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January 21, 2014

As walking down the street I go,
imparting blessings with each look,
and Godly Goodness with each slow
and joyful nod, the Holy Ghost
stirs in my soul and rumbles through
my core—I feel the need for coffee.

I stride into the coffeeshop
with mug outstretched, “My boy!”
I say, with winning smile. “Could you
fill up this thing with mildest roast?”
The child has rampant hair and scruff
upon his face—no doubt, it shows
what’s in his heart (my hair is white
with wisdom bright and cut quite clean,
and on my lip I sport a thin,
but masculine mustache). He hands
me back my mug, now full of brew,
and in an effort to enrich
his life I mention how most Churches
seem to brew their coffee strong.
The boy (God bless his soul) remarks,
“Perhaps it fills their bodies up
with energy to seek the Spirit.”
“No, my boy,” I deign reply,
“more like it stops the Spirit’s Work—
for coffee is a drug, you know.”

I sit and drink my mildest roast,
when comes the boy to do some sweeping
by my chair—and now I notice
on his arm some markings drawn
in blackest ink—the symbols harsh
and angular: an incantation
of the Devil—not a doubt
to this stirs in my mind. I sit,
and send a word up to the sky—
Forgive this child, and guide his way,
and cleanse his soul of Satan’s grasp.

I later hear some foreign strains
of…banjo? stand-up bass? is that
a woman singing words of Love
and Carnal Impropriety?
Now this is steps too far. I stand,
and make my way up to the till.
“Now, who is this?” I ask, quite firm
in voice. The boy looks up. “Jill Barber,
sir.” “Who’s that?” I ask. He says
some useless thing about her
origins. Again, I ask: “Is she
a Christian?” “I don’t know,” he says.
Aghast, I look him up and down,
and as he blabbers on and on
about his foul thoughts on art,
I see that I have work to do.

I interrupt. “Are you a Christian?”
“Sure,” he says, and seems to want
to say some more, but I jump in:
“Do you know how to spot a Prophet?”
I inquire. “A Godly one?”
“I don’t know if I could,” he says,
“I don’t think there are universal
rules to that manner of thing.”
“I’m a True Prophet,” I exclaim,
to put his mind at ease about
the messages I’ll bring to him.
He flinches back. “Okay,” he says,
but I can tell he’s been deceived,
and doubts my gift—and yes! he speaks
again, confirming this: “How can
you be so sure?” “Aha,” I say,
“you see, when Jesus came, he said,
‘I speak, but through the Father:
words I speak aren’t mine, but His.’
The Holy Spirit said the same.”
The boy attempts to say some things
about the Trinity, but I
try to ignore his mewling speech.

“Who is your Teacher?” I inquire.
He says that he was taught by not
just one, but—“The community.”
Oho—I’ve got him where I want
him. “Ah!” I sing. “The Holy Spirit
teaches me! There is no other
teacher.” He begins to speak
again, but in an effort to
enlighten him, I move along:
“The Holy Spirit speaks for God,
and Jesus speaks for God. The only
one who teaches for himself
is Satan—you must find yourself
a better teacher, one who speaks
not for himself!” Community—
Good God! This boy is sick. “You will
be saved!” I say. “If only you
would turn your heart to His.” Alas,
the boy is too far gone, and says,

“You’ve tried to turn me to the light,
when, humbly said, I was at least
facing the right direction, but
now I—good sir—I am afraid
that you have given me every
reason to reject this God
of yours and turn away. I hope
that thought will keep you warm at night—
I’m sure your God will give you thanks
for driving me away from Him.”

Such poison in his voice! Such anger,
seething at God’s Prophet (me).
I send another prayer up
to God, but fear that this young man
is too far gone for Him to reach.

I take another sip of my coffee,
but find that’s it’s gone cold.

One Comment leave one →
  1. January 22, 2014 12:20 pm

    I just finished a pleasant visit with some JW’s at the door who were intent on starting an argument with me but I kept agreeing and calling them my sisters in the Lord. Sarina told me about your experience. It sounds like it ended less pleasantly than my exchange. You reached out to bless this man and unfortunately his god seems very small and uptight. Why bother believing and serving such a god?

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