How are you and how is my daughter Abigail? She must be three and a half by now. Thank you for the photos you so faithfully send me. I show them to everyone here and I think some of the folks are almost jealous I have such a pretty daughter and such an angel like you as a wife. How you have put up with me all these years is beyond me.
I got to stop because I need to start working in the laundry room now. At least it’s warm there and the guards are friendly. I pray for you and Abigail every single day.
Your shameful and truly unworthy husband,
Samson.
PS: I’ll keep my hair short for the time being. Dreadlocks remind me too much of my deceptive state of mind.
Lake Crystal
December 18
From: Precious
Dear Samson
It’s always so good to hear from you and yes, Abigail and I are praying for you every day too. She’s such a treasure and I am sure you will be so happy once you can play with her yourself. She misses you, although she never really saw you.
I will see if Mary and I can collect some warm clothes for you and your friends in prison. I’ll send some more socks for you with this letter, although you probably end up giving them away too. But that’s all right, Samson. From what I gather God’s glorious light seems to be doing a marvelous work in your life. It’s what I have been praying for all these years.
Beware of the enemy’s devices, though. Keep close to Jesus through prayer and your study of His Word. It’s the only thing that will keep you alive.
I’ve got some other good news too.
Did you know that Candy is marrying the assistant pastor of the church? He is such a friendly fellow and loves her dearly. Since she has joined the church she’s a different person. You wouldn’t recognize her if you saw her. She’s so thankful too that she did not abort the baby you gave her. Tommy is just about four years now and loves to play with Abigail.
My work as a waitress in Albert’s Corner is going well. It’s hard work, but that doesn’t matter. It pays the bills and that’s all that matters.
Abigail and I love you Samson and we send you our love.
Love Precious.
PS. The drawing is from Abigail. She made it especially for you. On it we are walking on a field full of flowers in the springtime. Could it be heaven?
*
Warden S. Grubslachter
Darkwood Correctional center
Pilgrim Way
To the members of the parole board
Dear Sir(s)
I write this note on behalf of one of our inmates, namely Samson Jackson.
The man in question has been sentenced to five years and of those has now served four. While his criminal behavior justified the verdict of the honorable judge, Simon Lacroix, it has come to my attention that the behavior of Samson Jackson has been exemplary and should not go unnoticed. I believe it would be in the interest of both the man in question, as well as society at large if he would be getting a parole hearing.
I will leave the decision about this in your capable hands.
For more information, you can reach me at [email protected].
Sincerely yours
Warden Sinclair Grubslachter.
*
Darkwood Correctional center
November 15
From: Samson
Dear Precious,
I can’t believe what I have been hearing. There are rumors I will be set free just before Christmas. Somehow those in charge seem to think I have changed so much that they gave me a parole hearing. If it’s really true I will be home for Christmas and will be able to hold Abigail for the first time.
I will not have my hopes up too high as that way I won’t be disappointed if it does not happen. And, honest, I am even very nervous about being ‘out’ again. Will I truly have learned? Only time will tell as I no longer trust myself. I can only trust in the One who gave His life for me. Also, I have done so much evangelization here and worked hand in hand with the local pastor that I will miss a lot of the prisoners. I know that sounds strange, but it is the truth nevertheless.
But I know I need to go on and there’s a whole world out there that needs to see a different kind of Samson.
Please pray for God’s will to be done.
Yours
Samson.
*
When Samson was released a week before Christmas, not many people knew about it. Precious had not told anybody except her friends at church, but little Abigail was overjoyed. She was finally able to sit on Daddy’s lap and to her it was the best Christmas present she could ever receive. Precious had done a wonderful job in building the necessary respect for her Daddy so that Samson’s transition from prison life back to the normal world, wouldn’t be harder than necessary.
She would not leave his side and followed him around like a puppy dog and it warmed Samson’s heart. Having Abigail near was like a healing balm on his withered heart. Still he was very insecure about stepping out into the real world. He did not even want to go to the store.
But when it was Christmas Eve, Precious felt it was time for Samson to leave the house. “How about coming to church tonight? After all, it’s Christmas Eve, and what better time to make a fresh start?” She had just served him a cup of blueberry tea and raised her eyebrows. Samson frowned and shuffled his feet.
“What do you think Abigail?” Samson turned to Abigail. “Should Daddy go to church tonight?”
“Of course Daddy,” Abigail grinned in her high pitched voice as she rested her head on Samson’s chest. “God lives there, Daddy. Don’t you know that?”
Samson stroked her pigtails and his eyes were teary. “He does, Abigail…He does. But He also lives in our hearts.”
“I know,” Abigail answered. “But you should still go. All my friends are there.”
Samson looked at Precious and swallowed. “Do you think Mary’s church will accept me?”
Precious shook her head and muttered, “I am not even going to answer that, Samson. You know better than that.” Then she leaned forward and rested her hand on Samson’s. “You can never be too bad for Jesus, only too good. The service will do you good, especially tonight as we celebrate the birth of Jesus.”
Samson nodded. “I’m just a little scared. Well…very scared actually, but I know you are right. I’ll go.”
“Yippee,” shouted Abigail. “Daddy’s going to church. I am so happy.”
Precious smiled. “So am I.”
* Rock of Ages, Hymn by Augustus Toplady (1740-1778)
Chapter 2
Ripening Corn
A CHRISTIAN IS like ripening corn: The riper he grows, the lower he bows his head.
When the Jacksons arrived home again that night after the service, Samson was overwhelmed. The folks in Mary’s church had been overjoyed to meet him and their concern for his well-being had been sincere. Nobody had mentioned his past and they treated him with respect and dignity. It had brought tears to his eyes. This was how it always should be. Caring people that simply loved each other and sought to live the life Jesus had come to bring. How different his own attitude had been all those years in Lake Community Church.
He had not really cared for his congregation and only sought to further his own plans, which were mostly selfish and unspiritual.
After he had carried Abigail to bed and slouched down on the couch, he sighed. “I don’t think I even knew Jesus in those awful years when I was the pastor and met you,” he said. “Here on earth I will always have to live with my shame.”
Precious shrugged. “Maybe, but what’s important is that you are getting to know Him now. That’s what counts, doesn’t it.”
Samson nodded. “I am so grateful He did not let me down. If I were God, I would have thrown myself out long ago.”
Precious sat next to him and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “But thankfully you aren’t Him. We may be made in His image, but God is not human like us. His love goes so much further than we can eve
r understand.”
Samson thought for a moment. “I don’t think I want to be a public speaker anymore, but maybe I can still speak one last time in Lake Community Church. Just to give a full confession and undo some of the damage. What do you think?”
Precious was very quiet as she thought it over. At last she said, “I think it would be a real blessing, for you and for the people who have known you.” She looked up at Samson. “You think you have the courage?”
Samson smiled. “If you and Mary will be there to pray for me, I think I’ll muddle through.”
Precious nodded. “In that case, I will contact the new pastor and see if we can set something up for the beginning of the New Year.”
Samson smiled. “Thank you, Precious.”
In the distance, they could hear the sound of the town’s clock. It sounded twice. Samson looked up in surprise. “It’s really time to go to bed, Precious…but it’s so good to be home. Thank you for everything.”
*
When Samson glanced over the sea of faces before him he broke out into a sweat. He had not expected so many people. Pastor Joel Osbourne had told him he did not expect many people would show up for the story and the confession. “Still, you’re welcome to speak Samson,” he said. “Just don’t have your hopes up too high.”
But the church was full and many people were still standing outside hoping to hear the story of the fallen pastor. Osbourne scratched his head and mumbled something about a miracle and ordered his deacons to roll out the big outside TV screen, so nobody would have to miss Samson’s story.
Samson’s toes were tingling and he leaned heavily on the pulpit. He was expected to start. Everyone looked at the man who had just served four years in prison. Samson wiped his brow and as the church had become eerily still he closed his eyes. God, I’ve been such a bad sample. Will you please help me through the next hour so I may undo at least some of the damage I have done?
A sense of peace flooded his heart and Samson knew God was with him. Whatever happened today, it didn’t matter. All he had to do was be honest. There was nothing to fear.
As Samson opened his eyes he recognized many faces. People whose pastor he had been and had trusted him. Some stared at him with faces as hard as flint, but others seemed willing to give him a chance. Precious and Mary had found a seat near the back and gave him an encouraging smile. Then he caught a glimpse of Pastor Bob Armsteadt. What was he doing here? He looked older and his hair had whitened considerably. Would the man still hate him?
There was no sign of Madeleine Stone, or Delilah, but Samson had not expected these two women to come. Candy was sitting on the first row with her husband. He had not recognized her at first, but when she had cast him a timid smile it was like a little door opened in his memory box. Samson cleared his throat again. He had to start.
God, here we go.
“I…eh…wanted to thank you all for coming,” he began. “The main reason I am standing here today is to ask your forgiveness. My late mother always told me, Son, sorry doesn’t fix it, but it is a start on your way back. With your help, I would like to try to find my way back. As you know my behavior landed me in jail and I was indirectly responsible for the death of my friend Pastor James Direheart and his lovely wife.” Samson’s eyes glistened as he sought for words, but the ball was rolling now and as he started his story, his fears were pushed to the background and the inspiration started to flow. Several times he had to stop as his voice broke and he had to use his handkerchief, but as he spoke and drew out the many lessons he had learned along the way, a holy hush came over the church. Samson couldn’t remember ever having had such an attentive flock. He told everything. He did not mention any names, and left out the details that could be offensive to the ones involved, but he did not spare himself and withheld nothing. He talked for a good 45 minutes. His shoulders ached and he longed to sit down, and even while he spoke he wanted to run away from the pulpit and hide. Talking like this was so painful. But he had to do it. He had to come clean.
At last there was not much more to say and Samson stopped and thought.
One more thing.
“My wife,” he said as he pointed to Precious in the back, “has been instrumental in seeing me through. She held on to me, and she only did it because of her love for Jesus. When I proposed she asked God whether or not she should marry me.” Tears pricked Samson’s eyes again. “The Lord knew what kind of man I was, but loved me enough to send me Precious. In answer to her prayer, God gave her the story of the prophet Hosea in the Old Testament who had to marry a harlot. In Hosea’s case, God wanted to illustrate His everlasting faithfulness even though His people went a whoring after other gods.”
Samson looked down. He could not face the congregation. “God told my wife, Precious, that I would be very, very unfaithful and that she needed to fight for me in prayer. If she would not do that, I would not just fall, but I would be destroyed by Satan.” Samson looked up. “She fought that battle and held onto me in spite of my wickedness. Even though I was very unfaithful, she remained faithful. Such is the love of God. A love that is freely given, but is not deserved.”
Samson was done.
He still mumbled a word of thanks and stepped down. Why was he so tired? His whole body was aching now. Maybe Precious had an Advil for him.
As Samson walked to the back of the church and sat down in his seat next to Precious no one said a word. An old lady coughed and the echo reverberated on the walls of the church. Samson’s message about humility and the need for confession by using his own flawed example had made a deep impression on the congregation.
At last Pastor Osbourne stood up and walked over to the pulpit. He readjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. “Thank you, Samson Jackson, for such an honest and heartfelt testimony. What more can we say?” He furrowed his brow and spoke in a somber tone, “I would just like to give the opportunity to any of you who feel the need to come clean with God, whatever it is, to come forward. The elders of the church and I will be most happy to pray with you.” He nodded to a slender man behind the keyboard who sprung into action and started to play a soft hymn. “Or is there anyone here,” Pastor Osbourne continued, “who has not given his heart to Jesus, and wants to do so, then let him come forward as well and we will pray with you too.”
Samson was quietly sitting next to Precious in the back and couldn’t believe what he saw next. Tons of people got up, some with tears streaming down their faces, and walked towards the front with their desire to get right with God.
“W-what’s happening?” Samson whispered to Precious. “Why are all these people getting up? I only told them I was sorry for my horrible sins.”
Precious’ heart held a song. She squeezed Samson’s hand and said, “Your sins may be grave, Samson, but don’t forget we are all sinners. In many ways, we are all the same. But, for the first time you were real. People don’t change because you give them a nice bible story or give them the right doctrines. They only change when they meet Jesus and today you showed the people who Jesus really is.”
“I did?” Samson scratched his head. “It was the most difficult talk I ever gave.”
“I believe it was,” Precious said, “but all I can say Samson is…welcome home.”
Chapter 3
Power & Grace
POWER FOR THE hour, grace for the trial
When Precious read the morning paper a month later her heart skipped a beat and the blood drained from her face. The tiny news article in the bottom corner of the Crystal Lake Clarion disturbed her greatly and she picked up the paper with trembling hands. Samson needed to see this immediately. She picked up the paper and walked over to Samson’s study. He was playing horsey with Abigail, and as Precious walked in Abigail just burst out laughing as she rode around on Samson’s back who was crawling through the office on all fours.
“Faster, slow horse. Faster you slow poke,” she shouted in between waves of laughter. Samson did his best to go faster but when he saw Preci
ous in the door opening he sighed and collapsed on the rug before her feet.
“What is it, Precious?” he sighed as he saw the serious look on Precious’ face.
“Here,” Precious said as she handed him the morning paper. Samson got up. “What’s so important that it cannot wait?” he said.
Precious pointed to the article and as Samson read it, he shook his head and mumbled, “Not good…not good.”
Jailbreak in Lake Crystal penitentiary.
In an unprecedented jailbreak last night at midnight, two prisoners broke out of jail, while wounding a guard in the process. They are believed to be armed and dangerous. One of them is the notorious bank robber Phil Smith.
Samson looked up. “This is bad, but what does that have to do with us?”
“Read on,” Precious urged.
The other escapee is the known arsonist Jimmy Fox who was responsible for the killing of Pastor James Direheart and his wife after he was paid to do so by former Reverend Samson Jackson.
Now it hit Samson too and he looked up in alarm. “Jimmy Fox is free…”
“Do you think he will contact you?” Precious asked with concern.
Samson thought for a moment. “Nah. Why would he contact me?”
“Well, you were his friend and his buddy in crime. He’s got nobody else to turn to for help.”
“Nonsense,” Samson said, but Precious noticed Samson’s voice was unusually soft and he twitched his eyes, a nervous habit he had picked up since he couldn’t play with his dreadlocks anymore.
“Samson,” Precious said in a commanding voice, “We had better pray.”
“Why, Mommy?” Abigail piped up.
Samson bent down and kissed her on the head. “Because praying is the best we can do, Abigail. That’s why.”
In spite of Precious’ feelings of concern she had to smile as she looked at Samson. He really had changed.
Pastor Samson's Secret Sins: The Story Of A Strong Man of God With A Weakness For Women Page 15
