Pastor Turner smiled at the soloist as she descended the stairs and made her way back to the pew. He gathered his Bible and tucked it nicely under his arm and walked confidently up the short flight of stairs to his pulpit, a small climb, but the difference between heaven and earth. He stood for a brief moment and sorted his yellow pages of notes and then began, “Isn't it sweet to see such a young lady, only a teenager, already using her talents for the Lord? Amen?”
An array of resounding masculinity bounced off the walls no sooner had the pastor finished speaking.
“Amen!” came from the front.
“That’s Right!” came from the rear.
“Yes, Sir!” came from the side with the windows.
Pastor Turner got on with it. He spoke softly, “Turn in your Bibles to the gospel of Matthew chapter thirteen and verse fifty. That’s Matthew chapter thirteen, verse fifty.”
In a moment pages turned violently, fingers vigorously rushing to the text. Heads were buried in laps. The intensity of the moment guaranteed the stolid silence. No one wanted to be the last one turning the page for fear that others might think he' d forgotten where to find the beloved gospel. At last the pages rested and eyes were beaming in hope that they would be recognized as having been one of the first to have found the section of scripture.
Pastor Turner paused for a silent moment, straightening his coat and tie, then spoke with a hint of arrogance, “Aren’t you glad you have The Book?”
A full-throttled “Amen!” was heard from the back of the room where brother Jardino sat in his usual spot. He was well-known to be the most fervent lover of The Book. To him The Book, the Blood, and the Blessed Hope made up the divine trinity.
Pastor Turner continued, with a little more energy this time, “Aren’t you glad that you’re free to carry The Book?! That you don’t have to hide The Book! That in The Book the very voice of God can be heard!”
This time several instances of “Amen!” filled the air. Hooting and hollering excited the room to a new found energy.
At this new energy Pastor Turner raved, “You did bring your King James, didn’t you, my friends? Those pure, unadulterated words of the only true Holy Bible! The very WORDS OF GOD in English! Not one jot or tittle shall pass away, says our Lord!”
The spiritually superior men shouted,
“Preach it!”
“Come on, Pastor!”
“Praise God!”
The crowd took a breath and drew back in from the enthusiasm.
“I love to hear those pages turning!” Pastor Turner said, this time with a malicious smile across his face.
The energy was changed. His eyes glared across the room, “Some of you don’t have your Bible. Do you?”
He was obviously enraged. “Come on! What is it?! No time for God’s Word? Too much to think about to carry God’s instruction manual with you? People died for this book!”
He paused momentarily, “Are you ashamed of God’s Word? Are you ashamed at the cost of being seen with your Bible? Steven was stoned! Paul was imprisoned! Jesus was crucified! – all for standing up for God,” he exclaimed. "Nails pierced his hands and feet and a spear pierced his side, all for you!"
He softened his tone and smirched, "And you can’t even bring your Bible to church!"
A righteous rage had overcome his spirit, his face a darker shade of red and all the while the vein in his forehead began to pulse rapidly.
The congregation sat in a silent stillness.
He continued, “I know, I know, it’s too much of a hassle. You’re probably thinking, ‘I have to get the kids in the van, and make sure they have all their things and make sure we didn’t forget the diapers and wipes and change of clothes and on and on.’ You’re thinking, ‘there’s already so much to remember, Pastor. Surely you can understand?’”
He objected strenuously to the imagined rebuttal, “No! my dear friend. I can’t understand that sort of ingratitude. Hundreds of men and women, boys and girls have fled home and kindred for their lives, have been forced to get on boats and cross an ocean, have been burned at the stake and have experienced all manner of hardship so that you and I can freely worship and freely carry The Book!”
With fury in his eyes and grim passion in his breath, “The Unholy See tried to burn the Bible away! The Pope didn't want you to have a Bible! Bring your King James to church!”
No one dare move. Not a breath could be heard. Many, no doubt, slurred in their head, “That’s right, Pastor, you tell them.”
Earlier that morning Pastor Turner was particularly troubled. His morning prayer time was disrupted by an emergency repair down in the boiler room. The pilot light was out again, there was no hot water.
“That demon-possessed tank,” he mumbled in his head, "if only these people would see how important the work of this church was, then we’d be able to replace this derelict old tin can.”
His frustration with the hot water tank seemed to set him on edge as he prepared for the Sunday morning services.
To make matters worse, Helen, his wife, was to have the kids up and fed and dressed by quarter-past nine and ready to help set the chairs for the Sunday school at half-past nine. But that morning at nine-thirty Pastor Turner’s oldest son was nowhere to be found.
“That child of the flesh,” he stammered. “Have I not taught him anything about serving God?!” He arrested his impatient soul and pronounced in his heart, “Alas, The Book says, ‘...mischief is born in the heart of a child.’”
Pastor Turner prided himself on being able to quickly apply Bible verses to everyday situations of life so he could prove how right the Bible was when it spoke.
His sermon that morning continued the series on the theme of divine judgment. He was half way through his eight-week series, “Doomsday Someday.” Today's sermon was titled, "Hell: it's forever." Next week would balance the equation, "Heaven: it's forever."
“You see, brothers and sisters, God is a God of love, but he is also a God of wrath. You cannot have one without the other. God does not take pleasure in the death of the wicked, but he is perfectly just to send a person to hell to suffer the consequences of their wickedness. Sin, rebellion, disbelief, wickedness: these are ultimately the cause of hell. God did not create hell. You did! I did! Our sin did! God has no choice but to send people to hell because God is just and holy and nothing wicked can be in his presence for a moment and not be burned up!”
He further reasoned quite logically, “The end result of human rebellion and sin is eternal judgment in hell. Hell is so hot the fire is black! The screaming can be heard miles off! Jesus says there is weeping and gnashing of teeth. Hell is described as fire that is not quenched! What do unquenched fires do? They burn! And burn! And burn!”
He increased the volume and began to yell, “God will send you, me, my own children to hell! He doesn’t care if you or any one goes to church! God doesn’t care how many little old ladies I helped across the street! God loves us, but this love is so pure, so true that God will to send you to hell, even if he doesn't want to, because in the end, that’s what you want - if you don’t get saved!”
The crowd’s response lacked the typical enthusiasm for the gravity of the matter, though brother Jardino added his predictable response to the preacher's yelling, "Preach!"
The children, however, sat in stillness as they imagined the fury of burning in black flames of fire.
He preached on, “That’s why it’s so important for you to tell as many people as you can. So that they don’t burn in hell forever! It's too late once they’re dead! Dead is dead! It's either go up or down when you’re dead. Have you warned your neighbors? Have you warned your unsaved family? Have you warned your co-workers? You have been warned, now you must sound the warning!”
The sermon ended with the invitation and at least three children had raised their hands for salvation, though one of the children had raised their hand the week before.
The service drew to a completion and Pastor Turner was pleased that at least two more new souls were added to The Book of Life.
He gathered his Bible and notes and reasoned within himself, "If I have to keep a little flame lit to keep little souls from hell's flames, then so be it."
He couldn't help but offer a sincere nod to the irony. He finished his thought, "Praise the Lord for the many trials and temptations."
He exited the sanctuary for his office and discovered his oldest son, Peter, coming out of the bathroom.
"Peter, come here."
Peter's face went flat, his shoulders dipped. He walked slowly.
Pastor Turner inquired, "Where are you supposed to be at nine-thirty, son?"
Peter responded delicately, "In the Sunday school room."
Pastor Turner inquired further, "Where were you at nine-thirty?"
Peter muttered, "I forgot, dad."
Pastor Turner responded coldly, "Well, I guess I will 'forget' that I said we would play catch this afternoon."
Peter's eyes sunk and he breathed out, "Sorry."
Somehow Peter knew, even before this, that his dad would find a way out.