Epic Testament

by Serenity Cross

CHAPTER 1—PASTOR MIKE

 

  “No Johnny! Please stop! Put the knife down!” I could hear the mother screaming from the driveway. A few minutes ago, Johnny’s mother called my office frantic about her ten year old’s odd behavior. She said, although he has always been a handful, his behavior lately was extremely out of control. He refused to go to school claiming to already know all the wonders of the world. He would chew his food, but spit it out violently and refuse to eat. Now, he is chasing her with a knife. At this moment, she is locked in her bedroom where she called me from five minutes ago. She thinks he must be possessed. Most local calls are not possessions, but “out of control” kids. However, it is better to be safe than sorry.

  Considering the circumstances, I let myself in. I’d have to test Johnny to see if he is really the victim of a possession. First, I’d have to catch him.

  “Johnny, it is Pastor Mike. Where are you?”

  “I’m here, I’m there, I’m everywhere.” He said, as I saw him run by in my peripheral vision.

  “Well aren’t you gonna come greet me?”

  “No!” I heard his footsteps clacking rapidly.

  “Will you speak to me if I catch you?”

  “You can’t catch me. I’m the gingerbread man.”

  Today must be a day for riddles. I got really quiet and ducked behind the sofa and waited. Johnny has so much energy that he is bound to come running by any minute. A couple of minutes later he did just that. I grabbed him and pulled the knife from his grip.

  “Johnny, is that you Kiddo?”

  “No, it’s not Johnny. It’s Freddie.”

  I decided to humor him. “Ok Freddie, you must be the demon. Well it’s time for you to get out of Johnny.”

  “No! Never!” He said squirming with all his might.

  “Johnny, if you can hear me, I have to get Freddie out or he will hurt you. I brought some old railroad spikes.” I showed them to him. “This may hurt a lot but, after the burning is over, the demon will be gone. I just have to use my hammer and nail these through your palms. Hold as still as you can and we’ll get that demon.” Boy did Johnny sober up.

  “No! No! Please don’t nail that in my hand! It’s me, Pastor Mike! It’s Johnny!”

  It was so hard not to laugh at the terror on Johnny’s face when he thought I’d drive spikes through his hand. I knew there was no demon when I caught him. He wasn’t strong enough.

  I asked him why he was pretending to be possessed. He responded his friend’s little brother was doing it and he didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to do.

  After I got his mother to come out her bedroom, I sat down and counseled both of them. We closed in prayer and I left.

  I can’t understand why parents allow these kids to do whatever they want as a child then want to control them as a teenager. Granted Johnny is not a teenager, but, at the rate he is going, he will be an extremely rebellious one.

  When he was a younger child, I remember his parents always let him have and do whatever he wanted. They used to say things like “He’s just a kid. We don’t take it personal because we know he doesn’t know any better”.

  While the couple used to attend the church, they left after a series I did on matters of the home. I talked about marriage, commitment and parenting. Needless to say, the parenting lesson was the straw that broke the camel’s back. The husband seemed most bothered by the series.

  In the series, I was harping on how we laugh at the smart comments of our four year old yet want to slap the mouth of the fourteen year old. With kids, you have to start how you want to finish. A behavior that may only require a small correction as a child may require a serious, life changing intervention as an adolescent.

  I get a lot of criticism for how strict I am on my kids. Perhaps I deserve it; I make no claim to being a perfect parent. My concern is not for my children’s lives on Earth, but for their eternity in Heaven. If my kids dislike me or my choices on Earth, I find comfort in the fact that we may be able to discuss it together in Heaven.

  The values we instill in our children may seem smothered at times, but they will never leave them. One day, when they are caught in a circumstance, they will remember what we told them. They’ll recap that Sunday school lesson taught to them in church. Even if the scripture only sticks through repetition and not meaning, the memory will be there nonetheless. There will come a time when the memory will help them, maybe even save or change their life. It is all about sowing the seed.

  As I was walking to my truck, I saw a little boy, maybe five years old, across the street. He had his back to me so I couldn’t see what he was doing. He caught my eye because he was standing really still. Perhaps he was holding or looking at something, yet it was still amazing to see someone his age being so motionless. I shook it off and got in my truck.

  Before I closed the door, I heard someone say “Goodbye Minister”. The voice sounded like that of a taunting old man. There was no one around that could have produced it. It was just me and the boy. Something strange is going on.

  I got out of my truck and walked towards the boy. He didn’t move a muscle. “Son?” I said. When he didn’t respond, I decided to circle around him. I walked slowly, trying not to startle him. The boy remained as a statue. Once I had aligned myself with him only a few feet over, I leaned forward to see the front of him. He was covered in blood and holding what remained of an animal of some sort.

  As soon as the image of bloody animal registered to me, he cocked his head to the side in a weird position revealing his red eyes. His black pupils dilated abnormally with excitement as he charged me with the butcher’s knife he was holding.

  I knew I had to be careful not to hurt the boy, but the demon had to go. When he got close enough to me, I extended my arms and touched his chest.

  “Demon, get out of him in the name of Jesus.” I said quickly. The boy fell down.

  Kids are the easiest to depossess. Their bodies are just too weak and willing to be obedient when required in a stern way. They are also easy to possess because they have a natural rebellion.

  My arm hurt. I looked down and noticed I was bleeding. He had stabbed me. Another war wound.

  I carried the boy inside. His mother had locked herself in her bathroom with her cordless phone, but the demon had cut the wires so she couldn’t call anybody.

  The boy’s older brother, who was currently at school, had opted not to come home the last couple of nights to avoid his little brother’s weird new behavior. He tried to tell people about his brother’s possession, but of course no one believed him.

  His mother had waited too late to call for help because she thought she could talk the boy down (not knowing he was a demon). Today, it all seemed to explode.

  I guess Johnny was telling the truth about his friend. Yet, I wonder if Johnny was just mocking the boy, or if he was being controlled by him prior to my catching him. If the demon was able to control Johnny without inhabiting him, it would mean they are progressing.

  As a pastor, days like these are not very unusual. We are in constant warfare. Sometimes it may be in prayer or counseling, other times are more physically involved like casting out demons. It’s all in the job description.

  People expect Pastors not be afraid of anything but God expects all of his children to be fearless. Someone once told me “Fear is having faith in the enemy”. The more I considered the statement, the more truth I was able to see in it. For example, my wife fears snakes. If she were to see one, she would scream and run away (maybe even hyperventilate). Such reactions confirm that she believes, given the opportunity, the snake will bite her, it will hurt, and she may even die. Her belief in this outweighs her belief that, given the opportunity, the snake will not bite, it will not hurt, and she will not die because God is protecting her.

  Sometimes we allow the more visible proble
m to overshadow our faith in God. When we see bad things about to happen, we panic and cry out. Yet when we aren’t looking for a savior, but a provider, we increase our faith level. Once we reach the point where we have exhausted all avenues of intervention or control. We hurry to place our faith in the miracle. “Oh I just believe the Lord is going to bless me.” We can “trust” or “hope” him to heal a terminal illness, or give us a house but we don’t trust him to divert a snake. We also tend to have increased faith after the bad occurs. What if we did not wait to have faith in God? What if we did not have to be forced to trust him through bad circumstances and desperation? What if we had faith in God whether it is for the seen or the unseen?

  The enemy needs our faith just like God. The difference is he will try to gain it by any means necessary. He will steal, kill, and destroy everything so that you will fear him. Fear of sending your kids to school because anything could happen. Fear of going to sleep because you may not wake up. Fear of riding a plane because it may go down. Fear of choosing God at a young age because you may lose all your friends. Fear of loving because you may get hurt. Fear. Fear. FEAR. As long as you have fear, you will never be able to reach the levels where God wants to use you.

  You cannot have faith in both God and Satan. Fear is one of the devil’s most subtle attacks. It is the reason we are cautioned not to speak our fears out loud. Satan will use your fear against you.

  Fear is another one of the many things we gained from the curse on Adam and Eve. When God created us, he created us to be in dominion over the Earth. He never intended for us to live in fear. I choose not to live in fear. I place my trust in God so that he may use me in any way he needs me. I realize not everyone is at my level of faith. Therefore, I don’t mind allowing God to use me as their visible comfort.

  Beep. Beep. Beep. What is that noise? My phone. I forgot I set a reminder about the meeting. Is it really eleven o’ clock already? I really must have gotten lost in my devotion and reflection today.

  I have been looking forward to this meeting all week. I enjoy getting together with my colleagues and hearing what God is doing in their lives and churches. Sometimes we find God is giving us the same visions and messages to preach. Other times, we receive encouragement and advice as we journey on another’s familiar territory.

  A couple of them relocated to other states, yet they still fly in for the meeting when possible. I was responsible for securing the location for the meeting this month. I chose to reserve a room at one of our favorite restaurants. I could not pass up the opportunity to get a great meal in the process.

  When I arrived, Mongo and Jif were already standing in front of the building. “Mongo, Jif, how’s life treating you?” I said as we slapped hands and hugged necks. “The room should be ready. Let’s go in. The others should be here soon.”

  I met Mongo at a Pastor’s conference. He was one of the ones that told their testimony. Hearing how God turned his life around was amazing.

  Mongo used to be the leader of a small drug group of about ten people in his hometown until he decided to branch out on his own and cut out the middle man to increase profit. He started growing his own stuff and making his own Meth in Mexico. His product was so good dealers from all over Mexico wanted it. Somehow it crossed the border to the U.S. He was making money to burn. He got so big he never had to talk to anyone but his close associates. If you had a problem, you talked to them.

  One of the other suppliers got jealous and decided to get rid of the competition. He sent his people to sneak attack Mongo at his home. Mongo and his family were sitting around the dinner table when aimless bullets darted around the room. Mongo jumped over the table landing on top of his kids in an attempt to use his body as a shield for the bullets.

  While on top of them his eyes desperately searched the room for his wife whom he hadn’t seen since the bullets started flying. He called for her but there was no answer. With all the noise from the guns, he couldn’t tell if she was attempting to make communication or unable. He felt a warm sensation on his chest.

  “Nicole…Jr... Are you okay?” He asked as he raised his body a little and felt for them with his hands.

  His hands were wet.

  He retracted and looked at the warm blood as it rolled down his fingertips.

  “Jr…Nicole??” He called again his tone almost inaudible like an echo in his head.

  No answer.

  He put his hands under his body again. This time he could feel the stiffness that had been there all along. Tears ran down his face as he prepared for the sight. He looked down at his two kids whose eyes were focused on him yet they lacked feeling; life.

  He was too late. They lacked compassion and held no regard for youth. Those bullets driven by hate and jealousy had a set purpose of death.

  He screamed; cried out with a pain that gripped his heart and squeezed the life from his body.

  He called for his wife again as the bullets seemed to have stopped. This time he could hear her wet, gargling cough. He got up to find her. As he crossed in front of the window, he looked into the face of a man. He was hanging out the window of a dark colored SUV and pointing his gun at him. Mongo didn’t remember what he yelled before the bullets raced out of the chamber of the automatic gun whizzing around him. Then he felt it; one to the arm, then his leg, and finally his chest. He closed his eyes and accepted his fate.

  The bullet only missed his heart by a quarter of an inch. Somehow he survived, but the same couldn’t be said for his family. He was arrested while in the hospital under suspicion of drug involvement. Bail was set and his associates were ready to post for him, but he didn’t want to be free. He felt he had nothing to live for and didn’t even fight the case.

  One day after a minister did a devotional with the prisoners, he gave his life to the Lord. A couple of years later his appeal was somehow approved on an evidence technicality. God had a plan for his life. He found a church and began helping the youth. Now, he is one of the youth pastors at the church.

  His testimony has touched so many people especially troubled teens. His community involvement has saved many lives by shifting the gears to the drug world. He provides them with a realistic window of the future should they choose that path. Because so many have already been overcome by the trap of the drug scene, he also visits the prisons and ministers to them giving them hope, faith, and a love everlasting.

  It is amazing how God can turn your life around. The funny thing is, outside of his work for the ministry, he still does not talk much.

  Jif’s story isn’t as interesting. His father was the pastor of a large church in the area. Jif took an interest in ministry at a young age. At first, He wanted to be like his dad, and then later he developed his own passion for ministry. Actually, I knew his father before he passed. He was a good man and a great pastor. He could make you cry laughing. After he passed, I took Jif under my wing and helped him develop his ministry as he took over his dad’s church.

  “There’s Benton and Swangi. Now we are just waiting for Zeal” Jif and Mongo both nodded while looking over the menu.

  Swangi and I grew up together. We lived two houses apart from each other. I have known him all my life. He’s only a year older than me. We used to get into all kinds of trouble together.

  At a young age, we began playing basketball together to pass the summers. Summers turned to daily afternoons to whenever possible. We were both really good. Of course, I was better. We received athletic scholarships to the same university. Not only did we love the game but we loved the attention that came with the success.

  Swangi’s ego had reached a level where no one could oppose him. Everyone knew he would go to the NBA. There had already been talk of who was interested in drafting him. He was living his dream. You hear things like “pride goes before the fall”, but when you work so hard to be successful you don
’t see it as pride but a well-deserved respect. He deserved to be better than the competition. He deserved to be the best and to be recognized as such. He didn’t come from the suburbs with a golden spoon in his mouth. Life was hard. We had the bare necessities. Basketball was our ticket out. It was our savior from the streets. It was our life motivation. We pushed each other and built each other up. We made each other stronger. We worked hard and made it. We reveled in the attention and praise. It felt good to be noticed.

  Then life changed in a blink of an eye. There was 10 seconds left in the championship game and we were down by one. Greg threw the ball in to me from the half court line. I got the ball to the three point line and passed to Swangi who was under the goal. He went up for the shot and took a hard foul in the process by the much bigger guy on the other team. It was so quiet you couldn’t even hear a breath and everyone’s eyes were glued to the ball as it tapped each side of the goal before it went in. The crowd went crazy. We all started jumping and celebrating. Then I looked for Swangi to congratulate him. We all looked for him. He was lying down holding is leg and twisting in pain on the court. The coaches ran to him and assessed the pain level and location. Then they called for the paramedics. He was rushed to the hospital.

  Swangi had injured his knee from the forced landing by the other player. Even after treatment, he never could play as well as he once did. When he lost basketball, it was like he lost his life’s purpose. He dropped out of school and moved back home.

  While working as a mechanic, he met his wife. She was completely sold out and devoted to God. The sincerity of her joy and certainty compelled him to want to know more about the source. He started going to church. As time went on both relationships grew stronger. While standing in front of the congregation one Sunday to give his testimony and publicly announce his salvation, he proposed. Shortly after they married, he accepted his call to ministry. His transformation is what got me saved.

  I played ball all throughout my college years. Like Swangi basketball was my life. After Swangi was injured I reconsidered resting everything on basketball. It would only take one bad injury and I’d be left with nothing. I increased my focus on getting my business degree.

  After I graduated, I went overseas and played professional ball. I received so much attention, especially from the ladies. My face was everywhere. I started out humbled by the result of all my hard work and efforts. Then, I got comfortable. I matched my success with my talents. Of course, I would be a “brand’. I was a great ball player. No one could touch me. I had become the one to beat.

  My mother raised me in the church so I knew about God. In fact, I prayed often throughout my life that he would bless me with success in basketball. As I reveled in my success, I became so busy being the image for the people that I forgot about being the image of God. The expectations of my fans had overshadowed the expectations of God. It’s like he was there, but I had buried him under a bunch of stuff that I used more often. I guess because I didn’t really need him at the time.

  It’s almost like when you are a kid and you have that favorite toy. You play with it every day. You can’t wait to wake up or get home from school in anticipation of being able to play with it more. Then one day, you get a new better toy and the old one loses its luster. You no longer need the old one to entertain you. It’s not that you don’t want it; you just don’t want to play with it now. So it ends up going deeper and deeper in the toy box before you throw it away.

  Our relationship with God can be a lot like that. One day our world revolves around him. We need him. Then we realize our needs are seemingly met another way and we push him down little by little. Until one day, we have kicked him out. Most of the time, self-imposed pleasure doesn’t last as long nor is it as fulfilling as God’s blessing.

  Although I was living a dream, I wasn’t satisfied. I was getting older and thinking about kids and a family. With my status, it was easy to find a woman, but not a wife that I could trust to love me for me not my possessions.

  I met Melayla while visiting some friends in Florida. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her because she was so beautiful. She still is. As soon as I approached her, she let me know she was nothing like any other girl I had crossed. She knew her self-worth. If I even considered having a chance with her, I’d have to respect her. I found her confidence very attractive. She shot me down many times because she didn’t want to get involved with a ball player. Eventually, I wore her down and got her to go on a date with me.

  I have been more open and honest with her than I have ever been with anybody. It is like her eyes require it of me. Her eyes can look within you and see the truth, yet challenge you not to hurt her. I promised I never would, intentionally. She gave me the honor of becoming her husband and a few years later Missy’s father. I decided to stop playing ball so that I could spend more time with them.

  We attended Swangi’s church almost every Sunday. One Sunday, he delivered a message that fit me so perfectly I couldn’t stand to sit in my chair a second longer. That day, almost eighteen years ago, I gave my life to God and later accepted God’s call of ministry on my life. I became the lead pastor of Swangi’s church when he relocated. Shortly after I accepted my position as pastor, we had our son whom we named Phillip.

  Benton got saved in the church where Swangi was relocated. Prior to his salvation, he was an alcoholic with a gambling addiction. He used to drink whether it was to celebrate his winning or to sulk at his loss. He didn’t care about anybody or anything. If he wasn’t gambling, he was passed out somewhere or in the club.

  One night he and one of his friends went to a club to celebrate after winning a stack of money gambling. They were drinking and bragging when one of the men that lost came in the club. He fired three shots before running and jumping into his getaway car. One hit his friend in the neck. One hit Benton in the right side as he attempted to get away. The other hit an innocent bystander in the arm. Some people from the club called 911, but Benton grew impatient and drove his friend to the emergency room. His friend died before they arrived. Benton was treated and released.

  The near death experience prompted him to change his lifestyle. He decided to rekindle an old habit instilled by his grandma and went to church. Not long after he got saved, he accepted his call to ministry.

  Zeal wasn’t propelled to ministry by a near death experience or a girl. While he wasn’t addicted to gambling or drugs, he struggled with greed and pride. He was a very successful lawyer. He owned his own practice and represented many wealthy clients; the majority being drug dealers and criminals.

  To him if you were not talking money, you might as well not be talking. He was consumed with his image and improving his worth through things. The cars he drove, clothes he wore, and his associates were only the best.

  His life changed after he received a divorce and custody case in which he represented the husband. The wife alleged she was the silent victim of abuse and was seeking full custody of their daughter, alimony, and the house. The husband, a very wealthy businessman, was determined she would only get the bare minimum. Despite the pictures and testimony, Zeal was able to convince everyone she wasn’t battered. Instead, he depicted her as a “crack head”, gold digger. He argued she only wanted to take his client for just about everything he slaved to earn and use their daughter to feed her addiction. He too had pictures and testimony that didn’t show the wholesome, battered victim her lawyers described. Instead, his evidence depicted an intoxicated, skimpy dressed woman (half her husband’s age) stumbling about at parties.

  In the end, the husband received custody of their daughter and the main house. The wife only received two thousand per month, a much smaller house, and a car. To some that may seem like a lot, however she was an unemployed housewife for the duration of their fifteen year marriage. While he did have a business prior to their marriage, she gave him
the idea for his business that catapulted his success and wealth. Subsequently, he became a millionaire. She should have been awarded way more in alimony and at least half of what they owned.

  Zeal felt great defying the odds. The success boosted his ego to a higher level. He also received a very hefty monetary appreciation from the husband. News of his success spread like wild fire and vastly increased his client list.

  One day, he received a call from the wife of the client he represented. She had just found out her daughter was dead. She was crying and screaming as she blamed Zeal for helping her husband murder their daughter. Zeal just held the phone speechless. After she hung up, he just stood there motionless. He doesn’t remember all the thoughts than ran through his head. All he can remember is the feeling of guilt that started as a ripple in his head and turned into a crashing wave that swept through his entire body.

  The wife and her story flooded the news. Everyone found out about her abusive husband that she had finally developed the courage to leave. They were appalled by the divorce and custody case in which Zeal defended him and aided in his being granted custody of their daughter.

  In his wife’s absence, the husband had started physically and sexually abusing their ten year old daughter. On the day her daughter tried to fight back, he hit her so hard she was flung backwards and hit her head on the edge of their brick fireplace.

  The sight of her lifeless body must have provided a window into the perversion that infested his body. The reality of what his actions had caused him to do to his loved ones must have been a truth he could not live with. There would be no earthly justice for what the husband had done to his daughter or wife because he shot himself in the head after he placed the call to 911.

  Zeal received many “hate” calls and his image suffered greatly. He realized, despite how great a lawyer he was, he could not defend himself. He could not justify what happened even to himself. He couldn’t remember at what point he changed from being “wide eyed” and wanting to help people to blindly seeking self-promotion at any cost. He closed his firm and moved away.

  He had shattered into a million pieces, and couldn’t put them back together. He was lost and for the first time he needed help. One Sunday he passed a church on the way back home from the grocery store. The sign in front said “The difference between a Saint and a sinner is a saint may fall seven times, but he will get back up again.”

  The image jolted a memory of his past that he had long forgotten on his road to success--going to church with his mom. He remembered watching her cry out to the Lord and knell at the altar. As a child, he never understood the reason behind such actions. He only knew she changed and became a better wife and mother. The Sundays after that point, she cried different tears. She cried tears for joy and freedom from bondage. She would sing and clap loudly. Whatever happened to his mother he needed it to happen to him. He needed that kind of change.

  He turned around and went to the church. After service was over they gave a call that seemed like it was just for him. They asked if anyone needed a peace that surpassed all understanding, a love that heals all wounds, a father that will never leave or forsake you, a restoration, and a second chance. Zeal needed all of those things and more. He broke away from the heaviness that was pinning him to his chair and all but ran to the altar.

  After he got saved, he contacted the wife of the man he represented. He asked for her forgiveness. She forgave him and asked for forgiveness for her actions as well. She admitted at the time she was hurt and needed someone to blame for the death of her daughter. She wanted to punish the one responsible for taking her little girl’s life, but her ex-husband had robbed her of the chance. He had robbed her of everything. Shortly after the resolution, he accepted his call to ministry.

  “It’s about time you made it.” Benton told Zeal as he walked through the door. “Now let’s eat.” Swangi said. We devoured the seafood feast placed before us overflowing with fried shrimp, catfish, hush puppies, seasoned fries, loaded baked potatoes, and salad. I will admit there was a moment of silence while we fulfilled our imminent hunger.

  Then, we began our conversation.

  “So how is it going in Tennessee?” I asked Swangi.

  “It’s going real good. You should come visit us when you can. I know you are a busy man, world traveler, but it really is a sight to see. God is really moving over there. The church has already tripled in size. We are at about 500 members now, and we are still growing. In fact, we are looking at plans for an addition. I’m telling you man, God is good. I’m just along for the ride.”

  When Swangi went to Tennessee, it was hard on him and the church. Despite the success of the church and his devoted group of members, he felt that Tennessee was where God wanted him to be. When he left the church, he left me with big shoes to fill. After considering the expectations, I decided not to even try. I told them it was a new beginning. I asked them not to compare it to the way it was, but to look forward to what it will be, by God’s will. Most of the members remain with us.

  “So how are things on the mission field?” Swangi asked me.

  “Um, it is definitely getting interesting. Not speaking of abroad, but earlier I received a possession call from the Hasseub’s. You may remember them from a while back at the church. The husband didn’t really like to be there, but the wife showed interest. The husband worked at a plant and she didn’t work. They were a younger couple and had a toddler boy when you left. Now, the kid is ten.”

  Swangi searched his memory bank. “Barely…I think I know who you are talking about, but I’d have to see them.”

  I continued. “Well they are separated now. The wife called me claiming the boy to be possessed. He was running through the house chasing her with a knife.”

  Benton interrupted “Man, I sure hope he was really possessed. He was chasing her with a knife?”

  Swangi added, “It wouldn’t surprise me if he was faking. The kids these days are just bad. No rules. No consequences. It’s nothing like back in the day when you’d get popped for a thought. You’d be left wondering if momma really just read your mind because you know it couldn’t have slipped out.” The guys all laughed.

  I continued the story. “I wish I could tell it another way, but the boy was just being bad. I did the railroad spike test and he came clean.”

  “You are still pulling that trick?” Swangi asked not expecting a response. We all laughed again.

  “It works every time.”

  “For real though, these kids are going crazy these days.” Mongo said.

  “They have no home training” Jif added. “If I even had the thought to touch a knife for no reason, I’d get hit so hard I’d forget I ever had a thought.” He laughed.

  “Man, with my grandma, I didn’t even know a knife could be used or taken out the kitchen until I was eighteen.” Benton chimed in.

  “And it’s all so funny. I mean everything. “Hee Hee did you hear what he said when I told him to sit down? Girl, he cursing! He’s not even two. Hee Hee I recorded it. I’ma put him on the internet. Girl, mine hit me the other day. I was like boy sit down. You should have seen his face. He looked so serious. I just laughed at him. Hee Hee.” Swangi added.

  “My mom would slap the taste out my mouth…temporary insanity. And her face wouldn’t be pleasant at all. It was like an instant morph. “Happy” mom turns to “out for blood” Avenger.” I interjected as I imitated the transformation.

  “It’s different these days. You gotta be all lenient. Let the kids decide how they want to behave. Medicate them and let them sleep it off,” Zeal said.

  We were all laughing hard now. I decided to get on my soap box. “Really though, we as parents need to raise our kids. Not just give them food, clothes and a roof over their head. We need to get them ready for adulthood. We need to make sure they can survive in society, so
that one day they can take care of us. Man with the work ethic these days, I think when we are too old to work everything will just stop,” I said.

  Zeal seized the next interjection. “They will be like ‘Yeah, it’s Mardi Gras; shut the town down. It’s a holiday. We got to PAAARTY! See you next week.’ There would be no hospitals, no stores, no gas, nothing.” Zeal said. There was another roll of laughter.

  As the laughter started to die down, I took the opportunity to get to the “meat” of the story. “I haven’t even told you guys the good part. So as I was walking to my truck, I see this kid across the street standing freakishly still. At first, I dismiss it and get in the truck. But when I go to close the door, I hear a creepy old man voice say, ‘Goodbye Minister’. I know it had to come from the boy because no one else was out there. So I circle around him to see, and sure enough this kid has a demonic spirit. Then, this red-eyed possessed kid starts charging me with a knife. So I prayed that the demon leave and got stabbed in the process. The thing is when I asked Johnny, the original demonic suspect, why he was behaving that way, he said he was mocking his friend’s little brother. I wondered if that was the kid. I also got to thinking what if the demon in the boy was forcing Johnny to do some of the stuff he had done prior to my arrival?” They all looked to be considering what I had said.

  “That would mean the demons are getting stronger. Controlling another person without inhabitation, that’s an upgrade.” Zeal said.

  My thoughts exactly.

  “But possessing kids doesn’t require much energy, so maybe they aren’t that far advanced yet.” Jif said.

  “But wouldn’t you start at level easy first then advance. If that is what happened, it’s only the beginning.” Mongo said.

  We all became silent again.

  I decided to change the subject. “So, how are things with the new wife, Benton?” He seemed excited to shift gears to her. You could see it in his eyes how much he loved her.

  “Well,” He was grinning ear to ear. “We are expecting twins.”

  Wow. We all let out various shock and excitement expressions, then Jif started clapping so we decided to join in.

  “Y’all crazy man. We are due in October.”

  Benton with twins. This was definitely going to be fun to watch. What a great way to start a family.

  “So then she is about five months?” I said.

  “Yeah, we didn’t want to start talking too soon.”

  His delay in notification didn’t surprise me. Sometimes couples decide to wait before making announcements, especially with the first one in case there are complications.

  “So do you know what you are having yet?” Mongo asked.

  “Not yet, we have the ultrasound next week. I’m so excited. I’m going to be a dad. I can’t believe it. God is so good man. I know I don’t deserve it.”

  I guess it hit him all of a sudden. He looked up and put a fist over his mouth while nodding his head.

  “Man, I’m sorry y’all. I don’t want to ruin the mood. It’s just when I think about how I could be dead, but instead he gave me life and now He is blessing me with two more lives. This isn’t supposed to be me.” He quickly wiped the corner of his eyes. “So what’s new with you, Jif?” He asked as his voice slightly cracked as he attempted to shift the conversation.

  “It’s okay man, you are not ruining the mood. We all have a past. We know how good it feels to know we didn’t have to stay there. God is good. None of us deserve it. Believe me I cry sometimes when I think of what he brought me through. I am not ashamed of the feeling and I’m not ashamed of the past or the deliverance. He brought me through man. He brought all of us through. Like a white rag, no spots, I’m clean man.” Mongo said.

  This is a prime example of how he doesn’t really talk much outside the pulpit, but when he does he usually has something good to say. Wow.

  “He’s right man. You don’t have to apologize. God is good. It’s overwhelming to think about just how good he is sometimes,” Jif said. We all nodded in agreement. “But to answer your question, I am doing very well. Especially considering God has blessed me with a wife.”

  Considering Jif was beginning to think it was in God’s purpose that he remain single, this was also not anticipated. We all gave out congratulations and clapped again.

  “Yeah so, we set the date for about six months from now. Of course that was before I knew about the babies, so we may have to change it. You guys have to be there. I can’t do it without you. Y’all are like family, man; my best men.” He said as he laughed a little and slapped me on my shoulder.

  I’m certainly planning on attending it, if not participating in it.

  “Of course we will be there,” Swangi said.

  “Man, you all have such great things happening with you. I don’t have anything to even come close in comparison. I’m thinking I should have gone first.” Zeal said. We laughed in agreement. “I’m still on the mission field. We are in Africa now. There is so much to help them with over there. I brought the donations we raised from the community, but they need so much more. Especially healthcare, so I’m trying to put a medical team together.”

  His mission was geared more toward providing for the needy as opposed to my demon hunting, if you will. Of course, I don’t hunt them, but respond to calls. It’s kind of like ghost busters. I guess I’m a demon buster. I laughed to myself.

  “We will collect donations at my church and I will send it with you.” Swangi offered. Consequently, we all agreed to raise more items and money.

  “What about you Mongo?” Zeal threw the hot potato, figuratively speaking, of course.

  “I guess the most exciting thing right now is my minister training. I have two in training and it is truly a blessing to be able to give back and invest in the ministry. I feel so honored to help these men who are just like I once was.” Mongo responded.

  Anytime you are able to bring another into the ministry, it is very exciting. You feel like you have really accomplished something being able to give back.

  I feel blessed to hear about all the good things God is doing in our lives. It comes in waves, the good and the bad, and we just have to be prepared to ride it out. It helps to find inspiration in others.

  CHAPTER 2--MISSY