by Stephen Biro
“We have been praying over these bars and stores in Ybor. We usually get kicked out or threatened, pushed away. We have never had an owner invite us in and talk about what we found offensive.”
“Never?” I said.
“They see us pray in front of their stores or clubs and bars and become violent and call us names. It’s so disheartening sometimes.”
The monks whisper amongst themselves, and then I’m told, “You have blessed us with understanding. You have explained to us what we found frightening. We truly didn’t understand. We would never have comprehended that you are a soldier of God and you are reaching out to those in need.”
My smile stretched from ear to ear.
“You see those two chairs, in the front of my store,” I asked. “Right in the front window?” I point to the two little chairs at the front of the store with a little table between them. “I use those to talk to many customers about life, love, and God.”
The monks are at ease but have to leave.
“Please come back,” I said, “because I would love to talk to you more.”
“We will.”
They said another prayer—hopefully a different one this time, as I was no longer Hellspawn in their eyes. Then they turned around and walked down the strip to pray over the rest of the ungodly folk.
I returned inside and giggled as I rewound Eastern Condors. I began to hope they would come around and talk to me so I could understand more. They did. Every day, for over a month, they came to my store, prayed over my shop and me. I began to give them money like I did the homeless people in the streets of Ybor. We became friends. I learned a house was given to the Catholic Church in Ybor City and that the Monks, learning the ins and outs of their religion, lived there.
I don’t like Catholicism but can’t refuse someone who believes in God, even if I find something wrong in the theology. In the long run, they knew about God more than I so I listened and listened hard.
All of these monks who prayed over the iniquities of the flesh were battling their own iniquities. Almost all of them were gay, and I mean that honestly.
You know gay people when you come across them. I don’t mean anything pejorative. Who cares if you’re gay or not. Well, they certainly did, and that was exactly the problem for them. In the Catholic Church, being gay is a choice and a big sin. These men just couldn’t live a life outside the church because then they would be gay. The only place they could hide from the sins of the flesh was in a celibate, hood-wearing monastic order.
I know Protestant pastors don’t have to be celibate to minister to people. Celibacy is not a requirement in the Bible as far as I know. I think men of the cloth should be married so they can see the real love that God gave us. Being in love is the most amazing thing we can ever experience.
In any case, I felt sorry for the monks that became my friends, so I tried to help them. I found they had a shelter right next to their house. They told me they were teaching homeless kids and used videos to help in the process. I found out they had a twelve-inch B&W TV to teach over 20 homeless kids how to spell and count. Once they told me that, I gave them my four-foot wide big-screen TV in the hopes the kids could finally read their spelling and counting lessons.
I had a soft heart and gave change often. I welcomed some of the homeless into my shop so we could watch movies or talk. I had my car broken into and my stereo boosted because they knew I wouldn’t call the cops on them.
Yeah, I’ve been ripped off, lied to, condemned, and prayed over. I’ve been manipulated, stolen from, and abused more times than I want to remember. I’ve actually been drugged in a bar by total strangers and prevented things from getting worse by leaving and managing to get to my store before the roofies kicked in. Ah, the life of a shop owner in Ybor City.
Around this time, I talked about God with many people. I never argued with anyone. I just told them about the hope I had for Him and that they too would one day reach out to Him to try to make sense of this mess called life. I had told people I met God, but I changed that to say I met the Devil or, sometimes, even one of his lesser minions.
Around this time, one of my customers came in right at closing time. Let’s call him Jack. Jack was about my age, around 34 years old. His complexion was a little pale and he was red around the edges due to his fair color. He liked horror movies and kung fu. That’s really all I knew of Jack. We rarely spoke, and he only came in once a month, so I was quite surprised at the invite he sprang on me.
“Steve! Let’s go get a beer together.”
“Thanks, Jack, but I was going to go home tonight and take it easy. It’s a really long drive.”
“Well, I think you’re going to want to. Want to know why?”
“I’m really busy, Jack, and I just want to…”
“I’m an Antichrist, Steve, and I was sent to talk to you.”
A shiver ran up my back. Hairs stood up.
Jack laughed and said, “I knew that would get your attention. You definitely got our attention. I can say that much for you.”
Shock turned to a mild understanding. I told him, “I’ll be right with you. I’ve never had a beer with an Antichrist before.”
“You wouldn’t believe how many times you have talked with an Antichrist, or even an Angel for that matter. I’ll be waiting outside.”
I quickly put the money in the safe and closed the store while thinking about what this could mean. Was I dead and about to go to Hell? Was I living these last couple of months in limbo or purgatory, on the way to either Heaven or Hell?
I’d never talked to Jack about anything I went through so this wasn’t a trick. This was happening in normal reality and not psychedelic reality because it had been over 6 months since my last confrontation with the Devil.
I stepped outside, ready to go to Hell, and locked the door behind me. Jack said, “Let’s hit the outside bar, close by. We can talk, smoke, and drink there.”
We walked towards the closest outside bar. Jack spoke.
“I notice you’re still smoking. Thought you were trying to quit.”
“I am. Addiction is a bitch. It’s on again, off again. Gum doesn’t work too well anymore. I end up with the hiccups.”
“I take it The Big Guy Upstairs told you to stop, huh?”
“Yeah, told me to stop a lot of stuff.”
“How’s that going for you now?”
“The drugs have been the easy part so far. Pot makes me go out of my mind. Sometimes I’m talked into doing some ecstasy, but it turns into Hell itself. It’s hard to lose friends when that was all you had in common.”
“Yeah, He does that to certain people,” Jack said. “Too bad He did it to you. You would have been a great Antichrist.”
I was floored. I didn’t say anything else until the bar. I ordered an Amber Bach and he ordered a Budweiser. I sipped my beer, relishing it because I didn’t know if this was going to be my last beer before being reaped down to the bowels of Hell.
At this time, I knew things weren’t always as they seemed. I came to the conclusion that both God and the Devil were working on people unaware. Others knew and fought every moment to either do what was right or what was wrong.
I also believed that if the Devil was to come for me in a crowded room and set my soul afire in front of thousands, I could burn to ashes and float to Hell and nobody would know or remember that it happened. I was in God’s Twilight Zone, and I was in another episode that could go anywhere.
“Okay, why does an Antichrist want to have a beer with me?”
“It looks like you have been taking trips to the other side, and everyone has noticed. You’ve created quite the ripple outside the plane of existence we pretend to be in. Some of us thought it was time for you to hear our feelings on the matter.”
“Who’s us?” I asked.
“That’s beside the point. I’m not going to ask you what you learned on the other side. I don’t want you to poison my beliefs. I will ask you this, though: What and who did y
ou meet?”
I take a huge pull off of my beer and I set it down and began telling him:
I thought I was meeting God. I began learning knowledge and wisdom that was hidden from normal men. I found the philosopher’s stone and used it to learn and to find God but I found something else that was masquerading as God. Some of the truths were still truths but they were mingled in with lies. That way, when I learned some truth, it made the lies go down easier.
Jack laughed, but his eyes trembled as he said, “So you met Him didn’t you? You met the Father of all Lies and you’re still here. You’re still a-fucking-live.”
He continued, “Wow, not many men have ever done that—lived to tell the tale. Not get lost in the lies that He disguised with truth. You’re in his book now, you know.”
A shudder rippled through me and settled in my brain.
“Don’t worry. Well, be worried a little. You’re not in the Book of the Damned. You’re in the book of souls he’s lost, personally lost. So congratulations, Stephen. You’re probably on the front page of that book now.”
I said, “Why would…?”
“You don’t understand what you were up against. The Father of all Lies, He who Masquerades as an Angel of Light, The Liar, The Deceiver of all Mankind.”
I said, “And now I’m talking to an Antichrist.”
He said, “Exactly. I don’t think you realize who you are supposed to be, do you?”
I shook my head no.
“So, you searched for God and found the Devil instead. Do you know how to make a difference in the world? Do you know or understand how to get your word out to mankind?”
I said, “Be a rock star, an actor, or even a politician.”
Jack laughed and said, “You’re exactly right. If you get enough people to follow you, then they will believe in what you say. They will do what you say. They will even pay you to tell them what to do.”
“I don’t want that,” I said.
“Then you can write a book. How’s that sound?”
“That sounds better because I don’t want to become a false idol to people.”
Jack laughed and said, “Oh, you will though. You were given a vision, I’m sure—one of your future?”
“That’s not going to happen,” I retorted. “That was a possible vision if I followed the Father of Lies. And if I write a book, it’s not going to be a “follow me and here’re the answers to everything” book. I’m going to write it from my heart and as humbly as I can.”
“You’re quick, Stephen. No wonder He wanted you enough to make a personal visitation. I have a proposal for you, but before I say it, I have to ask: How many times did He visit you?”
I took another drink. “Twelve to fifteen times, maybe more. This might be another encounter right now. He could be hiding behind your eyes as we speak, Antichrist.”
Jack stood up. “You’re kidding me. He tried to seduce you that many times? The Father of Lies doesn’t take his time on just normal everyday souls, especially if they’re in his camp already.”
Jack chugged his beer as if something was wrong.
“You’re wanted by us, you realize that, right? What was your future vision about?” he asked.
“I’m not going to tell you because it hasn’t happened yet. I’m not going to let it happen.”
“It must have been a doozy. What if it was already in place and you couldn’t stop it because it was already foretold?”
“Then that means there is no free will, and I believe we have it.”
“The Book of Life has already been written, and those that are damned and those that are saved are already recorded. You don’t know who you are, do you?”
“I’m nobody but a follower of God,” I said.
“That’s the spirit! I wish I had a camera. No one is going to believe I met you later.”
“Now you’re just being creepy,” I said.
He slammed his beer down and said, “Here’s my proposal to you. I’ll make sure you get a million dollars if you act against a belief right now.”
“What?”
He said, “You heard me. I will make sure you get a million dollars if you act against a belief right now. You’ll have the money in less than a month’s time. But the catch is: You will never, ever fall asleep again because you acted against your belief.”
“A million dollars would be nice, but c’mon. I’m not going to let a self-described Antichrist tempt me to act against a belief for money. And I’ll never sleep again? That’s ridiculous. The answer is no.”
Jack said, “Easy money, man.”
“No. Now tell me: If you’re a self-professed Antichrist, what is your take on God? I’m curious.”
Jack’s eyes and demeanor changed then and became sporadic and twitchy. As if whatever he had in him was gone and I was left with plain ol’ Jack. He told me his god was the government and that it’s telling us what we have to do; we tithe to it via taxes, and it has no place in telling us what we can and should do. I listened to his ramblings for a few minutes and excused myself with no real pleasantries. I never saw him again at my video store. I guess he did what he had to do.
During the long drive home, my mind replayed the offer: A million dollars to act against a belief, and I would never sleep again. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it was going to be rough night.
I got home and made myself comfortable. I actually forgot what the offense was. Maybe I watched a dirty movie, or I looked at someone with lust, or I lied to someone or did something even worse. All I do remember is I did act against a belief that night.
I lay down to go to sleep, and panic flooded my mind. My heart beat out of its chest, and I sweated profusely. My mind kept echoing that Antichrist’s wager about acting against a belief, especially the part about not sleeping again. I prayed to God in remorse, but I still tossed and turned in an all-night panic attack. I didn’t fall asleep at all. I groggily showered and dressed and headed to work.
The Man and I parted ways around this time. Since I no longer got high, we couldn’t easily hang out. Our roads were two different paths; he even said this to me. I really appreciated the hard work he did to make the store a reality, and I thanked him from the bottom of my heart.
Around the time I was visited by an Antichrist, I had another unusual visitor at my store. It was late, around 8 p.m., when a kid walked in. He was about 14. He looked around, and I noticed his young age.
“Hey, how old are you?”
He told me.
“You can’t be in here,” I said. “The store is Rated R because we have some disgusting and adult-themed movies in here. You gotta go!”
“I have no place to go. I ran away from home.”
I walked up to him and said, “Where are you running away to?”
He said, “Here.”
“Here? My video store?”
He told me, “Yeah, my friends told me you were a good guy and really cool to talk to about anything, so I wanted to go to someplace where I wouldn’t be judged.”
Wow. I wasn’t expecting anything like this. I turned off the TV, and I motioned for him to sit in the chairs at the front of the store. He told me he was living with his grandparents and was sick and tired of being told what to do. We talked about school and how he didn’t want to attend anymore. He was upset at his parents for abandoning him and because his grandparents were mean, giving him curfews and chores.
I told him his grandparents loved him and were just showing him how life is. The chores are just like work when you’re older. I asked him if his grandparents loved him, and he said, “Yes.” I told him, “Great, just remember that. Life is hard, really hard.”
Then he said he wanted to do what I was doing and have a cool movie store. I told him, “It’s not as awesome as it seems. It’s a lot of hard work.”
I do believe we talked about God for a second, and he believed and went to church with his grandparents, so that was great. My mind went to ease with that aspect. I needed a ciga
rette at the time and I asked him to come outside with me so we could continue to talk.
He asked me about cigarettes, and I told him, “I have been trying to quit because it’s an addiction. It’s something that my body is forced to do and that my mind has been programmed to do. It’s very hard, and it’s one of the stupidest things I have ever done in my life. It might seem like it’s cool when you’re young, but you become a slave to it. You don’t want to become a slave to anything, do you?”
“No, I just thought it was cool.”
I said, “It’s not. It’s the worst thing you can do to yourself. I’m not as cool as you think I am.”
He said, “I won’t smoke. I don’t want to be a slave to anything.”
I began to tell him, how he should stay in school, even go to college. I talked to him about the wonders of education and how he should learn about everything he can, because the more you learn, the smarter you are, and the smarter you are, the better you will be in life.
He agreed because for some odd reason, he respected me. Sitting on the curb, I gave him a metaphor for life.
“Imagine your life is a big canvas. Picture it in your mind and think about the beginning of your painting of life. You’re fourteen years old, and you are lucky if you have one seventh of it painted.”
I stood and showed him an imaginary frame. I showed him how little of the painting had been painted by his living up to that exact moment.
“Now imagine the rest of the canvas is totally empty. Every day you live, and every month and every year, means another inch that is painted on that canvas.”
“You’re going to be painting this empty canvas with your life and when you get to the end of it, what is that painting going to look like?”
He said, “I want it to look good, like I accomplished stuff and made a difference.”
“That would be a beautiful picture, son. I would love to see it someday.”
My heart felt very light and my soul beamed with happiness.
“So, how about we call your grandparents? I’m sure they’re worried about you.”
He said, “Okay.”
The grandparents had had no clue where he went and were so relieved. They told me he would talk about the store and wanted to go when he turned seventeen. They never expected him to show up there now. I told them about our talk.
