Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: The Church (12/06/07)
- TITLE: Pastor Jack
By Robin Wisch
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“I’ll kill that boy!” he shouted yanking open the top dresser drawer. “I’ll kill the good for nothin’”, he repeated.
Underwear and socks flew every which way onto the floor. Frantically, he picked up an old cigar box, clenching it tightly in his hands. Pulling back the lid hurriedly, he lost his grip and the box crashed to the floor.
Swearing profusely, he ripped his Yankees cap off and threw it at the bedroom mirror.
Stooping, he picked up a pint size bottle of Jack Daniels. Finding it empty, he threw it against the bathroom door. Sliding the spilled contents from the cigar box around on the floor, he located an eight-inch, vintage Dalton switch blade. He clicked it and opened it easily. Staring at the blade, a sinister smile came over his face.
Standing up, he gazed at himself in the bedroom mirror. The inebriated man then pressed his index finger against the blade’s razor sharp edge. Fresh blood trickled along the side of the blade. Slowly, he brought the bloody finger to his lips and licked. Another heinous smile arose on his face. His nostrils flared; his pupils enlarged.
For a fleeting moment, a dark shimmering figure appeared next to the raging dark haired man. Looking not too unlike the beast with the blade in his hand except for a spotty dark beard which covered his jaw, the figure leaned over and gently kissed the tip of his companion’s knife. An instant later, the apparition disappeared into the man staring at the mirror.
“Boy!” he roared staggering back down the hallway. “I’ll find ya.”
At the other end of the hallway, a seven year old, blond-headed girl cracked her bedroom door open enough to see the devil she knew as her father stomping towards the kitchen.
“Boy! Ya think that scares me? Tellin’ the church!” he shouted again as he disappeared through the screen door into the back yard still in a frenzy.
Running to the kitchen window, she saw her father nearly pull the side screen door of their detached garage off its hinges.
“Please God, don’t let him hurt Paul,” prayed Melissa, Paul’s seven year old sister. At thirteen, Paul was already 5’9” tall, so their father took every opportunity he could to intimidate Paul to show him who was boss.
Melissa stood breathless for several minutes listening to horrible swearing and shouting. The sound of clanging followed and then a high pitched whine resembling a wounded animal pierced her ears. Carefully, she slipped through screen door and stood on the cracked concrete walkway leading to the garage. Immediately, she noticed a truck parked in the driveway. She recognized it as the youth pastor’s old pick up. Gasping, Mel wondered if Pastor Jack was somehow in that garage with her maniac father and Paul.
Moments later, she whirled as the screen door into the garage flew off its hinges landing on the lawn nearby. This was followed by the sight of a man hurtling backwards crashing on top of the door with a thud. The knife bounced from her father’s hand and landed on the gravel several feet away.
Momentarily, a pair of boots were seen approaching the fallen figure. In those boots was Pastor Jack who now stood over Mel’s father.
“All authority has been given to Jesus and He in turn has given that authority to the church. That means me. You foul spirit, in Jesus name, Go!” commanded the young Pastor. A pitiful moan exited the writhing man on the ground. Moments later, he lay perfectly still.
“You see Paul,” said Pastor Jack turning to the young teenager, “the church is not the building we meet in. It is you and it is me and everyone else that names the name of Jesus. It is not an organization. But, it is made up of organic life. That is, God’s organic life in you and it comes from heaven…and no weapon formed against it can prevail.”
Paul stood stone-like looking at his father.
Pastor Jack stepped over to Paul and whispered, “the kingdom of God is not in word only but in power.” Pausing, he added, “that kingdom is within you and you my young friend are…the Church.”
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