow your path Lord”. He repeated it and Robert Hill thought for a moment Stuart was going to yell “Receive Jesus”!!! And scare Robert into collapsing. This didn’t happen, Robert just stood there listening to Timothy Stuart repeating his pray for the third time and then he found himself rigid and falling to the floor. He felt hands around him, guiding him down and then he was flat on his back.
He found it difficult to move his head; his eyes were wide open. He had a vague recollection of Stuart moving on but most of all he felt his arms and legs quivering .He felt warm, secure and happy .He remembered where he had felt this before, but this time on a greater scale. On both occasions he had a head as thick as a brick, resistant to what was being said around him, and to him, but somehow, God had broken through his defenses. There must have been something special about Robert because he had not intended to receive the Lord but the Lord had other plans. As he lay there on the carpeted floor, he could feel the tears building in his eyes. He closed them and the warm tears flowed down his cheeks and into his ears. He could not remember weeping like this since he was a tiny boy, but these were not tears of pain but deep contentment and happiness. Nothing and no one ever affected him like this before, and he knew there and then that this was some God and he had a wonderful son. Robert and Jesus had found each other.
After that night, Robert was no longer the same man. He couldn’t get enough literature about God and the life of Jesus. He took the brochures, booklets and other reading matter on offer at this hall and read them ardently. He visited bookshops and Christian charity shops, picking up a copy of the bible, the New Testament and literature of the Jehovah’s witnesses. Robert did not feel uncomfortable with what he was reading, rather the opposite. The literature confirmed and enhanced what he had really believed in the first place. There was no solid scientific evidence of the evolution of all species of creatures yet alone man. Robert believed if there was a long slow evolutionary process that took millions of years there would be many skeletons showing wings becoming legs or giraffes growing taller. Not enough existed to convince him that man was a creation of chance rather than design. The more he read and explored, the more he was amazed how history ran through the Bible and science was only just discovering how the book was more of a record of history rather than a book of myths. Above and beyond all of this, what really excited Robert, was the mystery of evil and sickness.
Robert began attending church again and enrolled in the introductory Inner Healing course conducted by the Anglican Church in Frankston. It was during this course that the threads of information and belief came together. It was during this course that he realized that the battles that take place on earth are between the forces of good and evil. He saw personally the deliverance of people afflicted with demons for years simply because the power and authority of Jesus caste them out. It became clear to him why some people are bad and why they become like that. In particular, how difficult it is for them to become good. As a nutritionist it was his job to advise people to eat well and be healthy but it had not occurred to him that spiritual health was needed as well. A depressed and low confident individual will give up healthy habits and will sabotage their efforts to progress simply because the driving force inside them needed to be healed. Self help books and courses wouldn’t help because the conflict was deep within the person themselves. The original sin by Adam and Eve led to our death. We sinned against God and this sin was passed on to us all. We are all susceptible to influence by demons and his leader Satan. He offered the world to Jesus in exchange of an act of worship to him. He entered the body of Judas and then deserted him when his act of betrayal was done He was there in the garden of Gethsemane trying to make Jesus doubt himself and fear his trial. He was there when bad things happened because of bad men and he continues to influence the people of the world because he is jealous of us and wants to anger God. He is there when a person suddenly becomes violent, cunning, manipulative, deceitful, that is his work. He is there to influence the weak, the stupid, the lazy and the selfish. He offers the lure of wealth and gratification at the cost of integrity. He is constantly on the look out for recruits and the greatest defense against him was knowledge, self-discipline and prayer. Robert’s ministry and advanced studies confirmed in him that we had free will but that we were constantly in a state of temptation. Alcoholics are seldom thirsty and many thieves are not poor. The Lord’s Prayer in itself was an asking of God to deliver us from evil and not to be led to temptation. Robert finished his coffee and left the cafeteria. How could all of that be explained to a reporter?
Monterey Avenue in Franskton North, a place in the northern part of Frankston called the “pines” is a sad place. The housing commission homes are seldom vacant of poverty, despair or violence. The sunlight exposes a lot of the untidy houses and front yards with long grass and un repaired cars. The streets are where the cars scream past with a great deal of noise and the angry music of today can be heard. Single mothers push their babies in prams and men often walk with alcohol in their hands. Drugs and alcohol mix here, you can see it in the eyes of the young inhabitants as they walk past St. Johns Anglican Church Frankston north. Many of them could benefit by dropping in but instead the church is patronized by the much older generation. One of these parishioners is Maggie Stohl.
Maggie’s house was a simple housing commission home with a yard that had a front wire fence that was less than a meter high and had no cultivated garden. She tried to have the lawn cut each month if she could afford it but it wasn’t easy. Maggie was 63 years of age and a regular church attendee. She was a slim woman with grey shoulder length hair. She wore tracksuit and sloppy tops most of the time because she couldn’t afford much. Her husband who had died recently was an alcoholic and he left her with nothing. She enjoyed the services conducted by the smiling reverend John Fletcher. When she pulled her curtain back in the lounge room she could see St. Johns and the reverends residence. She noticed that his car was not there nor was his wife Sandra’s blue ford either. Maggie was very agitated. It was 10am and her grandson was not home.
Her grand son Jason was troubled but she felt she had to help in some way rear this 17-year-old boy. Maggie knew her daughter Joanne was an alcoholic and her new boyfriend Sean was not a nice man. Jason didn’t want to live there and Maggie wanted to do the best she could to give him the best life he could possibly have so she offered to have him live at her place. She thought they would argue with her but they agreed. Jason wasn’t sure if he wanted to live with his grand mother either but what he was sure of was that he didn’t want to live with his mother and stepfather.
It was only after a month being with Maggie that she realized it was a mistake. Jason didn’t listen to her and went out every night. He didn’t do his schoolwork and no matter what she did, Jason ignored her. His grades plummeted and Maggie was at a wits end as to what to do. It accumulated to the point yesterday when she knew she had to do something about it.
It was about 5.30pm when Jason walked through the door of Maggie’s home. He was of slight build and always wore a baseball cap. He had sandy colored hair and a pale complexion. He always looked weak and tired. He usually walked into the house then went straight to his room. On this occasion he lingered in the corridor for some time and Maggie saw a look on his face she had not seen before. She was a volunteer for the brother hood of St. Laurence clothing store at Bayside shopping centre and she was accustomed to seeing young people walk in high on drugs or having a hang over. This was different, Jason’s blue eyes looked confused, startled. When he looked at Maggie, he seemed to look right past her. He then went to sleep and slept till about 10pm.
During this time, Maggie didn’t know what to do, whether to keep some dinner for him in the refrigerator or go to sleep. She waited for a long time watched TV then decided to go to bed. As she went to her bedroom, she heard the front door close. Jason was gone again. She quickly looked out the curtains in the lounge room but she could only just see him disappearing in the darkness. She had no idea where he was going and it was pointless to ask because the answer was always “out.”
Maggie pulled the curtains back once again and looked out the window to see if by chance the reverend John Fletcher’s car was on the driveway. It was not. She wandered what to do. She had his mobile number but it was expensive to chat on the phone. She thought of ringing the home number and leaving a message but didn’t know what to say. She was worried, deeply worried.
Joanne Thomson sat on the bed with the T.V. on in her motel room. She had her arms behind her back supporting her as she sat on the bed with her feet outstretched and crossed over. She was wearing her black waistcoat and short skirt with black high-heeled shoes. She had just hung up the phone and had arranged her interview with Robert Hill. With the curtains parted the sky was over cast and still windy. Occasionally a gust of wind howled against the window. Along Nepean highway the flags advertising the new Bayside Shopping Centre were flapping violently in the wind. The metal flag wires clashed against the pole making an annoying ticking sound, like a child was hitting the pole vigorously with a coin. It was a windy day, and Frankston being on the bay was even windier. She could not imagine the weather improving by the weekend. She hated the wind; it blew her hair all over the place. She would have to comb it before the interview. It was Thursday and there didn’t seem anyway the weather would fine up in a few days. She sat on her bed running a few ideas about the interview in her mind when she heard car doors close in the rear parking area of the hotel. She wondered if it was the camera crew. She wasn’t sure if she should open the door and see for herself or wait until they knocked on the door. She sat upright and turned off the T.V. She looked at the door expecting to hear a knock when the phone rang. She picked it up. It was the receptionist. Her crew was here and would she come down to meet them. She sprung to her feet and headed for the door. She was lonely and bored no more. When Joanne turned the corner and arrived at the main desk, she was surprised to see her crew. It was two men in their thirties, not a young camera man and his sound assistant as she expected. They were both wearing thick jackets and blue jeans. They approached her. “Hi I’m Paul,” said the taller and thinner of the two. He was prematurely graying with sad blue eyes. She shook his hand “Hi, Joanne” she said and shook his hand. The second man had a darker complexion almost Maori look about him with straight dark hair. He was quite solid. He smiled as he shook her hand “Ray Garcia” He said. “Pleased to meet you” she replied. “Are you ready to go”? Paul enquired. “Yes, let’s go”. Joanne said and they moved to the main door that led to the rear car park. Ray got to the door and opened it first for Joanne. She smiled and then the coolness of the day and the strength of the wind hit her. “My God it is cold” Joanne said. “That is Melbourne for you” Ray said in a laughing tone as they walked towards the white Toyota Camry station wagon. “I left Perth yesterday and it was 22 degrees” Joanne said. “It should be fine by the weekend” Paul replied as he opened the car door for Joanne. She was to sit in the front. Paul would drive. Getting in the car was like stepping into another world. It was warm and silent. She could not hear the wind or feel the cold. “Nice and warm in here” Joanne said. “Don’t get too comfortable, St.Luke’s isn’t far from here” Paul replied. He started the car and looked at the Melway street directory that was wedged under the front driver’s seat. He had the page dog-eared. He looked at it carefully then turned the page. He seemed to memorize it. “Ok, lets go” Paul said and drove towards Nepean Highway.
As the car turned left onto the highway, Joanne saw Frankston properly for the first time. She couldn’t help but notice the grey sky, some clouds quite dark, foreboding some grayish with a white lining. They were in the direction of the bay and it looked like they were in Northern Europe where the seaside towns are painted as grey towns with grey skies. Melbourne looked like that especially when it was overcast. To a young woman from Perth it looked depressing, ugly; to many Melbournians it was cozy. Even though it was spring, the weather had been unusually cold. It was the type of weather for reading good books, drinking red wine and having hearty meals. They drove for about a minute before they turned left and passed the Frankston Police station on the left hand side with the bayside shopping complex on the right. The station was large and needed to be, it was not a quiet place for the Police. They were soon over the bridge and in Beach Street. The word “beach” brings connotations of warm weather, people wearing swimmers, convertibles driving around with their tops down, but this was not that type of beach street. The other side of Beach Street led to the beach, this side led towards Karingal and it was grayish. There was a young man standing on the corner of Petrie and Beach Street wearing sunglasses on a cloudy day. He wore a blue and white plait shirt. He wore track pants and white runners. His shirt was not tucked in. He was thin, his shirt untucked He was just staring into nowhere with his hands in his pockets as they drove by. Joanne thought of doing her story with a background against the beach, you know, showing Robert and whoever else taking a casual stroll on the shore, maybe even sitting in the sand and looking over the bay. It was cold and too windy so this was not going to happen.
If you are not looking, you will miss St.Luke’s Frankston church near the freeway over pass, that is why it has a tall white tower with a white cross on it that is seen from a great distance on the freeway. Its tower and cross can be seen over the freeway over pass as if to defy the environment around it. Amongst the noise and gray ness of the freeway, the tower is visible for those who choose to see.
As the car turned into the car park of the church grounds, there were no other cars there. They all stared at the building. It seemed quiet and to be honest, it seemed scary. The church building that was less than 50 years old had darkness to it. Why are old churches scary? It had though an aura, energy about it that Joanne couldn’t feel and at that moment wouldn’t understand. It felt safe to those who were comfortable with God and the tall tower seemed very protective of its brethren. They stopped the car and got out. As they got out of the car, they noticed it wasn’t as windy. The freeway overpass was blocking most of it but it was noisy from the traffic. Joanne looked around. “Doesn’t look like anyone is here,” she said. They all walked around and looked into glass doors and windows. There was no light or any signs of activity. It was Ray Garcia who first noticed the stocky smiling man on the porch of the cream brick house next to the church. He was almost bald, had half a tidy dark beard and metal framed glasses. He waved to them and Ray waved back. He wore a black shirt and black trousers. Even though it was far away, the glint on his left side shirt pocket was caused, he knew by a gold cross pin. “Over there” Ray said and Joanne began to walk towards the house. Joanne was glad to get out of the cold. The two men took the camera and sound recording equipment from the rear of the car. Ray touched his crucifix necklace under his shirt quickly. He felt uneasy and so did Paul. Ray was the cameraman and Paul the sound recorder. Paul was concentrating on getting the equipment out of the car while Ray felt a little uneasy as he took out the camera. Joanne smiled as she walked up the driveway of the cream brick home that was over grown with bushes that seemed to hug the house. There were two cars in the driveway. “You must be Joanne” the man said in a cheerful English accented voice. He was a stocky man in his late forties with a warm smile. “Yes, I am” she said cheerfully putting her hand out to him. He shook it. “I am Graham, the reverend here, pleased to meet you” “It is so cold” Joanne said and rubbed her arms even though they were well covered. “Yes we have had a cold snap” Graham replied “but it should fine up by the weekend. “I hope so” Joanne added. They both looked in the direction of the Paul and Ray as they walked towards the house. For Paul, it didn’t mean much, just another job, but for Ray it was different. He felt the cross bearing down on him as if it was watching him like a menacing eagle. He was a catholic Pilipino and being close to a church was to be respectful and awesome. He felt humbled and almost intimidated by it all; the way so many Catholics feel when they approach a church. As they came up the driveway, Ray sensed a gloomy uneasiness within him. Even though he saw the reverend Graham smiling he felt the power, and the grace that came from him. He could see the rustic cross screwed to the brick wall near the doorway as if the territory ahead belonged to God. “Hello, I am Graham” he said and put his hand out to be shaken. Paul shook it first “Paul is my name” Paul said. “Hello Paul” Ray shook his hand. “Ray, father” “Pleased to meet you, Ray, come inside where we can be warm.”
When Graham opened the front door for them, Ray could see a polished wooden cross on the wall in front of them. It made him feel uncomfortable as they walked in. Ray had never been to an Anglican Church or vicarage. He was had not been to a Roman Catholic Church either for a very long time. Once in, the house was warm. Ray had taken only a short walk from the car to the doorway of a priest’s residence, but it was enough to anger his demons. Ray felt uneasy of the influence of Satan trying to persuade him not to enter the house yet the allure of God asking him to come in. He had not wanted to do this assignment originally, he could have called in sick, many Melbournians had a cold that week due to the bad weather and was in two minds about it. He knew maybe God would be aware of him and that he was a lapsed Catholic. He even felt that maybe the reverend would question him about his faith and he would not know what to say. In the end he decided to go hoping it would be easy but the last few minutes were not, and it was not going to get easier. As they stood near the doorway a woman Angela came from the room to the right, which served as an office. She had her nametag on her left lapel of her navy blue jacket and skirt .She had wavy hair that had gone grey a long time ago and had large glasses. She was close to 75 years of age yet moved quickly, smiled and had happy clear blue eyes. She had a dignity about her. She came to them Hello, just in here please, Robert and John are praying,” She said in a lowered voice. She led them into a lounge room to their left. As they entered the room they were quiet. They felt a compulsion to be quiet as if something terrible would happen if they weren’t. The walls were a warm cream color and it was obvious that the room had been set up as a conference room. There was a television set and a video recorder near the door and an open cupboard full of Christian books and tapes. Simple plastic chairs were stacked up against the walls in columns. The group went to the two sofas against the wall and sat down. They put their equipment down on the floor. “If you could just wait for about 10 minutes or so while Robert and John are praying then you can go to the room.” Angela said in a pleasant but confident voice with a slight English accent. She was an old world woman, standing in front of them, her feet close together. She had the manner of a mother superior and gave the impression she would not take any nonsense from anyone. Graham was not far behind. He approached them. “Cup of coffee, tea?” He enquired. “Yes please” Paul said “Coffee” said Ray. “Coffee would be nice” Joanne added. “Good” Angela said and both she and Graham went into the kitchen. The group sat on the sofa, just looking around, not quite sure what to say or do. This was something out of their experience. Ray looked at Joanne and she rolled her eyes. None of this was having any effect on Joanne at all. It was an old house built in the 1960s with some old people. After a short moment, Graham entered the room with a platter of cut fruitcake and a variety of biscuits. “Now you must have some of this before I eat most of it” he said with a smile. Paul and Ray took some fruitcake while Joanne said a pleasant no thanks. Angela came into the room and asked them how they wanted their coffee and tea. Paul ordered a tea, one sugar; Ray and Joanne had coffee, no sugar. Graham took down one of the chairs stacked up against the wall and sat in front of them. “Did you find this place alright”? He asked. “Yes, no problems” Paul replied. “Good, sometimes people go to Carrum Downs, there is a St.Luke’s church there. The film crew nodded politely. When the drinks came, they were happy to have a warm drink, and for the two of them, some cake. “It has been cold lately,” Joanne said meekly. “Yes, but they expect fine weather for the weekend” Graham added with a smile. “Can I ask if you are all Christians”? Angela said in a matter of fact voice. They looked around at each other. Ray looked weakly. “I am” Ray said. Paul shook his head. Joanne sort of nodded. Angela could intimidate without trying. She looked at them in such a way and they felt like she had caught them masturbating. “We often have a prayer for visitors, would you like a prayer”? Angela said. There was a moment of awkward silence and every one looked at each other. “I take that as a no, then” Angela said quite calmly. “Well anyway enjoy your coffee and Robert will not be long.” She finished off and left the room. Graham sat there opposite them not sure what to say. The others continued to drink and have their cakes. After a while he said, “Excuse me” and left the room. Paul and Joanne thought nothing of it but Ray was uncomfortable. He knew Angela and Graham were offended. They could see Angela go to the office room of the house near the front doorway, and they could hear Graham walking around in the kitchen area. Ray felt a little awkward and felt as if he should apologize. He got up and went to the kitchen area.
The kitchen was a brightly lit room only a small table and three chairs around it. There were some letters on the table and Graham was standing and reading one of them in his hand. He looked at Ray when he walked in. “Hello” he said awkwardly. “I’m………..a Catholic” he finished off almost apologetically. Graham smiled and put down his letter. “We believe in Jesus, which is the main thing isn’t it” “Yes”, Ray said awkwardly, like a schoolboy. He took his crucifix necklace from out of under his shirt and showed Graham. Graham looked at it and smiled. “My mother gave it to me” Ray said. Graham smiled understandingly. “…She is dead now” Ray added. “She died last year”. There was a long pause then Graham said “I think you will get a lot out of this weekend, Ray.” Ray nodded. He left the room. In the lounge room, Paul was still seated on the sofa, but Joanne was walking around the room, arms folded. She was glancing at the book cabinet that was full of Christian literature and tapes. Ray wanted to say something but didn’t. He didn’t like the way she was behaving in a place of worship. She seemed insensitive to what was happening around her and her manner was if she was waiting for a convicted criminal just about to leave jail. She just looked at him, said nothing. He looked at the cabinet too to see what she was looking at but didn’t notice anything in particular. After a moment, they heard some footsteps along the corridor and then heard some talking in the office room. The lounge room door opened and Angela emerged. She looked quite stern. “Robert will see you now” Paul and Ray gathered their equipment and followed Angela down the corridor.
The corridor was dimly lit and straight away it gave an impression different to that of a normal house. The white doors were closed and they had small neat hand written signs on them saying “prayer room 1, prayer room 2 “and so on. Angela led the way to “Prayer room 3” and opened the door quietly as if a sick dying person was convalescing. She opened the door and held it open without a smile as Joanne and the film crew walked in.
As Joanne walked in, she was a little surprised by the young man she saw seated in an old fashioned couch, which looked like it had come from the 1970s. He stood up slowly and shook her hand with a weak smile. “Robert Hill” he said “Joanne” she said. He sat straight down. “Thank you for inviting us” She said and noticed there was a simpler chair directly opposite him. She made her way over to it. The prayer room was almost devoid of pictures and decorations. It had a small cabinet with religious books in it, and a small round table between them with “The Bible” on it. Immediately, Ray and Paul went to work, Ray unpacking his camera and Paul getting his microphone cables ready. Joanne looked at Ray, “Ray, is this angle okay”? “Fine” he said. “Lighting okay”? she enquired. “Yes, we will set up a lamp to enhance the picture.” He replied. “Because the walls are quite bright, they may cause a reflection” She finished off. “We will test it soon” Ray said. At that moment a priest John Fletcher walked in. He was about 60 years of age, almost bald with a pleasant smile and frameless glasses. He wore the black shirt with the priest’s collar, the black trousers and black shoes. He had a silver cross on the left collar of his shirt. He closed the door behind him. “Hello everyone, I am John, the reverend of Frankston north and Carrum downs” “Hello” Joanne said. “I have come into this room to pray with Robert, if you don’t mind that the Lord is with us and will bless us during this time as we communicate in this special room”, John said. There was a long pause then John walked over to Paul who was unraveling some cable ……”If you could wait for a moment, we would like to pray for the holy spirit to enter the room and guide us.” Paul stopped what he was doing. John and Robert closed their eyes. John started “Dear Lord, we ask the presence of the holy spirit to fill this room and guide Robert and protect him as well as the others here. Fill us, bless us, heal us dear Lord. Amen” Robert said Amen as well, so did Ray. Paul and Joanne did not have their eyes closed at all during the prayer. “Thank you” John said cheerfully and left the room. Joanne seemed relieved. Paul continued to unwind the cable and Ray prepared his camera. Joanne noticed Robert looking at Paul unwinding the electric cable and plugging it in to an available wall socket. She was right, he had blue eyes. He hand his right hand on his right cheek, eyes almost glazed, calm, disinterested in what was happening around him. Joanne thought he had intensity beyond his thirty years. She had her A5 notebook in her hand and pen. “Robert, just a few points of clarification…you are 30 years old,” Joanne enquired. “You are a nutritionist”? “Yes,” Robert said. Joanne scribbled down a few notes. Ray was kneeling and aiming his camera at Joanne. Joanne looked at it. “We need more lighting” Ray said, it is much too dark. Joanne turned to Robert. “We shall start soon, we will set up some lighting and then we will ask you a few questions.” She said. Robert just nodded. As Paul and Ray got their equipment ready, and Joanne adjusted her skirt, Robert tuned out. He found their presence an intrusion. It wasn’t just their noise of shuffling around the room; it was the lack of reverence coming from them is such a special place, a room of healing and prayer. Paul turned on a light on a metal stand and then turned it off. Ray and Paul communicated to each other about the correct balance of lighting and then they set up a few shots of Joanne. She was a beautiful woman. The lighting on her was balanced and they filmed her asking a few questions such as “when did you discover God”…..Where did you get the idea for a healing weekend”?... These were preliminary shots that would be edited into the footage so it would not be monotonous watching Robert’s face all the time talking. This was explained to Robert.
After more than 15 agonizing 15 minutes, the camera and light (diffused) was aimed at Robert. “When did you discover God” Joanne asked in her sweet journalistic voice. “About 2 years ago I felt that…………” “Hold on Robert,” Paul interrupted taking his headphones of his ears “you have to speak a little louder, it isn’t clear yet” He finished. “Okay”. Robert said reluctantly. “I felt a calling about a year ago. I felt there were some questions about life that were puzzling me. I experienced the presence of the Holy Spirit enter my life at a Christian gathering……….I made a commitment to explore these feelings and thoughts, in particular concerning evil and sickness. I became aware that sickness in particular is the result of sin. The resolution or redemption of sin is the key to not only good health, but happiness.” Robert said. “Do you believe that sickness and evil are from Demons”? Joanne asked. “Yes, we here in this……….” “Just a bit louder Robert, you have a soft voice” Paul said interrupting. “Yes Robert, if you could speak a little louder you do have a soft voice.” Joanne added. Robert looked up at the ceiling then leaned forward at Joanne. “Yes!!, there are demons that influence human behavior and these demons control a person’s well being, and with the authority of Jesus Christ we expel them.” He sat back in his chair. Joanne looked at the camera. “Ray, did you get that”? “Yeah I did” Ray said. “Good” Joanne said.
After half an hour of interviewing, over and over again, repeating answers, looking this way and that, Joanne decided to go out in the back yard to get some outside shots. In the back yard there was a lemon tree full of lemons. Ray set up his camera and Joanne got Robert to walk towards the lemon tree. He walked too fast, he got called back, he walked again. He was asked to pick a lemon, it was too fast, so he had to pick another one, much slower, and then turn his head this way, that way etc., all the nonsense that goes along with so many commercial TV interviews, staged performances to enhance a point of view.
After this was done, Joanne took a video of recorded intercessions to look at. The whole idea was for her to edit to take a few “exciting” intercessions and put them with the taped interview to create an interesting and entertaining report on this young man and his healing thoughts. Joanne went inside to talk to the reverend John and Paul was walking towards the back door of the house his bag of cables in his hand. Ray stood back near the lemon tree and rewound the tape. There is nothing more embarrassing for a cam |