by Mark Vance
“I would certainly hope so. Well … I guess we can give organized religion another chance. Maybe they were just having an off day the last time.” he surmised, as he slowly and deliberately glanced around the room for anything unusual or out of place.
“And to their credit … organized religion hasn’t conspired to kill a deity in over 2000 years!” Kay joked.
“Yep, they’re definitely on a winning streak!” he said sarcastically, still glancing around. “I don’t see anything amiss down here.” he added, moving cautiously throughout the downstairs.
“Uh-huh. Maybe my hero scared them off.” she replied, offering him an encouraging smile.
“Maybe they’re just reloading.” he joked, peering carefully into every downstairs room before finally heading upstairs to his office.
Reaching the base of the main staircase, he directed, “come with me!” as he led the way upstairs, with Kay following close behind.
At the door to his office, he cautiously turned on the overhead light, which appeared to be working normally. Then, walking slowly to the other side of his office, he confirmed that the stereo was indeed unplugged, before plugging it back into the wall socket. Instantly, tuned to a local top-forty FM radio station, the stereo began playing Piano Man by Billy Joel.
“Not exactly nostalgia music from the forties.” he declared, glancing around his office, searching intently for anything out of place.
“Well … that’s odd.”
“What’s odd?” she asked curiously.
“The clock wasn’t unplugged and yet it’s stopped at 3:24. So is the wristwatch I left on my desk. Every timepiece in this room is stopped at 3:24.”
“Wouldn’t that make sense if the power went off?” she suggested.
“They each have independent power sources, so I won’t oversleep in case of a power failure. Even my travel alarm clocks are stopped at 3:24.” he added, eyeing the miniature travel alarm clocks curiously.
“I don’t remember a power failure while you were gone.” she stated. “None of the clocks downstairs are stopped, just in here.”
“Want to know something else that’s a little off the deep end?” he said ominously.
“What?”
“According to the crash report, the Black Hameldon Bomber impacted the ground at exactly 3:24. Every timepiece I discovered at the crash site was stopped at 3:24.”
“Anywhere else, that would sound strange, but around here, it sounds like just another day.” she said with deadpan humor, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “I’m really glad you’re home.”
“Me too. But I wonder if we’re really alone or if I’m still being watched all the time like I was at the crash site? I’m too tired to entertain the dark side this evening. Part of me doesn’t know what time zone it’s in. If I don’t lay down soon, I’m going to fall down.”
Several hours later, the pair is abruptly awakened by a loud crashing sound down the upstairs hallway. Sensing a potential threat from an intruder, Steve grabs the 12 Gauge shotgun stowed under the bed, and begins moving cautiously toward the source of the sound.
“Careful!”she demanded.
“Be quiet! Stay here, so I know exactly where you are!” he directed, pausing to listen attentively for several seconds before carefully easing forward into the hallway. Kay is speechless, unable to respond as she watches Steve disappear into the darkness. Seconds pass, and her apprehension grows exponentially, until she eventually hears him calling her name from down the hall …
“Kay! Come take a look at this!”
Following the sound of his voice toward a light down the hallway, Kay finds him in the spare bedroom across from his office, staring at a large cardboard box strewn across the floor.
“What is it?” she exclaimed.
“It’s the Charlie Russell paintings my mother gave us from the time my family lived in Wyoming.” he replied, gesturing at the large cardboard box on the floor.
“I haven’t had time to hang any of them yet.” Kay replied, staring at the upended box. “Is that what fell?”
“Oh, it didn’t just fall. All the other paintings in the collection are still stacked securely. See?” he said emphatically, deliberately testing the stack of paintings for any indication of movement.
“Heavy stacks of paintings don’t just fall. Each package in this stack probably weighs twenty pounds and they have been sitting securely in this room for weeks. That one was pushed deliberately by something intent on getting our attention.” he asserted, gesturing at the upended box on the floor.
“What do you think we should do?” she asked, nervously.
“The only thing that sends them away is prayer. I prayed the Holy Scriptures directly to the Father in Heaven when I was surrounded by them at the crash site. They were gone in no time!” he stated, snapping his fingers for emphasis. Their brief discussion on prayer effectiveness against the demonic realm is suddenly interrupted by a second crashing sound downstairs.
“We better check on the dogs!” he exclaimed, exiting the upstairs bedroom with the shotgun at the ready, and heading for the staircase.
“Father in Heaven, hear our prayer, and rid our home of all dark forces that have invaded this place.” Kay prayed, following a few steps behind Steve as the two of them carefully made their way downstairs.
Entering the living room, the couple is greeted by two wide eyed, and bewildered German Shepherds, exuding the fact that something wasn’t quite right. Neither dog appeared to have been affected physically, however their fearful demeanor was a certain indicator of trouble.
“You’re okay. You’re okay.” he whispered, in as soothing a voice as he could muster under the circumstances. Carefully examining each dog, and the living room environment around him before proceeding, he then moved cautiously toward the kitchen, with the shotgun in hand. Turning on the overhead light, the source of the offending crash immediately becomes apparent, as he stares idly at a large can of dog food in the middle of the kitchen floor. The can had obviously been dislodged from a nearby pantry, and it hit the floor with sufficient force to awaken anyone that hadn’t heard the Charlie Russell paintings fall upstairs. What had dislodged the can from the overhead kitchen pantry in the middle of the night defied any natural explanation.
“They’re just taunting us.” Kay decreed, recovering the can and replacing it on the pantry shelf. “There’s no way this heavy can moved on its own.”
“They’re very disruptive when they don’t get their way.” he insisted. “I was their patsy for a long time and they got used to it. They don’t like being outed and having their plans disrupted.”
“Do you think we can go back to sleep after all of this?” she asked doubtfully.
“No. My body is still on London time anyway. My stomach is ready for breakfast. I’ll wait a few hours and then give that theologian a call. Maybe he’ll see me today. I have a trip scheduled for day after tomorrow and I’d really like to see what he says before I leave town again.” he declared, pulling a chair out from the kitchen table and carefully setting the shotgun down before taking a seat.
“That’s where I was sitting when that Glenn Miller music started playing in your office.” she offered, as they eyed one another knowingly.
“And remember … I was still doing their bidding when all that happened. I guess they just couldn’t resist taunting and then physically assaulting you.”
“I think they’ve always been committed to our ultimate spiritual and physical destruction. We were both just useful idiots for a time.” Kay suggested.
Several hours later, Steve has a meeting scheduled with a senior theologian at a well renowned university seminary in the Atlanta Metro area. Steve is not optimistic, but he is committed to giving the established religious hierarchy one last opportunity to inject meaningful insight and wisdom into this complex, other-worldly struggle. Carefully managing his expectations, he strolls into the senior theologian’s office, where he is greeted warmly and directed to a nearb
y chair. Unlike his previous church hierarchy encounter, the seminary atmosphere is considerably more business-like, with a strong undercurrent of sincerity, dedication, and overall commitment.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Lacey. I’m Dr. Monroe … but you may call me David.” the man insisted, shaking Steve’s hand firmly and prompting him to be seated.
“Hello, I’m Steve.” he replied, as both men studied each other momentarily. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, David.”
“No problem. No problem at all. Your pastor, Dr. Williams and I talked a bit about your situation. He was anxious for us to have this conversation. He said he felt like he wasn’t able to properly address your concerns during his meeting with you. He’s a good man, but a full time pastor runs himself ragged most of the time.” the theologian offered.
“I understand … it’s a thankless job.” Steve replied, flashing the theologian a disarming smile.
“Now, I believe that you have a spiritual matter of a rather serious nature?” Dr. Monroe prompted. “Please feel free to elaborate on exactly what it is that you have been experiencing.”
“Thank you … My wife and I are in the middle of a high stakes and extremely intense spiritual battle.” Steve declared. “We have …”
“I’m sorry to interrupt you, Steve, but exactly why do you believe that it’s a spiritual battle you’re fighting?” Dr. Monroe interjected.
“Why?”
“Yes, why exactly do you feel that it’s a spiritual battle?”
“Because I’ve been woefully deceived since my earliest recollections as a child, by an entity masquerading as my deceased uncle. The entity has interacted with me regularly throughout my lifetime and it would manifest physically under certain adrenaline filled circumstances. For several years, I thought that the entity in question was my guardian angel.”
“I see … and now you’re in some kind of a battle with this entity?”
“Not, just him, but his entire crew and passengers … at least fifteen entities. It started when I refused to participate in their master-plan to spiritually deceive massive numbers of people.”
“Deceive them how?”
“By accepting top-secret information that was supposedly permanently inaccessible in a highly classified government file. The entities made the information available to me supernaturally as a demonstration of their power to manipulate and control, in an effort to deceive masses of spiritually vulnerable people.” he said emphatically. “They wanted me to share with the entire world how I received the privileged information and then to basically recruit for them. They said that they wanted the masses to know that there was real power available to them in this world if they would just call on it and ultimately worship and serve the dark side. I even heard Satan’s disembodied voice when I balked and started asking pertinent questions.”
“Oh my …”
“Our spiritual battle became quite heated when I refused to go along with their satanic plan.”
“I can imagine!” Dr. Monroe exclaimed, wide eyed.
“They followed me home from England and they have been trying to intimidate me day and night since I returned.” he declared, observing the theologian and assessing his reaction.
“You mentioned highly classified information being made available to you supernaturally by these entities? I imagine our government is not too pleased about that? I assume they know you have the information?” the theologian probed cautiously.
“Yes. I’ve endured their threats and intimidation efforts also. I don’t have any allies in this Dr. Monroe, apparently just enemies. The United States Government isn’t my primary problem however, they only have a very myopic view of the battlefield. What I need from you is strategic insight into how to win an all out spiritual battle of this sort.” he said forcefully. “I’ve used a Bible repeatedly to ward off all kinds of demonic entities temporarily, but they keep returning. I was wondering if you could suggest a strategy that would handle my spiritual warfare problem on a more permanent basis?”
“I see …”
“The dark side seems undeterred that I’ve refused to do their bidding and they have resorted to intimidation and fear tactics to try and force me to change my mind.” he continued.
“What kind of fear tactics?” Dr. Monroe asked curiously.
“Stalking, manifesting as deceased friends, glaring at me with glowing red eyes, throwing items off shelves, physically assaulting my wife … anything to get inside my head and make me question my faith.” he declared, watching the theologian shift uncomfortably in his seat at the graphic and stunning revelation.
“I can see why you feel overwhelmed.” Dr. Monroe said sympathetically.
“And outnumbered …” Steve added, gazing at the theologian attentively.
“Well you see, Steve what we do here at the university is train seminary students for church leadership roles. Our resident scholars instruct students on Biblical theory and how that theory correlates to modern church doctrine and various denominational traditions. Basically, we train students to properly administer a church. The battle between good and evil is not really emphasized in our curriculum or for that matter in most modern church doctrine. Those hell, fire, and brimstone sermons make parishioners uncomfortable these days and the modern church has had to adjust to the times.” Dr. Monroe stated emphatically.
“Are you saying that you can’t help me?” Steve asked point-blank.
“Perhaps I can assist you off the record. Religious institutions, like this one however, must tailor their message and mission to the world around them. Frankly, the world doesn’t have any appetite for this spiritual warfare business.” the theologian declared.
“I thought the church was supposed to change the world, not the other way around.” Steve challenged.
“Well, the church has to adapt and conform to the times or it could go the way of the dinosaur.” the theologian answered defensively.
“Church lite?” Steve queried.
“We prefer to call it family oriented.”
Pausing for a moment before responding, Steve chooses his next words carefully …
“I understand the dilemma you’re facing David, but I should caution you that what you’re saying to me sounds an awful lot like the problems with the Seven Churches that Jesus described in the Book of Revelation ... specifically, the Laodicean Church.”
“Well, Jesus also understood the challenges associated with building and maintaining a following.” Dr. Monroe countered.
“Yes, but He didn’t water down the message of the Gospel to accommodate milk drinkers that never get into the meat of the Word. The Apostle Paul expressly rejected such a notion, and I think we can both agree that spiritual warfare is the meat of the Word.”
“I take your point, however church reformation is not why you’re here, Mr. Lacey.”
“No, it isn’t. It’s just a shame that with a church on every other block in America, religious institutions still feel that the message of the Gospel must be tailored to accommodate their own weak and beggarly theological delivery system. A problem for another day perhaps … you mentioned off the record …”
“Yes, of course. My suggestion is to use whatever tactic has worked for you in the past. This battle will inevitably come down to a test of wills. Do whatever is necessary to make sure that your will is steadfast and more enduring than the will of the dark forces that are challenging it.” Dr. Monroe offered, drumming his fingers on the desk as though awaiting a heavenly epilogue with more detailed insight. The awkward pause continued, morphing into an extended period of silence, with Steve in the unenviable position of feeling like he had just been turned down for a loan at the bank.
“Well, I think I’ve taken enough of your time, David.” he declared, rising to leave and offering the senior theologian a parting handshake.
“Anytime. I hope I have been of some help to you.”
“Yes, thank you.” Steve lied, trying to appear grateful and deliber
ately forcing another halfhearted smile.
“I’ll share our conversation with Dr. Williams, if that’s all right?” the theologian asked politely.
“Surely, and thank you again.” he replied, before exiting the theologian’s office and nodding politely to the secretary on the way out.
Steve is speechless in the elevator and throughout the long walk back to his truck. Halfway, he spots an empty park bench and decides to stop and phone Kay. Her voice resounds on the third ring.
“Well, did you learn anything that will help us prevail in our battle? she asked excitedly.
“No. It was a complete waste of time. All it did was confirm that, except for our Creator and the Bible, we’re on our own. This bunch is so busy playing church, they’ve forgotten what the real struggle for believers is all about.” he said dejectedly.