Spreading The Gospel…

He sat on the hard wooden pew and wiped his brow nervously. Despite his best efforts, a bead of sweat rolled down his cheek. Never before had he felt so trapped, so confused, or so conflicted. In front of him sat a family of four dressed in their best Sundays. Behind, a little old lady with blue hair and what seemed to be her three grandchildren. They too were dressed smartly and appropriately.

He could feel all of them staring laser beams into his soul. They knew. They had to know. He was a flawed man looking to turn his fortune around. He was done with the women. He was done with the drink. He wanted so badly to ignore all of the sins that called on him. Maybe they saw that too?

The choir sang. An important looking man walked down the center isle. His sweat began to pool.

As the minister approached the pulpit and began to speak, our man folded with pressure and got up quietly to make a rearward exit, but his foot caught the edge of the pew in front of him. He tripped. Fell. Splashed out into the isle. The chapel went quiet and now everyone was staring directly at him. The minister broke the silence with a booming southern voice.

“Keep your seat my son. It needs you just as much as you need it.”

Lying on his back, he opens his eyes. There is no stain glass, only a popcorn ceiling. The hard carpet is replaced by the feeling of cheap sheets and the dim chapel lighting gives way to sun rays filtered through polyester drapes. He looks to his side to see a nameless brunette silently sleeping. It’s Sunday morning after a hard Saturday night. He gets up, puts on his new H.A.M.B. shirt and heads for the door. There’s a chapel just down the street.

Saved.

……………….

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