Off The Pages
Chapter Seven

The hot noon air of Oklahoma moved about, a breeze that touched all the churchgoers filing out after morning services. The crowd was all smiles, walking back to their cars. Reverend Jack Hurst stepped out the front door of the congregation his father had built so many years before, his suit pressed and neat, happiness painted on his face as he had finished another sermon, had brought God to his little corner of the world. The Full Revival Baptist Church had brought the faithful together since the mid nineteen-fifties, and the son of its founder had sworn that it would continue to do so long after he was gone.

A boy of about twelve approached his father. “That was great, dad!” he swore, tugging on his father’s suit jacket.

“I do try my best, Timothy,” Jack said, acknowledging his son. “My dad would sometimes stay up half the night trying to write a Sunday’s sermon.”

At that moment, a car drove by, stopped, and honked. “Reverend Hurst!” a middle-aged woman cried out. “Love the service! Is your wife going shopping with us later this week?”

“I’d love to, Cathy!” Emily said, approaching and placing a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Been looking forward to it!”

“Hey, Jack!” a man shouted from his pickup truck, a cigarette in the corner of his mouth. “You going to Fred’s tomorrow night?”

Jack smiled. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” he cheered. “Maybe this time, Andy’s going to have to short his son on laundry money!”

“Dad,” a second young boy said, approaching Jack. “Jim and Chris are going hiking in the woods around the Bleachers’ property. Can we go?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Eric,” Jack replied. “First, we have to go home and have dinner.”

“Oh, by the way,” Emily cut in, “you did great this time. I think we got enough donations to expand the church.”

Jack nodded. “That’s great,” he agreed. “I think I’d like to stop having to use the back room as storage.”

The family headed towards the parking lot, specifically to a boat of a car, a well-kept antique Cadillac. The heavy metal door squeaked as Tim opened it. “Why do we always go to church in this?” he asked.

A laugh escaped from Jack’s mouth. “We’ve gone over this,” he chided. “My father bought this brand-new in sixty-nine and drove it to church every Sunday.”

“Besides,” Emily pointed out, “we use the Chevy most every day. This is for special occasions.”

“Your uncle Dave used to tell this joke,” Jack said, a laugh in his voice, “in the Caddy, my father would pass everything except the gas station.”

The rumble of the V-8 engine signaled the stirring of the old beast, and the reverend shifted into gear and pulled out of the lot. He turned the radio to a local jazz station as the miles rolled away. “Now boys,” Emily said, “what are the rules about hiking in the woods?”

“Always have the first aid kit,” Tim recited.

“Don’t put anything in your mouth,” Eric added.

“And?” Jack piped in. “no credit for partial answers.”

“Be home before dark,” the kids said in unison.

“That’s right,” Emily remarked. “We don’t want to have to go looking for you or involve the police.”

A few minutes later, the car rumbled into the driveway of the two-story, four-bedroom house. The family exited the Cadillac and headed inside. The boys ran upstairs and Jack went into the den, where he took his suit jacket off and hung it up in the wardrobe, then he folded his tie and placed it on the shelf, and finally, hung up his dress shirt and khakis. He changed into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and headed into the kitchen. He took a diet soda out of the fridge and sat at the table with a book.

“Dinner will be ready in almost an hour! Get cleaned up, boys!” Emily called up the stairs. She headed over to get the fridge to get the food she’d prepared to cook and noticed her husband reading. “Is that a new one?”

“It’s some sci-fi number Craig told me about,” Jack replied. “It’s pretty good.” As he sat reading, a twinge made itself known to him. In the back of his mind, a nagging presence kept pointing itself out to him, bothering him. He pushed it out of his mind. This was the second time in almost two weeks that this had happened. What was it? It defied his ability to explain, and he focused on his reading. A few minutes later, it largely went away. Whether it had gone or simply become less obvious, he didn’t know. The next time he had a doctor’s appointment, he would get it checked out, whatever it was.

Many minutes went by. A smell of cooking roast beef wafted through the air. Jack grinned as he closed his book and set it aside. “Almost,” Emily said.

“If it tastes even half as good as it smells,” Jack commented.

“I hope so,” she replied, putting two serving bowls of corn and mashed potatoes on the table. “Kids! We’re almost ready!”

Jack grabbed a remote off the counter and turned on the speaker system above the refrigerator. The sounds of Miles Davis played across the kitchen as Emily took the tray of roast beef out of the oven and set it on potholders on the dinner table. Juice and soda got poured into glasses as the boys got their plates and silverware and set it at their spots. Napkins got passed around. The father got up and helped by setting out the condiments and the serving spoons.

“Alright,” Jack invited, “join hands.” The family formed a large circle at the dinner table, just as he had done with his father decades earlier. “I like to keep it simple, just like my father did. Everyone, close your eyes and bow your head.” They did. “Lord, bless this house, this family, and this food that nourishes us, as we worship you and thank you for the bounty you have provided us. Amen.”

“Amen,” they all said.

Each family member scooped their portions onto their plates and took their turn getting themselves set up. They ate as the jazz music continued to play. “That reminds me,” Eric said. “Next spring, Mister Applebaum says I can be first chair.”

Tim gave his brother a disapproving glance. “Jazz is okay, I guess,” he said, “but I want to play rock and roll.”

“As long as you keep an eye on what you’re playing,” Jack reminded. “You’re good at guitar, but you have to be careful not to accidentally praise the enemy.” The look he got said he didn’t have to explain.

“I’m not writing any lyrics,” Tim countered.

“I’m not saying anything against it,” Jack said. “I’m just saying, be careful. I listened to Black Sabbath growing up, and your grandpa hated it. I’m trusting you to know how to be a good Christian.”

“Aw, dad, there’s nothing to worry about,” the boy said.

“Still,” Emily said, pointing with her fork, “you’re getting really good. Keep playing.”

They ate in silence for a while. After finishing his plate, Jack took a final swig of his soda and slid his chair back. “It’s my turn to do the dishes, so I’m just going to relax after that, if you don’t mind,” he said. The silverware he placed on his plate along with his glass and headed towards the sink.

“I’m going to finish the birthday cards for your nephew Taylor’s birthday party, “Emily replied.

“Yeah, no problem,” Jack answered. The boys finished their meals and placed their dishes in the left sink and headed upstairs. “Now boys, the sun goes down in about five hours. I want you both in that door before that happens, okay?” He placed the leftover food in plastic containers and set them in the back of the refrigerator, on the second shelf above the vegetables on the bottom and the deli meat in the middle tray.

“Got it,” they replied in unison.

“Need any help down here?” Emily asked, placing hers in the sink.

“I’ve done dishes a thousand times,” he answered. “I think I’ve got this covered.”

A capful of dish soap and some hot water later, and the dishes soaked in the left sink. John Coltrane’s skillful playing serenaded him as he scrubbed the dishes. After each dish no longer bore grime or food, he rinsed it in the right sink, and set it in the drying rack. Some men had a problem with so-called “women’s work,” but he knew that dividing the tasks prevented a lot of marital strife, and even besides that, he hadn’t married a maid. He’d married a partner. It also gave him time to think and do something stress-free. In less than twenty minutes, he had a drying rack full of clean dishes. Two drying towels later, and each dish had been dried and returned to their respective spots in the cupboards and cabinets.

That was easy, he thought, plopping down on the loveseat in the living room. A tap of the remote and the television blinked to life. News appeared before his eyes, one of the mainstream channels. A harsh breath of consternation escaped his mouth. Eyebrows lowered as he saw the typical bad news of usual killing and strife. Without even thinking about it, he shook his head as he disapproved of what he saw. This was the thing that bothered him the most, it occurred to him. This world that God had given mankind had been squandered by mortal men and women. People had succumbed to mortal temptations of the flesh and weaknesses of hate and violence. The Lord would have to come back, it occurred to him, and soon. All that had been good had been wasted by foolish people and their arrogant belief in their superiority over the Earth and its bounty.

A moment later, he wiped his face with the right palm. What arrogance, he realized. He had caught himself thinking of himself as separate from the sinners of the world. Somehow, it had slipped his mind the truth behind the teachings that Christ had given to all men and women of the world: all children of God were frail and fell short of the ideal. That was why God’s love and grace were necessary. His upbringing and his religious instruction meant nothing in the face of the evil of the Deceiver. With even the slightest slip of his will, his devotion to the Lord and the Scripture, he would be no different from these people who he denounced. We need you, oh Lord. His silent prayer passed through his mind. I need you.

A familiar twinge appeared in the back of his consciousness.

His first thought in response was, not again.

A moment later, though, a thought flashed through his mind like a spark in a puddle of gasoline.

Perhaps it was the Holy Spirit!

A button press later and the news died with the blanking of the screen. Frantically clasping both hands together in prayer, he closed his eyes and focused on the Holy Spirit in his mind. It appeared not as a physical presence, but as a mental image. In his mental space, it resembled a glowing ball of light alone against a dark backdrop. A silent prayer passed through his mind. He focused on the Lord, the image of Jesus that he’d had ever since he was a little boy and his father had shown him the glory of Christ’s teachings. The presence of the Holy Spirit in his mind hovered in place, its glowing orb shining to him, obviously with the grace of God, he thought.

Oh Lord, he prayed.

The orb jumped upward. It flashed to a brighter shade of white.

A brilliant light shot out in front of him. He threw his arms in front of his face. After a moment, he felt the soft loveseat become hard wood. He opened his eyes and saw the pews of his church around him. What had happened? He looked up.

The Lord stood before him.

“I am here, my child,” Jesus spoke.

Jack’s arms went limp at his sides. His body had to remind him to breathe. The dry sensation on his tongue told him his mouth hung open. With eyes as wide as can be, he stared in disbelief at the sight in front of him.

“My…Lord…” said words escaping from Jack’s mouth, involuntarily.

Standing less than three feet in front of him, garbed from head to toe in familiar robes and sandaled feet, was his Lord and savior. Everything from the familiar white skin and long flowing brown hair looked exactly like he had expected.

“My Lord!” Jack shouted. “MY LORD!” He hit his knees. “OH MY LORD! I AM NOT WORTHY!”

“My child,” the Lord said, “stand.”

Jack took the outstretched hand and stood up, barely able to comprehend. Tears began to pour down his cheeks. “I…I can’t believe…it…” he stammered, his face red. “You’ve come back!”

“Dry your eyes,” the Lord replied, draping his arms around Jack. “Much is wrong with the world, and much work we have to do. But for right now, be calm. Do not worry. Be sad no more.”

“Sad?” Jack uttered, wiping his eyes on his shirt. “I’m so happy I can’t describe it in words! I…”

The Lord gently stroked his servant’s cheek. “I am here to make everything better,” he answered. “I am here to defeat evil once and for all and to bring about my father’s glorious kingdom upon this Earth.”

“My Lord,” Jack asked, “please forgive your loyal servant’s questions, but why has Revelation not happened as written?”

“Do not hesitate to ask of me your questions,” The Lord replied. “But as for your question, things are different from what the books written by mortal hands, even those with the Father’s guidance, have foretold. That’s why I need you.”

“Me?” Jack said, gasping. “Who am I to be your servant? Surely I am not worthy!”

“You are of the same mortal flesh as all other men, that is true,” the Lord explained, “but I have found you most acceptable as my voice in this mortal plane, I request you to be my agent in this war against evil.”

Jack swallowed and bowed his head. He made his decision, then looked up. “My Lord,” he spoke, “I am not worthy to receive you. But if your will is that I be your right-hand man in the final war against Satan’s evil, then I shall not falter!”

“Good!” The Lord exclaimed. “Let me show you what our goal shall be.” He touched his hands to the temples of his servant. Jack’s mind filled with the sights of Paradise on Earth. He saw, through his mind’s eye, a world free of want. People of all colors and histories lived in harmony with one another. No cruelty was inflicted upon anyone. No one committed crimes against their fellow person. There was no scarcity, no fear, no pain, no misery, no disease, or war. People wore clothes made of holy fabric and never shivered in the cold. People never befell accidents and suffered injury. No one saw their neighbor and desired what their neighbor had. No one felt less than anyone else. It was a world where everyone lived in harmony with each other and with nature. They walked all over the Earth without trampling flowers to death beneath the stain of industry. There was no need for industry, or consumerism, or the rat race it engendered. People received the holy love of the Father, and it filled them with joy and satisfied their every desire. It was a world where happiness had triumphed over all else. Nothing would go wrong again, ever.

He saw a perfect world, where joy was a boot standing on the head of all forms of misery, forever.

In that moment, Jack Hurst felt filled to the brim with joy. Men had gone to the ends of the Earth and the ends of their lives to feel such feelings of pleasure, since the dawn of man. Few had ever come anywhere close to the positivity radiating through his heart that day. Words failed to describe in his mind how he felt at that instant.

The Lord smiled as he held his servant, hands gently caressing the man’s head. “Do you see?” He implored.

“Oh…God…” Jack uttered, barely able to see through wet eyes. “I see!” He laughed a joyous laugh. “Oh, my Lord! I SEE! FOR THE FIRST TIME, I SEE!”

“That,” He told his servant, “is why I must ask you to be strong.” A grim expression graced His face. “It is going to get much worse before it gets better. Your faith and the limits of your physical and mental ability to cope will be stressed to the breaking point.” He focused a stern gaze on Jack. “Do you have the strength it takes to see our battle through to the final end?”

Jack nodded, strength of will painting itself on his face. “I do!” he exclaimed. “Merely instruct me, and your will I will see done!”

“Most wonderful!” He shouted. He showed an image to his servant, a three-dimensional image of a man in a suit. “Soon enough, you shall be greeted by our first real enemy. I shall be by your side, but I fear he will not be swayed to our cause.”

Jack stared in confusion as he recognized the man. “Why, my Lord,” he asked, “would Jericho Torvalds come to me?”

“He has much work he is doing,” the Lord explained, “gathering superpowers to better protect himself. He will come to you because he believes you have a superpower, rather than the truth that I have come to you.”

Dawning realization came to Jack. “I knew it!” he shouted. “I knew this was the Holy Spirit!” He thought about it a moment. “Does that mean these powers are the work of Satan?”

“These powers,” He explained, “that people are gaining, are tools. Some, undoubtedly, will be drawn to our side. This way, we will defeat the King of Lies with the abilities mortal men and women are getting. For no power of mortal men can defeat my Father’s will, and through him, me.”

“Then,” Jack decided, “when this man arrives, I will give him the offer to renounce his evil ways and serve his God in heaven. Even if he won’t, I want to try.”

“You are a good man, my servant,” He replied.

“Hearing you say that, My Lord,” Jack replied, “fills me with great joy. When can I tell my wife and kids about you?”

“In time,” The Lord said. “Until then, I shall take my leave.” He tapped his servant on the forehead. “If you need me in the meantime, call upon the Holy Spirit.” He vanished in a beam of light, and Jack found himself returned to his living room, alone.

I will not fail! Jack thought, clenching his fists. He would see the Kingdom of God brought upon the world and the defeat of sin itself.

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