Fiction

My Neighbor Henry

by Gary Ritter
04/28/14
Not For Sale
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My neighbor, Henry, became my friend when he began attending the small church I pastored.  My wife and I had moved into our house next door to Henry, and for three years he and I had intermittent back yard, over-the-fence chats about – what else? –weather, politics, and sports.  It was only when our conversations turned to matters of faith that our relationship turned as well.

I had been given the pastorate soon after graduating from Bible school.  For many years my life had been one of knowing about Christ but not knowing Him.  The light finally dawned one day and I fell to my knees with the realization that life without Him was empty and meaningless.  I cried out in desperation and He answered.  At a point in life where most people think of retiring I heeded God’s call and attended Bible school.

The church God sent us to when I finished had been neglected for years, but that didn’t bother me.  He was in this.  He was in charge.  God would do His will in this situation.  Whatever that meant for this church and its growth was fine.  Proverbs 16:3 defined my outlook: “Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and your plans will succeed.”  In reality the plans were God’s, as was my life.

When Henry and I began talking I didn’t push things.  He knew early on I was a pastor and showed little interest.  I’ve had people abruptly end a conversation and run when they learn that about me – is it guilt? – but not Henry.  I slowly turned our discussions to God, asking him about his upbringing and whether he’d gone to church when young.  As with many in American society today Henry’s parents had little faith and he had no reason to think much about God.

Henry had done well in school and prospered in his middle management position.  He’d dated, but with travel for work and late hours, no real relationships had developed for him.  Now middle aged and slightly balding it bothered him.  He wondered if he’d ever find someone to love.  No one at work appealed, and he didn’t hang out in bars, so he hadn’t found a venue in which to meet women.  It wasn’t a prophetic word, but I suggested perhaps God was waiting to bring someone into Henry’s life only after he sought the Lord.

At church Henry listened intently to my messages.  He was reserved in worship and mingled only to a degree with others in the congregation.  One Sunday he responded to my altar call to give his life to Christ.  I prayed over him and had a moment of disquiet.  The Lord had given me a discerning spirit and during our prayer I didn’t receive the confirmation I usually got in those circumstances.  I would typically feel the presence of the Holy Spirit come upon a person whose heart had genuinely turned to God through repentance of his sins and placing his trust in Jesus as his Savior.  I knew my discernment certainly wasn’t infallible.  Yet, as much as I wanted to celebrate Henry’s salvation I couldn’t stop the nagging thought in the back of my mind that it wasn’t real.  There wasn’t much I could do about it then.  The Lord knew.  It was all in His hands.  Whether or not Henry had the faith leading to eternal life would come out in the fruit he bore.  If he exhibited the fruits of the Spirit in his walk with God, it would be evident to me and everyone else.

One of the raging topics in the church was the sexual life of singles.  It needed addressing and I preached several messages on the subject.  There was no room to wiggle in how I viewed the Bible.  It was God’s Word.  Period.  We could question it but we had to come to a conclusion.  That was done by properly interpreting what it said.  All too often that’s where people started down rabbit trails and got lost.  In the end we sometimes had to accept that certain aspects of Scripture would remain a mystery, but the vast majority of it was unmistakable in its intent and unquestionable.

God approved of marriage between a man and a woman.  Anything else was outside His will.  He also made it abundantly clear that sex outside of that God-ordained union between a man and a woman was sin.  Promiscuous sex outside marriage: fornication, adultery, homosexual relationships, all were activities that grieved God.

There are always people who question this.  Often it’s because they’re engaging in that lifestyle themselves and don’t want to change.  That’s known as rebellion against God and continuing to sin against Him in violation of His Word.  Henry took all this in and because he wasn’t in any relationship, I didn’t think much more about him in this context.

Not long after Easter Henry had a large boxed delivery made to his front door.  Soon after that on a beautiful spring Sunday Henry came to church all smiles.  He didn’t want to share when I asked, so I let it go.  But there was something…

Being neighbors I’d see Henry come and go, and there appeared to be a swagger in his walk.  He had a facial expression I can only describe as self-satisfied.  Then he missed a couple services with no excuse for his absence.  Henry entirely disappeared from his backyard and we had no leisurely talks as we had at first

I was the pastor, the shepherd of my flock.  I couldn’t shake the sense that one of my sheep had gone wandering and gotten separated in a dangerous way.  I saw Henry come home one evening, gave him time to settle, and paid him a visit.

He opened the door a crack and peered around it.  Upon seeing me his face grew red.  His eyes wandered everywhere but wouldn’t settle on mine.  He gave me excuses why he couldn’t see me but I had an inward urging from the Lord that wouldn’t stop.  I persisted, wouldn’t give up, and he reluctantly let me in.

What I saw took my breath away.

My mouth open, my eyes wide in shock, I looked at Henry in stunned silence.  He literally slinked away from me, his shoulders slumped, a defeated expression aging his face twenty years.

On the couch in a reclining position was a naked female figure.  She – it – wasn’t real.  Lifelike, fully formed as a woman, it didn’t lack any essential parts.  It wasn’t a manikin, even a sex doll.  It was more than that.  It moved.

I blurted out, “You’re having sex with a robot?”

Henry’s lips were dry.  He kept licking them.  I heard the desiccation inside his mouth as he opened and closed it.

He sat up straighter, gathering himself.  Then the excuses began.

I sat there taking it all in.  After he’d repeated himself three or four times he ran out of words.

I said, “Henry, do you believe that God’s word is true?”

“Sure.”

“What did He say about immorality?”

“This isn’t what you think.  She’s not really real.  There’s nothing in the Bible that says anything about having relations with non-humans.  Her name is Susan.”

“Do you think God intended for us to go this far?  If homosexuality is wrong, and bestiality, wouldn’t something like this also be an abomination to God?  Is there no guardrail?  No restraint?”

He shrugged.  “She makes me happy.”

“Do you remember what the Apostle Paul wrote in his Letter to the Romans?  He said that men who gave in to the sinful desires of their heart and pursued sexual impurity exchanged the truth for a lie.  He said, ‘Because of this, God gave them over to shameful lusts.’  It’s not me you have to worry about, Henry, it’s God.  He’s more than willing to forgive you, but you’ve got to get rid of this thing and repent.”

Just then the form on the couch sat up.  It said, “Henry, I’m lonely.  I so desperately want you.”  A soft, melodious voice.  It held out its hands toward him.

A deep shiver ran throughout my entire body.

“I’m coming, baby.”  Henry turned to me.  “Get out of here.”

I left.  All I could do was pray.  Telling my wife about it later we held each other and prayed for Henry all the more.

The next couple months proved busy at church with high summer attendance for some reason.  Henry didn’t come.

I saw him every now and then in town.  As time went on he grew thinner and his face haggard.  He no longer had the arrogance I’d previously seen.

As the end of summer approached I noticed that Henry’s newspapers hadn’t been picked up from his porch for over a week and mail overflowed his box.  I knocked and got no answer.  I tried to peer into his windows but all were curtained shut.

Resigned, I called 911.  The police had to break a window to get in and they found Henry.  He’d been dead that entire week.

As his pastor I asked the police if there was anything they could tell me about his death.  The coroner had to verify, of course, but they thought he’d had a heart attack.  They led me to his bedroom.   There was his robot, Susan, lying naked on the bed.

It saw me, and its eyes lit up.  “Where’s Henry?”  It pouted.  “I want Henry.”  Then it smiled.  “He never finished with me.”