The Zombie Gospel

“Jesus Died for Zombies.” I left the last slide up for a moment and let the message sink in. “If you get anything from what I’ve presented tonight, remember this,” I said as I pointed at the screen. I turned off the projector.

“Any questions?” I asked, but I never had to ask. There were always questions.

“Excuse me,” an angry man began without waiting for me to call on him, “how can you make the outrageous claim that my Lord Jesus Christ died for zombies when they are flesh-eating undead? They have no souls, sir!”

“Thank you for that question,” I began. “I personally think they do have souls, and that’s why I-”

“They eat human brains!” he yelled.

“I’m aware of that. Give me a minute to answer your question. First of all, let’s go back to a question I asked in my presentation: what makes zombies? If you’ll recall, I mentioned that there are several proposed explanations; everything from global warming to alien spores. To be honest, I personally don’t know the answer, but I do know that something changed them. They were, all of them, created in the image of God. They were beings just like you and I with an immortal soul. If that’s true, then Jesus died for them.”

A dozen hands shot up. I called on a forty something woman in a navy blue sweater in the second row.

“Doesn’t the Bible say that it’s appointed for man to die once and after that comes judgment?”

“You are so right about that. Hebrews 9:27 is the verse you’re referring to. But I don’t think that’s really the issue here, because I don’t think zombies died. Certainly something is affecting their brain function, which is affecting their appetites, but they are undead, not dead. Does that help?”

“Thank you.”

I called on a hipster looking guy in black-rimmed glasses.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but what kind of experience have you had with zombies, you know, on a first hand basis?”

It always came to this question. Some people honestly wanted to know if they were listening to a theorist or a practitioner, but others just wanted to hear zombie stories. Zombies were on everybody’s minds these days. As of this morning there had been about twelve thousand confirmed zombie encounters or sightings, or “Zeos” as they were popularly called. But these were clustered in three main areas: Bakersfield, California, Boise, Idaho and Bozeman, Montana. No one knew why the zombie population was centered in these areas, but the fact that all three city names started with the letter B was the source of untold speculation. Even more, every city within five hundred miles that started with the same letter was on Red Alert. To make matters worse, doomsday prophets and zombie “experts” from all around the world were creating a culture of fear by telling anyone who’d listen that the dreaded Zombie Apocalypse, or Zombie Armageddon, or Zombie Whatever was right around the corner.

I looked at the young man and decided he just wanted to know if I knew what I was talking about.

“Yes, I do have first-hand experience with zombies, and I’d love to tell you my story, but why don’t we do it this way? I think there are some people who need to get up early tomorrow for work and such. Let’s end the meeting here, take five, and anyone who’d like to hear more can meet me back here.”

I hit the men’s room, grabbed a Dr. Pepper from the machine, and when I got back to the auditorium it looked like about half the crowd had left. I grabbed a chair and sat on the stage next to the microphone. I pulled it down closer to my face and recounted a story I’d told more times than I could remember.

“Five years ago,” I began “I didn’t believe in zombies. I classified them with Bigfoot, alien abductions and the Illuminati. Then slowly but surely, as the number of Zeos increased, I was forced to accept the existence of zombies. Two years ago I saw my first zombie. I was travelling north on Interstate Fifteen out of Idaho Falls. I saw a woman cross the freeway a quarter mile in front of me. I thought she might be in distress, because she walked funny, so I slowed down to see if she needed help. She crossed my side of the freeway and the median and then she just seemed to leap in front of a southbound semi. He hit the brakes but she was too close. His front fender caught her and knocked her back onto the median. I pulled over, so did the trucker and we ran to see how bad it was.

“It’s hard to describe what we saw. I expected to see a dead person, but this heap lying at my feet had suffered from much more than what I’d just seen. Her body was twisted and mangled from the accident, certainly, but, how can I put this gently, there were parts missing. I don’t mean missing fingers or limbs; she had chunks of flesh missing from several places on her arms and legs. Some were scabbed over, and others were still oozing some awful looking fluid. I didn’t know what to make of it then, and the whole scene made me sick. I know now that if zombies can’t find a food source, they start eating themselves.

“From that day forward zombies became a part of my life. The day I saw the woman on the freeway, I was actually moving to Bozeman, Montana for a new job as an associate pastor of a local church. As you certainly know by now, there are more zombies in Bozeman than anywhere in the world. That’s not more zombies per capita, more zombies period. No one knows why, but the outbreak there has been intense and consistent over time. When I moved there it wasn’t as bad as it is now, but Zeos stories were everywhere. I had barely gotten unpacked when I saw my second zombie. I was just leaving the grocery store and suddenly I saw people running and yelling in the parking lot. Then I saw him…stumbling around by a dumpster. Then I watched as four men went to their pickups, got their guns and fired shots at the zombie until he quit moving. Then one of the men took a pistol and put a bullet right between his eyes to make sure. It wasn’t long after that that everyone started carrying a gun with them, including me. A month after I bought the gun, I killed my first zombie.

“What happened?” A young coed asked.

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t pretty, or noble, or heroic. I was in my car and had just pulled up to a four way stop north of town. As soon as I stopped a zombie slammed into the side of my car, his face and hands plastered against my driver’s side window. He reared back and slammed against the window again. That’s when I panicked. I fumbled for the gun I kept in the console between the seats. I shot at him right through the window. I blew off part of his left cheek and ear, but he wasn’t dead. He stumbled back and fell down. I leaned out of the car and shot at him again. I hit him somewhere center mass, but he still wasn’t dead. He just thrashed back and forth on the ground making some sloppy, moist, guttural sounds. It was awful. I got out of the car and put two in his head. Then I threw up. Then I called the police and sat in my car with the shakes until they arrived.

“Before I go on, let me tell you what we’ve learned about killing zombies. It takes a head shot to bring them down for good, but even then the shot has to be, how shall I say, thorough. By that I mean it has to do a lot of damage or the zombie will reanimate. All I can say is that the human body has an amazing resilience. That’s why people started burning the corpses to ashes. That is also why some whack jobs want to nuke Bozeman. I mean, when we were only seeing one here and one there we could deal effectively with them, but when they started joining together, well, it’s really hard to burn a horde. Trust me on that.

“The first zombie horde I saw terrified me beyond words. One evening I was driving home after visiting a family that lived way out. I saw what I thought was a herd of deer moving out of the trees maybe a hundred yards from the highway. I stopped to watch them for a few minutes. As soon as my car stopped they picked up their pace and tuned in my direction. That’s when I realized it wasn’t a herd of deer; it was a frenzied mob of zombies. I started the car, but they were moving much faster than I had dreamed possible. As I spun out in the gravel and back on to the pavement two were actually able to grab hold of my bumper. I found a hand still attached when I got home. I remember looking in my rearview mirror and seeing this mass of ghastly faces. When it became obvious they weren’t going to catch me, they turned on each other in a horrific paroxysm of rage. First chance I had I spent half my savings on guns and ammunition. That encounter helped me understand the significance of the phrase “plague monster” to describe zombies.

I mentioned a minute ago that it’s hard to burn a horde. Let me relate one story that illustrates this point. After my encounter with the horde I told the sheriff what had happened. That prompted a town hall meeting. At the meeting we came up with a plan. There was an old warehouse not far from where I saw the horde. We would lure them inside, seal the doors, and burn the building to the ground. Well, that sounded good at the meeting. It didn’t turn out so good in the end. Someone spotted the horde and we “made contact.” There were over two hundred of them. They followed just like we’d planned and we led them right into our trap. We closed the doors. We had gas cans lined all around the inside of the warehouse wired up and ready to ignite. We threw the switch and it seemed like all hell broke loose. We waited and watched…and listened. The screams were beyond description. We thought we’d defeated them, but we were so wrong. Burning zombies climbed up into the rafters and leaped out of the upper windows. We hadn’t even considered them. Try to imagine a burning zombie throwing himself into a crowd of onlookers. Now try to imagine five or six or twenty. We managed to kill most of them, that night, but thirteen citizens were burned horribly that night, eight of them died. Four trucks were destroyed and a hundred acres were burned along with the warehouse. My worst memory from that night was seeing a burning zombie child running through the field toward the trees and four men chasing her with their guns firing in a mad panic. They finally brought her down, but what can I say? That’s a sight no one should ever see.

“After that the term Zeos became passé. Zombie encounters were no longer isolated incidences; they were a way of life. I think after the warehouse incident people thought maybe the problem was under control. Far from it. As a result people were moving out in droves. Entire neighborhoods were void of residents. The government placed troops in the area. The sound of helicopters could be heard at any time of day. The church I was working for finally had to close their doors. The last thing I did as an employee was help put plywood over all the windows. I made the rounds and said goodbye to the few people who were left. Then I packed and made plans to return to Oregon. By my last night in town things had gone from horrible to staggering. I probably should have spent the night at the high school like almost everyone else, but I didn’t want to leave my car outside unattended. All my worldly possessions were in it, including my guns. As it turned out, I believe God wanted me to stay in my house that night.

“About two o’clock in the morning I woke with a start. I heard a sound outside and I feared the worst. I grabbed a pistol and the big flashlight I kept by the bed and went out to the living room. I heard the sound again. It was at the front door, only it was a voice I recognized. I opened the door a crack and saw my next door neighbor, Andy, sitting on the doormat and leaning against the wall. Blood was everywhere and Andy was a mess. “Help me, Tim,” he gasped. ‘They got me.’ I started to drag him inside when I saw that he wasn’t alone. Right there at the foot of the steps were two zombies coming toward me. I fired without thinking. I emptied the clip, and thankfully they both went down. I shone my flashlight out onto the lawn, but didn’t see anything. Andy startled me when he grabbed my pants leg. I looked down at him and he motioned with his hand. I knelt beside him.

‘You’re a pastor, right?’ he whispered.

‘Yeah, I am.’

‘Tell me.’

‘Tell you what?’

‘I don’t want to die like this. I don’t want to go to hell. Tell me how I can find God.’

‘Right now?’ I asked as I scanned the yard for zombies.

‘I don’t have much time. Tell me.’

“I sat down with Andy, my feet just inches from the zombie splayed out on the steps. I put another clip in my gun and shared Jesus with a dying man.

‘Okay, Andy, here’s the short version. All of us are sinners. We have no hope. But Jesus, the Son of God, died on the cross to pay the price for our sin. If we accept him as our savior, he forgives us, and when we die we will go to heaven.’ I paused. ‘Do you understand what I’ve just said?’

‘Yes…I understand.’ Every syllable was an effort.

‘Okay, Andy, pray after me…Dear Jesus.’

‘Dear Jesus.’

‘Thank you for saving me.’

‘Thank you…thank you for saving me.’

‘I believe in you.’

‘I believe in you.’

‘Please forgive me.’

‘Please forgive me.’

‘Amen.’

‘Amen.’ There was a long pause, then ‘Thanks, Tim. I…I wanted to find you…I was afraid to, to wait.’

‘I’m glad you’re here, Andy.’

‘I’ll be with Jesus in a few minutes.’

‘Yes you will. I don’t want you to die, but I know you’ll go to be with him.’

‘Thanks, man.’

“Those were the last words he spoke. We sat there in the dark for maybe five minutes. I listened to Andy’s breathing. All of a sudden he made a choking sound and stopped breathing. I didn’t try to revive him. I stood up. I was trying to figure out what to do next when I saw the zombie on the steps move. I flipped the safety off my gun and turned on my flashlight. He was looking at me. And then the most remarkable thing happened. He spoke.

‘Help me,’ he croaked.

“I want to be perfectly clear about this: no zombie has ever spoken. After all the studies, all the research, it was definitively concluded that whatever the cause, whether viral or otherwise, the damage to the person was located primarily in the cerebral cortex of the brain. This explained both the jerky movements and the loss of speech. In the early days many zombies had been captured and studied. Nothing worked. No amount of therapy brought back any function. No drug, real or anticipated, offered any hope. Granted, there were no long term studies. It was impossible. Zombies require, how can I say, a certain diet. Deprived of that, as I’ve said, they eat themselves. When they were restrained and hooked to IV’s, they screamed so violently they often burst blood vessels and died that way. So, up until that night on the porch, the only solution seemed to put them out of their misery quickly and humanely.”

“What do you mean, ‘up until that night?” a guy with a mohawk asked.

“When the zombie spoke I was dumfounded. I wasn’t sure I’d heard what I heard, but he said it again.”

‘Help me. Plezz.’

“I kept a good grip on my pistol, but I kneeled down next to him.

“Are you…are you one of them?” I asked.

‘Zam.’

“How can you speak? What’s going on?”

‘I don’t zoe.’ He said. ‘When zou were…when zou were praying…I…zomezing happened…’

“I could barely understand him. What can I, uh, how can I help you?” I asked.

‘Plezz…pray. Pray zith me too…plezz.’

“Okay…after me…dear Jesus.” I started out like with Andy.

‘Der Jezz.’

“Thank you for saving me.”

“Zankou fer zaving meh.’

“Please forgive me.”

‘Plezz fergive, plezz forgive…OH GAW PLEZZ FERGIVE!’

“And that was it. He was dead. Really dead this time, but so alive in another, brand new way.”

I looked around at my audience. Nobody said anything.

“So, that’s how it started; what I call The Zombie Gospel. Since that night I have become more and more convinced of what Paul said in Romans: ‘the mind controlled by the Spirit is life and peace.’ Don’t misunderstand what I’m saying. There is a huge price to pay. You put your life on the line just for the opportunity to speak. But, it may be our only hope. It certainly is theirs.”

I was getting tired and needed to bring the meeting to a close.

“If you’re interested, I’m making another trip to Bozeman this spring. Get on my mailing list and I’ll be in contact. There’s a sign up at the door. Thanks for coming.”

Everyone left and I was packing my computer away when I noticed someone still sitting in the back.

“You okay?” I called back. I could see them shake their head. I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman.

“You want to talk?”

They nodded, got up and walked to the front row. It was a young man. He was dressed in a long coat, dark jeans and boots. He was wearing sunglasses. He had a stocking cap pulled down tight and a scarf wrapped around the lower part of his face. He just stood there saying nothing, hands in the pockets of his coat.

“How can I help you?” I asked as I clipped the latch on my bag. He looked at me for a long time, then he pulled the scarf away from his mouth and right then I knew.

“Zankou,” was all he said.

Good Saturday

I've been thinking about silence. The Saturday before Easter reminds me that silence is also part of God's plan. I'm sure the disciples were confused on Saturday, but that was their lack of faith and understanding of how God worked. We can look back and we know that the resurrection was imminent, but they didn't see that. This tells me that occasionally silence is part of God's plan. It builds faith and trust.
I was thinking about Ps 131 where David has quieted his heart like a child. I think that is where I need to be when God seems silent. In other words, it's a good idea that if God is silent, I need to be silent. This is a time for child-like trust, not running around worrying and making a lot of noise. When I was a kid there was a ditty that went: "When in trouble or in doubt, run in circles scream and shout." But we all know that never works. God is faithful, that's what we put our trust in.
We know the Good News. On Sunday, Jesus rose from the dead and changed all the rules. The resurrection is both a message of victory and a promise. Another day is coming: the Day when Jesus will return. That means that no matter how things look now, personally, in our community, country, or the world at large, nothing can change or alter the great event looming just beyond the horizon. Jesus is coming back. So, can we hold on? Can we be faithful? I think we can. I think when we really grasp the amazing truths that Jesus rose from the dead, and that he's coming back, we can. There is power in these truths. Power and hope. Let me put this another way, if we can't find hope in the resurrection, there is no such thing as hope.
I love the way Tony Campolo puts it in his sermon: "It's Friday, But Sunday's Comin'". If you'd like to watch that, click here.

Good Friday

I know this is a day late, but I wanted to post my thoughts about Good Friday anyway. I was surveying some of the passages in the NT where the cross is mentioned. One that stuck out to me is from Heb 12:1-3. Jesus "endured the cross, scorning its shame" therefore I should not grow weary and lose heart. There is hope in these words, not just for salvation, but for the race as well. These are tough times for a lot of people, but Good Friday is our hope. The goal of our lives is not to get a job, find financial security, or anything like that. Our goal is Jesus. "Let us fix our eyes on Jesus." We do this because he is "the author and perfecter of our faith." This is the ultimate security, knowing that God is going to finish his work in us (Php 1:6).

Missy Malory's Red, Red Valentine's Day

I know it's two weeks past Valentine's Day, but here is a story I wrote for Katie a few years ago. I hope you like it:

This story is about a little girl who lived once upon a time. Her name was Malory and she lived up north, really far north. In her part of the world there were two lands. There was Southland and Northland. Northland was divided into South Northland and North Northland. North Northland was, as you can probably guess, really cold. In fact it was mostly cold all the time. Up in North Northland was a little town called Blizzard. The people who lived in Blizzard (and there weren’t many) had to bundle up in piles and piles of clothes just to go anywhere. Well, Malory and her family lived north of Blizzard. Not much farther north, mind you, but north nevertheless, not south or even east or west. In the south, at least, it didn’t snow every day, and the east actually had sunshine once in a while.

Perhaps you’re wondering: why would anyone want to live in such a cold, cold, snowy place? That’s because Malory’s father was a snow technician. He knew all about snow. He read about snow, he thought about snow and he even dreamed about snow some nights. (Who wouldn’t?) Well, if you’re going to be a snow technician, you kind of have to live where the snow is. And that is how Malory came to live north of Blizzard in North Northland; Malory and her family that is. You already know Malory’s father, the snow technician. She also had a mother and a brother Mickey, who was 7. Malory was 4.

One day in early February Mickey came running in the back door. As usual it took him five full minutes to get his hat and coat and boots and gloves and sweater and scarf off and into a pile on the kitchen floor. Malory was sitting at the kitchen table and Mommy was at the sink. Mickey was upset.

“Mom” Mickey yelled “I’m quitting school. I’m quitting school and never going back.”

Looking right at Mickey’s face, Mom asked, “Why is that?”

“Valentime’s Day” was all he said.

“Don’t you mean Valentine’s Day, Mickey?”

“That’s what I said, Mom!” Mickey wailed as he crumpled to the floor in a heap.

“So, what’s wrong with that?” she asked.

“Well, it’s horrible, that’s what. I have to get a shoe box and decorate it and put a hole in the top, and take it to school.”

“Really!” Mom said.

“It’s worse than that, Mom. I have to make my own Valentime cards for everybody in my class and put them in their boxes that they made.”

“Why is that so bad?”

“Mom! There are girls in my class.”

“I think I knew that,” she said.

“Yeah, and especially Rosie.”

“Rosie?”

“She’s that girl that won’t leave me alone. She keeps smiling at me when I’m trying to do stuff.”

“Well, all the same, Mickey, you need to make a Valentine card for everyone.”

“Mom!”

“Go pick your clothes up. We can talk about it later, and if you are nice, I’ll help you make your Valentines.”

“Even the one for Rosie?”

“Especially the one for Rosie.”

“Thanks, Mom. Can I have a cookie?”

“After the clothes, Mickey.”

“Okay.” And with that Mickey left the kitchen with his pile of clothes.

Malory was worried.

“Mom?”

“Yes, Malory?”

“What’s a Val-a…what’s a Valatime’s Day?”

“It’s called Valentine’s Day, Malory.” Mom answered. “It’s a day we celebrate once a year to say ‘I love you’ to the people closest to us.”

“Oh, well is Rosie closest to Mickey?”

“What? Oh, no, that’s just for school. Mickey’s teacher, Miss Emurian, just wants the children in her class to have a little fun and learn about the holiday.”

“What’s a holiday, Mom?” Malory asked.

“That’s a special day like Christmas or Easter.”

“Can I have a holiday?”

“What do you mean?”

“Can I make a box and get cards from my closest people?”

“Yes, Malory, of course you can. Why don’t we make a Valentine’s box after dinner? We can help Mickey make his box at the same time.”

“Thank you mommy.”

So, Malory began to look forward to making that box. By the time her daddy got home from the snow she was bursting with excitement.

“Daddy, mommy and I are going to make a Valatime’s box, and I get to cut out hearts and glue them on and all my closest people can say I love you inside!”

“Wow!” her father said. “Can I put something inside?”

“A course, Daddy. You and Mommy are my closest-closest people in the whole world.”

That evening after dinner (baked chicken, rice and salad), just like she promised, Malory’s Mom found two shoe boxes and some red paper and pink paper and white paper and scissors and glue and tape and markers and a bunch of other stuff and they spread it out on the table in the kitchen. Mickey didn’t like all the red and pink paper so he just glued some old baseball cards to his box and went upstairs. Malory loved the pink and red paper. Red was her favorite color. She put everything on her box very carefully. Pretty soon they had the best looking Valentine box anyone had ever seen. Malory was so proud of her Valentine box she took it in to show her father who was reading an article in Snow Digest magazine about snow maintenance in the urban environment.

“Daddy, look!” she exclaimed as she held out the box. Dad put the magazine down. He took the box in his hands and examined it, turning it slowly so he could see each side. Then he held it up like the Holy Grail. “This” he said solemnly, “is the paragon of Valentine boxes. This box shall set the standard for Valentine boxes for decades to come. Grandmothers will be telling their granddaughters about this box. In fact, I predict this box will be on the cover of Valentine Quarterly, before this year has passed. The reds, the pinks, the whites, are a wonder to behold, but especially the reds. The reds inspire me. In fact, I predict that on Valentine’s morn there will be red snow, lots and lots of red snow in honor of this great Valentine’s box. Mark my words Missy Malory,” he said with finality, “red snow.”

“For reals, Daddy?”

“For reals.”

It was almost two weeks until Valentine’s Day and Malory could hardly wait. It was almost like Christmas or her birthday. Every day she asked Mom to tell her how many days until Valentine’s Day. Mom would go to the calendar on the wall and mark off another day and tell Malory. Then one morning she asked and Mom said “just one more day, Malory. Tonight is Valentine’s Eve.” She was so excited she could hardly stand it. She went to bed that night with visions of red snow and a box full of love.

The next morning when Malory woke up she opened her eyes but at first she didn’t remember that today was special. Then all of a sudden she did remember. “It’s Valatime’s Day!” she screamed. She ran to the window. There was red snow as far as she could see. And right outside her window was some white snow in the shape of a big, big heart that said “Happy Valentine’s Day Malory.” Malory couldn’t read yet, but she was pretty sure she knew what it said. She put her bathrobe and slippers and ran downstairs. Mom was in the kitchen and there on the table was her Valentine box. It was full of Valentine’s cards, all from her closest people. Mom read them all to her. There were cards from Mom and Dad and their neighbors, David and Susan Needham. There were cards from people at church: the Smiths, the Kleinbecks, old Ben Rothwell, her Sunday School teacher, Mrs. James, and the Jacob twins. There were a bunch of cards that didn’t have a name on them. There was even a card from Mickey. He made a drawing of a monster with big teeth who said “I promise not to eat you for Valentine’s Day.” But her favorite Valentine came from Uncle Eugene who was a baker in North Southland. It was a heart shaped chocolate chip cookie that said: “When the chips are down you are my Valentine.” Malory had to have Mom explain it, but the cookie was really good.

What can I say? That day was just special. After Mickey got on the bus for school Mom let Malory go outside and make a big red snowman. When she came inside Mom had hot cocoa and warm banana bread waiting on the table. Later that day they made a heart cake with red icing (of course!) and put little candy hearts all over the top. When they ate the cake for dessert that night, it made their lips and tongues red and everybody laughed.

Well, you may not have guessed this, but Malory had a red, red Valentine’s Day every year for the next three years. But the following year something bad happened. One Valentine morning right after sunrise and long before she usually got up, Malory was awakened by a noise. She looked out the window and could just make out the figure of Dad in the back yard. She put some clothes on and went downstairs. She went outside. Dad was spraying something on the snow.

“Daddy, what are you doing?” she asked.

“Well, you’ve caught me, Malory. I’m making the snow red.”

Malory was quiet for a moment as she watched Dad spray the snow. Then she said, “I thought God made the snow red.”

“I know you did, but it was me. I invented a nontoxic dye that wouldn’t come off on your clothing. Every year I got up and sprayed the snow before you woke up.”

Malory got big tears in her eyes. “You lied to me, Daddy,” she said and ran up to her room and cried and cried. A few minutes later Mom came into her room.

“Malory?”

”Daddy lied to me,” Malory said, and then she started crying all over again. “There was no red snow! He made it himself.”

“I know, honey.”

“He lied to me!”

“Where is that first Valentine box you made?” Mom asked. Malory got it out of the closet.

“Malory, can I ask you a question?”

“What question?” she cried.

“Why did you make this box?”

“So people could say ‘I love you.’”

“That’s right. Look here is a card from Mrs. James and here is that funny card from Mickey. Here is the one Dad made. Did these make you feel loved?”

“Yeah.”

“What about all these cards with no name on them?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you know who wrote these cards?”

“No.”

“I did, Malory. I wanted your first Valentine box to be full to the top because I love you. Do you think I lied to you?”
“Well, I guess not.” Just then Malory looked up and saw Dad standing in the doorway. He looked sad. That made Malory feel sad.

“I’m sorry, Mal, I just wanted to make you happy. I love you.”

“I love you too, Daddy,” Malory said, and she ran over to him and hugged him real hard.

“You know, Malory,” Dad said as she was hugging him real hard, “I worked a long time on that invention. And then every year it took three hours to spray our yard and all the other yards. And I had to get their permission even before I could do that. Do you know why I went to all that work?”

“Because you love me?”

“That’s right. Is that your first Valentine box on the bed?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you still have the Valentine from ‘the Red, Red, Snow Man’?”

Malory went to the Valentine box and found the card. “Do you mean this one?”

“Yes,” Dad answered. “Do you know who that’s from?”

“No.”

“It’s from me. I’m the Red, Red Snow man. Was that a lie?”

“No.”

“That’s right. It’s not a lie, it’s love. The red, red snow and the Red, Red Snow Man are ways I show my love to you.”

Malory hugged Dad real hard again. “I love you more than ever, Daddy!” She said.

“I know, Mal.”

“Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“Would you make the red, red snow again next year?”

“I make this prediction, Malory. Next year’s snow will be redder than red. Next year’s red snow will be the paragon of red snows. It will set the standard for red snows from now on. Mark my words Missy Malory. Redder snow.”

“For reals, Daddy?”

“For reals.”

The End

Back to the Garden

“I wonder where this goes?” Mary thought as she saw the little overgrown trail diverge from the one she’d been exploring. She’d been out that day enjoying the warm day and looking for some easy trips for her kids. She was right outside of town, so this could be just what she was looking for. She thought, “I’ll just go a little ways and see what’s there.” As it turned out, it was a short walk. The trail took her to the top of a little knoll. She found what used to be an attractive garden. There was a low stone wall circling the top of the knoll and an arch where the trail ended. She entered the garden. It was overgrown with weeds.

“This is great,” she said out loud as she looked around. There was a view of the city and off in the distance she could see a mountain range. “Nice.” Then she noticed something in the weeds. At the far end facing the city was a monument just slightly higher than the wall. There was some kind of inscription on the top. Mary brushed off the dirt to see if she could read it.

“Joseph Matthews,” she read. “Doesn’t ring a bell.” She looked at his dates and was surprised to see that the monument was almost seventy five years old. This guy Joseph had lived a long time ago. Below the dates she read:

“Psalm 112:6 “A righteous man will be remembered forever.”

On the first anniversary of his death we dedicate this monument as a tribute to a man who had a profound impact on this city. He never owned a home, preferring to live in apartments all his life. He never held office and yet many leaders in this city looked to him as their spiritual mentor. He was not an ordained minister, but the masses of people he ministered to, mostly one at a time, can hardly be counted. It has been said that “each person in the world is the center of an ever-expanding circle of influence that transcends time and space.” There is no one in our experience who more embodied that truth than Joe. The following is a short, but by no means comprehensive, listing of the things done by some of those whom Joe had introduced to the Way: Eight churches were planted, a Bible school and seminary founded, a food bank, a performing arts center and a job training center, not to mention The Cherrywood Foundation, were all established by “Joe’s People” as they came to be called. We are honored to be called by that name, and hopefully we honor his memory with this testimony. Joe would not want this honor. He notoriously shied away from the banquets and accolades others wanted to bestow on him. We hope this will inspire many to live the way Joe lived in total service to God.

Mary looked up from the monument. “Somebody ought to pull these weeds,” she said and knelt down and starting working.

The Race Marked Out For Us Part Two

The old man stood outside the car. He hadn’t driven in years. Getting in the car was not going to be easy. His back was killing him and the arthritis in his knees was screaming for attention. Eighty six years hadn’t done any favors to his body. But once he got in he couldn’t remember if he’d brought the keys. When he found the keys he couldn’t remember which key it was. Then he found it, started the car and drove slowly out of the complex.

He was probably driving too slow. Other cars zipped past and some kid in a big pickup tailgated him all the way out of town. Then he passed and blew his horn at him. But after that it was smooth sailing. He just kept both hands on the wheel and let the cruise control take over. It was good to be driving again. Elisabeth would probably lecture him for it, but he could handle that. She wasn’t prone to nagging, and he knew she loved him. After all these years and the kids and the grandkids and the waking up to each other across the bed, yeah, he knew she loved him. Plus she told him. She told him with her eyes and her voice and her body language. She told him in church when she’d reach over and lay her hand on his. She told him when they were at an event and he overheard her talking to her friends and heard his name come up and heard the pride in her voice and she’d look over and see him looking at her and she’d smile and then go on talking.

The city turned to residential and the residential turned to rural and pretty soon all he could see on both sides of the highway was acres and acres of farm land. It was a vast plain of growing things. He rolled down the window and took in the earthy smells. It was great-for a while-then he got cold and had to roll the window back up. Then he had to turn on the heater. He couldn’t remember how to turn on the heater and he almost drove off the road. Then he remembered. The hot air felt good on his face.

After an hour or so, he noticed the top of a mountain peaking over the horizon off to his right, and he knew right away that’s where he was going. The closer he got to the mountain, the larger it appeared. He came to a crossroads, turned right and now the mountain was directly in front of him. The highway became a country road and the country road became a gravel road and the gravel road became a dirt road. For a while he couldn’t see the mountain. Then the road curved and there it was, off in the distance. Forty minutes later it was all he could see. There were big, tall trees on both sides of the road, and this magnificent mountain dead ahead.

The road finally got too narrow for the car, so he had to stop. He turned off the car and got out. The mountain was right there. He thought he could make it. He followed the road until it turned into a trail and then he followed that. It was slow going and every movement was an effort. Then the trail started to ascend. His breathing became labored and he was sweating. His knees were throbbing, but he kept on. Every three or four steps he had to stop and catch his breath. Then every two, and pretty soon each step was a monumental task. He willed one foot to move, and thirty seconds later he willed the other foot. It was all-consuming. He was too tired to look up. All his concentration was on getting that next foot to move.

Then, almost imperceptibly, the trail leveled off. He stopped and leaned against a tree. He caught his breath. He looked up and there was a gate. It was a big arched stone gate with two massive wooden doors. “Well, that’s great,” he thought. “How am I going to open that?” When he felt ready he walked up to the gate. There was a plaque on one of the doors. His eyes were so weak he had to bend in close to read it. It said:

You have come to Mount Zion, to the heavenly Jerusalem, the city of the living God. You have come to thousands upon thousands of angels in joyful assembly, to the church of the firstborn, whose names are written in heaven. You have come to God, the judge of all men, to the spirits of righteous men made perfect, to Jesus the mediator of a new covenant.

They were the most beautiful words he’d ever read. They filled him with wonder, and he wanted to go through, but the gate was impossible. “Well,” he thought, “it can’t hurt to try.” He reached out, and as soon as the tip of his finger brushed the wood, the gate flew open wide. The scene before him was so magnificent that he just started laughing. A holy joy filled every fiber of his being. He surveyed all that was before him and it satisfied every longing of his heart. Almost without thinking he started singing and immediately he realized he was part of the Everysong. Then he saw the great golden road and people walking and singing all along it.

“Well, Joe, what are you waiting for?” and he stepped through the gate.

The Race Marked Out For Us, Part One

Joe got up from the desk, closed his Bible and walked down the hall to Java Judy’s. There was a big line at the counter, mostly working people and college students in a hurry to get on with their day. Ellie was busy, which was good. Joe went behind the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee. He sat down at his usual table and opened the paper. The front page was all ablaze with the news of an oil spill up the coast. Joe wondered if his beach had been affected. Hard to tell from the map. He turned to the sports section. The baseball team was working real hard to have another mediocre season. The weather said there was a fifty percent chance of rain on Friday. By the time Joe had finished reading the comics all Ellie’s customers had filed out with cups in their hands.

“Hey, Ellie,” Joe said, “Did you see they are going to tear down the old opera house to put in condominiums?”

“Yeah, I heard that. Sad to see it go. I loved that old place. I saw them do A Christmas Carol there when I was ten. Took my breath away.”

“Somebody’s version of progress, I guess.”

“I guess. Say, I’ve been meaning to ask you, how is Reverend Steve doing?”

“Not too bad, I guess. The stroke set him back. It’s too bad he had to go into assisted living, but he gets a lot of visitors. I’m going to see him tomorrow.”

“That’s great. Tell him I said, ‘hi’ and that I’m praying for him, willya?”

“Sure thing. Say, I wanted to remind you of the big shindig this weekend.”

“The Cherrywood Fountain Festival? How could I forget? Last year it was my biggest weekend ever. I ordered extra everything for this weekend. I’m going to be rich.”

“Can you believe it’s been two years? So much has happened.” Joe paused. “A lot of good though.”

“A lot of good, Joe. Do you still miss her?”

“I think about her almost every day, so sure I miss her, but you know, it’s okay now. Life here is good. My job is a lot easier than it used to be and I’ve had the privilege to minister to more people than I thought possible.”

“By the way, thanks for the Bible.”

“If you have any questions, write them down. If I can’t answer them, I’m sure Polycarp could next time he comes over.”

“Thanks. Tell him I’ve got a dozen important questions and to get himself over here.”

“Tell him yourself. You’ve got his number.”

“Maybe I will, Joe.”

“I think he’d like that.” Joe looked at the clock. “Hey, I’ve got to go. I’ve got someone coming to look at an apartment in a few minutes. See you later.”

Joe had just sat down to look at the calendar on the computer in the office when a woman came in. Joe stood up and extended his hand.

“You must be the gal Sam sent over from the Refuge. My name is Joe.”

She shook his hand. “Hi, Joe I’m Elisabeth.”

“Sam told me you’re looking for an apartment.”

“You don’t recognize me, do you, Joe?”

Joe looked at this woman. She was about his age. She looked familiar, but he couldn’t place her.

“I think you knew me as a blonde,” she said.

Joe looked at her for a long moment and then it dawned on him.

“Randi? Is that really you?”

“Yes it is, Joe.”

“I’m confused. Is it Randi or Elisabeth?”

“Kind of both really. Elisabeth is my first name.”

“Have a seat. Tell me how you’ve been. It’s great to see you again. How long has it been anyway?”

“I think it’s been almost three years.”

“So…?”

“Where do I start? Rich fired me about six months after we met. I’m not proud of what I did, Joe. I-how can I say this?-I offered myself to Rich’s partner with the idea that I could climb to the top on my back, so to speak. It didn’t work, I got fired, and a week later I was back to doing temp work.”

“I’m sorry.”

“My fault and that’s the truth. Well, temp work wasn’t paying the bills. After a couple of months I was living in my car. That was awful. I was changing clothes in a hotel restroom, going to the food bank, and fearing for my life. I got mugged twice…once, I got raped. That’s when I knew I needed help. Someone told me about the Refuge. Sam and everyone took me in. They not only saved my life, they literally loved me into the kingdom. I follow the Way now.”

“Wow. I mean, I’m sorry all that happened to you, but I’m glad you found the Way. So, what brings you out here?”

“Well, I got a job in an office not far from here. Sam thought this might be a good fit for me.”

“That’s great. I’ve got two apartments I’d like to show you.”

Joe showed her the units. She liked the one on the third floor.  A week later she signed the lease and moved in. He was happy to be able to help her restart her life. Joe had rented to people he knew before and it was always kind of awkward at first because their relationship needed to readjust. Before it was friend to friend and then they had to add tenant to manager to that. It could be a little complicated, but it always seemed to work. As it turned out Joe saw Elisabeth little more than the once a month she came to pay her rent. She was so busy with her new job she barely had time for a social life. She never came to any of the Cherrywood get-togethers. That’s why Joe was surprised that next spring when he saw Elisabeth drinking coffee by herself at Java Judy’s. She looked up when he walked in.

“Hey, stranger,” she laughed, “fancy meeting you here.”

“Yeah, what a surprise. What brings you here on a weekday?”

“My boss is Irish. He always closes the office on Saint Patrick’s Day.”

“I suppose that saved you from having to wear all green today.”

“Well, the Lord works in mysterious ways. Would you like to have a cup with me?”

Joe got himself some coffee and sat down.

“Joe I’ve been wanting to tell you how sorry I am about what happened to you. When Polycarp found out I was applying for an apartment here, he kind of filled me in.”

“I appreciate your thoughts. Thanks.”

“You doing okay?”

“I think so. It was extremely hard for a while, and now it’s just hard. God has been good and I’ve got good friends around me.”

“So, what’s in your future? Do you have plans?”

“Yeah, I do. I’d like to stay here for the foreseeable future. I read the statistics somewhere that the percentage of people who live in apartments who don’t follow the Way is extremely high. Something like eighty or ninety percent.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, so I think I’d like to stay living in an apartment just so I can introduce people to the Way. I mean that’s how I got this job. I think I want to make it a life choice.”

“So, no house in the suburbs, three car garage and a Golden Retriever?”

“Probably not. I think about people who want to be missionaries in some foreign land. They gave up that dream because they felt a burden for the people of that land. My burden is for apartment people.”

“Apartment people?”

“Apartment dwellers didn’t sound right.”

“No, I suppose not.” She said laughing.

“So, what about you?”

“Good question. I’m right there at the beginning of a new life. I don’t know, really. I’m just trying to figure it out. I’ve found the Seven Truths, and Maria told me about the Basic Lessons. I want to know more about all that. But as far as career or whatever, that’s another deal. I did poorly at that before and almost destroyed myself. I think I’m going to ‘keep on keeping on’ as they say and see how God leads.”

“I’ll be praying for you.”

“Thanks, Joe.”

“It has been really nice talking to you, Elisabeth. I think God has great plans for you. I’m sorry, though, I’ve got to get to the bank and make a deposit.”

“I guess you can’t close Cherrywood for Saint Paddy’s Day.”

“Or any other day for that matter.”

Joe turned and started to leave, but then he stopped. He walked back to her table and said,

“Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?”

“Yes I would.”

“Great. I’ll stop by when I get back from the bank. We can make plans.”

“You know where I live.”

They both laughed, and Joe smiled all the way to the bank.

The Evidence of Things Not Seen

Joe got to the bottom of the stairs, looked up, and started out. As he walked back down the trail to the car a couple of things came to mind: his job and Polycarp. In his black anguish he’d burned all his bridges. He didn’t know what to do about the job. He had already been on probation. He figured he ought to at least call Bob and bring closure to the whole thing. He could do that when he was back in the city. As far as Polycarp was concerned, he wasn’t going to have to wait. When Joe got back to the car he saw Polycarp leaning against it. As soon as Joe emerged from the trees Polycarp looked up. Joe approached him not knowing what to expect. Fear and hope were sparring with each other in his heart.

“Pol, I don’t know what to say…” Joe trailed off.

“How about ‘hello, Polycarp. How did you find me?”

“How did you find me?”

“My detective friend helped. When you scanned your card at the gas station, it made it a lot easier. Then it was a matter of asking around, trial and error, and lots of prayer.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Got here this morning. Saw the car and decided you needed the time, so I had my buddy drop me off, and I just waited.”

“You didn’t know how long I was going to be up there.”

“Didn’t matter. I needed to be here when you got back. I needed resolution.”

“About the funeral, I am so sorry. Your heart was right, mine was dead. You are a better man than I am.”

“Don’t say that, Joe. There’s nowhere to go with that. Look, I had to interpret what happened in context. Everything I’d known of you up to that moment was good. I saw so many decent qualities and noble virtues in you, what happened at the cemetery was an exception, not the rule. That doesn’t make it okay, Joe. Let me be honest, it hurt bad. But you are my friend. I think I can say you are my best friend. I don’t want that to change. I want us to see it as a glitch, not a deal breaker. If you forgive me, I forgive you. Okay?”

“Yes, of course,” Joe said immediately. “I can’t go back, but if you’re willing to let me continue to be your friend, then I want to go forward.”

“So, how are you doing?”

“Oh, you know, it hurts terrible. I miss her so much. I think it’s going to take me a long while to feel normal again, but I believe I’m not going to be overrun by grief. I think I will come to a point where I can manage it.”

“I’m glad to hear it brother.” Polycarp paused then said, “Look, I don’t want to change the subject, but I’m starved. Can we head back to that little café I passed and get some grub?”

“And coffee. I need some coffee.”

“Not to mention, you owe me a game of Cribbage.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Why don’t we take off.

Joe and Polycarp reminisced the whole rest of the morning, sharing stories about Felicitas. It was good for Joe to talk of her, and laugh a little. After breakfast, Polycarp asked Joe about Cherrywood.

“To be honest, I don’t know. I think I’ll call Bob and just see what happens.”

“Why don’t you call him now?”

Joe hit the speed dial on his phone and listened to the ring. Bob picked up.

“Joe, is that you? Where have you been?”

“Hi, Bob. I just took off. Polycarp found me and we’re on our way back.” Joe paused, then, “Say about the manager job…”

“What about it?”

“Have you hired anyone else yet?”

Bob laughed. “I’ve got a manager, Joe. Do you really think I took that call seriously? I knew what you were going through. Besides, Joe, didn’t I say I would stand by you and walk with you?”

“Yeah.”

“What kind of friend would I be if I backed away from that the first time you had trouble?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on back, Joe. Cherrywood is your home and your ministry. Our ministry. Okay?”

“Thanks, Bob. I will.”

“And if you need more time, take it.”

“No, I think it would be better if I went back to work.”

“Great.”

“I need to get the keys.”

“What keys?”

“I gave the apartment keys to Ellie.”

“She didn’t mention it. You’d better ask her.”

They hung up and Joe related everything to Polycarp.

“So, you want to head back to the apartments?” Polycarp asked.

“Do you think we could stop at the cemetery first?”

“Yeah, that’s a great idea.”

Later that day they pulled in to the circular drive at the cemetery. They got out and walked up to the site. The headstone wasn’t there yet. There was just a little marker identifying the grave. The sod had been put back, but there were still remnants of fresh dirt in the grass. They stood there silently for a while and Joe couldn’t stop the tears from coming. Neither could Polycarp.

“I’m going back to the car, Joe.” Polycarp finally said.

“Okay. I’ll be along in a minute or two.”

When he was alone, Joe said, “I’m saying goodbye babe. I can’t lie and say I’m alright with this. But I can’t change it.  I think I might be able to cope sometime down the road, but there is a lot of ground between here and there. I love you and I miss you. I wish you’d stayed.” Joe knelt down and gently placed his hand in the grass. He closed his eyes. “It was so good to have you in my life. I’m a better person for it. Goodbye.”

Joe got up and walked back to the car. When he climbed in Polycarp said:

“Thanks, Joe. I’m really glad we stopped. You okay?”

“I’ve been better, but one day at a time as they say. How about you?”

“The same, I guess. I’m just glad I didn’t lose both of you.”

“Thanks for coming for me.”

They drove back to Cherrywood and went straight to Java Judy’s. When they walked in Ellie came right around the corner and hugged Joe.

“I’m so sorry, Joe. If there’s anything I can do.”

“I’m staying. I talked to Bob and he wants me to continue on.”

“Yes!”

“Thanks, Ellie. Uh, what about the keys?”

“You mean these?” She held Joe’s keys out in front of her.

“Yeah, what gives?”

“Well, I know you dropped them off here, told Bob you quit and all that, but I wasn’t ready for you to quit. I think you can be a great manager, and I think you are good for Cherrywood. I just thought I’d wait until, you know, I had to give them back. Now I do and here they are.”

“Dude!” Polycarp said. “Gal’s got class, Joe.”

“Well, thank you, Ellie. You knew more about me than I knew about myself.”

“I’ve done a lot of eavesdropping when you came in her with Steve or your big buddy here.”

“Polycarp.”

“Okay, with Polycarp. I couldn’t help but hear a lot of what you talked about. This place is pretty small. Anyway, I could see that you had something. I don’t know if I get all the God stuff, but I could see you had character.”

“Maybe we could talk about it sometime.”

“Okay. Let me think about it for a while. I have some questions. Maybe I could ask and you could tell me what you think.”

“Sounds good.”

Joe and Polycarp went back to the apartment.

“You know, Joe, there is something we haven’t talked about,” Polycarp said as they got inside.

“What’s that?”

“Blake.”

“Yeah, I thought about Blake this morning.”

“What’s the plan?”

“I don’t know for sure. I wanted to ask you the same thing.”

“Do you remember before when we were sitting at Judy’s and I mentioned The Duck Test? Well, I’m convinced now more than ever that Blake follows the Enemy.”

“I agree. What do we do now?”

“Nothing overt. Neither of us is in any shape to deal with Blake. I think, as I said before, we should pray, put our faith in God, and wait.”

“Okay.”

“Remember when we talked that our struggle is not against flesh and blood? Read that whole section. I don’t remember the exact verses, but it’s in Ephesians six.”

“Will do.”

“Listen, if you’re okay, I’m going to head back to the Refuge.”

“Thanks again, Pol.”

“I miss her too, Joe, but we are going to make it.”

After Polycarp left Joe realized how tired he was. It had been three nights since he slept in a bed. He walked once around the complex and then turned in. He woke up the next morning feeling better. He hadn’t thought that was possible, but there it was. He got coffee from Ellie and came back and sat at the little desk he and Felicitas had dragged up from the down stairs. He opened his Bible and found the passage in Ephesians Polycarp had mentioned. It talked about putting on the full armor of God so you could fight against the devil. Joe took out a yellow pad and made a list of the different parts of the armor. There was the belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, feet fitted with peace, the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit. Joe wasn’t sure how this worked. Why was truth a belt? But he got the general idea. He could not overcome the Enemy in his life if he wasn’t protected by God. That much was easy to see.

After he’d finished studying, Joe came to two conclusions. The first was that he needed to spend some time like this every morning studying God’s word, and praying. Secondly, he couldn’t avoid Blake just because he felt weak right now. He had a job to do and God would protect him. As it turned out he saw Blake that same day. He was finishing the repair job to the fence that had been interrupted by everything else when Blake drove up in his pickup and parked. Joe put his screw gun down and stood up when he saw him.

“I thought you quit.” Blake said across the parking lot.

“I did, but I came back.” Joe began to walk over to Blake when something strange happened. As he approached, Blake jumped back in his truck saying, “I gotta go. I-I forgot something.” He started the engine, backed out and drove off.

Joe wasn’t sure, but as he drove by, it seemed Blake looked scared. No, it was more than that. He looked terrified. It didn’t make sense. Joe didn’t have a tool in his hand, he didn’t feel like he posed a threat to Blake in any way, but Blake surely seemed like he wanted to avoid him at all costs.

“What happened?” Joe asked Steve at coffee the next morning.

“My opinion: the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world.”

“That sounds interesting.”

“It’s from First John. John tells us to test the spirits to see if they are from God or not. Any spirit that does not recognize that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is not from God. He says we have overcome those who are not from God because God is greater than their master.”

“You mean Satan.”

“That’s right.”

“So, because of God, we are stronger than the Enemy?”

“Right again. In fact the book of James says: “Resist the devil and he will flee from you. Blake is not the devil, but I think he’s controlled by him. You resisted and he fled.”

“How did I resist?”

“You came back. He threw his worst at you and you kept your faith. Think about that for a moment.”

“I’m thinking about how close I came to losing my faith, Steve. I have to be honest about that.”

“It’s good you are, but remember success in the Christian life is not about the struggle, it’s about the victory.”

“Well, I had you and Bob and Polycarp.”

“Proverbs says: ‘A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.’”

“Thank you, Steve.”

Three weeks went by. Joe kept up his routine of studying and praying in the morning. He was growing in knowledge and he began to feel more and more like he could handle the grief. He still had that sinking feeling and loneliness. It surprised him how much he missed her. A myriad little things reminded him of her. He’d find a sticky note she’d left about something, or he’d get in the car and catch a faint vestige of her perfume. Even more surprising, he’d see someone and think it was her: a gal in a car going by or someone at the store with her hair color. For a heartbeat hope would spring to life and then just as quickly reality would defeat it. Every time he thought of her sadness would well up, but the sadness was no longer debilitating.

As the weeks went by it became obvious Blake was avoiding Joe. He put his rent in the slot even when Joe was in the office. If he saw Joe outside he went the other way. Since that day in the parking lot they had not exchanged one word between them. Then one day it all came to a head. Someone had told him there was some water on the floor in the basement. Joe went downstairs to see if a pipe was leaking. He heard someone in their storage locker and Joe saw it was Blake.

“Hi, Blake.”

Blake looked up suddenly and immediately got agitated. He looked around desperately, but Joe was standing in the only exit.

“What are you doing?” Blake asked.

“Just checking out a leak. What about you? What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“Hey, since were talking, can I ask you a question?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you mind?”

“I guess not.”

“Why have you been so hostile to me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And now you’re not.”

“What?”

“You used to be hostile and now you’re not. What gives?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I think that’s my question, Blake.”

“You don’t know anything. You don’t know what I’m about. You don’t…”

“Let me tell you what I do know, or at least what I think is true. At the park that day you mentioned your boss. When I asked you who that was you said I should already know.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing! You don’t know him.”

“You’re right. I know someone else, and guess what? Your boss has no power over me. I’ve put my faith in the One who rules everything including your boss. This much is true, Blake: God is my Master. He sent his Son into this world who took on human flesh and died for my sins. His blood covered my sin and gave me life everlasting.”

Joe’s speech had a profound effect on Blake. The words ‘flesh’ and ‘died’ and ‘blood’ affected him like body blows. He clenched his fists. His face contorted into an awful mien. He screamed: “WHY ARE YOU TORTURING ME? WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME?” and lurched past Joe almost knocking him over. It was the last time Joe ever saw Blake. Late that night Joe was reading when the phone rang. It was Mrs. Green.

“He’s moving out.”

“Who’s moving out, Mrs. Green?”

“That man across the hall. Blake.”

Joe went up to the second floor but Blake was already gone. His apartment door was opened but no one was there. All that was left was the furniture and some orange juice in the refrigerator. Joe locked the apartment, told Mrs. Green that everything was okay, and went back to his place.

The next morning when Joe told Steve about it, Steve got up and said:

“Get your keys.”

They went up to Blake’s apartment. Joe opened the door and they went inside. Steve simply said, “Let’s pray.” They walked through every room in the apartment and prayed that the Spirit would cleanse each room and fill this place. They asked for God’s blessing, and they prayed that this would be the last obstacle to the work God wanted to do at Cherrywood. When they were done praying Steve said,

“Hebrews eleven one says: ‘faith is the evidence of things not seen.’ There are two realities, Joe. One of them is quantifiable and the other is not. We have faith that God exists even though we can’t see him. That is also true for angels and demons and all kinds of spiritual powers we can’t even imagine. Blake, and probably Charlie G., were enslaved to those powers. I don’t know exactly how that happened, but you can bet it’s a dark, sad story.”

Joe felt a weight lift from him. He said goodbye to Steve and drove out to the cemetery. He hadn’t been back, but he’d gotten an email from Felicitas’ sister that the gravestone was finished. He parked the car and walked up to her grave. He knew she wasn’t there, she was with her Lord, but he wanted to stop by anyway. He walked around the grounds looking at different inscriptions and dates, wondering about the people who preceded these memorials. Were they any more than just memories? Did their lives have meaning? Had they left behind any kind of legacy? Then he came to her stone. The family had used her given name “Candace.” It had her dates and below that it said: “Loving daughter. This world was not her home.” Joe knew that nobody in her family followed the Way. Maybe this was a start. The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church.