It was a rhetorical question that no one answered.
“It’s a pile of dirty rags. Everyone of you who stepped past those doors this morning is no better than this soiled and disgusting pile of rags. This is the house of praise people! Tell me which one of you woke up this morning and meditated on the majesty of God? Which one of you came into this holy sanctuary bearing on your person the garment of praise? Is God not worthy of praise? Is not your purpose, your created purpose, that transcends everything else, to bring praise, honor and glory to the Creator of us all? Where are your hearts? Have you remembered what Jesus did for you on the cross or have you come here seeking a show, a production of meaningless ritual? That’s right. Meaningless ritual! You have become altogether worthless and heed my words for you are in danger of being spewed out as lukewarm water. Rather that you were cold than the quasi-religiosity of tepid poison that you have become in how you have restrained the Kingdom of God! Do you think it is enough to have this building? To have a fully funded youth program and to fund missionaries to go do your work for you in Africa? How can you show the world the love of Christ, when you don’t even manifest it yourselves? Which of you shook my hand this morning? Which of you was not offended by my presence in this empty sepulcher? Which of you cared for my needs? My wife was the only one among you with a tender enough heart to intercede. The same woman that you have not ceased to dismissively regard ever since she came in based entirely on her matter of wardrobe. She’s not the one you should be looking at! Look at yourselves and you will find filth enough to spare. There will be no church in this place today! In your day you have become no better than the Jews of Jesus’s day, whom He drove out from the Temple with a whip for they had made God’s holy temple a place of buying and selling. A place of talk and not prayer. Where the cry of a merchant hawking his wares was to be heard over any cry of praise. Shame on you all for you have turned the Divine commission that was entrusted to you into a thing of vanity! Into the sound of false praise!”
I stepped backward and lifting an electric guitar out of its rack I stepped forward and flung it to fall on the floor before the stage, “To those of you who still bring your Bibles and take the time to read them I bring a verse to mind, ‘I desire not a song, a pleasantry of the lips, but a sincere and broken heart.’ Now get out all of you!”
The people didn’t get up to leave. They were wailing and blubbering all over themselves as they found their ways down to their knees or stretched out on the floor. Not one of them had the pride to stand, as the Spirit of God’s conviction was heavy on the place.
Without the heat of my earlier words I asked, “Do you want to change? Do you want to rediscover your first love?”
A wailing tumult arose in response to my words and I nodded in acceptance of it.
“Then this is my advice to you. Go home and fast and each of you by yourselves make supplication to God through your tears and prayers. Pray that He will renew your spirit and show you how to give Him perfect praise. The doors of this church will be open starting at sunrise tomorrow. I encourage…… no…… I beg of all of you to come. Do not waste this opportunity that God is giving you to learn, be strengthened, and renewed like never before. Now I have something to say to those of you, who have already purposed it within your hearts to be here tomorrow with the spirit of praise as you should’ve come with this morning. If you want to bring those who are lost and without the love and forgiveness of Christ that is fine, but I ask you to do something more in order to unify the Kingdom of God, which you will come seeking to know more of in the morning. How many churches do you have in this town? Three? Five? No, I tell you that there are ten. Ten different denominational churches other than this one. Tell me what is the guiding principle of importance across all these denominations? Is it this Bible that I’m holding up right here, because it better be, because no other doctrine of belief or ideology of man will stand or can deliver men’s souls other than the words contained in this book given to us by God! This division of the Church is not good. We are tasked to be one body of Christ all of us fitly joined together working as one, so please in the strength of Christian fellowship grab onto your fellow brothers and sisters and bring them along with you! We have to start pulling together as one body. It’s not me saying this, it’s written in this book. The Holy Spirit is still open and available to all who seek of Him wisdom and understanding. There is still time to rightly divine from the word of God what universal tenants of belief across the entire body of believers should be and what they should not be. So start the hard conversations, and make the changes that the Holy Spirit prompts within you. This isn’t about pride of denomination or belief, but rather this is about unveiling the Kingdom of God in a more powerful way to affect the lives of those on this Earth for good and not evil. So tomorrow bring the lost, bring other Christians, but above all bring your children! Don’t leave them at home or put them in daycare, because you think they’ll be scared or act out or because you don’t think their mature enough to handle what they’ll feel and be exposed to. Be real with them and let them see the ways of God firsthand from an early age and tomorrow you might just see them eternally saved. Wouldn’t that be something? Church listen close to me, when I tell you that there is an army of darkness that reigns in high places that seeks to devour and kill all of us, but our children are the most vulnerable and the dark forces that be know that. Church it’s time that we assume the mantle of authority given to us by Jesus and start to reclaim the territory that has been lost over the years by the many congregations just like this one who have not claimed the position of authority given to us by Jesus. It’s time we took territory from the grip of evil that’s never even been threatened by us before. It’s time! It’s always been time, ever since my Savior died on a cross for my sins so let’s start making it now! The process starts with you people getting right before the Lord and discovering your Kingdom identities and learning to surrender all even as you let the Holy Spirit build in you the hope of the world in order for the Church to claim the victory, because the victory has already been won. We just have to claim it and then know what to do with it.”
I ceased then from speaking all words and let the body of believers wounded in the spirit, but strengthened in the hope of their faith to make their way out of the building to start the process of fixing what was wrong with the real Temple, which is the body of flesh we all possess within which the Spirit of God moves and directs those who welcome Him.
It turns out that they would’ve all been late for lunch anyway, but it was a moot point given that none of them had any appetite for food at this moment. I however did.
Perhaps I was more carnally natured than I should be in this moment that was still heavy with the Spirit of God, but all I could think of accomplishing right now was getting a shower and getting free from the stink that pervaded my every moment of consciousness.
Zora stood up as I approached up the aisle and my selfish thoughts of self gratification left me as I saw the reverent look she gave me. Curiously I asked, “What’s that look for?”
She ducked her head bashfully, which was entirely uncharacteristic of her, before raising it back up to state with meaning, “It’s so humbling to know that I get to share your life with you!”
Smiled softly I said, “Living life has never been so good as it has been since I’ve been able to live it with you beside me.”
She smiled at me and then wrinkled her nose, “You need a bath honey.”
“I know!” I responded with exuberance.
We started out of the church, but I made it a point to stop beside the only individual left in the church other than Zora and I. The old pastor had come in at some point and sat down at the very back of the church.
He looked up as I stopped beside him. “I don’t really know what the Holy Spirit’s plan is going to be starting tomorrow, but I do know that you’re the first batter up.” I said.
The pastor nodded and held up his hand which clutched a Bible
and said, “I’ll be ready. May the Spirit of God speak through me and say everything that needs to be said.”
“Amen.” I said as I led Zora out of the sanctuary.
Chapter Fifteen
Past Revisited
I admired the sight of my wife as she arranged clothes out. She’d bought me several suits and even now she was busy mating up ties with them. She’d first hold up one tie and then another. She seemed to come to some sort of conclusion and she threw two of the ties onto the bed, while draping the three remaining ones over the three suits that she had bought me.
She glanced over at me then and her eyes drifted down me admiringly as I finished toweling off. The first shower before lunch, hadn’t quite done the job so I’d taken a bath after lunch while Zora had shopped. I felt like I’d lost several skin layers, but at least I didn’t stink anymore.
Several pretty dresses were also hung up along with my suits, “You like?” Zora asked with a look to her eyes that said that she liked very much what she was looking at.
“Very much so.” I said never taking my eyes off of her.
Her smile was teasing, “I meant my dresses.”
“They’ll look nice on you Zora, but right now I think your best look involves less clothing.” I said as I backed her up to the edge of the bed.
I glanced down then and picked up the two discarded ties.
Apologetically Zora said, “I couldn’t make up my mind in the store, which ones would look the best so I bought two extras. Sorry for the waste.”
Taking one of the ties I smoothly looped off both of her wrists and had her hands tied together in front of her before she could even blink. Her shocked eyes raised up from her bound hands to meet my gaze.
“See there’s no waste darling.” I said glibly, as I saw her struggle inwardly with your captive state.
I was treading on dangerous ground and I was pretty sure I was making her relive some horrible repressed memories right now, if the hell to be seen in her eyes was anything to go by.
Gently I asked, “Do you trust me Zora?”
She blinked and I watched the hell fade away from her eyes and she seemed to recognize me as her lover once again. She breathed inwardly and shook her head yes even though I could tell she didn’t like what I was up to.
I turned her around then and I blindfolded her with the second tie. She sucked in her breath and started to shake and I cringed inside at what I was causing to take place within her, but grimly I pressed on with the plan.
Click.
She jumped slightly startled, “What was that?”
“My knife.” I responded evenly.
She jerked hard, but I held her in place as she asked in a panicked voice, “What do you have a knife out for?”
Keeping my tone light I said, “Silly girl, how else do you think I’m going to get your clothes off with your hands tied?”
“Oh.” Came her response as I sliced her shirt away and then the straps of her bra.
She was still shaking and almost in a whisper she said, “I don’t like this game Elon!”
I let my forehead rest on her bare shoulder for a moment. In the month we had been intimate with each other Zora had denied me nothing that I had desired of her. This was the first time that she had ever come close to telling me no and it pained me that I’d driven her generous nature so far.
“I know you don’t Zora, but it’s a game we’re going to play.”
She continued quivering within my grasp, but she didn’t say anything. Her hands started raising towards her eyes, but I pulled them back down.
I picked her up and laid her on the bed and began kissing her and she began to relax a little.
“Relax honey and trust me to make this enjoyable for you.” I whispered into her ear.
Bravely she raised her bound hands up above her head and I tied them off to the headboard.
Shadows had grown dark outside. I sat with my back to the headboard beside of Zora, who was still tied off to it. I had spared no expenditure of effort into completely overloading her senses with pleasure for hours. About an hour ago she had passed out completely worn out from passion.
I waited silently in the dark gloom of the room. I had removed her blindfold when she’d fallen asleep and now I gazed down into her face waiting.
Her hands suddenly tightened into fists and pulled against the restraining tie. Denied freedom of movement her face twisted into anguish and she moaned. This was what I had been waiting for.
I eased down in the bed and brought both of my hands to either side of her head as I accessed the part of her mind and the memories that haunted her that she always kept locked off from me.
The vividness of the memory that she was reliving had me jerking with pain at the impact of linking with her.
The town was burning. Bodies lay bloody and abused in the street everywhere. They were many bodies and most of them were headless. Here and there were pyramidal piles created of the heads of the fallen bodies.
The scene within Zora’s head was both surreal and horrible. Surreal, because despite how real it felt I knew the basis for all this imagery had happened long since and wasn’t occurring in real time. Horrible, because such a scene of utter destruction and death had ever occurred, especially because the one I loved had lived through this.
The heat of the fires consuming the buildings of the town was blistering hot, but I continued to make my way down the bloodstained street unmindful of it. At the end of the village was a church now wreathed in flames. In front of it in the street lay a mangled body of what had once been a man.
He had been whipped to death and was beyond any recognition, but intuitively I knew this man was Zora’s father. Torn up hymnals and Bibles lay strewn on the ground fluttering and curling from the heat of the nearby flames. I continued on.
I walked out of the deserted village following the trail of many feet. Here and there a dead body lay off to the side of the forced march.
The miles seemed to disappear quickly and in the dreamlike setting I was suddenly at a larger town. It wasn’t burning. Indeed some people were going about their business as if nothing had happened. Not so for others.
Some parts of the town were vacant. Their owners ripped from their lands and homes.
At the one end of the town was a stockade. Here countless people had been kept like a herd of beef cows at a slaughterhouse. The pen once filled with its human cargo was empty now and I followed the trail onward through my beloved’s memory.
The terrain turned more desert like and the heat of the hot sun overhead became more intense. The desertscape started giving up its victims.
At first they were in the hundreds and then the bodies lying sightless in the sand mounted into the thousands.
Buzzards, crows , and desert jackals tore at the naked bodies, as I walked through the scene of so many people’s tortured end. I knew where I was now.
I was walking along the lane of one of the worst unsung ethnic cleansings in history. Everything I was seeing and experiencing was the evidence of a genocide whose perpetrators said had never happened. This was the Armenian Genocide, which had taken place around the time period of World War I.
Armenia had been an old country with very early Christian roots that dated back to the early days of the Christian church. At some point it had ceased to be a country and was assimilated into the boundaries of Turkey. Muslims and Christians had coexisted in an uneasy truce within the same border of a nation.
The Christians had been the minority within Turkey. A falling away of relations between Christian and Muslim took place and everything had changed for the worse. Turkish soldiers under sanctioned authority drove between one million and two million Armenian Christians on death marches into the desert to die.
Some estimates of the death toll were even higher. Even to the current era over a hundred years later the Turkish government still denied that the Armenian Genocide ever took place, but such a refusal to claim responsibility for past misde
eds did not do away with all the evidence of their past actions, which offer their own testimony as did the testimony of those who survived.
Zora had survived. Somehow my precious love had survived this hell on Earth scene that lay all around me that stretched out as far as the eye could see.
As the memory unfolded I walked on through the hot sand littered with the corpses of martyrs. They became fewer and fewer, as the stumbling trails through the sand stopped one by one, until there was only one trail that continued on.
The desert grew dark and cold and rounding a corner I saw them.
There was a girl maybe ten years of age who lay on the ground shivering, as she hugged herself for warmth against the chill air of the desert night. There was no hope in the child’s eyes. Eyes that reflected an emptiness that was heartbreaking to behold.
Zora the woman stood within the ground plane of her remembered memory staring down at the earlier version of her herself that lay shivering on the sand. A little girl’s soul shattered by the atrocities of mankind.
I stepped up and wrapped my arms around Zora and she leaned back against me trustingly.
“You’re not that scared all alone in the world girl anymore Zora. You don’t have to keep reliving this terrible memory. I’ll protect you. I promise.”
She turned her face and pressed it into my neck in search of comfort and closeness as she breathed out, “I know.”
She was quiet for a moment before saying, “My Papa told me that there would be a man one day, who would change every misconception I had about what men were and that I would be happy in his arms.” She pressed back harder against me with the saying of her words and I held her all the more tighter to me.
“Are you happy Zora?”
She turned and hooked her arms around my neck and nodded with her eyes wet with tears, “Very happy! But I have a bone to pick with you Mister!”
“Oh and what’s that?” I asked cautiously.
“Why did you have to scare me half to death by tying me up so that this memory would be prompted? You know I would’ve told you if you’d asked!”
Agent finds a Warrior Page 13