1. religion and spirituality
2. christianity

A GOOD TIME,
CHILDREN
By
Christina Walden Ehn
Chapter One
Pastor Robinson ducked behind the curtain, kicked off his shoes,
slipped into faded jeans and old shirt, and emerged in front of the baptismal
tank. The curtains were drawn back. The dividing sliding walls were
opened, and the sweet smell of fresh water mingled with the perfume of the
bouquet of lilies near the pulpit. The church was a trifle more filled than
usual, which always happened for special occasions.
There was Lillian Darnell, the elderly widow, who sat in the same corner
of the same pew, every time, with the determined air about her that seemed
to claim ownership of the spot. She wore the same white dress she always
wore, summer and winter. She wore the same white hat she always wore,
with the absurd flower perched uncertainly in the white band. Her white
gloved hands moved busily and flawlessly, the crochet needle clicking in
and out, in and out, as the lace shawl grew larger Sunday by Sunday.
Joe Gorman sat at the end of the front pew, next to his wife, Julie, and
their three natural children.
Tracy, their foster daughter, was behind the curtain in her baptismal robe.
Joe Gorman was just an ordinary working man, who had somehow found
a power line to heaven as concerned his family. His children always seemed
older and wiser than their peers, more dedicated to Jesus, more solidly
purposeful in their doings, than was the usual norm. Sometimes Pastor
Robinson wondered if they had been cut out of a Norman Rockwell painting.
They seemed to good to be true.
“I’m so glad to see you all here,” Pastor Robinson smiled cheerfully.
“Today we have some believers joyfully following the Lord in water
baptism. All of the candidates presenting themselves for this ordinance of
the church have already been washed clean from their sins in the Blood of
Jesus Christ, the Lamb of God. The waters of Baptism cannot take away sin.
Only the blood of Jesus can do that. What we are doing is signifying that
we are taking this old sinful, rebellious nature, and burying it. That we
might rise, in figure, to the new life in Christ. We all come to Christ as
wounded lambs, hurt and confused from all the evils that life has done to us.
After we are forgiven, we need to learn a whole new set of emotional
responses, a whole new value system, a new way of thinking and acting.
A new life. Water baptism can help us put on the Mind of Christ as we learn
to put off the old man, and reckon that we are dead to the old way of sin.”
The organist struck up a chord, and all joined in the familiar words.
“Shall we gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river,
Shall we gather at the river
That flows by the throne of God?”
Someone started a rhythmic clapping, and the congregation slid easily
into the old revival chorus,
“Good time, Children!
Good time, Children,
A good time on the old camp ground!”
The happy rhythmic clapping and singing continued as one by one, each
of the candidates stepped in the water, proclaimed his or her faith in Jesus
the Redeemer, and allowed themselves to be momentarily placed under the
water. They climbed out wet and happy, and returned to the dressing room.
Last of all came Tracy Gorman. Her real last name was Reston. But just
six months after becoming a loved foster child in this family, she’d taken
the name Gorman as her own.
Pastor Robinson gave her an opportunity to speak.
“I want to thank my Lord Jesus,” she began, “for wonderful blessings. I
came to live with the Gormans two years ago when I was just eleven. My
other family were not Christians, and life with them was impossible. Now
the Gormans are my parents, and their love has healed me and made me
forget all the things that happened before. They taught me how to love Jesus
Christ, and now I do, with all my heart.”
The people applauded warmly, and Tommy Gorman stood up and gave a
loud, good-natured whistle of cheer. It wasn’t exactly church decorum
behavior, but the congregation gave a clap and a shout of approval.
Fifteen minutes later, all dried off and dressed in a charming blue suit, her
damp hair in a long, shiny black pony tail, Tracy joined her family in the
pew for the final prayer of dismissal.
Afterward, John and Julie and Dory and Tommy each gave her a warm
hug. Dory picked up five year old Melody, so she could be on a level to hug
Tracy, too.
“Everything’s happening right, this week,” Joe said. “First, Tracy gets
baptized, and Thursday night Dory graduates with all those honors. By the
way, Dory, have you decided what to do about your speech?”
Dory grew resolute, the corners of her mouth momentarily turning down
in an expression of determination.
“I’ll not let them deny me my rights, Dad. I’m going to honor my
Savior.”
“Good, good, Joe responded, as they turned to greet Pastor Robinson on
the way out the door.
Chapter Two
Miss Ames laid her pointer down and leaned back against the front of her
desk. The poster still hung from its roller, in front of the blackboard,
displaying a succession of man-like apes.
“Now,” she said sweetly, “I know that it’s a trifle late to be giving a
test.”
“It sure is!” declared George Wilcox. “It’s only two more days of
school!”
The class loudly echoed his groan.
“As long as school is in session, I give tests,” she declared sternly. “All I
want is one paragraph.”
A sigh of relief swept the room. One paragraph shouldn’t be to bad.
“Just give me a short summary of what we’ve learned this semester about
the names of the various prehistoric men. When you are finished you can
read a book or look out the window until the bell rings.”
For the next half hour there was not much sound except the scratching of
pens to twenty eight sheets of paper. Miss Ames went silently up and down
the rows of desks, collecting the papers, and began to skim though them at
her desk.
The bell rang, and twenty-eight sixth graders shouted their freedom and
ran for the door.
Over the chaos, Miss Ames shouted,
“Tommy Gorman, come here, please!”
“Oh, boy, you’re in trouble!” George Wilcox teased as he whizzed by.
Tommy knew it was coming. Miss Ames had been hassling him about
the same thing all semester. He remembered his name was Gorman, and he
had to make his father proud of him. He remembered the Scripture of the
Day from last week’s lesson. “Let no man despise thy youth.”
Miss Ames held out the paper, her hand shaking with anger. She angrily
spit out her words.
“I thought I told you I wasn’t going to tolerate any more of this!”
“I’m sorry I’ve upset you, Miss Ames,” he said with forced, formal
politeness. “But I have a conscience I have to follow. My father says man
was made in God’s image. My father read it to me from the Bible. And I
read it myself. I believe it. I can not put down on that paper a denial of
God’s truth just to make you happy.”
“You’re a smart boy, Tommy,” she moderated her voice. “But I will not
tolerate smart-mouthed insubordination. You must change this paper.”
He took the paper from her hand and read it aloud.
“Man was made in the image of God. He was created in the Garden
Of Eden. His name was Adam and his wife’s name was Eve.”
“Fairy tales!” She snatched the paper back and slammed it on the desk.
She grabbed a pencil and angrily drew a red zero across the entire page. She
thrust it back at him.
“That is your mark for the entire semester!” She almost shouted. “How
is your father going to react to his genius son coming home with a failure for
the entire year? I can make you repeat the grade, you know!”
Tommy held the paper in both hands, and smiled a surprisingly adult
smile.
“My father,” he said calmly, “will take this paper, buy a frame for it, and
hang it up on the living room wall. As for making me repeat, I don’t think
so. First of all, I know the school board policy is never to flunk anybody,
And if you try to flunk a kid with my I.Q. you are the one who is going to
look stupid.”
“Your father is an ignorant fanatic!” she declared in frustration. “It’s all
right for older people to hang on to hopeless superstions, but there is a new
world order coming. Your generation is creating a world that has no room
for this kind of nonsense!”
“Don’t you ever say that again,” Tommy said quietly. He folded the
paper slowly and put in into his pocket. He wanted to scream at her. Talk
back to her like she’d never been talk-backed to before. But his father had
told him that a soft voice speaking the truth was always more effective than
a holler. Especially when rebuking someone who had some kind of
authority over you.
“My father is the best father a kid ever had, and you will never, never,
insult him again. You know you are way, way, out of line.”
He turned, walked out quickly, and slammed the door behind him. He
leaned up against the wall for a moment to calm the sudden inner shaking.
He knew he had done right, and his father would be proud of him. But he’d
never told off a teacher before, and he was surprised at the energy it took out
of him.
Miss Ames sank in to her teacher’s chair and gave the desk top a
frustrated slam with the flat of her hand.
Chapter Three
It was a beautiful night for graduation. So lovely the evening, that the
chairs were set up on the lawn of the high school campus, and the podium
was positioned for the sun to set behind the audience. A profusion of pastel
summer hats waved gracefully in the flower-perfumed air. Mothers and
fathers burst their chests bragging to each other of their offspring’s
accomplishments.
The graduate’s dressing room was controlled, happy chaos. They
assisted each other in slipping into their gowns, putting their caps in place,
making sure that the tassel hung just right. They wept, pinned on their own
and each other’s corsages, remembered happy days, and wept some more.
For a few moments they even forgot all the fuss that the court decree had
caused just a month earlier.
The organ music swelled grandly, and the graduates of Central High
School took their slow, steady steps down the center aisle, passed the rows
of smiling relatives, with their proud beaming faces and their explosions of
camera flashes.
Mr. Jansen was a big, muscular, gray-haired, tired looking man. He had
attended many graduations.
“On behalf of myself, Mr. Jacobson, Mr. Harris, the faculty, staff, student
body, and today’s graduating class, I want to welcome you all to this
evening’s commencement exercises.”
There was a ripple of applause, muffled on the evening air.
“We are all exceptionally proud of all of our graduates this year.”
There were a few more platitudes, a greeting from the vice-principal, Mr.
Jacobson, and graduate Debbie Marlin sang “You’ll Never Walk Alone.”
She was a tiny girl with a gigantic voice, and her rendition thrilled the
audience.
Mr. Harris read a long list of recipients of special awards and honors.
Then it was time for the valedictory.
The audience grew very silent, expectant. They all had seen in the news
what the judge had said. Now, what would Dory Gorman say?
Dory walked over to the speaker’s platform with grace, dignity, and
maturity.
“Mr. Jansen, Mr. Jacobsen, Mr. Harris, esteemed guests, beloved parents,
and friends.”
So far so good. All very traditional.
She held up three typewritten sheets of paper.
“Ladies and gentlemen this is the speech that was prepared and approved
to be delivered to you this evening. It’s full of all the graduation platitudes
of the past one hundred years.”
That drew a slight giggle. Mr. Jensen, Mr. Jacobsen, and Mr. Harris
began to feel uneasy.
“But a judge in a courtroom has ordered me to not include in my speech
my thanks to my Lord and Savior for His Salvation of my Soul, and His
keeping me and helping me through my school years.
“And, since I have been forbidden to include in my speech mention of
Almighty God, or my thanks to my Savior Jesus Christ for His kindness to
me-----”
She paused a moment. In that moment, someone yanked the electric
cord out of its socket, and the microphone went silent.
Dory continued, her voice now very soft. But that soft voice reached
the back row, anyway.
“Then I will not deliver a speech at all.”
She raised her hands above her head, and slowly, with grace and
assurance, ripped the prepared speech into shreds, and let the shredded
pieces fall to the platform floor.
A gasp of approval and dismay swept the audience. Someone hollered
“turn that mike back on!”
She turned and looked straight at Jansen, Jacobsen, and Harris.
“This is my graduation. This is my celebration, and I will never be
silenced in my public thanks to God. I will obey God rather than men.”
Even though her words were muffled now, as she faced away from the
audience, most people heard them.
She turned, walked triumphantly to her chair, and sat down.
Applause exploded. Within thirty seconds, the entire audience was on
their feet, cheering, shouting approval, and beating their palms. Joe and
Julia clapped so hard their hands hurt and smiled so widely their cheeks hurt.
Tommy gave a loud approving whistle.
When the din subsided, a strong, deep voice rose from among the seated
graduates. Third from the left, in the back row. Tony Land, captain of the
basketball team, started to recite the Lord’s Prayer. A few more joined in,
then the entire assembly fairly shouted out the final line--”for Thine is the
kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever! Amen!”
Mr. Jansen took the mike, which had been re-plugged in, and nervously
mopped his forehead with his handkerchief.
“Well,” he stammered. “I told you we train future independent leaders
here.”
There was another round of applause.
Chapter Four
“HICH SCHOOL VALEDICTORIAN DEFIES BAN ON
GRADUATION PRAYER---PANDEMONIUM AT CEREMONY”
The newspaper blazed the banner headline the following morning. There
was a picture of Dory, her torn speech caught in the act of falling to the
floor. There was a picture of Tony Land, standing among the graduates,
leading the Lord’s Prayer. There was a picture of Mr. Jansen looking
astonished and confused and angry.
The paper lay on the breakfast table.
“Well, Julie,” Joe said affectionately, “we did it. We really did.”
Julie draped her arms around his shoulders and kissed the top of his head.
“We are so blessed,” she said warmly. “All our children are sold out to
Jesus. The way things are in this world now, that is breathtaking.”
Dory, Tommy, and Tracy came trooping into the room in various stages
of morning preparation, and each in turn gave a whoop of surprised delight
at the newspaper headline.
Julie called to Melody, who was still dragging her blanket around the
living room and clicking the TV dial in search of cartoons.
“Melody! It’s family time!”
Melody came toddling softly in her flannel jammies and fur, rabbit-eared
slippers. She climbed up into her usual chair and held out her tiny hand to
hold Mommies’ hand, as she did every morning.
“We have something different this morning.” Joe said, holding up the
paper. “Our Dory is famous this morning.”
“Dory in new-paper,” Melody announced.
“Yes, dear, Dory in new-paper. And why is Dory in the paper?”
“Because she’s got pure guts!” Tommy shouted.
“And where did she get her pure guts?” Joe asked.
“From Jesus!” Tommy shouted.
“Can anybody give us some Scriptures that apply to this situation?” Joe
asked.
There was a moment’s pause, while the kids tried to remember
references.
“They that live Godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution.” Dory said
softly.
“Blessed are you, who are persecuted for righteousness sake, for yours is
the kingdom of heaven,” Tommy shouted triumphantly.
“If the world hates you, remember it hated Me before it hated you,” Julia
added.
“Alright, Joe said solemnly. “Who wants to lead in prayer? How about
you, Tracy? You haven’t said a word yet.”
Tracy bowed her head and closed her eyes.
“Lord Jesus,“ she began softly, but growing in confidence,” Thank You so
much that I belong to a Christian family who loves me. Thank You for Dory
having the strength to stand up for You at the graduation. Take care of us all
today. Amen.”
**************************
The doorbell rang just as Julie was putting the freshly laundered sheets
into the linen closet.
“Just a minute”, she called downstairs, not sure if she’d been heard.
A minute later, she stood face to face with a tall, thin, stylishly dressed
woman she’d never seen before.
“Yes?” she said quizzically.
“I’m Millicent Hargrove, from the C.A.” She held out her credentials.
“Oh, do come in,” Julie said kindly. “You must be new. Please sit
down.”
Miss Hargrove walked into the room, but declined the offered chair.
“I’m afraid this is urgent,” she said severely.
A frown darkened Julie’s face.
“I’m sure you’ll find everything in order. Tracy just finished the school
year, you know, and she’s happy as a clam.”
“Mrs. Gorman,” the visitor said impatiently. “I’m afraid you
misunderstand the purpose of my visit. I’m not here to check on Tracy’s
Progress. I’m here to take Tracy back to the C.A. home.”
Julie felt a shocking sensation, as if hot sparks were showering all over
her body. She stared back at the woman in disbelief. Miss Hargrove went
on impatiently.
“It has come to our attention that you have broken your contract with the
State as regards to the foster care of Tracy Reston. This has prompted the
CA office to speed up our program of re-uniting her to her natural family.
Please tell her to come here.”
“But---you---can’t---do that!” Julie stammered in shock. “Tracy is
happy here! She’s like our own daughter! You can’t just barge in here and
drag her out of her home! What’s the matter with you?”
“Oh, yes we can!” Miss Hargrove answered sharply. “We can and we
will. I have an order to bring her with me.”
She held out an official envelop.
Julie read the order, then went weak all over, and sank on to the couch.
“This can’t be!” she protested.
“Are you going to sit here all day?” Miss Hargrove snapped. “Get
Tracy!”
Julie burst into tears and rushed into the kitchen, and grabbed the land
line phone on the wall, quickly punching in Nan Robinson’s number.
“Hello, Nan? This is Julie.” She wept into the phone.
”For heaven’s sake, Julie, what‘s the matter?”
“Nan, you have to go over to the Kenny’s and get Tracy, and you have to
come here yourself. I need help bad.”
“Whatever is wrong?”
“There’s a social worker here with an order to take Tracy back to the CA.
I don’t understand it. They say we broke our contract or something.”
“I’ll be right over with Tracy. Try and stay calm. It’s maybe some
bureaucratic foul-up that can be ironed out in a few minutes. I’ll be right
there.”
********************************
Tracy stood in the doorway to the living room wailing sobs, leaning on
the woodwork for strength.
Nan sat on the couch comforting Julia.
Mrs. Hargrove stood defiantly in front of Tracy. She spoke with ice on
the edge of her words.
“I haven’t got all day to argue with a hysterical brat. My instructions
are to bring her back to Judson Hall. She will not be coming back here!”
“I’m not leaving my mother and father!” Tracy sobbed. “I’ll never go
with you!”
“These people are not your mother and father! And if you don’t come
with me quietly, I’ll have to call the police!”
“This is not the way the CA is supposed to treat children!” Nan said
angrily. “You can’t do this without a hearing!”
“We do what we want.” Hargrove declared flatly.
Julie went over and put her arms around Tracy, and they cried together.
“Tracy, I don’t understand what’s happening, or why. But we’ve always
taught you to stand up for what’s right. Remember the Scriptures that we
read this morning?”
Tracy dried her tears. “They that live Godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer
persecution,” she whispered.
“That’s right.”
“Stop blabbering about the Bible!” Hargrove ordered angrily.
“You shut up!” Julie shot back. “Such talk is not allowed in this house!
Not even by pushy social workers!”
She turned back to Tracy. “Dear, we’ve taught you, stand up and be
strong. Be faithful to Jesus Christ and His word. He’ll see you through any
difficulty. We’ll get a lawyer and fight this, don’t you worry .”
Suddenly Tracy drew herself up straight. She remembered Dory at
graduation. She remembered Tommy had told off Miss Ames. She was a
member of the Gorman family, and she would act like one.
“Miss Hargrove,” she said as firmly as she could. “This is my family.
This is my home. All the court orders in the world won’t change that. I will
not leave my home!” She swallowed back the hard lump in her throat and
tried to look brave.
Hargrove grabbed her by the upper arm, and dug her fingernails in hard.
“You’re coming with me!” She headed for the front door, dragging the
girl across the floor.
Tracy screamed and grabbed the door post, but Hargrove wrestled with
her and pulled her away. She dragged her down the walk. Tracy stumbled
a couple of times, and screamed again “Please! Mother! Don’t let them take
me!”
Hargrove shoved her into the front seat of her car and slammed the door.
Tracy grabbed the handle and pushed the door open, in an attempt to jump
out of the car. Hargrove slammed the door shut, catching Tracy‘s hand in
the door. She screamed in pain. Hargrove opened the door to free her hand,
and quickly slammed it shut again.
Tracy grabbed her hand in pain, as Hargrove circled the car, got in
quickly, and drove off.
Julie sank back into the living room chair, and Nan hurriedly brought her
a glass of water. Julie sipped it, shaking. She mopped great beads of
perspiration from her face, but felt cold. Nan was shaking with anger.
Nan quickly dialed Joe’s number on her cell phone.
Joe put down his wrench and answered his ring.
“Joe, this is Nan. I’m here with Julie, and something awful has
happened. Can you come home? I mean right now.”
Chapter Five
Tracy managed to sneak away from supervision and make a quick phone
call.
“They make me go to counseling sessions every afternoon,” she
complained. “Mr. Recker---he’s the psychiatrist--he sits there and stares at
me, and tries to turn around everything I say. He tries to tell me that Mr.
Reston is all rehabilitated and won’t come home drunk and beat me up any
more. Once he even said what’s a pretty girl like me wasting my time
wanting to belong to a family of religions nuts.”
“He used those words?”
“Yes, those words. Daddy, please, tell me when the hearing is going to
be?”
“We haven’t got a definite date, but Ed Glerum says it won’t be long.
We told you in our letter.”
“I don’t get your letters, Daddy. They won’t let me have any mail at all.
Oh! Here comes the supervisor. I gotta go. I’m not allowed to use the
phone.”
She hung up abruptly.
What was going on? Was Judson Hall supposed to be a prison?
Even prisoners had a right to mail and phone calls. Since when could a State
order a child to be so mistreated? It certainly explained the constant
runarounds he and Julie had received all summer, as they were constantly
put on hold, stalled, and lied to, in their frustrated attempts to call Tracy.
****************************
Judge Hardiman sat on his bench, looking over the papers. He spoke
coldly, mechanically, without feeling.
“Mr. and Mrs. Gorman. I don’t see where you even have standing to
come before this court. You have no legal claim to the custody of Tracy
Reston. She has been a ward of the State for over two years, and you were
merely acting as agents of the State when you took her into your home. She
is not legally free for adoption. The State has seen fit to terminate your job.
It’s as simple as that.”
“Your honor,” Ed Glerum challenged. “It is not as simple as that. Tracy
Reston has been a ward of the State for two and a half years, and for the past
two of those years, she has been the foster child of Joe and Julie Gorman,
who have provided a right and proper home environment, and Tracy has
prospered and thrived in this home.
Such a relationship of love has grown up between Tracy and the
Gormans, that she considers them to be her parents, and has even signed into
school under the name Gorman.
“Three months ago, for absolutely no fathomable reason, Tracy was
brutally, physically brutally, dragged out of this comfortable, loving home,
and placed back in the Judson Hall detention center. No one has ever given
one word of explanation or excuse as to why this was done.
“Tracy suffered physical injury as she was brutally dragged from her
home. She has been suffering emotional trauma during the summer months
that she has been kept unlawfully incarcerated.
“Tracy is not a criminal! It is unlawful to keep her incommunicado in a
detention center for any length of time at all!
“She is being held in a juvenile prison, when she has a loving home
waiting for her. The law claims to do what is best for the child. What is best
for this child is for her to be restored to the family she loves, and see this
nightmare ended. In this case, the very agency set up to prevent abuse is
guilty of perpetrating the abuse.”
Judge Hardiman grew even more icy. “Tracy was removed from the
Gorman home for two reason. We must step up our program of re-uniting
Tracy with her natural parents, and the Gormans have broken the terms of
their contract with the State“
“What on earth do you mean by that?” Julie demanded, forgetting the
rules of courtroom decorum.
“It is my understanding that the Gormans required the child to change her
religion.”
Joe and Julie exchanged bewildered looks.
“I beg your pardon, Your Honor,” Joe exclaimed. “We never forced
anything on her. There’s no law in the world that someone can’t change
their religion, or get religion, or what.”
“Minor wards of the State are expected to stay in the religion of their
natural family,” Judge Hardiman said coldly. “How could any parent trust
their children to our State agencies if they start coming back to their families
with their religion changed?”
“That is absurd!” Julie protested. “Mr. Reston never had a religion.
And Tracy chose her new religion on her own. We never forced her to do
anything.”
“You have no right to proseletize a child! Especially when the State is
paying you to care for the child. Your influence over this child has had a
detrimental effect on our attempts to re-unite her with her family. Therefore,
any attempts at communication between any member of the Gorman family
and Tracy Reston is hereby forbidden, under pain of contempt of court. You
are not to call her, write her, attempt to visit her. You are not to accept any
calls or letters or visits from her. Any defiance of this order will result in
criminal penalties. Dismissed.” The gavel hit with cold finality.
***************************
“I don’t believe it, “ Julie shook her head in disbelief. The three sat on
the bench in the wide courthouse hallway, recovering from the shock. “That
judge has to be insane, So harsh and unfeeling. To not even be able to talk
to her! To comfort her! To explain things! I’ve never heard of such a
thing!” She sank back on the hard bench, to emotionally drained to even
cry.
“We certainly have some work ahead,” Ed Glerum said. “I will have to
represent Tracy! Tracy herself, and have her petition the court on her own
behalf. We’re treading new ground here. It has never been heard of for a
minor to petition for her own adoption. And we’ll definitely have to get a
change of judge. Hardiman is a mental case.”
“Has he done this type of thing in other cases?” Joe asked.
“There have been attempts to get him before the Judicial Review board
and removed from the bench. But he has to much clout.”
“You mean the futures of dependent children are being decided by a
person who displays mental incapacities?”
“Not just incapacities. Sadistic actions. Some day I’ll fill you in on some
of the things that he has been charged with. For now, we’re going to get into
Judson Hall and have a talk with Tracy. No matter what Hardiman says,
we’ll talk to Tracy.”
“I can’t bear the thought of her pining away in that awful place without
us being able to comfort her.” Julie sniffled.
Joe helped his wife to her feet, and the trio walked slowly down the cold
marble-floored hallway..
Chapter Six
Nan Robinson put the stack of dishes in the sink, turned the hot water on,
and the steam billowed up for a few seconds. She turned the water off and
decided to let the dishes soak for a few minutes.
“Anyone want any more coffee?” she called to the front room.
“No thanks, hon,” John called back. “How about you, Joe?”
Joe shook his head no, but Julie said she’d have some.
“Just Julie,” John called.
Nan brought her own and Julie’s cup on a small tray and set the tray on
the coffee table. Julie put cream and sugar in her cup and sank back into
the Robinson’s easy chair. She brushed against an extended branch of the
Christmas tree, and the bells on the tree tinkled pleasantly. Nan settled next
to her husband on the couch. Joe squatted comfortably on the big ottoman.
“Best thing the church ever did,” John said enthusiastically. “So much
simpler than I’d ever dreamed. Put new life and direction into everyone
concerned.”
“Tommy sure likes it,” Julie said. “That incident with Ms. Ames was the
clincher. She’d been harassing him all year. I would have loved to see her
face when he told her off.”
“Yeah,” Joe put in. “Most people think they can wipe their shoes on
Christians, ‘cause we’re supposed to turn the other cheek. All through the
Old Testament, God fought with power on the side of the prophets who
dared fight back. There’s time to turn the other cheek, and there’s time to
call down the power of God to judge evil. That’s what’s wrong with this
whole generation. It’s a repeat of Noah’s day. No law. No standard of right
or wrong. In today’s society, the good Samaritan would be arrested for
practicing medicine without a licence, and the victim would have sued the
Samaritan to pay for his medical bills the rest of his life.”
“I’m astonished at the way they have outlawed Christmas”. Nan set her
cup down. “They ban prayer in public places. They ban Christmas, ban the
Bible, ban prayer, and have the nerve to say it is in the name of religious
freedom for people who are offended by Christianity. How can they be so
ignorant?”
“They are not ignorant,” John said. “They know exactly what they’re
doing. And why. The real hidden truth is, the country has suffered a silent,
secret coup-de-tete. It’s an alliance at the highest levels of power
By several groups that cross international boundaries. You’ve got the
Council on Foreign Relations, you’ve got the Socialists, you’ve got the
Communists. You’ve got secret religious societies. Something called the
Bilderbergers. Their common cause is a world with all nations erased, and
all people slaves of something called the New World Order.”
“The New Age Movement is part of it,” Nan interjected. “New Age is
just the old paganism dressed up in a new package. The kings of the earth
are taking counsel together against the Lord, and against His anointed.
To throw off the rulership of God, to set up the anti-Christ one world
government. We are living in the Prophetic Day. We are seeing it happen.
Who would have thought we would live to see these times?”
“So how is a Christian supposed to behave?” Julie demanded. “It’s
all right for me to turn the other cheek for myself. But what do I do when
they come after my family---my children? Do I sit back and watch while
they do all they can to destroy my children’s minds? Should my son have to
go on suffering April Ames’ hostility, just because he’s a kid? We were
taught submission to authority. But when we were young, authority meant
what was right. When judgement is perverted, how can a Christian submit
to it without becoming perverted himself? And just what is the right way to
fight back?”
“If I’d been home the day they took Tracy,” Joe declared, that Hargrove
woman wouldn’t have escaped without me pressing charges for physical
abuse.”
They were interrupted by the doorbell. Nan went to answer. A stranger
asked for Reverend Robinson. She beckoned to John, and when he arrived
at the door, the stranger put an envelop into his hand.
“What’s this?”
“I don’t read them, Reverend Robinson,” the stranger said. “I just deliver
them.” He quickly left.
John ripped it open and read it. It was a summons.
He shook his head in disbelief.
“What is it?” Nan asked.
“The church!” He exclaimed angrily. “They are trying to close the
church! The city is ordering me to close the church!”
“What on earth do you mean?” Nan grabbed the paper from his hands
and read it in disbelief. “This paper says that Community Bible Church, and
the grade school operated on its premises, are to cease and desist operations
immediately. The building is in a C-1 zoning area, and as such is in
violation of the zoning regulation which does not allow churches to exist in a
C-1 area. How can they dare do this? The church has been on that spot for
thirty years. Nobody ever complained before. Besides, zoning is
government regulation, and it is unlawful to regulate a church.”
John took a deep breath and tried to gather his thoughts.
“They’ve been doing this all over the country,” he sighed. “Wherever
they can hassle a church, for any reason, they do it. So far they’ve let us
alone---but--”
“We opened up the school this year, Joe declared. “That’s their real
target--the school.
**********************
The following Sunday morning, the small congregation came up the
walk, through the doors, and down the aisle into their usual pews, hardly
giving a second glance to the squad car parked across the street. Lillian
Darnell sat in her usual place, crocheting.
The opening hymns were sung, but assistant pastor Kenny did not make
his usual announcements. Instead, Pastor Robinson took the pulpit
immediately.
“Brothers and sisters,” he began solemnly, “Our Lord Jesus Christ
promised His followers that in this world, they would have tribulation and
persecution. “For Thy sake we are killed all the day long.” For two hundred
years, the Christians in the United States of America have enjoyed the
freedom of religion that our Constitution guarantees. That day is drawing to
a close. Here in our beloved America, the unthinkable is happening. I’m
sure you’ve read about and seen on TV, of the difficulties of our brethren in
other parts of the country Now, Community Bible Church has been called
upon to suffer for His Name’s sake.”
The assembly grew intensely attentive..
“Three days ago, I received an order from the City Zoning Commission.
The have ordered us to immediately close down our church, and our new
school, because, after thirty years on this spot, they have allegedly “just
discovered” that churches are not permitted in a C-1 zoning area. We are all
here today, in technical violation of an unconstitutional ordinance. It will
cost us some money to hire a lawyer, but we do intend to fight --”
Everyone was suddenly distracted by two uniformed policemen who
came bruskly through the main entrance double-door. All heads turned at
once, startled at the rude, noisy, intrusion.
The policemen strode boldly down the aisle, and without hesitation or
apology stepped up to the pulpit.
“Just what do you gentlemen think you are doing, disrupting a religious
service?” Pastor Robinson demanded boldly. “If you have something to
say, enter politely, and ask for permission to speak.”
The air became filled with a crackling of electric-like tension.
Officer McMahon was a full half head taller and fifty pounds heavier
than his partner. His presence and his voice was intimidating.
“I’m here to enforce the law,” he declared in a defiant, take-over tone.
“These premises are being used unlawfully. It is therefore my duty to empty
these premises and put a stop to the breaking of the law. All of you are
going to have to leave immediately.”
Pastor Robinson felt his blood shoot hot through his veins, and his jaw
clamped in anger. He would suffer for Christ, he determined, but he would
suffer as a man, not a doormat.
“You are disturbing a worship service!” He said, loudly. “You are
despising the First Amendment and spitting in the face of all America stands
for. I order you to leave this place at once!”
Officer McMahon grabbed Pastor Robinson by the arm, and pulled him
away from the pulpit.
“If they are going to remove me from my pulpit,” John thought, “I’ll
make them work at it.”
He let his body go limp against the officer’s body. The other officer
grabbed him by the other arm, and he let himself go limp in the opposite
direction. His body sank to the floor, and he decided to stay there.
“You get his feet!” McMahon ordered to his partner.
The astonished congregation had barely recovered from the shock of that
sight, when Joe Gorman stood up.
“This is a house of God!” He shouted. “You have no right to do this!”
“We have all the right we need!”
shut up or you’ll be next!”
McMahon bellowed angrily. “You
The two officers lifted the limp body of the pastor by the heels and under
the arms, and dragged him unceremoniously down the aisle, through the
double doors, and shoved him into the back of the police car.
The angry church members poured out of the church and surrounded the
vehicle, shouting angrily. “Brutality! Brutality! Brutality!”
They surrounded the squad car, and beat rhythmically on the fender and
the door, with their knuckles, and the palms of their hands.
“Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!” they chanted.
Joe Gorman raised his deep voice and began to sing. Before the second
line was finished, everyone had joined in, and the chorus echoed loudly
down the street.
“Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord!
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored-He hath loosed the faithfuls lightning of His terrible swift sword!
His truth is marching on!”
By now a crowd was gathering. A second and third squad car arrived on
the scene. One cop hollered through a bull horn.
“Attention! Attention! You are ordered to disperse! You are hindering
officers in the lawful performance of their duty, and are in violation of the
law!”
A young, fresh-faced rookie, took in the situation, and his heart sank.
Officer Bill Somers was a Christian. He immediately sized up the situation.
This was not lawful police activity.
He spoke something to the officer with the bull horn, who offered him the
horn. He declined.
“I won’t need it,” he said. Then he went over to Joe, whom he had
observed was the leader. They spoke quietly for a moment, and Joe waved
for quiet.
“Folks, this officer wants to say something.” the people grew quiet and
listened.
Bill Somers raised his voice, but spoke kindly,
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said soothingly. “I understand that something
has happened to cause you to be greatly upset.”
“You’re telling me!” they all shouted.
“I know how you feel,” Bill sympathized. “But whatever it is, it can’t be
fixed here. Why don’t you let everybody thrash it out down at the station,
where it’s nice and warm?”
His words poured a soothing balm over the upset of the crowd, and they
began to relax a little, and realize that it really was cold out here.
“I’m sure the Reverend would much rather settle this in more
comfortable surroundings. How about letting the car through?”
The people parted, and moved away from the squad car. The vehicle
picked up speed and headed for the station.
Joe began to sing again.
“Onward, Christian soldiers, marching as to war! With the Cross of Jesus
going on before! Christ the Royal Master, leads against the foe! Forward
into battle! See His banner go!”
The people joined in as before. And so did Officer Somers.
Chapter Seven
Pastor Robinson was bailed out within three hours.
An emergency meeting was assembled at assistant Pastor Kenny’s living
room. The people sat on folding chairs, the couch, the floor, or leaned up
against the wall.
They began with a prayer offered by Brother Kenny, and then a couple of
gospel songs.
“It’s obvious to me,” John Robinson began, “that this is a strategy to get
at the school. The church has been here for thirty years. All of a sudden,
we open a school, and we’re out on our ears without a hearing. The antiChrist powers that be in this country are out to gain absolute control over the
minds of children. In every State, the legal battle is being waged to harass
Christian schools, using every phony legal hair they can find. I think I can
count on the members of this congregation to be devoted followers of Christ.
Is there anyone here who isn’t willing to go through what we have to go
through?”
“No!” the shout came back.
“OK. “Brother Kenny and I think we should go right back to church
tonight for our evening service, just like we always do. Ed Glerum is going
to go downtown tomorrow and get a temporary restraining order. That way
we’ll be able to go on using the building during the appeal. Is anybody
afraid of going to church illegally?”
“No!” they all shouted and grinned.
“Pastor,” Jim Kenny Junior spoke up. He was sixteen years old, rather
tall, thin, with red hair and blond eyelashes. “Do you think maybe we have
a spy in the congregation?”
The idea was so preposterous that it broke the tensions of the day, and
everyone burst out laughing.
John wanted to be polite, so he gave the adolescent a kind hearing.
“What makes you think that?” he asked kindly.
Everyone laughed again, and Jim got embarrassed, and giggled at
himself. But he pursued the idea anyway.
“Well, Pastor, well, remember when they took Tracy away?”
“What about it?” John asked.
“Well, the baptism was the next to the last Sunday in June. And just a
few days later, the CA people came and took her away, and you say how one
of their objections was that she’d changed her religion. Who told the CA
that she’d been baptized?”
There was a moment of stunned silence.
sudden understanding.
Joe and Julie stared at Jim in
“You know,” Jim Senior said. “That’s not such a crazy idea. I know that
Federal agents have done that very thing. Even the liberal churches have
government spies checking up on them, trying to trap them with taxes or one
thing or other. I wouldn’t put anything passed anyone any more.”
“Is this some kind of secret war, or new Inquisition?” asked Mark Kenny,
Jim’s younger brother.
“Definitely,” Pastor John said thoughtfully. “Jesus said that they that live
Godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution. He said blessed are you when
men shall revile you and persecute you and hate you, and cast out your name
as evil, for His sake. He said that the time shall come when he that kills you
will think that he’s doing God a service. That seems to be a forgotten
teaching in this generation.”
“We aught to get back to preaching it,” Jim Senior said.
“Hey, I’ve got an idea!” Jim Junior burst out, surprised at his own
brainstorm.
“What is it?” Pastor John asked.
“This has been an awfully long, hard, day. We can fight the zoning
people tomorrow. For tonight, why don’t we all visit Bobby Joe at the
Settlement?”
The idea was greeted with instant enthusiasm by all.
The Settlement was about fifty miles outside of town, a retreat-ranchmission, run by Robert Joseph Fairchild. For four years, he ran the place on
seat of the pants faith, taking care of street people and runaway kids and
dope addicts. The population of the place stayed between seventy five and
one hundred. The residents worked farm chores during the day, and attended
vocational training classes. They attended church every night. The
Christians in the area found the place a source of pride and inspiration.
The newspapers called them a cult. Brother Robert Joseph Fairchild had
put up with scorn, ridicule, deliberate misunderstanding, slandering, and
name-calling. A newspaper columnist had made a joke about hicks and
hillbillies hitching rides on turnip trucks to come to the city and tell all the
intelligent people how to repent. They were all named Billy Joe and Bobby
Joe and Bubba Joe. From then on the teenagers loved to mercilessly tease
Bobby Joe Fairchild.
Jim Junior supervised the phone notification of members of the church
that were not present. Community Bible Church was adjourned for the
evening, and would meet at Bobby Joe’s Settlement at 6:30. They were in
for a long evening of handclapping and shouting.
******************************
The caravan of cars began to arrive early, at 5:30, and making a good
natured din as they honked their horns loudly to announce their arrival.
Bobby Joe came out of his house trailer and waved, and waited expectantly
for his guests to exit enthusiastically from their cars. Jim Junior was in one
car with his brother and several teenaged friends. Pastor John and Jim
Senior were in a car with their wives.
John and Jim Senior and Bobby Joe clasped hands in warm greeting, and
at that instant, Jim Junior’s group stood at mock attention and recited loudly
in unison,
“Good evening Brother Bobby Joe!
Bubba!”
We’re glad to see you Brother
“Now cut that out,” Bobby Joe teased back. “I’m glad to see you all
tonight. What brings the gang out?”
“Our pastor is a jailbird!” Jim Junior hollered.
“This young generation can make a joke out of the strangest things,”
John explained. I got arrested today.”
“Well, for goodness sake! Everybody come inside where it’s warm, and
tell me all about it.”
On the way in, Dennis came up behind them, with his parents and a
couple of friends. Dennis was a good looking twenty year old, a resident of
the Settlement for a year, after spending three years in a dope-induced fog.
“Brother Bob,” he called in his deep voice.
“Hey, Dennis, “Who are your friends?”
“These are my folks,” Dennis said happily. “Mr. and Mrs. Jack Kraft,
Tim Garret, Harry Cane, meet Reverend Robert Fairchild. Brother Bobby
Joe. Brother Bob, my parents. I’ve been trying to get them out here for a
year. They finally agreed to a visit.”
There were friendly handshakes all round and the group joined the others
in the meeting hall.
It was a large cafeteria, with a fully equipped kitchen at one end. For the
meetings, the tables were shoved against the walls and replaced with rows of
chairs, facing the opposite end.
Joe Gorman was always a little timid in these shouting, handclapping
services. But tonight he made a real effort to let himself go and join in. Jim
Junior and his friends had no trouble with that. Tommy Gorman had a goodnatured contest with Jim Junior as to which one could clap the hardest and
most enthusiastically, as the assembly sang the old, up-tempo gospel song.
“He set me free, yes, He set me free, He broke the bonds of prison for
me! I’m glory-bound, my Jesus to see! Glory to God He set me free!”
They sang it over and over. Raising their hands and shouting praises and
thanks to Jesus Christ for redemption and blessing. Joe Gorman wept
unashamedly.
When it was time for preaching, Brother Bobby Joe asked Brother John
up to the pulpit to tell of the day’s happenings. They listened with rapt
attention.
“When those two big bruisers climbed up to my pulpit,” he continued,
“for a split second I felt like I must be dreaming. The next second I felt like
I was in the old Soviet Union. The next second I reminded myself that I was
in the United States of America. No one was going to physically remove
me from my pulpit without a struggle. I let myself go limp, and when the
big one grabbed me, I went off balance and let myself fall to the floor.”
There were a few scattered gasps of disbelief from the congregation.
Here in America?
“Well, the next thing I knew, they were dragging me down the aisle of my
church and into a squad car. All of my people surrounded the squad car and
started pounding on it and singing and chanting.”
John finished his account, and sat down to heartfelt applause.
Bobby Joe took the pulpit, and stood silent for a long moment. He spoke
slowly, seriously.
“Dear people,” he began, “we, as true, faithful, Bible honoring, bornagain Christians, are entering a new era. Unless we fully understand this,
nothing else is going to make any sense. For years, Christian Americans
have watched the systematic destruction of freedom in other parts of the
world, and declared, “it can’t happen here’. It is happening all over the
country. It happened today to our brother Pastor Robinson. Our beloved
America, where we have always felt so strong and secure, is feeling the
jackboot of religious oppression. Every day brings news of another horror
story. Preachers being sued. Parents being jailed for sending their kids to
Christian schools. Christmas scenes forbidden on public property. Children
in public schools ridiculed for refusing to accept evolution.”
Tommy Gorman grinned proudly.
“Christmas carols banned. Public crosses off their official city seals.
Parents denied the right to discipline their children. Kidnapping and
deprogramming. Government at all levels pushing its way into the church’s
business, demanding records. Calls to licence every church function, so that
a pastor wouldn’t be able to give normal pastoral counseling.
“I’ll recount an incident that happened here about a year ago. How many
of you remember Joe Granville?”
Several hands went up.
“He was here several months, and then he got saved. The night he got
saved, he confessed to me why he had come here in the first place. He had
been hired by a government agency, and told to work his way into my
confidence, pretend he was a Christian, and drop hints that he was coming
into a large amount of money. He was supposed to get me to rely on that
large amount of money, rather than on our own work and the small
contributions we receive. Then, after we accepted his large contribution, and
got all tangled up in money traps, he was supposed to sue us for return of the
money, claim we’d brainwashed him, and bring in government agents from
all over claiming tax fraud and theft and brainwashing and that we were a
crooked, thieving, brainwashing cult.”
The people groaned and shook their heads.
“Well, every time he offered me one of those big checks, I’d feel queasy
about it and turn it down. Then one Wednesday night, the power was falling,
he came down front, and prayed through. Later, he spilled all the beans to
me, and said it was my turning down of those big checks that convinced him
that we were for real.”
Someone shouted “Praise the Lord!” and there was a few moments spent
In clapping and shouting praises.
***************************
The sirens screamed, the lights of the emergency vehicles flashed their
multicolored repititions of danger, and the curious gapers came running,
despite the lateness of the hour, to watch the destruction.
By the time the first fire truck arrived, Community Bible Church was
completely engulfed. The steeple made a spectacular fall to the street, and
the back wall caved in.
***************************
Service was long over, but Jim Junior and his friends were just now
saying goodnight to Dennis Kraft and the other young people. Jim’s father,
Pastor Robinson, and Joe Gorman, were gathered around another car, saying
long goodnights and planning when to get together again.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Jim Junior asked
Dennis. “We can pick up bergers and shakes and get you back to Brother
Bobby Joe by one a.m.”
“That’d be great, Dennis agreed, leaning on the open window. “But my
folks are here. I’ve been trying to get them out here for a year, and they
never would. All the hollering about me being in a cult. Well, it looks like
they’re ready to make friends with me again. So tonight I’m having the
bergers and shakes with them.”
“That’s great!” Jim said. “Our turn next time!”
More goodbyes and goodnights were said, car doors slammed, and the
caravan from Community Bible Church drove off into the night.
Dennis hollered to Brother Bobby Joe that he’d be back 1:30 or 2:am.
His mother sitting next to him, gave his shoulders a big squeeze.
Chapter Eight
Pastor Robinson’s car was three blocks away from the church when his
heart sank, as he realized the reason for the flashing lights and trucks and
fire hoses lying in running puddles in the street. The fire fighters were still
hosing down the smoldering wreckage.
“Oh, my god!” he and Nan exclaimed together. John slowed the car to a
crawl, and gingerly made his way passed the various obstructions and pulled
up as close as he could to the scene of the disaster.
The gaper’s blocks had thinned out but there were several stragglers
braving the cold to see it through to the bitter end. The emergency lights
were still flashing their colorful patterns against the dark night, and Margo
Green from Local News was there with her mini-cam crew, interviewing
Lillian Darnell.
“Isn’t it unusual for a church to be empty on a Sunday night?” she asked
in clipped tones.
“All I know is, I got a call late this afternoon,” she said sweetly. “Telling
me the meeting had been cancelled.”
“Didn’t you think that was unusual?” Margo demanded.
“Well,” Lillian replied sweetly. “Not today. Everything has been unusual
today. There was a big fight in the pulpit this morning, and pastor got
arrested.”
“Why was that?”
“I’m not sure,” Lillian purred. “All I know is, the policemen came and
pastor had a fight with them. There’s pastor now, getting out of his car.”
She nodded toward the curb, where the car had just pulled up.
“Thank you,” Margo said with finality. She turned quickly, motioning
her crew to follow. She rushed over to Pastor Robinson, and shoved the
microphone near his face. He looked startled.
“You are the pastor of Community Bible Church?,” she demanded, a bit
to gruffly.
“Yes,” he answered automatically.
“How did you learn of the fire that destroyed your church?”
“Just now,” he said numbly. “Just now, this minute. As I drove up.”
He turned away. She pursued.
“Look” he said, with exasperated politeness. “I’d rather not talk about it
now.” He moved suddenly away from her and hurried over to get what
information he could from the fire chief.
Margo turned toward the red light in her mini-cam.
”Well, there’s the strange story,” she announced. “This morning,
Community Bible church was the scene of a fist fight in the pulpit, involving
the pastor and an officer of the law, in which the pastor was arrested. Then,
this afternoon, a sudden cancellation of the evening services, and now a fire
of mysterious origin. Which has totally destroyed the building.
“There certainly are many questions left unanswered at this point. This is
Margo Green, live at the scene, for Local News.”
*********************************
Mr. and Mrs. Kraft drove in silence for quite a while. Dennis wondered
mildly why no one said anything. But he figured that, considering all the
hostile feelings between them this past year, their first attempts at making up
might be a trifle awkward.
Mr. Kraft made an unexpected turn, and for some reason, Dennis began
to feel uneasy.
“You made a wrong turn, Dad. Bob’s Burgers is the other way.”
“We’ve got to get something at Tim’s.” Mr. Kraft muttered.
“Who was that tall blond girl?” Tim Garrett asked suddenly---you know,
she was with her parents, I think.”
“You must mean Dory Gorman” Dennis answered, glad for some
conversation. “She’s the one who got in the paper last June. She defied a
court order that there be no prayers at the graduation. She was the
valedictorian, so when she got up to make her speech, she prayed instead.
She said she wouldn’t deliver a speech that censored God. Her whole
family’s like that. They all got a lot of guts.”
“I thought she looked familiar. I must have seen her picture.”
It was only a few minutes before they pulled up on front of Tim Garret’s
bungalow.
“Everybody out,” Jack said. Dennis got out the passenger side to let his
mother out. Tim and Harry climbed out the back.
Dennis slammed the
door shut and followed his mother and the others up the small back porch
into the dimly lit, rustic kitchen. Jean Kraft pulled her coat off and quickly,
almost nervously, began pulling coffee cups and saucers out of the cupboard.
Jack was in the living room turning on the lights.
“Dennis, please get the cream out of the fridge and bring it up front,” she
said briskly. Dennis obeyed.
“I thought we were going to Bob’s Burgers,” he said, putting the cream
carton on the coffee table in the small living room.
“Forget that,” his father said. “We’ve got stuff for sandwiches right
here.”
Dennis clicked on the TV set and sank wearily down on the faded couch.
The springs creaked beneath him. It was not a new couch.
He watched the TV picture flicker to life.
“Oh! My god!” he shouted. He jumped up to turn up the volume.
“That’s Robinson’s place!”
“What place?” Jack Kraft asked.
“Dory’s church!
Look at that! It burned down tonight!”
Margo Green’s report ended and a commercial came on.
quickly to the land-line phone and began to dial.
Dennis went
“What are you doing?” Jack Kraft demanded.
“Calling Dory Gorman. Maybe she’ll know something about the fire!”
“No, you’re not!” Jack Kraft’s transformation was on the instant. He
crossed the room angrily and yanked the phone from his son’s hands, ripped
the cord from it, and sailed it crashing against the wall, where it fell noisily
to the floor.
Dennis stared at his father for one long, silent, confused, moment. His
mother Jean and their two friends, Tim and Harry, were staring strangely at
Dennis.
Dennis was suddenly afraid. He stared in shock from face to face,
looking for a clue as to what they were up to.
“What in the world is happening?” he pleaded, confused.
“Well, son”, Jean stammered, “we thought that you---”
“What your mother is trying to say,” Jack shouted angrily, “is that you
are not going back to that place. You’ve buried yourself in that religious
drivel long enough! You’re here for deprogramming!
Dennis felt suddenly weak, as a wave of hot helplessness and self
reproach swept over him. How could he ever have allowed himself to walk
into this trap? He sank back down onto the creaky couch. Would his parents
really do this to him?
“It’s just that we love you,” Jean soothed. She sat down next to him and
squeezed his shoulders and smoothed his brow. “We’ve been so grieved at
what you’ve been doing to yourself. Giving in to all this religious craziness.
Neglecting your future. Letting your mind be taken over by that evil man.
You don’t know how badly we’ve felt over the past year. We have to do this
because we love you so much.” She grimaced to hold back the tears.
“Mom,” Dennis said, almost near tears himself. He returned her embrace
and looked straight into her eyes. “I’m not brainwashed. I’m soul washed.
Jesus Christ forgave all my sins and made me new inside. That’s why I was
able to kick the drugs. I don’t need them any more. I don’t have to run
away from myself any more. I can live in the power of Jesus. Mom,” he
pleaded earnestly. “Why in the name of common sense would you want me
to give that up?”
She swallowed hard.
“You can’t live your life in the middle ages,” Jack snapped at him,
impatiently pacing the floor. “All this talk about sin. It’s psychologically
sick. We’re glad you’re off drugs. But you can do that without being a
religious fanatic!”
A sharp rap on the front door interrupted him.
“That’s Mr. Pace,” he declared with satisfaction, and quickly moved to
let him in.
Mr. Pace was a smallish middle aged man, carrying a large heavy case.
He entered the room quietly and greeted everyone briskly.
He plugged in his laptop and began to press the buttons.
“What is that?” Jean asked.
“We’re going to see some videos,” Pace explained. “We are going to
tape these proceedings, just to have documented proof that nobody’s rights
are being violated. First, I’m going to show you a video of a previous
session.”
“Of all the crud,” Dennis said disgustedly. He stood up quickly and
headed for the door. Tim and Harry barred the way.
“You don’t understand,” Harry said. “You can’t leave.”
Dennis shoved his way between them, but they grabbed him by each arm
and shoved him backward into a chair. Dennis recovered from the shove,
and stared at Mr. Pace. He spoke slowly, biting out his words.
“Mr. Pace. You have the nerve to say you are going to film this to prove
that my rights are not violated. I’m being falsely imprisoned. Against my
will. I demand that you release me.”
“That is not possible,” Mr. Pace said coldly.
Jean began to sob softly, and dab at her eyes. Mr. Pace finished setting
up the stationary camera and turned it on.
Dennis leaped to his feet and made another try for the door.
Harry grabbed him again.
Tim and
“Sit down!” Mr. Pace snarled. Tim and Harry shoved him back onto the
creaky couch.
*************************
The Gormans, Robinsons, and Kennys spent Monday crying on each
other’s shoulders, and making emergency plans. The Grade school would
resume operation as scheduled after vacation. The three families would
divide the eight grades between them, using living rooms, dining rooms, and
basement rooms, as classrooms. The regular weekday meetings of the
church would alternate between the Gorman’s place and the Kenny’s place,
as each had good sized front rooms, and the Gorman’s had double doors
connecting to their dining room, that could be utilized to double the meeting
space.
Jim Jr. raised his hand.
“Dad?”
“Jim has an idea,” Joe said kindly.
good ones.”
“He usually comes up with some
“Well, “ Jim began, “the neighbors are sure to put up a fuss about the cars
on the street. We really don’t have that much traffic, but there’s sure to be
at least one sourpuss to complain. So why don’t we use the Sunday School
bus to pick up the adults as well? I’d be glad to do the driving.”
“Bright idea indeed.” His father smiled. “But I think we’ll make you
relief driver, and get someone older for the regular duty.”
Nan got up from her seat on the ottoman to answer the phone. She spoke
for a minute, and passed the phone to her husband.
“Yes, Bob. No. I didn’t know. Just a minute. Jim,” he called to the
young man. “Didn’t you talk to Dennis Kraft after service last night?”
“Yeah. What’s up?”
“Did he say anything about his plans?”
“We invited him to Bob’s Burgers, but he went with his folks. Said he’d
see us later.”
John talked softly for another moment, then hung up and returned to the
group.
“We’ve got another problem,” he said gravely. “Dennis is missing.”:
“What!” Dory exclaimed.
“Are you sure?” Jim Jr. demanded.
“He never came home last night,” John said, with deep concern.
Chapter Nine
Mr. Pace leaned forward into Dennis’ face and demanded an answer.
Dennis turned away and tried to ignore him. He wouldn’t be ignored.
“Fairchild brainwashed you!” he snarled. “You know it. He’s a bloodsucker! He’s using you for his own ego trip. He’s a cultist! You’re as sick as
those idiots who died in Guyana! Think of your future, Dennis! You’ve got
to go to college and get into a profession and make some money! Reject this
religious madness! That funny farm is turning you into a bum!”
“I was a bum before!” Dennis declared wearily. He made an effort to
hold himself together, but he felt something break down inside of him. It
wasn’t his faith that was breaking. It was his ability to think clearly.
Endless, sleepless, foodless hours of being yelled at, questioned, challenged,
contradicted. Always with that little red dot on the TV camera spying on
him.
His captors took turns sleeping, but allowed him only occasional catnaps.
They even followed him into the bathroom to make sure he didn’t climb out
the window.
He tried to ignore them. Tune them out.
But they wouldn’t let up their badgering, and it was bringing him to the
edge of exhaustion.
“I’ve had enough,” he moaned, in a sleepy stupor. “You guys yell at
each other for a while.”
He stretched out on the couch and rolled over, turning his back to his
captors, and fell into an exhausted sleep.
“You’ve got to let him sleep,” Jean begged.
“OK, OK,” Pace agreed reluctantly. “When he wakes up we can show
him the video.”
“What video?” Jean asked.
“We’ve got videos of other deprogramming,” he said confidently. “It
often has a positive effect.”
Dennis opened his eyes three hours later and stared at the cushion of the
couch. He remembered where he was and groaned. Here we go again.
They let him wake up slowly, then Jack followed him to the bathroom.
There was coffee and a donut waiting for him when he got back. He wanted
to refuse to accept their food. But he was to hungry. He asked for another
donut.
“We’ll eat later, Pace taunted, clicking the arrow on his laptop. “We’re
going to see a video first.”
“I don’t want to see a video. I want to eat something.”
“We’ll eat after the movie,” Pace answered, his voice dripping with ice.
“You might think we’re being unfair to you,” Harry put in. “But it’s that
Fairchild who has been unfair. We’re just trying to undo what he’s done.
What do you know about him, anyhow? Does he have a recognized degree
from any reputable seminary? Who does he think he is, setting himself up as
some kind of god?”
“I‘m sick and tired of this!” Dennis shouted. “I’m not going to play your
game any more! You have no right to do what you’re doing! All of you!
Shut up and leave me alone! Shut up and leave me alone!”
He stood up unsteadily, and headed for the kitchen. Tim and Pace
pushed him back across the floor and back down on the couch.
“We are here to save you from your own weakness!” Pace declared,
displaying a sudden anger he had hidden up till now. “You are a weak
person! You have no backbone! You have been brainwashed and are
incapable of rational thought! You will stay here until you break the power
of that man over you!”
“You are the brainwashers!” Dennis yelled desperately. “You are vicious
tyrants out to destroy people! You don’t care if I die or go crazy! Just so I
give up my faith in Jesus and my friendship with Bob!”
Pace ignored him and started the videotape. A young girl about sixteen,
very thin and pale looking, with big, round, brown eyes and straight dark
hair, was curled up in a little ball on the floor, looking like a lost little waif.
She hugged her knees, rocked softly back and forth, and sang softly to
herself.
“Jesus, Jesus, Jesus,” she whispered. She reached into a small pocket and
pulled out a New Testament and tried to read from it. Her captors yanked it
from her hands and tore it up. They yelled at her and verbally abused her,
and finally she broke down into hysterical sobs, and said she would do
anything they wanted her to do, say anything they wanted her to say, if
they’d just let her go.
Dennis became agitated, angry, and grieved. He had lost track of time.
How many days had he been a prisoner here? Nothing wore these people
out. They would continue to pound on him, as they had pounded on this
lovely young girl. They would destroy him, too. He would not let them.
His brain reeled.
“You monsters! “ He screamed. His head ached, the room reeled, his
eyes couldn’t focus. “You scum! You low-down snakes! You take a
beautiful girl and turn her into blubbering jelly and call it good for her!
You’re all a bunch of damn Nazies! You won’t do this to me! I’m leaving!
You can’t stop me!”
He paced wildly, punching the air. The others watched silently, coldly,
expecting that this was an expected “phase” of the deprogramming. For a
few seconds, they were off their guard.
Dennis dashed into the kitchen, slammed up against the cabinet, yanked
open the drawer, frantically fished inside, and grabbed a seven inch butcher
knife. He turned and faced them, the knife upraised and pointed.
“I’m leaving!” he screamed again. “You’re not stopping me! No more of
this madness! No more of this madness!”
Jean, Tim, Harry, and Pace were startled into motionlessness. But Jack
was out of Dennis’ vision, and moved slowly around behind him.
Dennis backed up slowly in the direction of the kitchen door, his free
hand reaching behind him, feeling for the handle.
“You’re not holding me any longer!” he screamed again.
His left hand was near to finding the door latch. On the instant, Jack
grabbed his left arm behind him, and twisted hard. There was a moment’s
scuffle, and Dennis’ right hand acted by desperate self preservation instinct.
The large blade of the knife flashed briefly and plunged into Jack’s arm.
He hollered in pain, and his grip on Dennis’ arm collapsed.
Dennis spun around towards his father, and plunged the knife again. This
time into his father’s chest.
Jack gasped in pain, and fell lifeless to the floor.
Blood spattered Dennis, his father, and the floor between them.
Jean screamed a long, desperate, scream.
The room spun wildly around Dennis’ head. He wailed a long, howling
wail of total despair, and dropped the knife. He leaned up against the wall,
and wailed again.
“Oh, my god! My god! My god! Dad! Dad! Daddy! Please don’t be
dead! Please don’t be dead, Daddy!”
Jean screamed again.
**************************
Dennis barely noticed when Officers Somers and Willett arrived. He
didn’t hear the questioning of the others, or the answers they gave. He just
sat there on the bloody floor, lost and bewildered. He wailed over and over,
His voice sounded like a lost little boy.
“I killed my father! I killed my father! Oh! My god! “Jesus forgive me!
I killed my father!”
He was limp and unresisting as Officers Somers and Willett lifted him to
his feet, handcuffed him, and led him to the squad car.
Chapter Ten
Officer Somers sat in the witness chair and spoke with steady intensity, a
new maturity showing forth in his boyish face and voice.
“Sir, as one of the arresting officers, I can tell you that the scene I saw
when I arrived was one of the most devastating things I have ever witnessed.
The defendant, Dennis Kraft, was in hysterical shock.”
“Were you made to understand the nature of the altercation between the
defendant and the deceased?” Ed Glerum asked pointedly.
“Yes, sir. The defendant is a victim of what is known as a
deprogramming. He is a resident of the Settlement--that Gospel Ranch out
near Leroy. He has lived there for the past year.
“On the Sunday night preceding the incident, Mr. and Mrs. Jack Kraft,
the defendant’s parents, with a Mr. Timothy Garrett, a Mr. Harry Cane, and
later a Mr. George Pace, brought the defendant to Mr. Garret’s bungalow.
There, they kept him confined against his will for the next five days.
“During these days, he was subjected to unlawful torture.
He was
deprived of sleep, deprived of food. He was allowed to sleep three hours
out of every twenty-four, and was given food twice a day. They followed
him into the bathroom. He suffered severe emotional and physical trauma.
By the Friday afternoon in question, he had become desperate, disorientated,
exhausted.
“He managed to grab a knife from a kitchen drawer, and demanded to be
released from his imprisonment. The victim tried to take the knife from him,
and that is when the accident happened.”
“And you got this information from whom?” Ed Glerum asked.
“This is the testimony of the people who were there, and is corroborated
by the video of the proceedings that was being made.”
“There is a video?” the Judge exclaimed.
“These deprogramming people have a specific procedure they go
through. One of their practices is to make a video of every deprogramming
they do. They have been in court several times on kidnapping charges. But
they never give up.”
The video equipment was brought into the courtroom and set up. The
Judge and officers of the court watched in total silence.
*************************
“Mr. Pace said we had to do it that way,” Jean Kraft sobbed from the
witness chair. “He said that cult leaders brainwash their followers, and the
only way to get them deprogrammed is to be hard with them. He said he’d
done it hundreds of times.”
She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “He said that they often get hostile,
but if you kept at it, you would get the results you wanted.”
“Is it not a fact that you deprived him of sleep and food over a period of
five days?” Ed Glerum demanded.
“Yes,” Jean whispered.
“And your son repeatedly demanded, begged to be released, and yet you
ignored his pleas and continued to hound him, as we just witnessed on the
videotape?”
“We had to make him see how wrong he was. We had to make him give
up his insane notions about religion.”
She began to blubber hysterically, and she was excused from the witness
stand.
**********************
The Judge spoke with compassion and anger edging his words.
“I watched that videotape with horror,” he said. “I saw violations of
human and constitutional rights flying all over the place. That these self
appointed mind police would film the atrocities they commit, in a brazen
effort to prove that what they are doing is legitimate psychiatry, is to me a
mind-boggler. What I saw on that tape was not psychiatry. It was torture.
If you set out to deliberately induce a a healthy mind into a psychosis, you
can’t cry foul when that psychosis produces sick behavior. I must rule the
death of Mr. Jack Kraft to be a tragic, avoidable, accident.
It was
avoidable, because the abusive treatment that brought it on was avoidable.
“I do not know what charges if any, will be brought against Mr. Pace.
But I do rule, with predudice, that no criminal charges be pursued against the
young Mr. Kraft.”
The gavel cracked loudly.
“What does that mean, with predudice?” Dennis asked his lawyer.
“It means nobody can ever try to re-introduce these charges,”
Glerum declared with satisfaction.
Mr.
*************************
Dennis, Bobby Joe Fairchild, and Mr. Glerum stood in the wide
courthouse hallway, talking quietly.
Jean Kraft stood alone, staring at her son. He stared back.
“Try to talk with her,” Bobby Joe said softly.
Dennis walked up to her mother, and just stood there.
“You and your religion have ruined my life,” she said bitterly.
“You’re wrong,” he answered quietly. “You ruined your own life by your
resentment towards my religion.”
“My husband is dead----”
“And I did it!” he shot back in pain. “My father is dead and I killed him!
I’ll never be able to forget it. You should have tried to understand.
You should have come out to see. You should have believed me. I needed
the Settlement. I needed the friendship and hard work. But I wasn’t going
to stop there. Bob was even making arrangements to get me back in school.
But you never knew that because you never bothered to ask. You just
believed all that junk in the papers about him being a Jim Jones deal. Your
resentment of my faith in Christ made you blind to everything good that was
happening to me.”
“We just wanted what we thought was best for you,” she whispered
defensively.
“I love you Mom,” he whispered in an impassioned monotone.
never want to see you again.”
He turned away slowly, as though his whole body were in pain,
and rejoined his friends.
“But I
Chapter Eleven
Dory drove the tan station wagon through the Settlement front gate up in
front of Brother Bobby Joe’s small trailer home. She honked and climbed
out of the car as Esther Fairchild came out, greeting her warmly while
drying her hands on a blue apron.
“I’m so glad you could drop by,”
embrace. “Please tell me everything.”
Esther said, giving Dory a short
“Well, there’s nothing really new,” Dory said as they went inside. “We
still aren’t allowed to communicate with her at all. She calls up once in a
while, but has to hang up in the middle of a word, sometimes. She’s not
allowed to use the phone. And she says they won’t even give her her mail.”
Dory joined Esther in measuring out coffee beans to the pot.
“Isn’t that a violation of her civil rights?” Esther asked.
“Of course it is, but they don’t care. They get away with it. Tracy was
able to tell us what they are trying to do.” Dory’s jaw drew firm and set, as
though she were fighting her anger at the whole system.
“The CA, with its godless bureaucratic ways, is deliberately using
sophisticated brainwashing techniques on our Tracy. She’s fourteen years
old, sister Esther, and bright and well adjusted and normal. And they are
treating her as if she were mentally ill. They counsel her everyday.
“Some quack psychiatrist sits her in a big leather chair in his office and
harangues her and bawls her out and threatens her. He tells her she doesn’t
love the Gorman family. He tells her that her loyalty to the Gorman family
is misplaced, and not normal. He tells her she is being disobedient to the
Restons. They put her on punishment detail because she continually refuses
to spend a weekend at the Reston home.”
“She’s still afraid of her natural father?”
“She has reason to be. But one of her reasons is that she wants to impress
upon the authorities that she does not consider herself a part of that family
any more. She signs her schoolwork Tracy Gorman. And the teacher has
started tearing up the papers in front of her. By instructions of the quack.
Let her know she is not a member of our family any more.”
“Sounds like a Russian concentration camp. How is she holding up?”
“The last time she called, Dad said she was crying. But he told her we
all love her, and she should wrap herself up in the love of Jesus.”
Esther cried softly for a few minutes, then wiped her eyes. She set two
coffee cups on the counter. “I can’t believe all these things are happening.
First Tracy, then the fire, and the arrest and all. And Dennis---”
“How is Dennis,?” Dory asked. “That’s who I really came to see.”
“He’s still in a terrible dump, Dory.” she said sadly. “He does his chores,
but he never talks to anyone. He goes around all day with a vacant,
gloomy, stare. He doesn’t even confide in Bob anymore.”
“Where is he now?”
“The men’s dorm, I think.”
****************************
The men’s dorm was a long, rectangular building a short space down the
road from the Fairchild trailer. Each room was spacious, big enough to
hold two bunk beds and dresser and closet space for four people, without
anyone tripping over his roommate.
Dory found Dennis sitting on his lower bunk, propped up on a pillow,
staring into space.
“Anybody home?” She called cheerfully, knocking and peering through
the half-opened door.
“Hi, Dory,” he said absently. “What’s up?”
“Oh, nothing,” she said, a twinkle in her eye. “I just brought us a picnic
lunch.”
“Are you one of Brother Bobby Joe’s cures? Did he send you to cheer
me up?”
“No,” she teased. “I thought this up all by myself.”
Dennis grinned back in spite of himself.
“It’s to cold for a picnic.”
“Not if we eat it right here.”
She set her small basket down on the bedside table. She put the lamp
on the floor, then took a large cloth out of the basket, spread it over the
small table, and started unpacking the lunch.
“I thought maybe I aught to bring a couple of ants, to make it seem like
outdoors. But I couldn’t find any..”
Dennis laughed. It was the first time he’d laughed in several weeks.
**********************
Dory finished her second glass of lemon-lime soda, and gathered up
the wrappers and dishes and put them back into the basket. She put the
lamp back on the table, and sat in the straight-backed chair. There was a
long pause.
“Well, Dory,” Dennis said with appreciation. He felt something inside
himself coming alive. He sounded a bit like his old self. “I have enjoyed
this. Thanks for coming by.”
“Who says I’m leaving?” she grinned. “What do you think of coming to
the basketball game with me?”
“Tonight?”
“Yes, tonight. Jim Kenny says he’s going to blow up a bomb in the
gym.”
“Naw,” Dennis grinned. “I don’t think Jim would do anything like that.”
“I don’t mean a real bomb, silly. I mean the kind of bomb I set off last
year.”
“Oh, you mean about the prayer?”
“Yes, that. The same judge who told me I couldn’t pray at the
graduation just ruled that the school can’t have its traditional pre-game
prayer.”
“What’s Jim going to do?”
“I really don’t know. Let’s both go and find out.”
**********************************
It was clear that this was no ordinary high school basketball game. The
pickets on both sides of the issue were circling the sidewalk outside of the
gymnasium, kept separated from each other by a flock of uniformed police..
‘SEPARATION OF CHURCH AND STATE’, read one sign.
“RELIGIOUS REPRESSION” shouted another.
“COURTS OUT OF RELIGION” said another.
Some signs were professionally printed. Others were hand-lettered on
large cardboard with felt markers.
Across the street, a short, slightly built, weather beaten old man shouted
to the passing crowd.
“Repent! Repent! God in heaven will come to judge and avenge His
oppressed people! Religious freedom in America is a thing of the Past!
“Repent and believe the Gospel and be saved! Repent! Believe the
gospel and be saved!”
Dory drove the car into the lot, found a parking space, and she and
Dennis made their way through the crowd. They spotted her father in the
bleachers, and the two of them shoved their way through and sat down next
to him and Julie. Then Tommy came straggling in and shouted his pleasure
at seeing Dennis.
*****************************
Jim Kenny put the knot in his gym shoe laces, and slipped out of the
locker room.
The band marched across the gym floor in its colorful uniforms, oomphpah-pahing in fine form. It was really a very good band.
Principal Jansen took the microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen, our National Anthem.”
The assembly rose to its feet and sang heartily. Jim Kenny stood at
attention behind Mr. Jensen.
The final note died away, and the assembly applauded. Jim gave a prearranged signal to the bandleader, who turned and gave whispered
instructions to his musicians. At that moment, Jim stepped behind Mr.
Jansen, and smoothly took the microphone from Mr. Jansen’s hand before
he could react.
“Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord!” His voice
boomed loudy over the PA system, and the astonished crown re-acted with
a cheer and began to join in.
“He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored--He has loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword! His truth is
marching on!”
The band played defiantly, and the ceiling rafters shook with the joyfully
defiant singing of the crowd.
“Glory, glory! Halleluia!
Glory, glory, halleluia!
Glory, glory, halleluia!
His truth is marching on!”
There was a huge burst of applause and cheering. Mr. Jansen tried to
take the mike back from Jim.
“Sir,” he said, as respectfully as he could, “if you want this microphone,
you’ll have to fight me for it. Sir.”
Mr. Jansen was to startled, and to aware of the sparks on both sides of the
issue. He let Jim keep the mike.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Jim hollered. “Everybody who thinks we have
the right to pray, remain standing. Everybody else sit down.”
About ten people sat down, causing more applause and laughter.
“Lord Jesus Christ,” Jim began, and there was sudden quiet. “We’re all
gathered here to play a championship basketball game. We thank You that
You’ve given us strong healthy bodies, and we pray that You keep us from
injury and help us play according to the rules of honorable sportsmanship.
Amen.”
“Amen!” the crowd responded.
Mr. Jansen sat down and mopped his forehead, and several reporters
grabbed their cell phones.
****************************
Outside, after the game, the blue-flashing police lights brought a neardaylight to the hyped-up crowd. No one wanted to go home, even though it
was late. The picketers were still there waving their signs and shouting
their slogans. The pro-prayer picketers were in the circle singing songs,
and the anti-prayer picketers shouted “freedom from religion!” until they
were hoarse.
Margo Green cornered Jim Kenny in the hall outside the locker room.
He was changed to his street clothes. Zipping up his jacket, ready for the
trip home.
“You are the young man who defied the court order, Why? Don’t you
have any respect for the rule of law?”
Jim looked straight into the camera. In one night he seemed to have
leaped from awkward adolescence to mature manhood.
“Miss Green,” he said politely. “This is the United States of America.
Our forefathers fought the wilderness, and spilled their blood on the
battlefields, so that we could have a free nation, where we could all worship
the Lord and pray to Him without fear.
“The judge who ordered us not to have our traditional pre-game prayer is
The one who has no respect for the law. The law of the United States is the
Constitution, which guarantees the free exercise of religion. Our court
s have been taken over by enemies of America and religious freedom, who
give orders that are null and void. The courts have no right to attack the
freedom of the Christian religion, or any other portion of the Bill of Rights.
They are the ones defying the law.”
Miss Green thanked him and moved over to where Mr. Jansen was
standing.
“I couldn’t stop him,” Mr. Jansen said, in answer to her first question.
“He grabbed the microphone out of my hand and threatened me with
physical violence. I’m sure there will be some disciplinary measures taken.
I understand that there was some sort of conspiracy between the young Mr.
Kenny, the son of a fundamentalist preacher, and our bandleader, George
Pine.”
“Has the boy ever given you any problems before?”
“He’s definitely a troublemaker. He comes from a family of
troublemakers.”
Margo spotted an elderly man, standing by himself, surveying the scene
with silent tears flowing down his cheeks.
“Sir, you seem upset and offended by the religious invasion displayed at
the game tonight.”
“Lady,” he said in a deep voice, “I’m deeply affected by what happened
here tonight. That young man---I wish there had been young men like that
in my grandparent’s youth in Europe. To stand with courage against
official oppression. If there had been more like him, perhaps I would not
have lost most of my family to Hitler’s ovens.”
*****************************
When Jim Kenny arrived at his car at the end of the lot, he had company.
Everyone was gone. Jack and Kevin, the atheist biology classmates who
had originally brought the anti-prayer lawsuit, were leaning on his front
fender.
He could feel their hostile attitude, but tried to ignore it as he put his key
in the door lock.
Jack was a few inches taller than Jim. Kevin was half a head shorter.
Jack hooked his arm across Jim’s chest and pulled up and back, hard.
Kevin punched him in the stomach. Jim barely had time to groan, before
Jack spun him around and grabbed him by the collar of the jacket, slammed
him up against the car. He pummeled Jim’s face until both eyes swelled and
blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
He delivered one final knee-kick to the groin, and then the two took off
running into the night.
Jim slumped to the pavement against his car.
Chapter Twelve
Jim sat on his living room couch, nursing his badly bruised face with an
ice pack. The TV was replaying the events of the previous night.
“You seem upset and offended by the religious invasion displayed at the
game tonight.”
“Lady, I’m deeply affected by what’s happened here tonight--”
There, the tearful man’s speech abruptly ended.
Suddenly, Jansen was speaking mid-sentence.
“He threatened me with physical violence. I’m sure there will be some
disciplinary measures taken----he’s definitely a troublemaker---He comes
from a family of troublemakers.”
“Boy,” Jim muttered disgustedly. “They sure know how to edit the truth
until nobody knows what anybody is talking about.”
Jim Sr, in the chair across the room, shook his head sadly.
“What is this country coming to?” he wondered allowed. “We are
oppressed and harassed and forbidden any open disply of our faith. Then
when we protest, people don’t understand what we’re complaining about.
Then we defy the unjust laws like any good American is supposed to do, and
we’re called troublemakers and worse. How’s your eyes?”
“They’re looking much better from my side than yours,” he said
cheerfully. “Vision’s all cleared up. But it still aches.”
“Jim,” his father began slowly. “I’m a bit toungue-tied here. “But I’m
busting with pride at what you did. Your two black eyes are more important
than a report card full of A’s.”
“Glad to hear you say that, Dad. Because after this I’ll probably not be
getting any more A’s.”
“All the more reason to expand our school next year to include high
school.”
Mrs. Kenny answered the phone ring in the kitchen, and called to Jim Sr
to pick up the front room extension line.
“Hi, John. Yeah, we were just watching it.---Hey, that’s a great idea.
We’ll get busy with the phone calls. See you there.”
“What’s up, Dad?”
“Jim, there’s going to be a rally at the settlement next Saturday night.
Our congregation and at least two other congregations, are going to meet
there for prayer and praise, and to see what we can do to fight all this. Hey,
Doodles!” he called to his wife. “Come here a minute!”
Doodles came in to see what was up.
“You have to hear the latest. First they dragged John out of his pulpit
because they suddenly decided that we weren’t zoned for a church. Now
John has been served with papers, and Joe Gorman, too. They are probably
on their way to serve us, too. We must cease and desist from using our own
homes as places of worship. Our living rooms are not zoned as churches, so
we’re not allowed to get our friends together and pray in them.”
********************
Tracy Reston Gorman sat in the large leather chair in Mr. Recker’s office.
Her long black hair flowed around her shoulders, streaked with strands of
premature gray. She had grown a full three inches, and was blossoming into
young womanhood. But still, the chair seemed to swallow her up.
Mr. Recker sat at his desk, looking at her sternly. He barely hid his anger
and frestration at her un-cooperation. But she was learning not to betray her
emotions at all---at least not to him.
“I must say, sadly, Tracy, I’m disappointed in you. You are old enough
now to cooperate with your rehabilitation.”
“I don’t need rehabilitation,” she declared defiantly. “I’m not a criminal.
And I’m not a mental patient.”
“I beg your pardon,” he said sarcastically. “I speak of your family’s
rehabilitation. You know it is the first job of the Children’s Agency to
reunite children and parents whenever we can.”
“Then let me go back to the Gorman’s”, she demanded.
“I told you that’s totally impossible!” he snapped. “You know you are
not legally free to be adopted, and the Gorman’s have no legal claim to you
whatever. It is now our job to aid you in your re-entry into your own
family. Mr. Reston---your father, misses you very much.”
“Oh, really? Maybe he wouldn’t miss me so much if you bought him a
punching bag.”
“That’s a very unkind thing to say”
“I want to go back to the Gormans. They are the only family who ever
loved me.”
“Walter Reston loves you,” Recker spoke softly, sneering at her sideways
to study her response.
“Mr. Reston loved me the wrong way! You know the court records from
the beginning.”
Recker stared at her. He oozed hostility, while maintaining a soft voice.
He sat silent for a moment, then--“Why would you ever want to go back to someone who sexually abused
you?”
“I don’t. I want to go back to the Gormans!”
“But, Tracy,” he spoke with smooth, calculated evil edgeing his voice.
“Just a moment ago you called Joe Gorman your father. And then you
just said your father abused you. I don’t understand.”
Tracy leaped from her chair, paced around the office for a quick moment,
then turned and stared Dr. Recker squarely in the face. She yelled as loudly
As she could yell. She hoped she was making herself heard outside the door.
“How dare you twist my words! You know what Walter Reston did to
me! It’s in the court records! You have no right to pretend that I’ve said
things I haven’t said!”
“Young lady!” he shouted, losing his false composure.
He stood
suddenly, clenched his fists against the edge of his desk, his knuckles
showing white. “Do you want to be put on punishment detail?”
“Don’t you threaten me!” she screamed back. “I know the rules of this
psychiatry stuff! I can say just what I want to say the way I want to say it.
And you just tried to make it sound like I accused Joe Gorman of abusing
me! You are a big fat ugly liar!”
“The session is over for today, young lady. But you just remember.
unless you co-operate and agree to reconcile with your natural family, you
will rot in this home till you are eighteen years old.”
Tracy took a deep breath and swallowed tears. She felt victorious, but
suddenly exhausted from the battle. She turned and walked out of the room.
*************************
The cars began pulling up to the Settlement church building long before
the rally was scheduled to begin. Beside Community Bible Church, and the
Settlement congregation, there were two all-black congregations, both
Missionary Baptist, and a couple stragglers from the Foursquare and First
Assembly. The meeting hall was well filled.
They spent the first hour enthusiastically singing gospel songs and old
traditional hymns. They sang the Old Rugged Cross and wept. They sang
Onward Christian Soldiers and clapped their hands.
Brother Titan Wills exhorted the crowd in his usual booming voice and
friendly style. He was a huge, handsome, black man, with an inner light
that drew people to listen to him, and go away knowing they had been with a
man who loved Jesus.
“When I started the Missionary Baptist Church over on Fourth Avenue
and James Street,” he declared in his deep, melodious voice, “I went to the
city and asked them for a special zoning permit. I didn’t know it at the time,
but my brother Henry, here, had also made an application for the special use
zoning over on fourth and Kimball.
“Well, at the hearing, the zoning commissioner said, hey, we don’t need
another church on fourth Avenue. In fact, says he, there’s another
Missionary Baptist Church at Fourth and Kimball right now. So, a week
later, I go to the hearing for Brother Henry’s church. And do you know
what that two-faced zoning man said? He said a new church wasn’t needed
on Fourth and Kimball, because there already was a church at Fourth and
James!”
It took a minute for the duplicity to sink in, and then the absurdity of it
made everyone giggle.
“Didn’t our Lord say” he said softly, “That they that live Godly in Christ
Jesus shall suffer persecution? Did not the Lord say that if they hate you,
remember that they hated me first?”
His voice rose in cadence. “Did not our Lord say rejoice, when men
shall revile you and persecute you, for My Name’s sake! Say Amen,
somebody!”
“Amen!” came the return shout.
Brother Wills turned to Brother Henry behind him on the platform and
teased aloud. “You gotta tell the white folks where the ‘amens’ come in!”
The whole assembly desolved in laughter.
**********************
John Robinson was the last to speak. It was nearing eleven-thirty and
some of the younger children were getting restless.
“I think we’re just going to have to make up our minds that we’re not
going to take anything lying down. We must all have the spirit of Daniel and
his three friends, who refused to obey the unjust laws restricting his freedom
to pray. The Bible says, a child shall lead them. In the last year, the young
people of Community Bible Church have really shown the older ones the
way. Dorothy Gorman defied a judge’s ruling that forbad her to pray at her
graduation. Last week, young Jim Kenny, the son of my assistant pastor, led
a prayer before a basketball game, and for his pains was beaten in the
parking lot.” He paused and sighed.
“Dorothy Gorman’s younger brother, Tommy, was harassed all last year
in school by a teacher who was determined to break his spirit and force him
to say he believed in evolution. You’ve all heard the stories here tonight.
Petty officials, entrenched judges, that can’t even be voted out of office,
ignoring and defying the constitution, harassing us in every way they can.
Always saying it has nothing to do with religion. It’s always the zoning of
this or the licensing of that. All aimed at one thing. Silencing the bornagain Christians, squeezing them out, to the end that they might not function
in society. It is a modern, secret, Inquisition, carried on quietly,
behind closed doors. Psalm Two is coming to pass before our eyes. The
kings and rulers of the earth have set themselves against the Lord, and and
taken cousel together, aganst the Lord, and against His Annointed, even in
formerly free America.”
********************
The crickets chirped loudly, and Dennis and Dory rounded the far end of
the men’s dorm, holding hands and talking quietly. They had slipped out of
the meeting early, and had been strolling the grounds for an hour.
“Since I got saved, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me,” Dennis
spoke earnestly.
She smiled and squeezed his fingers.
“All I did was help you forgive yourself.”
“Yeah, he agreed. “But that’s a whole lot. I never knew the world was
full of such---good---friends.”
They paused, and he looked into her eyes lovingly. Then, very slowly,
he kissed her tenderly on the lips. She blushed and smiled, and gave her a
short kiss back.
“Tell me,” he said, fishing around for an excuse to not end the
conversation. “What made you do it” Where did you get the guts?”
“To defy the ban?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, it goes deep into everything I’ve ever read in the Bible and church
history about being faithful to the Lord, and everything my father ever told
me about what American freedom means. That judge is a usurper. We can’t
submit to usurpers and would-be tyrants. When I look around at the world, I
see that the large majority of present day Christians have no idea that serving
Christ will involve persecution. I’m grateful that I have a good strong
family and a good strong church. I learned from them. How dare that judge
tell me I can’t pray? It was my duty to defy him.”
“Did you ever worry about getting arrested, or being denied your
diploma?”
“I counted the cost. I wasn’t going to let them bully me. I was going to
pray, and I was also going to show the way to the ones who’ll come after
me. I was going to be openly contemptuous of any punishment they would
give me. Even if they arrested me. How would it have looked on the TV
news, with the announcer saying, ‘Valedictorian hauled off to jail for
praying?’ The egg on their faces would never have washed off.”
Their hands found each other again, and their fingers entwined. They
began to walk slowly back towards the meeting hall.
A small, dark figure moved in the shadows several yards away, near the
dorm wall.
A sudden loud BANG! And bright flame and smoke crackled up the side
wall of the men’s dorm.
“Omigod! Fire!”
“Fire! Fire! Fire!” the pair shouted, running towards the meeting hall.
Dennis caught sight of the dark figure running in the dark, and chased
it for several yards. He grabbed the figure on the run, and they both fell
to the grass.
Dennis heard a high-pitched shriek, as he restrained the
arsonist down, and gasped in astonishment.
The worshippers came running out into the dark night, groaning and
gasping in dismay and yelling for help. Somewhere a steam whistle on the
grounds screamed repeatedly, and Bob Fairchild’s volunteer fire brigade
jumped into action, dragging a hose from the garage, hooking it up, and
sending a strong, reassuring stream of water against the dorm wall.
Dennis dragged his prisoner across the ground and pushed her against the
outside wall of the meeting hall. She was shrieking hysterically and
muttering unintelligible words.
It was Lillian Darnell.
*******************************
The fire trucks from town arrived to aid the volunteer brigade, and the
quick action saved the main shell of the building. The north wall was a total
loss, but the building would be able to be repared.
Nan and Julie surveyed the destruction and wept on each other’s
shoulders. Esther Fairchild comforted her husband.
“The Lord helped us put it up once,” she said. Swallowing her own
despair. “We’ll just put it up again. Meanwhile the guys will sleep in tents,
like they did when we first built. You‘ll see. The Lord will do it.”
Brother Bobby Joe gave his wife a very long, silent, hug, that said thank
you for your strength.
The women with younger children brought them back into the meeting
hall and spread blankets on the floor for them to sleep on. The men rushed
about on errands of aid, and Amos Henry’s wife Martha, together with
Peaches Wills, took over in the kitchen to make coffee. No one would be
leaving for a while.
The police squad car flashed its relentless blue light, and Officer Bill
Somers interviewed Dennis and made his report. Lillian Darnell sat sullenly
in the back seat, handcuffed.
“This is hard to believe!” Officer Somers shook his head. “This sweet
old lady! An arsonist!”
“This sweet little old lady is a witch!” Dennis practically shouted in
astonishment. “When I grabbed her, she started muttering satanic curses and
stuff like that! You know what I think? I think she’s the one who set the
fire at the church!”
John Robinson, Jim Kenny Sr, and Bobby Joe Fairchild came up
together to confer with the officer. Dennis saw he wasn’t needed any more,
and left to find Dory.
“I can’t believe this,” John said. “That lady would sit there in my church
knitting. What would make her do a thing like this?”
“According to the witness I just talked to,” the officer replied, she was
casting witch curses on the place. He said she’s likely the one who set fire to
your church.”
“My boy said so!” Jim blurted in surprise. “remember that day he said
maybe we had a spy in the church?!”
The fire crew stayed to water the smoldering embers and make sure the
fire was completely out.
Officer Somers drove the culprit to the police station, followed by John
Robinson and Bobby Joe in John’s car.
The noise and confusion died away, leaving nothing but dark, and
chirping crickets, and the heavy smell of acrid smoke in the air.
The young mothers carried their sleeping children carefully and laid them
tenderly into the back seats of their cars.
Martha Henry and Peaches Wills cleaned up the coffee urns and prepard
to depart with their husbands.
A long caravan of cars pulled out of the front road of the Settlement and
headed home.
By three a.m., the young men who had been burned out of the dorm had
doubled up on the floors of the rooms and hallways at the end of the building
that had excaped damage, and everyone fell into deep refreshing sleep.
Chapter Thirteen
It was a warm, sunshiny, early spring day, when Dory and Dennis arrived
at Tye Street and Twelfth Avenue. There were about ten other picketers
already there, walking silently back and forth in front of the abortion clinic,
holding their signs high, protesting the carnage within. The police were
gathered at the end of the block, discussing strategy.
Across the street, on the corner, the short, weatherbeaten old man raised
his powerful voice against the wind.
“Repent! Repent!” he shouted. “Repent of your murders and believe the
Gospel! Turn from your sins to salvation in Jesus’ Name! Stop the slaughter
of the innocents! The Just God in heaven will judge and bring vengeance
upon the wicked who have forsaken His way! Repent before it is eternally
to late!”
Dennis parked the car at the curb, fed the meter, and took Dory’s hand.
Together they strolled up to the old man.
“I know you,” Dory smiled warmly. “I saw you a few weeks ago near the
school the night of the basketball game.”
The old man paused to shake their hands.
“I was blessed by the stand that young man took. The one who prayed.
You wouldn’t happen to know who he was, would you?”
“We know him very well,” Dory smiled again. “That was Jim Kenny
Junior. His father is assistant pastor at my church.”
“The Lord will reward him for his faithfulness,” the old man said simply.
“Tell me,” Dennis asked. “This is our first time here. Do you come here
often?”
“I’ve been here often. I get around to many places, where the Lord gives
me the opportunity.”
“Well, me and Dory here, we decided to do something for the Lord. It
seemed to us that this would be a good place. But now we’re here, we’re
sort of at loose ends. We wouldn’t want to compete with your preaching,
and we don’t have a sign to join in the picketing.”
The old man pointed to a sign across the street.
“See there? That’s where the customers come in from the parking lot.
Why don’t you wait there and try to talk to the girls as they come in? Here--” He reached into his large satchel and drew out a handful of leaflets.
“Here’s some gospel messages, with an address on them for if they need
help.”
Dennis and Dory split the stack of tracts beween them.
“Thanks so much,” Dennis said, and the two turned to cross the street.
“By the way, what’s your name?”
The old man’s eyes twinkled mysteriously.
“Just call me Elijah,” he said.
Dennis and Dory exchanged an amused glance, and hurried across to the
parking lot, where a young girl was just leaving her car with her parents.
They each took a deep breath and summoned courage, speaking ability,
and the Lord’s help.
“Excuse me, young lady,” Dory addressed the girl. “I do hope you’ll give
me a minute before you go in.”
The girl stopped, and her annoyed parents tried to drag her away,
the girl stayed.
But
“What do you want?” she asked innocently.
“We want a life,” Dennis said gently. “We want to tell you that killing an
innocent baby is not the answer to your problem.”
The girl looked as if she wanted to hear more, and Dennis grew bold.
“Young lady---what’s your name?”
“Lisa.”
“Well, Lisa, I’m Dennis, and this is my friend Dory. I want to tell you
something about myself. I’m a murderer.”
“Come on! Let’s go!” Lisa’s mother snarled.
“Can’t you wait just one minute, Mother,” Lisa pleaded.
“Lisa, I’m a murderer,” Dennis repeated. “I killed my father!I didn’t
mean to do it. It was a horrible accident. But he’s dead, anyhow. And I’ll
never get over the pain of missing him and knowing what I did to him. I
don’t want a lovely lady like you to have to live all your life with the pain I
live with.”
Lisa stared at him, fascinated.
“That little baby in your womb is a gift from God. No matter what rules
were broken for him to get there. He’s still a life from God. And he’s
valuable. He’s irreplaceable. Jesus Christ wants you to love him, hold him
close, and feel his warmth and beauty. Jesus made your arms to hold that
baby, and if you kill him, your arms will hurt for the rest of your life.”
‘I don’t really want to,” she whimpered softly.
they---” she broke down and sobbed.
“It’s Mom and Dad---
“There! See what you’ve done!” Lisa’s mother interrupted angrily.
“Come on, Lisa, you’ll feel better when it’s over.”
She dragged Lisa by the arm about three yards. Lisa exploded into
screams and dropped herself down to the pavement.
“I don’t want to! I don’t want to! Don’t make me! Don’t make me!”
“How dare you make a scene like this!” her father demanded. “Get up
and stop embarrassing us!”
She kept on crying. An employee of the clinic came out to see what was
the matter. She conferred with Lisa’s parents, and Dory took the opportunity
to kneel beside the sobbing girl, and embraced her.
“There’s nobody in this world who can force you to kill your baby,” she
said softly. “My friend lives at a place where we’ll take care of your baby
free of charge if you can’t afford to.”
She quickly wrote the Settlement phone number on a tract and slipped it
into Lisa’s pocket. She helped Lisa to her feet, as Lisa’s parents ended their
conference with the clinic employee.
“Busybodies!” Lisa’s father shouted. “Get the hell away from my
daugther!” He grabbed Dory by the shoulders and gave her a powerful
shove, which sent her reeling. She would have fallen to the ground, but
Dennis caught her.
They watched as Lisa’s parents angrily put Lisa in the car, slammed the
door, and drove off.
“They’ll be back tomorrow,” the employee sneered at them. “Why don’t
you get lost?”
******************************
John Robinson, Jim Kenny Sr, Joe Gorman, Amos Henry, Titan Wills,
and Ed Glerum, joined hands in a circle of prayer in the State
Congressman’s outer office. Then they waited a few minutes for the
secretary to summon them into Wilson Cooke’s inner sanctum. She had
eyed the prayer circle disapprovingly, but said nothing.
They entered the inner office and introduced themselves, shook hands all
around, and all but Ed Glerum found a seat. He leaned against the wall.
John Robinson made himself the spokesman.
“Mr. Cooke,” he began earnestly. Mr. Gorman here is a lay minister,
and Mr. Glerum is our lawyer. The rest of us are ordained ministers of the
Gospel. I’ll come straight to the point. Each one of us has a horror story to
tell. The United States Constitution guarantaees to all citizens the free
exercise of religion. Lately, that Constitution is being treated like a
worthless piece of paper. Each of us has experienced harrassment and
persecution from the very government that is supposed to protect us.”
“What do you want from me?” Congressman Cooke’s voice had an edge
of coldness to it.
“A few months ago, I was knocked down and dragged from my pulpit
during a religious service. My “crime” was conducting a religious service in
the same church where I’d conducted services for seven years. All of a
sudden, the city came down on me for a zoning violation.”
“Mr. Robinson,” Mr. Cooke said. “Zoning regulations are hardly a matter
for the State Legislature.”
“I beg to differ,” Jim Kenny said. “When zoning regulations are switched
and changed in an arbitrary manner, to restrict constitutionally protected
activity, and close down churches by denying them a place to meet, it is a
serious matter. My son once said that Emperor Nero never thought of
putting a zoning regulation on the catacombs. But our city has.
“First, they told our pastor that he couldn’t use our church building as a
church any more, because it wasn’t zoned for a church. The building had
been there for thirty years!
“Then the building burned down! So the families of the congregation
split up into a co-operative sharing of their own homes, as meeting places.
Now, these same people have orderderd us not to use our own homes to
have our friends over to worship and pray together, because our homes
aren’t zoned as churches.
“If they can get away with this kind of absurdity, what’s to stop them
from closing every church in the city, by slapping zoning regulations on
them? I do believe that that is their desired intent.”
“Are you going to preach, Reverend?” Mr. Cooke asked coldly.
“I can put the matter under advisement,” he added in a vague, non-committal
way.
Titan Wills stood up and stared the Congressman straight in the eye.
“Either you were elected to serve the people of this State, or you are in it
for the power and prestige of the office. We don’t have time to mess around
with vague empty promises and stalling tactics. Either you are in favor of
religious freedom, and will help us, or you are not in favor of religious
freedom, and will not help us.”
The sudden no holds barred outburst caught Mr. Cooke completely off
guard. It had Titan’s desired effect of ripping off one of the Congressmans’s
faces. He sprung angrily to his feet, then forced himself to regain his
composure and speak slowly and distinctly. His words dripped cold.
“Frankly,” he bit out his words. “I think you fundamentalist Bible
thumpers are a plague. There’s a new order coming to the whole world. The
year 2000 brought a new world movement with it. A world of peace and
harmony, with all national boundariwes erased. There is coming soon one
world government, one world currency, and one world religion. There will
be no place for fanatics like you anyplace, anywhere. Anyone who wants to
zone you out, all I can say is, let them.”
Joe Gorman felt an unaccountable cold through his body, and began
shaking unexplainably. As though by a signal, the men got up and walked
abruptly from the office to the outer hall, without even a pretense of a polite
goodbye.
“You saw, it, didn’t you?” Ed Glerum challenged Titan. “That’s why you
challenged him. But how did you know?”
“I can feel it in my bones,” he explained in his deep, gentle voice. “I
remember my grandfather dealt with plenty of two-faced polititians during
the civil rights struggle. I knew if I got him off guard and got him mad, it
would bring his true self out. There’s no use wasting our time with folk who
are going to give you the runaround.”
“I wondered what you were up to,” Jim said.
“Titan’s right,” Amos Henry said in his gravely voice. “You learn to spot
them pretty well. There’s no use playing along with the stalling games they
play. Find out of they are for you or against you, right away.”
“How many are there like him?” Joe asked, finally calm after the
unaccountable shakes. “How many of our elected leaders are betraying our
country to this New World Order thing?”
“A lot more than you would ever dream,” Ed answered sadly.
*************************
“Five minutes, Mr. Converse,” the floor director hollered. There was the
usual last minute chaos as stage hands rushed around plotting camera angles,
clipping lapel microphones into place. Jim Kenny Sr. ran a pocket comb
through his thick shock of graying red hair, and settled back a little stiffly in
his blue felt chair. John Robinson and Titan Wills sat in the identical chairs
in the semicircle.
“Five, four, three, two, one.” The floor director’s fingers counted off the
seconds and then pointed to the show’s host to start.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Conversation with
Converse Show. I’m Jerry Converse, My guests tonight are three ministers
who have some complaints about how the city government is treating them.
We will begin our discussion right after some announcements.”
The Logo of the program came up again, and about two minutes of
commercial announcements. The red light came on, and Jerry introduced his
guests by name.
“Let me see if I understand you, gentlemen. You claim that the city
government is trying to deny you your religious freedom by closing your
churches. Doesn’t the Constitution prevent that?”
“The First Amendment clearly forbids making laws that restrict the free
exercise of religion. But in recent years, there has been a sinister effort to
bypass Congres, bypass local government, and sneak in ordinances of
control that in fact do restrict religious freedom. Our freedom is being
restricted by deceptive means.”
“You’ve seen it, “ Jim said. “There’s always a flock of lawsuits by
atheists, who make sure they will get before an atheist judge, and they get all
these court orders forbidding Christmas, Christmas carols. Even the use of
the word “Christmas” is forbidden. They call it “winter holiday”.
“My own son defied a court order to not pray. He prayed publicly before
the school game anyway.”
“I heard about that,” Jerry said.
“You see, Mr. Converse,” Titan said, “the Christian church does not exist
by permission of the zoning board. Yet that is exactly what they are trying to
do--force Christians to go to the city and ask for permission to exist.
“Our rights to vote do not exist because the local election board decides
to give us permission to vote. Our freedom of speech does not exist because
we’ve gone to the police and got a free speech permit. We shouldn’t have to
ask permission to worship our Savior. That is tyranny, and does not belong
in America.”
“But no one is really denying you your right to worship, are they?” Jerry
asked. “They are just saying get a permit for the building.”
“That is just as powerful a hindrance to freedom as if they had a law
forbidding me to worship anyplace. It is prior restraint.
It is asking
permission to exercise your rights. That makes it not your right anymore.”
Jim stated.
“Mr. Converse, my brother and I both went to the zoning board to get
permission for each of our churches. They told me that my church was not
needed in the area because Brother Henry’s church served the needs of the
area. They told brother Henry that his church was not needed in the area
because my church was serving the needs of the area. And who is the
government to judge the religious needs of an area?”
“You mean they were using deception and double talk to drive you both
out?” Jerry asked.
“Exactly.”
“What about you, Reverend Robinson?
with the police.”
I understand you had a run-in
“The church I pastor was built as a church thirty years ago, and has been
opened and operating as a church all that time. About a year ago, I received
a notice to stop using the building as a church, because it was improperly
zoned. The following Sunday morning, I was knocked down and dragged
from my pulpit by two uniformed policemen. The charge was disobeying a
court order. The court order was null and void because it was illegal and
un-Constitutional.”
A small, thin, middle aged man took his place at the floor mike in the
aisle.
“We have a question from the audience.” Jerry said. “What is your
question, sir?”
“Where are you having your services now? Are you obeying the order?”
“Well,” John said, “That very night our church was destroyed by arson.
So we put our emergency plans into operations, and that got us into even
more trouble.”
“It seems the zoning people claim the right to regulate peoples’ religion
in the privacy of their own homes,” Jim said. “We’ve been meeting in our
private homes, and the zoning people have told us we can’t do that, either.”
“Imagine, being told by the city that it is unlawful for you to pray with
your friends in your own homes!” Titan interjected.
John continued. “I checked the law. And every five years in this city, the
zoning board has to review and renew. So, every five years, they can juggle
their rulings, and close any church they feel like.”
“Isn’t that a bit far-fetched?” Jerry asked.
“No, it isn’t.”Jim replied. “In checking up on things for this program, I
discovered something frightening. Right now, this moment, 85% of the
churches in this city are in technical violation. The code was revised three
years ago, and very quietly, many many churches lost their zoning, and they
weren’t even notified about it. Either before the vote, during the debate, or
after it. I can only surmise that the powers that be want to hold a Damocles
sword over the head of every church in the city. As it stands now, some
Inquisitioner could get political power, and attempt to close every church in
the city.”
“We think they are using us as a test case,” John said. “They might
actually wind up trying to close us all.”
“It’s our claim,” Titan said, that to zone churches at all is
unconstitutional. It puts restriction on a constitutionally protected freedom of
speech, assembly, and worship. You can’t be required to get a permit to
make a speech or publish a newspaper.”
A plump, youngish looking woman took the audience mike.
“I think you should obey the law” she said airily. “If they want to close
your churches, they must have a good reason.”
“Miss, I don’t want to be rude,” Jim said sternly, “but in pre-war Nazi
Germany, they zoned synagogues.
If they didn’t want it in the
neighborhood, they burned it down. It was perfectly legal. Is that the kind
of freedom of religion you want in this country?”
The woman took her seat, and was replaced at the mike by a young,
pretty, housewife.
“Why do you think they would ever do such a thing? I mean, even if it’s
on the books, I’m sure it’s a mistake. No one would ever really want to
close down all the churches in a whole city, even if they do have the right.”
“You mean in the good old U.S. of A., no one would ever dream of
enforcing such a law, and it really must be on the books by mistake?”
“Yes.” she answered.
“First of all, they are already trying to enforce it. And I don’t believe it’s
a mistake. This country seems to have a blind spot when it comes to its own
bigotry. There used to be southerners who thought blacks liked Jum Crow
laws. There are racial bigots in this country, and there are religious bigots in
this country. They have dared to outlaw prayer in school and at public
gatherings. They won’t be satisfied until they drive out all expression of
religion from the public life of this nation.”
“Do you really think it is a conspiracy?” an old man called from the
audience.
“Of course,” John said. “There are plenty of organizations, both in this
country and internationally, whose aim it is to destroy our way of life, so
they can move in and replace it with a one world government. They want to
turn us into a colony again. Not of Britain this time, but of a Facist one
world government.”
“Did you ever hear of the Inquisition?” Jim Kenny asked.
“What is that?” the old man in the audience asked.
“From the eleventh century, the Roman church had full power over both
church and State. The popes set up the Inquisition. They were the religious
police. If you didn’t go along with the Roman church on everything,you
would be arrested and imprisoned and burned alive at the stake. The
medieval popes invented genocide. They would burn Bibles and forbid
them to be read. Today we have the New Agers and the Eccumenicalists in
the religious realm, and the United Nations, and the Council on Foreign
Relations, and the Club of Rome, and a group of world movers and shakers
called the Bilderbergers---in the political arena---all working together to
wipe out individual country boundaries and and intall a one world
government.”
“And how does that effect this?” Jerry Converse asked.
“It’s control. Tyrants want control. Historically, they want control.
And with that control, they want to wipe out the Christian religion. But they
can’t do it overnight. They sneak in in little places and start their bullying
here and there, until they are strong enough to take over completely.”
“It’s always at the petty official at the lower level, so you can’t always
have a paper trail that proves that it is government policy.” Titan Wills
declared. “But we went to Congressman Cooke, and he didn’t try to hide
anything. He told us we were a plague, and we would have no place in the
coming New World Order. This man is a public office holder who has
declared that his loyalty does not lie with an independent America.
“We thought our religious freedom was a settled thing for all time. We
forgot that the enemies of the gospel never sleep. Jesus said that the time
would come when the one that kills you will think that he’s working for
God.”
A few more minutes of conversation, and the credits began to roll on the
monitor. The thank you’s were said, the lapel mikes were unclipped, and
the studio lights went dark. Stage hands started moving scenery around.
“The great masses of the unwashed are giving you a hard time?” The
question from the stage director came in a voice of sarcasm. She stood
beside Jim Kenny, looking thin, blond, young, modern and opinionated.
Jim responded, quick on the uptake. “Where did you get the idea that we
would have such a disparaging opinion of the public? We came here
because we thought public opinion might really be in favor of us.”
“Well,” Sheree responded a little defensively. “I always felt that you
right-wing extremists didn’t care about anybody’s opinion but your own.”
“You think we are anti-intellectual?” Jim challenged. “In what way?”
Sheree started to enjoy the challenge. She’d unload her objections, and
see how this Bible thumper would deal with her superior logic.
“Look, I have a cousin who’s into your kind of religious trip. She wants
to spend the rest of her life in bobby socks and jeans tramping through a
jungle someplace hollering to the people abut the Word of God. She’s got a
talent for much better. She’s an artist. She could do oils for galleries. But
no! She quotes to me about love not the things of this world. For heaven’s
sake, what’s life for except to live it?”
Jim smiled and began a slow walk from the studio into Sheree’s office,
where they both sat down to relax in matching leatherette chairs. They were
a pleasant, soothing green, trimmed in chrome.
“I wouldn’t fault your cousin for wanting to be a missionary,” he said
mildly. “One day she might open her own gallery of paintings of the
society she preaches to. She could get famous for something like that.”
“Well, I guess that’s a thought,” Sheree conceded. “The Wade Gallery of
South American Jungle Oil Paintings. But I can’t help thinking she’s into
some kind of cult. Suddenly, everything is sinful and worldly. Some of the
people she hangs around with won’t read anything but the Bible.?”
“What kinds of things do you read?” Jim probed.
“William Henley, for one. My favorite is ‘Invictus‘. I don’t suppose
you’ve ever heard of it.“
Jim grinned. He determined to prove she was wrong. He began to recite
the poem as if he was still in his high school English class.
“Out of the night which covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul!
Sheree first looked startled, then started to giggle.
“In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud
Under the bludgeoning of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears,
Looms but the horror of the shade-Yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
By this time he was
shaking with laughter.
really ham-acting the recital, and Sheree was
“It matters not how strait the gate,’
Nor charged with punishment the scroll-I am the master of my fate!
I am the captain of my soul!
Sheree stopped laughing long enough to applaud him good-naturedly
“Well, there,” Sheree put in confidently. “Don’t you think that Henley
had it together? He didn’t need a bunch of Bible fanatics telling how to run
his life. He was the master of his fate. He was the captain of his soul.”
By now John and Titan and Jerry were kibbutzing from the doorway.
“Are you really sure he had it together?” Titan challenged
“Well, the poem says---”
“The poem says he is master and captain, but is he really?”
Jim challenged.
“How so? Are you challenging him on it?”
“I sure am. If Henley is in such marvelous charge of his soul, why is he
still covered with a night---a huge, all-encompassing night--black as the pit
from pole to pole?”
Sheree’s startled expression encouraged him to continue.
“And not only that. He is conscious of a ‘looming horror of the shade,’
And he also knows there is a record somewhere with his sins---a scroll
spelling out what his punishment should be. He doesn’t even know the
True God of heaven, who wants to wipe that scroll clean so he won’t have to
receive his punishment. He ’thanks whatever gods may be’. It’s a good
poem. But to me, Henley seems to be all alone in a never ending night,
looking forward to a looming Hell, yet whisting in the dark by bragging he’s
still in charge.”
He smiled at Sheree’s sudden silence.
“If Henley really was in charge of his own soul, why doesn’t he drive
back that dark night?”
“Well, I suppose he doesn’t have that kind of power,“ Sheree offered
thoughtfully.
“And that is what Jesus Christ is for,” Jim said kindly. “I see you are an
intelligent person. You love art and literature and feel that your cousin
seems to be sacrificing an artistic gift for nothing. But Jesus said that he
that loses his life in this world shall find it. The Lord will give her an
opportunity to express her talent. I wan’t kidding about that gallery.
“The Lord has nothing against great paintings, sculpture, classical
literature, or beautiful music. He has given us all things richly to enjoy.
Enjoy the art and literature all you want. But remember. As great an author
as Henley was, he was still whistling in the dark. And when you are alone,
in a night, black as the pit from pole to pole, looking forward to a scroll of
punishment, and a looming horror of unknown darkness, it won’t help you
at all to recite Henley. You won’t be the master of your fate then. You won’t
be the master of your soul. There’s no art galleries in Hell. There’s no ballet
there. There’s no great books or concert halls. There’s nothing but darkness
and regret.”
He stopped abruptly, surprised at how impassioned he’d become. Sheree
looked a trifle pale and solemn, and she stared at Jim in sudden soberness.
“I’ll think about that,” she said in a near whisper. “I promise you, I’ll
think about that.”
Chapter Fourteen
The opposing picket lines had been sullenly quiet all morning, shuffling
back and forth along the sidewalk, under the watchful eyes of five
policemen. Suddenly, a stink bomb exploded against the side wall of the
clinic, and everybody started screaming at each other.
“Vandals!”
“Baby killers!”
One of the pro-abortion picketers caught her heel against a crack in the
sidewalk, reeled unsteadily, dropped her sign, and fell. Helping hands
quickly reached out to lift her up.
“Somebody tripped me!” she screamed angrily, as she was set on her feet.
Somebody punched Dennis Kraft, who happened to be standing near the
lady who fell, and he fell against the side of the building.
The cops moved in to prevent any escalation of the hostilities, and
Elijah, from across the street, came rushing to aid Dennis. He held a
handkerchief against Dennis’ head, where his wound was bleeding.
Elijah felt a paralyzing wave of electric terror pass through his body.
Within a half a minute, both Elijah and Dennis were packed in the paddy
wagon. The taser shock took his breath away.
Dory had been in the back, by the parking lot, where she usually had such
success in talking with the young women who came through the lot. When
the disturbance began, everyone back there ran around to the front of the
building to see what was the matter. Dory heard the shouting and swearing
and screaming, and paused for a momenet to pray. She saw Dennis fall, and
prayed, dear God, help him.
She paused for a moment beside a car,
A strong hand from nowhere suddenly grabbed her arm and twisted it
behind her back. Another fist tightly covered her face, so she couldn’t see
and could hardly breathe. She let out a shriek, as she felt herself being
dragged along the pavement. She tried to free herself, but the grip against
her was to unmovable. All she could feel was the vice-like grip around her
body, and the painful scrape of her ankles along the pavement.
Her assailant dragged her across the parking lot, across the street, into the
alley, and shoved her into the cold hard step of a deserted doorway.
Dennis sat in the crowded receiving cell, gratefully receiving first aid
from Elijah. The bleeding had stopped, but it still hurt. Elijah had found a
clean handkerchief and tied it around Dennis’ head.
They were in a holding cell that held several people. They had managed
to find two folding chairs, and sat staring at each other.
“Who are you?” Dennis asked, his voice tinged with curiosity and awe.
“I told you. Elijah.” the old man said kindly.
“No. I won’t settle for that,” Dennis said firmly. “I want to know who
you really are. What’s your real name and where do you really come from?”
The old man leaned his head back, and got a strange twinkle in his eyes,
and looked at Dennis silently for a long time. He smiled and nodded.
“I’ll tell you,” he began slowly, as though he were about to reveal a
cherished secret. “I was born 65 years ago as Rochel DeRochmont, the son
of Rochel and Marie DeRochmont, who came from France before they met
each other. They set up a small printing business, and by the time I was a
teenager, they were quite prosperous. My parents were decended from the
Huguenots, who were the French protestants that suffered repeated genocide
by order of the popes. But I would have nothing to do with my parents
faith. I brought them nothing but grief.
“Before I was out of my teens, my chosen career was fighting and getting
drunk.
“When I was twenty-two years old, I was on one of my binges, one night
in a skid row booze parlor. I was drunker than usual, and as usual, I got into
a fight.
“I killed a man,” he said simply. “I killed a man,” he repeated softly.
“I spent twenty years in prison. Both my parents died while I was doing my
time. When I got out I had nothing, nobody. I had ruined my life. I had no
place to go. I just wandered here and there.
“One night I thought I’d rather sleep in a warm bed rather than the park
bench, so I went to this rescue mission place. They had free hot soup and a
blanket. They also had warm hearts and Bibles. The head of the mission
sat down on the cot next to me, and read to me all the verses about how I
was headed for Hell. But if I’d believe and receive Jesus, He’d forgive me
and give me salvation.
“I figured, what did I have to lose? So I knelt down by that foldaway
cot and asked Him for His gift. The new life Jesus promised flooded my
soul. I became a new man.”
He smiled at Dennis. Dennis had forgotten all about his pain, in his
fascination at the old man’s story.”But why-----” he hesitated.
“But why Elijah?”
“Yes, yes. Why Elijah?”
“I had nothing. I had nobody. Jesus gave me a brand new life. When I
gave up the old life, I gave up the name that went with it. Now I travel all
over. I hitch rides. I sleep where the Lord gives me a pillow. I wear what
people give me. I eat what the Lord provides. I’ve never gone hungry.”
“But why Elijah?” Dennis insisted.
“Why not?” The old Frenchman teased. “Isn’t everybody supposed to be
looking for Elijah? Well, here I am.” he grinned broadly. “At least, I’ll do
till the real one gets here.”
They both laughed a laugh of deep shared, friendship.
************************
Julie Gorman opened her back door and gasped. There was Tracy, taller
than when she had last seen her, looking fearful and bedraggled.
“Tracy! My goodness!”
The two embraced at the doorstep, and then Julie drew Tracy into the
warmth of the kitchen she had not seen for months. They hugged again, and
Julie just stared in surprise and delight.
“What happened?”
“I ran away,” Tracy said simply.
Julie took in all the changes in Tracy’s appearance. Taller. Maturing.
Her usual smile was gone. In its place was a frightened, haunted look. She
was dressed in mussed jacket and faded jeans. Her hair as usual cascaded
down her back, but the once solid shiny black was straked throughout with
long streaks of gray.
“I won’t be able to stay very long,” she said sadly. “They’ll know where
to come looking for me. I don’t want to get you into trouble.”
Julie grasped Tracy’s hands in her own and gently smoothed her hair back
from her forehead.
“Don’t worry about anything. Just rest and tell me all about everything.
You must be hungry.”
“I could sure use a sandwich.”
Julie tossed the ingredients together in record time, and in a minute,
placed a large turkey sandwich on the table. Tracy ate it slowly.
She took a swallow from the tall glass of milk provided, and began to
talk.
“See, Mom,” she began. “Judson Hall is, strictly speaking, not an
orphanage. Its full name is Judson Hall, State Children’s
Agency Home for Emotionally Disturbed Children. And it is not supposed
to be a permanent home. It is supposed to be a transitional place while they
are looking for foster care. But if they can’t find foster care, you’re stuck
there. Or in my case, they won’t let me have my foster care. They make it a
prison.”
“Hideous!” was all Julie could say at the moment.
“Anyhow, they put that label on you, and call you disturbed. My natural
father beat me up and tried to rape me. I find a family who loves me and
wants to adopt me, and they won’t let me keep you. And I get upset about
it. And they call me “disturbed”. They call me the crazy one!
“They make me sit all day for a whole hour, listening to a quack doctor
tell me I’m nuts. He keeps telling me if I don’t stop loving you as my
parents and go back to Mr. Reston, I’ll rot in Judson Hall till I’m eighteen.”
She grew a little aggitated, and then, in the safety of being home again,
she allowed herself to cry. “I’m not a criminal! Why should they put me in
prison?”
Julie bent over her foster child and kissed her tenderly on the forehead.
“Tracy, you know we’ll do everything we can to help you.”
“I know that,” she sobbed again. “But according to the judge’s ruling, if
they know I came to see you, they’ll put you in jail”
“We won’t let them do that,” Julie reassured.
“You don’t know those people like I do! That judge told me over and
over. And he meant it. And he made that quack doctor tell me, too. He
said that if he learned that I ever even wrote you a letter, or anything, it
would be contempt of court. He’d put you in jail for thirty days. They’re
crazy. They do what they want to and nobody stops them. They don’t care
how they hurt people. I think they want to hurt people.”
“Tracy, you remember. This family doesn’t let anybody get away with
bullying us for our faith.”
Tracy nodded.
“And they don’t bully us into deserting each other, either.”
Tracy smiled, feeling a rush of hope in her heart.
The front door opened and closed.
“Julie!”
“Here in the kitchen! Come Quick! Tracy’s here!”
The surprised Joe and tearful Tracy embraced for a long moment, while
Julie gave a brief explanation of what Tracy told her.
Joe sank wearily into a kitchen chair.
“I’m so touched I can hardly speak,” he said.
“Tell me some news, Dad,” Tracy declared. “What’s gone on since
I’ve been away?”
“Well, we’ve been working on the school, fighting zoning people.
The church burned down, and we went on the Jerry Converse Show.
Dory has a boy friend and they minister down at the abortion clinic.”
“Has the show aired yet?” Tracy asked.
“No. As a matter of fact, it comes on tonight. It was a real ordeal
People in the audience just don’t understand the seriousness of this. I doubt
if ten people knew what we were talking about.”
“There are none so blind as those that will not see,” Julie said.
The land line phone on the kitchen wall interrupted with an urgent ring,
and Julie picked it up.
As she listened to the message, her face went ashen. When she hung up,
she took several deep breaths to fight the shock overtaking her nerves.
“There’s been a disturbance.” she said softly. “Something happened at
the abortion clinic. Dennis and the old man Elijah are in jail, and Dory’s in
the hospital.”
****************************
On the drive home from the hospital, Tracy sat up front, while Julie sat in
The back, comforting Dory. No one spoke for long stretches. Dory leaned
her bruised face on her mother’s shoulder, and cried silently. This family
had always borne things together. Would they bear this together, too?
“Oh, no!” Tracy exclaimed, as she spied the squad car in front of the
Gorman’s house, two blocks ahead of them.
“You’ve got to let me out here!” Joe pulled over to the curb.
“I don’t want to go back yet!
with me!”
But you’ll get in trouble if they see you
“You walk over to the Kenny ‘s place,” Joe said, “We’ll call you there
tonight. Give you some breathing room.”
Tracy hugged her foster father and slipped out of the car. Julie opened
the back door for an instant and she and Dory leaned out to give Tracy a
quick hug.
Tracy swallowed her tears.
“Thank you, Dad. I knew you wouldn’t make me go back right away.”
“Hurry, now, Tracy, “ Joe said sadly.
Joe continued down the street and pulled up in front of his house.
As they got out of the car, the policeman approached them.
“Mr. Joseph Gorman?”
“Yes,” he answered impatiently.
“We’re looking for Tracy Reston. She’s missing from the CA home, and
we figured this would be her first stop.”
“She’s not here. Now please leave us alone.
seriously injured----”
My daughter has been
“I’ve got my job. I’ve got to have a look inside”
“Do you have a warrant?” Joe demanded.
“I don’t need a warrant to arrest a juvenile delinquent State ward,” the
cop said coldly.
“She’s not a juvenile delinquent!” Joe retorted.
He arrived at the front door, turned the key, and pushed it open. The
officer pushed his way ahead of the family into the living room.
“I told you she’s not here!” Joe delared angrily.
“I’ve got to look.”
“You have no right to behave this way!” Dory protested.
“I say how I behave!” the officer snarled, suddenly an oppressive,
threatening presence. A quick survey of the house convinced him that it was
indeed empty. Joe, Julie, and Dory stood astonished and angry in the front
room until the officer concluded his search.
“If she shows up here,” the cop said coldly, “you’d better turn her in
immediately. Contempt of Court”. He walked passed them as though they
weren’t there and returned to his squad to make his report.
Chapter Fifteen
Julie took Dory up to her room and insisted that she prepare for bed
immediately.
“I’ll bring you a tray, dear. Don’t worry about a thing. You just rest, do
you hear?”
Dory went through the motions numbly, distracted, as though her mind
was a million miles away.
*************************************
Joe sat on the front room couch, staring at the blank TV screen. He knew
what was on the news, and he didn’t want to see it.
A disturbance at the
abortion clinic. Caused, no doubt, by those unreasonable Chrisians who
protested the murder of the innocent. Would it have anyting about what had
happened at the alley across the street?
A noise at the front door roused him from his troubled reverie. He went
and opened it, and there was no one there. He called out into the dark.
“Who’s there?” Who’s there?”
Then he saw the ugly, scrawled note tacked onto the door. He pulled it
down, went inside and shut the door behind him.
He trembled in anger as he read the note, and every cell in his body
screamed in pain for his eldest daughter.
***************************
Julie took the dinner tray from the bed and set it on the dresser. Then she
sat down on the edge of the bed and took her daughter’s hand.
“Mother, I’m not an invalid,” Dory said wearily.
“I know,” Julie said, swallowing hard.
Joe knocked on the open door, and came in, trying to appear strong and in
charge.
“Dory,” he said huskily. “We’re a family. We’ve always stood together
and helped each other. You’re our daughter. We love you. Whatever you
need, we’ll do it for you. You do believe that.”
“Yes, dad,” she answered.
“I know that this kind of thing----” Words failed him. “I found this on
the door.” he began again, holding the paper out to Julie.
Julie read it out loud. A tear came to her voice.
“Stay away from the clinic, or you’ll get it again.”
Dory responded to the words with anger.
“So now they are using rape as weapon of warfare!”
Joe went to the doorway and called for Tommy and Melody. The two
came into Dory’s room unusually quiet.
“Kids,” Joe said earnestly. “Dory needs all of us right now. To hold her
up before Jesus and to pour our love into her. It’s time for a special family
prayer.”
Melody reached up tenderly and patted the bruises on Dory’s cheek. Dory
hugged her tightly and hoisted her up on the bed beside her. The others
gathered in a protective circle around her, joined hands and prayed for her
strength and recovery.
************************
Rob and Esther Fairchild sat Tracy down on their comfortable couch with
a cup of hot chocolate, and listened patiently to her long story. It was one
a.m. when she finished.
“Tracy, one thing you need is a night’s sleep. I’ll fix a place for you in
the dorm. After breakfast, we’ll all feel better, and be able to know what to
do.”
She rummaged in some overhead compartments of her trailer home and
drew out a set of bedclothes. Then the went to another drawer and came out
with some soap and towels.
“I appreciate all this help,” Tracy said.
“We’ll do everything we can for you, Tracy,” Bobby Joe said gravely.
“But right now let’s sleep on it.”
Tracy and Esther left the trailer and got into the car for the short hop over
to the girl’s dorm. In the darkness, Tracy saw the damaged men’s dorm.
“What happened there?”
“Fire. Arson. Remember that little old lady who used to sit in your
church with the funny hat, knitting?”
“Yeah.
creeps.”
Everybody thought she was so sweet. But she gave me the
“Well, your creeps were right. She turned out to be a witch.”
“A real witch?” Tracy marveled.
“Broomstick and all,” Esther answered dryly. “She was the one who set
fire to your church, too. Dennis Kraft caught her in the act, right here.
you heard what happened to him?”
“No.”
“His parents tried to deprogram him.
accidentally killed his father.”
There was a big fight and he
“Oh, that’s awful!” Tracy exclaimed, truly distressed.
Within the hour, Tracy sank down between crisp, clean sheets, and fell
into a deep, troubled, sleep.
***************************
Dory, dressed in jeans and an oversized white shirt, was curled up on the
easy chair, staring out her bedroom window. Dennis tiptoed up directly
behind her.
“Hey, Dory,” he said softly.
She turned slowly and looked at him. Her sad expression lit up a trifle.
“Hey, I couldn’t find any ants,” he teased. She looked at him quizzically,
then remembered the joke, and smiled.
“I see it’s my turn,” he said.
“Your turn to what?”
“To return your sweet loving kindness.”
She looked at him with tenderness, and suddenly dissolved into deep,
wrenching sobs. He knelt beside her, embraced her, and her face found a
refuge in his strong shoulder.
He just held her close.
When she couldn’t cry any more, he squatted on the footstool in front of
her, and held her hands.
After a long silent moment, he related to her the events of the brawl and
the arrest.
“You know that old guy, Elijah?”
“Yes.” she began to perk up, because she really liked the old man, and
wanted to learn about him.
“I found out all about him. He’s a Frenchman, and does he ever have
stories to tell. Jim would be fascinated. We’ve got to get those two
together. He was in prison for several years. He has no family, and he goes
all over preaching. Now, you tell me what happened with Tracy.”
“She ran away from Judson Hall, and Dad sent her out to Bobby Joe’s
place until we can decide what to do to help her. The CA is deliberately
trying to give her a nervous breakdown. The cops are after her already.”
There was a silent moment, and Dory’s eyes suddenly grew fearful and
darted around the room anxiously.
“Dennis,” she said suddenly. “What if I’m pregnant?”
“Oh, Dory! Don’t think about that!”
“I have to think about it. I didn’t even see the man’s face! And I could
be carrying a stranger’s baby.” she looked down to the floor and moaned
softly.
Dennis sighed. He got up from the stool, and came closer to her. He
looked down into her face and brushed some wayward hair back from her
eyes.
“It’s to early to tell yet. Don’t worry about things before they happen.”
“I can’t help it. Did Dad tell you about the note?”
“Yeah, Dory. You can’t let yourself get all worked up over some
mindless crank. Forget it. Put it out of your mind. Nobody is ever going to
hurt you again. I’ll see to that.”
“I’ve told the others---I’ve told the others----” her voice trailed off.
“And now you’re afraid you might have to do it yourself,” Dennis
finished for her. “Put up or shut up, right?”
She nodded sadly.
heartless, brute!”
“I might be carrying the baby of a mindless,
Dennis took her face in both his hands.
“And do you know what else he’ll be? He’ll be half you. And part Joe
Gorman. With those kind of genes he’ll have a leg up on everybody. He
can’t lose.”
Dory gave a genuine smile.
“And you know what else you don’t have to worry about?”
“What?”
“Who’s going to take care of you. I am. We’re getting married.”
“Don’t do me any favors,” she said, a little defensively. “Besides,
We don’t know yet. I’m just talking what if. You don’t have to marry me!”
“I don’t care what if. I’m going to marry you anyway. Whatever if it is
or isn’t.”
“So now you’re telling me?” her voice had a slight tease in it.
“Yeah. I’m telling you. We’re getting married. Will you marry me?
Say yes.”
Dory couldn’t help breaking into a giggle.
“You’re sure? Even with this uncertainty?”
“If there’s a baby, it just means we start our family sooner than expected
Either way, I love you.”
He leaned over her and looked into her eyes closely for a long moment.
“Well,” he challenged. “Do you love me or not?”
“Yes, I love you,” she answered, breaking into a huge smile.
He pulled her up out of the chair and they exchanged a tight embrace.
Chapter Sixteen
Bobby Joe and Esther sat in Joe’s front room, fighting nervously. Julie
sat on the large ottoman, crying. Joe sat on the edge of the armchair, his fists
resting on his knees. Tracy sat in the center of the couch.
“Are you sure this is what you want, Tracy?” Joe asked.
“Of course this isn’t what I want, Dad,” answered determinedly. “What I
want is to come back and live with you. Be a happy family again. But the
CA won’t let me. They’ll keep looking for me until they find me. And
whoever I’m with when they find me will get into trouble.
“They’ll put me back in prison and start it all over again. There is only
one thing left for me to do. Go back to Walter Reston.”
“But he doesn’t even want you,” Esther said. “How many times has he
tried to visit you since you were taken from him?”
“A couple times the CA dragged them out but it didn’t count for anything
but a show. But they are still legally my parents, and the CA wants me to
live with them. The only way I can get things legally off my back is to
agree to live with them.”
“I’m bigger and stronger now. Look, I figured it out. If I agree to go
back to the Restons, the CA will call my case closed. They’ll put it in their
little book that I’ve been “successfully re-integrated back into my natural
family circle”. Can’t you see, Mom and Dad? Then they’ll leave me
alone! They won’t be able to imprison me any more or keep my mail from
me, or monitor my phone calls, or tell me what my name is and tear up my
homework. I’ll be able to do what I want to. And the CA will strut and call
me “cured” of all my problems and close my case. Then the only problem
will be the original one of protecting myself from Mr. Reston.”
“This is so sick,” Esther said. “They want to force you to live with an
abusive drunk that you are so alienated from you call him by his last name.”
“But, if I do live with him, he won’t care who my friends are. I’ll be
able to hang around here all I want, because he’ll be drunk and won’t care
where I am. And the CA won’t be able to stop me, because I won’t be under
their jurisdiction any more.”
Tracy played on the floor with Melody for the next hour, while the adults
conferred in the kitchen. Then they all got together in Fairchild’s car, and
drove Tracy down the the CA headquarters.
******************************
It only took the CA two days to schedule a court hearing. It was all very
cold, stilted, and formal. Dr. Recker and Millicent Hargrove sat on one side
of the courtroom, representing the CA. Tracy sat at the table, impassive.
The judge recited the words mechanically.
“I understand that in this case, Mr. Walter Reston has been properly
rehabilitated, and is no longer a danger to his minor daughter.”
“That is correct”, Millicent Hargrove replied.
“Has the minor child been properly prepared for re-integration into the
Reston houshold?”
“Tracy has been under intensive psychotherapy,” Mr. Recker said
proudly. “At first, she was extremely resistant to all of our efforts. But she
is here today, voluntarily asking that this court return her to the custody of
her natural father. We’re really very proud.”
Tracy grimaced.
“Young lady,” the judge addressed her. “Is it indeed your request to be
returned to the custody of your natural parents?”
“Yes it is, your honor,” she replied.
“Then it is ordered.” The gavel cracked loudly.
*************************
The car pulled up in front of the run down apartment house where Walter
and Helen Reston lived. It looks worse than it used to, Tracy thought. She
shuddered, as a sudden chill seemed to drive away the hot July air.
Millicent Hargrove came around and opened up the door for Tracy, after
retrieving her single suitcase from the back seat.
“Good luck,” she said.
Tracy took the suitcase silently and headed for the front door.
“Good luck” Ms. Hargrove repeated cheerfully.
“Goodbye,” Tracy said flatly.
**************************
The stairs and the hallway reeked of cigarette smoke and stale beer. She
held her breath and climbed the three winding flights of stairs to the top
floor apartment. The door was ajar. She entered timidly.
Helen had her slippered feet up on the coffee table next to an open can of
beer and an overflowing ash tray.
“Hi, there, sweety,” Helen called in a syrupy tone. “They told me you’re
be coming today. My how you’ve grown since I last saw you!”
“I was ten years old when I left,” Tracy declared “I aught to have grown
up a bit. Is the bedroom still mine?”
“Of course it is.” Helen came scuffing across the floor and gave her a big
hug around the neck. Tracy winced at the smell of stale beer and cigarettes
that followed her around.
“Come this way.” She took Tracy by the hand and led her through the
kitchen into the back bedroom, with a window that overlooked the ancient,
decrepit, wooden porch. The walls were a faded, stained, bilious blue color,
and there was barely room to turn around. Tracy sat on the bed, and the
springs squeeked loudly.
“You just make yourself at home,” Helen gushed.
be home any minute.”
“Your father should
Tracy noted with relief that there was a lock on the door. A small hook
lock, but a lock nevertheless. There came a noise from the front room.
“Oh! Your father’s home! He’ll be so glad to see you! Just drop your
bag and come into the kitchen. We’ll have a party!”
Tracy reluctantly followed Helen back into the front room, and greeted
Walter.
“Well, if it isn’t my little lost girl come home,” he said. He intended his
words to be jovial.
“Come into the kitchen,” Helen said. “We’ll have some ice cream.”
“I’m not really hungry,” Tracy protested.
“Nonsense!” Helen insisted. In a few moments they were sitting around
the cracked kitchen table eating vanilla ice cream.
Tracy studied Helen and Walter. Helen’s smarmy, forced cheerfullness
had grown worse over the years. She always had a way of ignoring
everything unpleasant, pretending it wasn’t there, and of gushing good will
that she didn’t really feel. Tracy got a new, mature look at the woman who
had given brth to her, and began to truly feel sorry for her. She began to see
deep down pain that was never acknowledged or allowed expression.
Maybe she would find a way to share the love of Jesus with her.
Walter was grayer, older, a little better dressed than she remembered.
He also reeked of alcohol. That hadn’t changed.
”Oh, I’ve got to tell you” Helen crowed. “We’ll be moving in a few
months. We’re buying a house. A real house.”
“How can you afford a house?” Tracy asked, genuinely interested in the
answer.
“I’ve got a new job,” Walter said.
“Doing what?”
There was a moment’s hesitation.
“He’s gone into sales, “Helen laughed
Chapter Seventeen
The picketing protesters marched up and down the sidewalk directly
across the street from the Robinson’s house.
There were at least two
hundred of them, chanting, waving signs, and a few of them seemed
genuinely spoiling for a fight. Most of them were not recognizable as from
the neighborhood. The ever-present Margo Green chattered into her
microphone, staring at her camera.
Nan Robinson peered through the curtained window.
“You thought that public opinion would support you.
it’s turned into.”
Now look what
John leaned on the window frame with his hand and surveyed the scene
sadly.
“I don’t understand what’s happening to people’s belief in religious
freedom,“ he declared.
“Most of these people aren’t even from around here,” Nan went on.
“They’re claiming to be fighting for a neighborhood they don’t even live in.”
“Hired aggitators,” John said simply.
“Save Our Neighborhood” One sign said.
“No Right Wing Religious Facists” Said another.
“Jim Jones Lives”
The signs delared their hostile messages in large black print. Whoever
had organized this demonstration had enough money to print signs
professionally.
A sheriff’s car pulled to a stop in front of the house, and an officer got
out. He headed directly to the Robinson’s front door. Margo Green made a
breathless dash to catch up with him, followed by her camera and crew.
John answered the bell.
“Reverend John Robinson?” the officer asked.
“Yes.”
“I have to deliver this document to you.”
John accepted it without a word, and closed the door. The officer
returned to his car and Margo’s ever present crew aimed the camera at the
front door, as Margo knocked. John opened it again.
“Reverend Robinson, can you tell us what kind of papers you have been
served with here?”
John tried to be polite and patient. He held the envelop and unfolded
document up for the camera.
“I have a summons to appear in court and an order to stop holding
worship services and school classes in my home.”
“Do you have plans yet as how to deal with this development?”
“We are going to continue using my home as a meeting place for my
friends to come and worship Jesus. We will continue to educate our children
here. They will send another cease-and-desist letter and I will ignore that
one too.
“We are Christians and Americans, and we do not give in to official
orders of any kind ordering us to stop praying. Not in our own home, not
anyplace. This is opposed to everything America stands for. We will not
comply.”
“What about your neighbors across the street accusing you of being a
brainwashing cultist?”
“Those people across the street do not live here. They are professional
aggitators from the Atheist First Foundation.”
“What if this confrontation leads to violence?”
“Mrs. Green,” John said with finality. “If there is any violence here it
will be on their own heads, not ours. We are defending our freedom to
worship.”
“But who is taking away your freedom to worship?” she challenged.
“Ms. Green, freedom to worship means having a place to gather together
and sit down. When the city zoning people tell me I cannot gather together
and sit down in my own home and pray, they are taking away my freedom.
Did Nero put a zoning restriction on the catacombs?
If you can’t
understand what the fight is about, you have never read the Constitution and
know nothing about American history. Good afternoon.”
He shut the door.
Nan hugged him comfortingly.
“Don’t let them get to you,” she said.
“They’re not getting to me,” he answered. “What am I saying? Of
course they’re getting to me! Why shouldn’t they get to me? Did the
Founding Fathers go around like shrinking violets telling each other don’t let
King George get to you? Did the colonists at the Boston Tea Party tell each
other don’t let a little tea tax get to you? They let it get to them until they
had the guts to fight back against tyranny! This is no less than that.!”
***************************
Dory leaned her head back into the crook of Dennis’ arm, and sighed.
Dennis squeezed her tight around the shoulders and kissed the top of her
head. With his free hand he picked up the TV remote,aimed it, and clicked
around the dial.
“There’s nothing interesting on,” Dory said. “Nothing interests me any
more.”
They sat together in silence for a few minutes.
“It’s not often your house is this quiet.” Dennis said.
“Everybody’s over at Kenny’s. Dennis,” she whispered. “It’s happened.
It’s true. The thing I was afraid of. It is real.”
He squeezed her closer.
“Pregnant?” he asked simply.
“Yeah.” she said quietly. “Do you still want to marry me?”
trembled and her eyes reddened.
“Dory, don’t even think like that.
happened to me.”
Her lip
You’re the best thing that ever
She smiled, and suddenly her tears turned into happy tears.
“Well, then, I suppose you’ll want to know the plans.”
“Since I’m the groom you might as well let me in on things,” he teased.
“There’s going to be nothing fancy.
homemade wedding.
This is going to be a simple,
“Homemade?”
“Peaches Wills and Martha Henry have volunteered to do the cooking
and catering for the reception, and Bobby Joe says we can use his meeting
hall for free. So all we’ll need to pay for is the dresses, and the invitations,
and the food. Melody will be flower girl, and Tracy will be maid of honor.
I want you to ask Elijah if he’ll be an usher.”
“You’re a genious,” Dennis grinned broadly. “That’s a great idea.
Elijah will be head usher, and Tommy will be assistant usher. This will give
me a chance to get Elijah together with Jim Junior. Something tells me
those two opposites will hit it off together real good. Jim has a Holy Fire in
him that needs an older guy to show him how to direct it.”
“So,” Dory laughed. “You are going to introduce Elijah to Elisha, huh?”
“Hey, yeah. I didn’t think of it that way!”
“I don’t want to spend to much money on the wedding, because after the
wedding, Dad’s going to do some remodeling. He wants to knock out the
dividing wall between the living and dining room, and put in a picture
window up front. We’ll be able to use the space for both church and a
couple more classrooms.”
“The arrangement will be the same as last year?”
“Yeah. Mom and Dad have the three middle grades. They circle the
dining room table. Knocking out the wall will really give us a lot of room.
Pastor has grades seven and eight in his basement. They are adding an extra
door and window and fancying the place up to be nice and bright.
“Kennys and Stonecyphers divide the three lower grades. Altogether
there’s 21 kids. You know how the Settlement volunteers have been
indispensable. All last year, not a single teacher got paid a single cent.
This year we’ve been taking up collections for them on Sundays.
“We are still getting threats from the zoning board and the welfare people
and the truant officers once a week. But we’re not giving in. This is a
ministry of our church. To raise the children up for Jesus.”
“You don’t have to convince me,” he smiled.
remember?”
“I’m on your side,
She got a faraway look in her eyes. ”You sure it really doesn’t matter?
To start out life with a ready made family that’s not yours?”
He looked into her eyes with a deep, mature, love. He pulled her close
and kissed her.
“Dory, who says your family isn’t mine?”
She cast down her eyes, as if she were ashamed of her momentary lapse
into depression. Then changed the subject.
“Do you think--do you want--do you want to invite---your mother?”
Dennis sighed heavily.
“Well, why not?” he warmed up to the idea. “The worst thing that can
happen is she says no. Maybe the Lord will work some healing there--on
both sides. Besides,” he grinned. “I gotta have some guests on my side of
the church. With all your relatives and friends on your side, if I don’t get
some more guests on my side, the church will get unbalanced and keel
over.”
They laughed together.
Chapter Eighteen
Helen and Walter tried to coax Tracy to go with them, but she refused.
“All right, stay home and mope around by yourself instead of having fun
at a Christmas party, go ahead,” Helen taunted airily.
“You go on.” Tracy insisted.
and snort coke,”
“All you do at those parties is get drunk
“Now, don’t you go irritating your mother with that Bible stuff.” Walter
commanded, irritated.
Helen gave her lipstick one more check in the mirror. “No need to get
cranky, Walter,” she countered. “If she wants to mope, let her mope.”
They whisked out the door, and Tracy sighed with relief. It was just the
same as it always had been. A constant roller coaster of put-on kindness one
minute, impulsive anger the next minute, nit-picking nagging, and drunken
arguments. Heled did try to stickup for her, but that was just as useless as
everything else she had ever tried to do.
And now there was something new. Walter had indeed gone into “sales”.
A locked box in the back of the closet was stacked with small cellophane
bags of white powder.
Tracy watched out the front window as Walter and Helen drove away.
She turned her eyes from the window back to the cheap ugliness of the small
apartment, and felt something like a hot knife go through her brain.
She couldn’t stand it any more.
She wouldn’t stand it any more!
It was a wild, reckless idea.
Delicious thought!
But she’d make it work. Blackmail!
“I’m moving back to the Gormans,” she would tell Walter and Helen.
“And you’re gonna let me! If you call the welfare people on me, I’ll call
the cops on you, and your stash of dope!”
Better yet, just get up quietly and leave. That way the deed would be
done, before Walter could get mad and slug her.
The adrenalin started to surge. Yes, indeed! She could do it. She would
do it. The welfare people had bullied her enough. Now she would do a
little bullying of her own. Forget permission from the court. This would be
a deal between her, Walter, and the stash in the closet.
She’d do it right now! So what if it was a cold night? She’d walk all the
way to the Gormans!
She hurried into her small, dismal room, pulled her suitcase from under
the bed, and began to fill it with her few clothes.
Her heart pounded, and the excitement made her feel dizzy.
Someone banged on the front door.
She ignored it and went on packing.
sleazy customers.
She knew it was one of Walter’s
The visitor banged harder, rattled the doorknob, and kicked angrily at the
door. In his aggitation, he kicked it with all his strength.
The door flew open.
The young man strode into the room, angrily hollering for Walter.
He saw Tracy through the bedroom door and yelled at her.
“I don’t have time to mess around! I got my money! Where’s the stuff?”
Tracy fought against her sudden fearful trembling, and tried to appear in
charge. The stranger was slight of build, wearing dirty jeans, studded leather
jacket, mussed hair, and was obviously out of control.
“Where’s my stuff?” he demanded.
“Mr. Reston isn’t here,” she stalled.
“I don’t care! I got my money!” He kicked a chair and knocked over a
lamp.
Tracy took a deep breath. Give him what he wants. Get rid of him.
She went quickly into the other bedroom, and groped around in the back
of the dark closet. She brought the whole box out into the room.
“Take what you want,” she said, putting the box down on an end table,
and moving quickly out of his way.
He grabbed hungrily at the drug, filling his pockets with several bags.
Tracy retreated to her room, and hooked the lock.
The stranger followed. He grabbed the knob and yanked. The hook
pulled out of the wall and the door opened wide.
“You ain’t gonna ask me for any money?”
“No. I don’t care about your money.”
“Hey, you’re OK.” He began to calm down a bit.
“Please,” she stammered. “I’m very busy.”
“Suitcase,” he observed. “You going someplace?”
“Yes.”
“Wanna go with me?”
“No thank you.“
“I’ve never seen you before.”
“I just moved in. I’m getting ready to move out. You have what you
came for. Please leave.”
“You really don’t want my money?”
“Keep your money. Take all the stuff you want. But please go.”
“Reston your old man?” He moved over beside her, and ran his hand
down through her long hair.
“Yeah,” she pulled away.
“You don’t care if he doesn’t get his money?”
“Right.”
He put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her. She pulled away.
“Please,” she said. “I’m in a hurry.”
He ran his hand down through her hair again, and with his other arm
pulled her close and kissed her lightly on the lips.
She gave him a shove and moved quickly away from him into the
kitchen.
“Leave me alone!” she screamed.
He went after her and grabbed her again.
“You’re an ok kid,’ he declared crazily. “Don’t be scared. I just want to
have a little good time.”
“No!” she screamed. She pulled away and he grasped her wrists with his
fists.
She struggled against his grasp, and pulled herself free. The kitchen
door was right behind her. If she could get on the porch, she could yell for
help and run across the back yard to Lita’s!
“Leave me alone!” she screamed. She dashed frantically to the kitchen
door, and yanked the handle. The door opened easily.
She ran out onto the rickety porch.
He caught up with her, and she screamed again. He made another grab
for her.
She pulled away, and fell against the railing.
The railing gave a loud, creaking, cracking, pop, and ripped apart.
Tracy screamed a long, terrified scream, as her young body plummeted
through the inky darkness and slammed violently into the frozen ground of
the back yard.
Her attacker gasped in surprise and terror. He stood in unmoving shock
for a long moment. Then he turned, dashed back through the apartment, out
the front door, down the three flights of stairs and down the sidewalk into
the night.
Within minutes a curious crowd had gathered to gape at the paramedics,
as they at first tried to revive her, then sadly, pulled the sheet up over the
young girl’s face, strapped the body to the stretcher, and hoisted it into the
ambulance for the sad drive to the morgue.
The neighbors stood around until the police and ambulance pulled away.
Among them was a poorly dressed, middle aged, dusky complexioned
woman.
******************************
The Gormans drove to the funeral in somber silence, except for Dory’s
soft sobbing as she held Dennis’ hand for comfort. After a long time, Julie
broke the silence.
“Why?” she demanded. “Why couldn’t people have just let her alone to
live her life with the people who loved her? She’d be alive now if----”
“Don’t go if--ing, Mom,” Tommy said earnestly.. “There’s always a
million “ifs”. He swallowed a sob.
“She’s with Jesus,” Joe said quietly. “She’s at peace. She never had
much peace in her life.”
“Certainly not!” Dennis protested. “Not with those welfare creeps
behaving like a bunch of vultures! They’re supposed to be in business to
help kids. In her case, they deliberately did things to destroy her. You can’t
tell me they didn’t know what they were doing! They took her right after
they found out she’d got baptized. As far as I’m concerned, these people
were trying to deprogram her. It might have been structured a little
differently from what they did to me. But it was the same thing.”
“That’s hard to accept,” Julie said softly. “That would mean that the
government agencies have been taken over by anti-Christ forces, working
in secret. Do you call that a shadow government, or the return of the
Inquisition?”
“Both would be accurate,” Joe stated earnestly. “What have we all been
up against these past months? From every source of authority, there come
these tyrannical rulings that are against everything we do as Christians, and
affect nobody but Christians. The atheists get their way in every court case.
Just as if they’d arranged with the judge ahead of time. Who would believe
that a kid in public school, Tommy’s age, would be harassed by his teacher.
Not another classmate--but a teacher. You’d think that she was some kind
of change agent, there on purpose to harass and intimidate Christian kids.”
“I remember,” Julie said softly. “I saw a newsreel once. On World War
11. It showed a little boy about nine or twelve. And the Nazi butchers hit
him on the head over and over again. He walked like a zombie. The
narrator said that the experiment had been to see how many blows a person
could take before it destroyed his nervous system.”
“The Nazies didn’t take power overnight,” Joe said.
“They took over inch by inch until all their freedoms were gone. The
German people thought it was all done in the name of glorious patriotism.
Just like now. When they forbid us our Constitutional rights, they tell us it
is in the name of freedom---so we won’t ‘offend’ anyone else.”
“In the early days at Bobbie Joe’s, “Dennis said, “People donated a lot of
stuff, and in one of the boxes, I found an old book by a guy who used to be a
Communist infiltrator for the government. His name was Doff, or Roth, or
Goff--something like that.
“Anyhow, it was all about something called psychopolitics. It was the
textbook he used when he was studying with the Party. The Communists
told how they could penetrate the people of a country, and brainwash the
whle population by sophisticated psychological techniques through the
whole country. It was worse than George Orwell. A whole country can be
under their domination and not even know it.”
“Are you saying that what they did to Tracy was directly related to the
fact that she got saved?” Julia asked.
“Absolutely. Bobby Joe has a lot of literature about persecutions. The
political and religious leaders of every age have fought the real Christians
in many different ways. The early Christians could have gone home and be
left alone to worship Jesus---if they were only willing to worship the
emperor, too.
“These days they don’t use lions and fire any more. They use hi-tech
mind control. And Tracy was a ward of the State. They couldn’t let her
get away with being a Christian.”
Everyone sighed in astonishment at the devious and arrogant ways of the
devil.
“Wrong,” Tommy said.
“Remember that fire at Waco?
That was
deliberately set to burn out the Christians. It was like they needed to make a
sacrifice to their god, like they did in the days of the Inquisition. But they
couldn’t burn people at the stake, so they torched them in their home and
said they did it to themselves.”
Joe parked in front of the funeral home, and let the family out. Then he
followed the pointings of the assistant funeral director around to the
designated position in the parking lot. In a few moments he joined this
family at the guest book podium.
The poorly dressed, middle aged, dusky-complexioned woman came up
behind them.
“Excuse me,” she said.
“Yes,” Joe said kindly.
“You are the Gorman family, right?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“I live across from the Restons. My name is Lita Longstreet. She told
me all about you. I saw it happen.”
“You saw it?” Julie gasped.
The entire group gave Lita their undivided attention.
“You see, when she came to live there, well, the Restons were always
fighting, and all kinds of devilment went on in that place.”
“We know.“ Dory said softly.
“Tracy used to come over to my place when things got to hot over there.
She’d lock herself in her room a lot, too. That’s why I told her she could
come and stay with me.”
“We appreciate that,” Joe said. “The Lord always sends help and comfort
when we’re in trouble.”
“Well, I just thought you aught to know something. It wasn’t an accident.
I told the cops, and they never did nothing about it.”
“Nothing about what?”
“I saw her fall. It was dark, but there were lights in windows. And this
guy was chasing her.”
“What guy?” Julie demanded.
“Some creep. They had a lot of creeps comin’ to their place. They sold
dope, y’know.”
“No, we didn’t know,” Dennis said.
“Well, I saw her run out on the porch and this creep was chasing her, and
I heard her scream, ‘leave me alone’. Then the railing broke.”
Dory began to cry again, and Tommy clenched his fists in anger and
muttered under his breath.
“When I heard that they said it was an accident, I got mad.” Lita
continued. “She was chased out onto that porch by some dope fiend. And I
told the cops and they didn’t care. She was a real nice kid. I’m sorry about
all this. She told me all about you guys.”
“Ms. Longstreet, I really appreciate you,” Julie said, squeezing her hand.
“Thank you so much for stopping to talk with us.”
**************************
The organ was played softly. The preacher spoke about the sadness in the
death of a young child. Tommy stared daggers across the room at the
Restons. The Restons stared straight ahead. Milli Hargrove sat next to the
Restons. The place was filled with people from the Settlement.
The Gormans took an extra long moment to gaze at the lifeless face of
their beloved foster daughter. She looked so peaceful, so innocent, even
younger than her fifteen years. Her hair was arranged cascading around her
shoulders, the multiple strands of gray scattered through the shiny black,
mute testimony to the burden she’d borne the last several months of her life.
**********************
Milli Hargrove came briskly up to Joe and extended her hand.
“I want to tell you how genuinely sorry I am,” she said.
“You shut your mouth!” Joe snapped. Refusing the hand. He was
in perfect control and spoke deliberately.
“You don’t have to be rude,” Millicent retorted, drawing back her
hand.
“On, yes, I do,” Joe answered, staring directly into her eyes. “You
and your crowd murdered my daughter.”
“She wasn’t your daughter,” Hargrove said coldly.
“She was my daughter,” Joe declared. “We were a family. But
you came and dragged her out of her home---the only home she had
ever known. You dragged her away from the family who loved her
and put her in prison. You abused her in the worst possible ways.
“You mentally abused her in Judson Hall, and then you forced her
back into that horrible place, where she was daily harassed by
drunkenness and dope addiction. Even in your official papers, you
named the reason why you didn’t want her with us. You dressed it up
in your own words, but the real reason was, she’d been baptized a
Christian.
“You couldn’t bear that. So you used your clout to take her away
from us, and you didn’t care how it hurt her. Your orders were to get
her out of the Christian environment, even if it cost her sanity or life.
You people killed her just as sure as if you’d shoved her off that porch
yourself!”
Ms. Hargrove turned ashen and gasped.
“When we receive complaints, we have to investigate them,” she
declared defensively. “When Mrs. Darnell called my office and told
of the conditions she was living under---”
“I knew it had to be Darnell!” Joe exclaimed loudly. “You didn’t
investigate anything,” he sneered.
“You were told she’d been
baptized a Christian, and that was your signal to drag her out of her
home and imprison her in Judson Hall! You were determined to
destroy her mind or her faith, and you didn’t care which!”
“Mr. Gorman,” she bit out her words crisply, in controlled, selfrighteous anger. Her voice was barely above a whisper, lest any
nearby should overhear the truth. “The children that become wards of
the State are our responsibility. We must protect them from all
harmful influences. We must prepare them to live in the world that
will exist when they come of age. That will not be a world of Bible
thumpers and religious fanatics. That will be a one world of global
harmony and international peace. If we let the chidren in our charge
give in to these old fashioned mentally sick notions, we are not doing
our job properly.”
“Thank you!” Joe exclaimed. “Out of your own mouth you’ve
confirmed all our suspicions.”
Hargrove shot a dirty look at him and stalked away.
************************
Joe joined his family, the many cars filled up, turned on the lights,
and filed out into the street for the long, sad drive to the cemetery.
Chapter Nineteen
Peaches and Martha pulled out all the stops. They made enough
fried chicken, mashed potatoes, three-bean salad, and assorted
flavored jello to give everyone a second helping of everything. They,
and the recruited volunteers from the four congregations, scurried and
hurried and checked and tasted and all was getting done on time.
Out of respect for Tracy, the ceremony had been postponed to
February 1, so the decorating committee covered the entire meeting
hall with red valentine flowers and white lace paper.
The Frenchman looked marvelous, spiffed up in a rented tux,
ushering, and supervising Tommy’s ushering, as though he’d been
born to the job.
Amos Henry and Titan Wills stood talking small talk with Bobby
Joe and Esther Fairchild.
“My mother named me after a giant,” he said in his deep, rich
voice, “because I weighed thirteen pounds when I was born.”
“And well she might!” Esther rolled her eyes at his massive,
bulking form, and laughed. “You certainly seem to have lived up to
expectations!”
Titan laughed a deep, hearty laugh.
The place was full, and guests from the four congregations kept
arriving. This was a happy day, and everyone who could fit into the
hall was invited.
Elijah greeted the lady who came in alone.
“How do you do?” he said kindly. “Are you groom’s side or
bride’s side?”
“I’m family,” the lady said softly. “I’m Jean Kraft.”
“Oh, forgive me,” Elijah said gallantly. “I was told to be looking
for you, but I’ve never seen you. Follow me.”
“That’s all right,” she said, as she accompanied him to the front
row. “I---I wasn’t even going to come. But when I woke up this
morning, I just wanted to.”
They arrived at the front, where Julie Gorman welcomed her
warmly.
“I’m truly glad you could come.”
“I wasn’t going to, but---”
Julie interrupted her with a big hug.
John Robinson took his place at the front, followed by Dennis, and
Jim Kenny, Jr, as best man.
Dennis’ eyes met his mother’s.
Each at the same moment burst into tears. She stood up, and he
left his place, and they embraced and wept on each other’s shoulders.
“Mom,” he whispered. “please forgive me for all the trouble I’ve
caused you. All the hurt. I’m sorry. I’m so happy you’re here.”
Jean cried some more, and the assembly burst into loud applause.
“What is that all about?” she asked, surprised.
“Those are just all my good friends, happy to see you here,”he said
simply.
After a moment, she sat down, and Dennis took his place.
The music began, and the bride appeared at the back, radiant,
leaning on her father’s arm. The two walked slowly, grandly, toward
the front, as all heads turned and all present oh-ed and ah-ed at the
beautiful bride.
Her gown was an A-line empire, long sleeves, bordered at the cuff
and neckline in antique ivory lace. The veil was circled with a halo
of baby’s breath flowers, repeated in the small bouquet she carried.
Melody’s flower girl dress was a tiny, exact duplicate of the bride’s,
without the veil.
For a moment, the procession seemed oddly empty, off balance.
Just the tiny flower girl scattering her petals, then the bride and her
father. Then they remembered. For deeply felt personal reasons, the
space of Maid of Honor, originally intended for Tracy, was
deliberately left vacant.
The couple promised to love and to cherish each other, in sickness
and health, for richer, for poorer, according to God’s Holy ordinance.
Dory read a poem she had written, to Dennis, and Dennis read a poem
he had written to Dory. They exchanged rings and kissed.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Pastor Robinson said, “May I introduce
to you all, Mr. and Mrs. Dennis Kraft.”
The two whisked down the aisle to cheers and applause.
*************************
The paper plates and chicken bones were all finally stashed in the
trash cans, and everyone sat around waiting for the cake to be cut.
When the newlyweds showed up at the cake table, there was a round
of happy applause.
“Everybody give a big thank you to Martha and Peaches, and their
volunteer staff, who are responsible for all this great fried chicken.”
There was a round of cheering and whistling and clapping. Martha
and Peaches stood at the sidelines and grinned broadly.
“And a big hand for Brother Bobby Joe, who let us overrun his place
today.”
Another cheer went up.
“And I want to thank my Mom and Dad and brother and sister for
being the best Chtristian family a girl ever had. And I thank my Lord
Jesus Christ for giving His life for me to free me from sin.”
More cheers.
“I want to thank my mother,” Dennis added. “Thank you so much
for being here.” Tears washed his eyes.
“AMEN!” came a shout.
“Now,” Dory said. “It’s time to get down to some serious business
with this cake.”
*******************
Jim Jr. sat next to Elijah, enjoying a second piece of cake.
“You’ve done all that preaching, and all that traveling, all these
years, all by yourself?”
“I have no family,” Elijah told him. “I have nothing to hold me
anyplace. Wherever I go, the Lord sends people to feed me. I do odd
jobs, earn a few pennies here and there to buy clothes in the rummage
stores, and my few other needs. I do a lot of sleeping on benches, and
hitching rides to warmer climates,” he smiled.
Jim Jr. looked at him admiringly.
”Well, you’re not going to be alone anymore. You’ve got yourself
a helper.”
“Who?”
“Me.” He pointed towards himself with his thumb.
“You?” He reared his head back, surprised. “What makes you
think your father will let you live the life of a hobo?”
“Look,” Jim Jr. grew serious. “When I got back to school last
Fall, the first thing they did was suspend me for three days because of
the prayer I said last Spring. Then they suspended me again for
passing out leaflets protesting the school birth control clinic.”
He paused to take a deep breath. “Then Tracy died,” he said,
blinking away tears. “I sure liked that little girl,” he said
wistfully. “I was sort of waiting for her to grow up a bit--“But, well, I haven’t been back to school since Christmas
Vacation. I promised Dad I’d consider night school or vocational
training. But not till the Fall. Meanwhile I’ve got several months
with time to fill up.”
“Your father isn’t going to approve of you sleeping in parks.”
“That’s why we’re gonna use Dad’s camper,” Jim grinned.
“You’ve got this all figured out,” haven’t you?”
“I sure do. And I can do better odd jobs than you can, too. We’ll
be a home missionary team, preaching on any busy street corner we
can find.”
“Do you really think you’re up to it all?”
Jim grinned.
“You do call yourself Elijah, don’t you?”
“What does that have to do with it?”
“Well, the original Elijah had a young kid pestering him, too,”
he declared.
The both laughed.
The pictures were taken, the congratulations and hugs and kisses
were passed all around, and then the young girls gathered for the
bouquet toss.
Dory aimed it straight at Melody, who caught it awkwardly
between her elbows.
Her eyes grew wide in astonishment and
everyone laughed delightedly.
**************************
Joseph Dennis Kraft came squalling into the world in late April.
Dory cuddled him closely, smiled a sunny smile. Dennis beamed
proudly at her side. Dory wrapped one arm around Dennis’ neck and
pulled his head down to whisper in his ear.
“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” she said softly. “I can barely remember
the pain and all that went with it. He really feels genuinely ours.”
“He is genuinely ours,” Dennis teased. “See, he looks just like
me.”
Dory looked at the baby with a startled expression on her face.
“You looked! You looked!” he teased.
They both laughed.
Chapter Twenty
Titan parked his car in front of the Robinson’s house, made his way
up the short walk, and rang the bell. Nan answered.
“Oh! Titan! How nice to see you! Please come in!”
She ushered him in to the living room and invited him to sit in the
big cushioned chair. She excused herself into the dining room, where
the children were studying quietly around the huge oak table, and
spoke quietly to her assistant. She returned to the living room, and
pulled a dividing screen across the dividing doorway, so their
conversation would not disturb the pupils. In a few moments, John
joined them, and shook Titan’s hand warmly.
“I have a feeling something is wrong,” he said, noting Titan’s
somber mood.
“You’re right, there, John,” Titan said. “It’s pretty bad.”
“Give it to me straight.” John said.
“My wife’s neice works at the welfare office,” he explained. “The
scuttlebutt goes this way. Police Chief Duke is on very, very friendly
terms with Milli Hargrove from the CA.”
“That horrible woman!” Nan exclaimed.
“And there’s the election coming up.”
“So what’s the connection?” John asked.
“Chief Duke wants to run for Sheriff. Sheriff Holmes wants to run
for State Representative. And Representative Wilson Cooke will
support Duke for Sheriff, if. Big if. If he can solve the problem of all
these religious fanatics causing all this trouble.”
“And we are the fanatics causing all the trouble.”
“Exactly. Cooke wants Holmes and Duke to enforce the zoning
regulations according to the letter. Treat it as a criminal case, not a
civil one. Make an example. Close us down.”
“They can’t do that,” Nan exclaimed.
“Oh, yes, they can,” Titan declared. “You get crooked politicians
in cahoots, there’s no limit to what they can get away with.”
“They planning to drag me out of my pulpit again?”
“More than that,” Titan went on. “It’s not just the church they are
after now. They want the school and they want the kids.
“The State wants to assert and enforce absolute control over all
private and Christian schools as well. Hargrove has been pushing
Chief Duke to do something about all those “truant kids”.
“We’ve been getting court orders every week to shut the school
down,” John said sadly.
“Right. So, the welfare people, and the sheriff and the police, are
this minute co-ordinating a massive effort to destroy the whole thing
with one action.”
“What kind of action?” Nan and John asked at the same moment.
“My wife’s niece has seen the documents and the warrants. Each
and every child enrolled in Community Bible School has been named
a truant, a minor in need of supervision. Warrants have been issued
for the arrests of these children, and their parents. They have already
been named wards of the State, and parental custody over them has
been terminated. Custody has been bound over to the Children’s
Agency, and they are empowered to place them all, permanently, in
Judson Hall.”
“Oh!” Nan groaned. John felt a sick queezyness in his gut. His
spirit rebelled at the gross evil.
“And,” Titan added. “Community Bible Church will be closed, by
order of the zoning board, and every single member of the
congregation will be arrested for defying the law.”
“What has this country come to?” John exclaimed. “How long do
we have to get ready?
“They plan to come to the premises and take the children into
custody just after nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”
Nan half moaned, half sighed.
“And Sunday night, they’re going to raid the church meeting.”
“Are we in Communist Russia?” Nan exclaimed.
“God help us!” John prayed.
“I’m here---Brother Henry and myself, and all of us--we’re here to
help any way we can.”
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this,” John said earnestly.
He began to quickly plot emergency action.
“We’ll call a meeting of the mothers this afternoon” Nan stated.
“Yes. Not just the mothers. Everybody. Call the fathers at their
workplaces.”
“It’s ten-twenty right now,” Nan said, checking her watch.
“I’ll call Joe and Julie and the Kenny’s, and they will call the others.
What time should we tell them to be a Joe’s place?”
“One o’clock” John said. “That aught to give time to get the kids
their lunch, and get over there.”
“I thought they’d be meeting here,” Titan said.
“Joe has more room since he remodeled his front room,” Nan
explained.
“That’s good“, he said. “I’ll get the news to Peaches and Martha.”
“I’ll call Bob at the Settlement,” John added.
**************************
School was immediately cancelled. The volunteer assistants took
the children home, while urgent phone calls went out in all directions.
The parents were notified that their presence was urgently needed at
Joe’s home at one p.m. sharp.
*****************************
All the folding chairs were brought out, the TV and other small
furniture was shoved against the wall, and enough comfortable room
was made for everyone. Martha and Peaches took over in the kitchen
and made coffee.
The meeting was opened with a prayer and song. Then John stood
up, framed in the red velvet curtain covering the new picture window.
“Brothers and sisters,” he said. “We--all friends and neighbors,
have gathered in our friend’s home and we prayed together and sang a
hymn of praise to our Lord Jesus Christ.” He paused for emphasis.
“We have all, by these actions, become lawbreakers.”
The assembled parents paid rapt attention.
“You parents, who chose to have your children educated by highly
qualified unpaid volunteers, who would protect your children’s moral
and spiritual values, rather than send them to State schools, exposing
them to drugs, violence, and secular brainwashing---you all know the
war of nerves that has been going on these past months.
We all
remember the day I was dragged out of the pulpit for the “crime” of
preaching there.”
“Yes, we remember,” a couple people answered.
“Well, I learned this morning from Titan Wills. They are about to
come for the rest of us. Warrants have been issued for the arrest
Mr. and Mrs. Gorman, the Stoncyphers, the Kenny’s, the Range’s, the
Bonners, and Julie and myself. Everybody who has a child in our
school. And the children themselves.”
There was a collective gasp and shouts of protest.
“They intend to gain absolute control over every child in the
State,” he explained. “Make us an example, to intimidate all Christian
parents, to make them fear to protest. They are not content with
destroying the children in the State classrooms, They want to invade
our sanctuary and destroy our children in the very schoolrooms we put
up to protect them.”
“What do you mean, warrants for the children?” Mrs. Stonecypher
asked.
“They have all been named MINS. Minor In Need of Supervision.
They have already declared all of you unfit parents, and your custody
and all parental rights over your children have been terminated.”
“Without so much as a day in court with lawyers to defend us?”
She demanded angrily.
“Sister Stonecypher, since the beginning of persecution against the
Christian church, when did the persecutors ever follow the rule of
law? Now their bullying arrogance has come to free America. And
we have to deal with it as it is. Screaming about the Constitution
won’t make these people go away.
“They intend to place all of the children in Judson Hall, and from
there to foster homes. They will be given psychological counseling.
To the end that they reject their parents, and their parent’s religious
values. It means at the very least, months of litigation, just to get
them back.”
“Judson Hall!” Mrs. Tratner jumped to her feet. “Those horrible
people who took Tracy! They’re not getting my babies!”
“Nor mine!” Mrs. Stonecypher declared.
“But what can we do?” Mrs. Tratner demanded.
Jim Kenny Jr. stood up. “Whatever we do, we have to do it by
tomorrow morning.” he announced.
“I’ll leave town before I let those monsters touch my kids!” Mrs.
Tratner shouted. There was momentary confusion, as they all began
to argue with each other, protesting the awfulness of the situation.
Harold Stonecypher stood up and spoke very seriously. All grew
silent. His voice was edged with sadness and righteous anger.
“When my country asked me to serve, I chose to serve my country.
As you can see, I gave my right arm for this country. And I would do
it again. For freedom. I would never betray my country. But my
country is now betraying me.
“I have a moral duty before the God of Heaven to protect my
children. That’s what the Word means when it places the man at the
head of the family. It means the man is the protector. I must protect
my children from tyranny and evil. To do less is to be less than a
man. As a free man, I chose to defend my country when my country
asked me to. As a free Christian man, I choose to defy my country
when it becomes an agent of anti-Christ and comes to destroy my
children. I’ll take my children to Canada. I’ll take them anyplace
where we can be free to serve Jesus Christ without tyranny.”
He sat down slowly, to heartfelt applause.
“Then I can trust that we are all in one mind and one accord, to
continue our fight?” John asked. He felt a humbling weight come
down on his shoulders. It was the burden of being chosen to lead a
fight into uncharted territory.
“Yes!” they shouted.
Titan walked with grave dignity to the front of the room. John sat
down and let him speak.
“Folks,” he said in his deep, compassionate voice. “Think hard on
what you’re doing. Think hard.”
They grew silent and attentive.
“You think that all it takes is for you to holler and scream “They
can’t do this to me!” and just tell them off and give them a lecture on
American freedom, and it will all go away, and everything will be
hunkey dory. It doesn’t work that way.”
He took a deep sigh, and went on.
“You can all cross the State line tomorrow, and you become
fugitives from justice. And these people will use any dirty trick they
can think of to throw the book at you. Put you away for years, and see
to it that you never see your kids again.
“A lot of people think I’m stupid, but I know my American history.
I seem to remember something that says, we pledge our lives our
fortunes, and our sacred honor. A few years ago, my people had to
engage in the same kind of fight. Not knowing where it would lead.
Not knowing what it would cost. But we knew we had to do it
because to do otherwise would have been shame and dishonor and
surrender to opression, and we couldn’t let that go on.“
The mothers began to sob softly. Harold Stonecypher swallowed
stoically.
“You folk are walking through a door,” Titan continued. “On this
side of that door is your nice warm house and your jobs and all you’ve
ever worked for. That door is open and the wintry blasts are coming
through. On the other side of that door”---he grew animated, pacing
and gesturing with his hand---”is maybe the loss of your warm house,
and your job, and years of going through the courts, and
running from pillar to post---and thousands of dollars you don’t have,
spent in court costs appealing to judges who are prejudiced against
you ahead of time.
“This very building is going to be raided Sunday night. Every one
worshipping in this unzoned church is gonna go to jail. You folk are
innocent lambs. You gotta know, before you start, that the fight
might cost you everything.
If you don’t have that kind of
commitment, it’s best not to even start. Think very carefully about
what you are about to do.”
He sat down, and there was a long silence.
“I don’t care,” Mrs Stonecypher broke the silence with her soft
voice. “I believe with my Harold. When we gave our hearts to Jesus
Christ, it was a commitment for always. We’ve always known, from
our study of history, that those who name the Name of Christ shall
suffer persecution.
“We’ve always known that-----” she was suddenly on her feet,
suddenly bolder. “But we hid behind the American flag and said it
couldn’t happen here, like it happened to them, there. Well, it is
happening to us here. That means we have to re-think our priorioties.
Face the fact that some of our fellow citizens have set themselves up
as our enemies, for the Lord’s sake. And as enemies of Christ they are
taking over our government. We must obey our conciences even if
other people call us fanatics.”
She sat down as quickly as she stood up.
John stood up, deliberately moderating his voice, to be a calming
effect, though his words were laden with excitement and danger. A
chill of fearful anticipation swept through each listener.
“Jim and I have decided to put this plan to you for your
consideration. All of us adults can face the arrests, the fines, and the
court and all that goes with. But we feel as you do, that allowing the
kids into the claws of the CA for even one hour us unacceptable. We
all know what they did to Tracy. And our children are even younger,
and would fare worse, because they wouldn’t understand what was
happening. So, the best thing to do, if you all agree, is to take the kids
out of State, immediately.
“Each one of you mothers must know someone, a friend or a
relative, who’ll put you up in an emergency. I’d like to let the fathers
go with their families, but we need someone to stay and fight.
Besides, I wouldn’t want any of you to lose your jobs. There’ll be
plenty of fines to pay before this is over.”
Jim got up, and John let him have the floor.
“We’re fighting two battles at once,” he said strongly. “The right
of the church to exist, and the right of the school to exist---the right of
parents to run their homes and families without State interferance.
“On the school battlefront, we’ll get all the children on the way out
of State by this evening. To prevent their seizure. On the church battle
front, we need as many people as possible here Sunday night, to be
willing to go to jail for worshipping Jesus.”
“All you folk who are planning to come Sunday night, come to the
Settlement Sunday afternoon. Is there anybody who can’t make it out
there?”
“No”, came the answer from every part of the room.
“Ok. Titan and Amos have family that were veterans of the civil
rights struggle. They will give us pointers on non-violent resistance.
And how to behave when the cops arrest you for praying.”
“That’s a good idea,” Titan said. “We want to learn how to
control our tempers, and let all fights start from the other side..”
There followed a short period of discussion among themselves.
Then they joined hands in fervent prayer, and dismissed.
Chapter Twenty Two
Dory hugged her freshly bathed baby, tweaked his cheek, and
made him laugh.
“You go to sleep, little rascal,” she said gently. “We’ll play later.”
She was halfway to the door of the room when the phone rang.
She listened with horror to her mother’s urgent message.
Two minutes later she found Dennis raking the yard around the
Fairchild’s trailer home.
She began to cry.
“What’s wrong, dear?” Dennis asked.
I just got a call from Mom,” she said numbly, still trying to sort it
out. Esther came out of the trailer door, wondering about Dory’s
thunderstruck expression.
“Dad and the church just had a special emergency meeting,” she
explained, ”The welfare people have got warrants for all the parents
who have their kids in the school! Tomorrow they’re going to arrest
everybody and take custody of the kids!”
It was Esther’s turn to go ashen.
“What are we going to do?” she asked in astonishment.
“The mothers are going to take the kids out of State to relatives and
friends. Mom wants Dennis and me to drive Melody and Tommy to
Aunt Sylvie’s place. We have to leave right away. No time to pack
anything but a toothbrush.”
“I’ll help,” Esther said, fighting a sudden weakness in the knees.
“This has got to be a nightmare. Look, you leave the baby with me.
It will be easier for you to travel.”
“You wouldn’t mind?”
“Of course not. Is there anything else you’ll need?”
“Mom wants Dennis to drive us over to the house in the pick-up,
And then we’ll take their car. All the mothers are going to use their
own family cars. The men that are left will use the school bus and
whatever else they can rustle up.”
Dory brought the baby with his diapers and bottles over to the
Fairchild trailer, and laid the baby gently in the center of the big bed
in the back. She kissed him and cried.
“You be a good boy,” she whispered. “I’ll see you soon.”
Dory and Esther and Bobby Joe and Dennis exchanged hugs beside
the pick-up, joined hands in a circle of prayer. Bobby Joe led in the
intercession for the safety and protection of all the mothers and
children as they fled the tyranny and persecution.
An hour later, Melody and Tommy climbed into the back seat of
their parent’s car, and Dennis slid behind the wheel.
******************
Rosalind Stonecypher put Janet, Harry , and Gary, into the back
seat, and Harold shut and locked the luggage into the trunk. Six year
old Janet was still bewildered.
“Why did Uncle Ed say we have to live with him?” she asked.
Older brother Harry corrected her.
“Don’t be stupid,” he said in his little boy style. “Uncle Ed didn’t
say we have to live with him. We told him we are coming because the
cops are after us.”
“What did we do?” she asked, wide-eyed.
“We went to school,” he said.
“Mommy, are the police going to put us in jail?” she demanded,
in a sudden tearful wail.
“No, no,” Rosalind comforted. “Please don’t cry. I’ll tell you all
about it when we get to Uncle Ed’s.”
“Why can’t Daddy come too,” she wailed.
Rosalind and Harold caught eaught each other’s eyes. Her eyes
begged, “I need you! Please!”
“I can do it,” Harold declared. “I’ll come with you. As soon as
you get settled, I’ll catch a bus back.”
“You’re not packed.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
belts into place.
They slid into the front seat and pulled their
**********************
The flashing police light set a chill through their bones. Rosalind
pulled over to the curb. It was dark, and they did not see the officer’s
face until he was up close. Both Harold and Rosalind gasped in relief.
It was Officer Somers.
“Did you know your back plate is falling off?” Bill said kindly
He noticed Harold’s missing arm. “Hey, you don’t even need to get
out. I’ve got a tool in the squad. I’ll fix it.”
He went back to the squad, got the tool from the back, and squatted
at the back fender of the Stonecypher’s vehicle, and did his good
deed.
He went back to the window.
“You’re o.k. now,” he said cheerfully. “Say, is there anything
wrong?” Even in the dark, he could see the terrified looks on the
children’s faces.
“Is he going to put us in jail?” Janet wailed.
“There is something wrong,” Bill declared. “No, dear, I’m not
going to put you in jail.”
“I remember you.” Harold said. “You’re a Christian.”
“I sure am,“ Bill declared proudly. “Is there something you need
I can help you with?”
“Can we trust you as a Christian?”
“Of course.”
“Just a minute. Harold unhooked his safety belt and got out of the
car. “We’ll talk outside the car. I don’t want to upset the kids any
more.”
They stood outlined in the dark in the bright beam of the
headlights.
Harold spoke to him quietly about the situation.
expressed horror and disgust.
Officer Bill
“What can you do when your whole church is under arrest?”
Harold exclaimed.
“If any other cop had stopped me, he’d have phoned in our licence
and learned about these warrants, and we’d be on our way to jail.
That‘s why my kids are so scared” he declared frankly.
He motioned for Harold to get back in the car.
“You stay on this street till you reach Pike Road. I’ll follow you to
make sure no other cops bother you.” He peered into the back seat.
“Don’t you cry little girl. Officer Bill is going to protect you.”
Bill went back to the squad, and flashed his lights in a friendly
farewell.
“Oh, Harry!” Rosalind exclaimed.
“I told him everything. He’s as sick about it as we are.”
Chapter Twenty Three
At 9:15 Friday morning, four sheriff’s police cars pulled up in
front of John Robinson’s house on Wooten Street. At 9:17, the same
number of squad cars pulled up in front of the newly remodeled
Gorman home on Branscom Street and Fifth Avenue, the Kenny house
on Rogers Avenue, and the Stonecypher home on Caraway Drive.
Each squad contained three sheriff’s police and three State Welfare
workers. In each case, the deputy in charge grasped their warrants in
their fists, and banged loudly on the front door of the house.
At the Robinson’s house, there was silence.
At the Gorman’s house, there was silence.
At the Kenny’s house, there was silence.
At the Stonecypher’s house, there was silence.
At each location, the officers tried the side doors and then the back
doors. They hollered angrily to anyone inside to open the doors.
There was no one there.
Each deputy swore angrily, returned to his car, and ordered a return
to headquarters.
***********************
Officer Bill Somer’s badge made a dull thud as it hit the top of
Chief Duke’s desk.
“What’s this?” Duke demanded, surprised.
“I’m resigning. I’m out of here,” Officer Somers said with simple
dignity. Chief Duke stood to his feet in surprise and protest.
“You can’t do that! You’re one of my best men!”
“That’s why I have to resign,” he answered quietly.
“What on earth is wrong?” Duke demanded in genuine concern.
“This department is about to betray the purpose for which it exists.
I can’t go along with betrayal of the Constitution and the freedoms
America stands for.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about arresting innocent people for going to church.
I’m talking about kidnapping children under cover of the law, because
the authorities don’t like the religion they’re being taught. I refuse to
be a part of the revival of the Spanish Inquisition.”
“Look,” Duke hedged. He lowered his voice and tried to speak as
a friend. “I don’t like that church business any more than you do. But
we have to enforce the law. They are breaking the law. Our duties are
not always pleasant.”
“There is such a thing as an unpleasant duty,” Officer Somers
stated, his voice firm and resolute. “There is also such a thing as
perversion of duty and misuse of authority. Tyrants always enforce
their tyranny by declaring it’s the law.
“I’m sorry. I’ve always found my job to be challenging and
rewarding. But I can’t be part of this. You will have my official
letter of resignation by this afternoon.”
*********************
At five thirty Sunday afternoon, the members of Community Bible
Church congregation arrived. Almost simultaneously, at the Gorman
home. Joe and Julie had already moved all the furniture from the
front room and brought in chairs to accommodate everybody.
All of the fathers who had rushed their families out of town were
there. Amos and Martha Henry arrived with Titan and Peaches in
their vehicle.
Jim Sr. and Diantha Kenny took their usual seats off to the side
near the front.
Jim Jr. was on the corner across the street with Elijah.
Bobby Joe and Esther arrived, with a few people from the
settlement.
It was crowded, but there was space for everybody.
Warm greetings, handshakes, hugs, impromptu singing of snatches
of hymns and gospel songs, and words of encouragement filled the
room.
Titan Will’s deep voice boomed out above all the others in the
room, and all grew silent as he prayed fervently.
“Lord, “he cried. “You said in Your Word, the time comes when he
that kills you will think that he does God service. Oh, Lord,here we
are, Your humble servants, trying in our imperfect way to serve You,
to live for You, to live our lives like you want us to. To live worthy of
our calling in Christ Jesus. We want to thank You, Lord, for all
You’ve done for us. You died, Lord, and rose again. You fought the
hordes of Hell for us, Lord, and You brought us new life in the Holy
Spirit.”
His voice took on a cadence and rhythm that was electrifying.
“Now, Lord, we go as lambs to the slaughter. We know not the
way we go, Lord, we just follow You. We know Your Word says that
others had trial, Lord, trial of cruel mockings, and scourgings of
bonds, of imprisonment. They were stoned, sawn asunder, slain,
Lord. Slain with the sword, destitute, afflicted, tormented, and today
we take our place beside those faithful servants of old, Lord, of whom
you said the world was not worthy.
“We’re scared. Lord. We’re mighty scared.
But You have
overcome! Overcome, I say! Overcome natural fear! Be with us as
You were with all Your faithful servants of old! In Jesus’ Name!
Amen!”
Someone started the song, and all joined in.
“Onward, Christian soldiers, marching as to war!
With the Cross of Jesus going on before!
Christ the Royal Master, leads against the foe!
Forward into battle see His banner go!”
Pastor Robinson stood up.
“A couple years ago, when the police dragged me from the pulpit
of my church, I had no idea of the road we’d be traveling in the time
ahead. We all know why we’re here. We all know the seriousness
of our commitment. We witness to a lost and dying world of the
Lordship of Jesus Christ. We know we are of God, little children, and
the whole world lies in wickedness.”
The front door opened, and Bill Somers, in civilian clothes, peered
in and interrupted politely.
“Excuse me for interrupting. Is it OK if I join you?”
“Please do,” John Robinson said.
Nan Robinson went to the door and grasped his hand warmly.
“You’re on your own time, I take it. But will your boss approve of
you being here, even out of uniform?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m here on your side, to stand with you.”
“But---”
“I don’t have to worry about the boss. I’m taking early retirement.
I resigned this morning.”
“Praise the Lord!” John declared, astonished.
“Listen,” Bill announced to the people. “I anonymously tipped
off the TV people that something interesting was happening here
tonight. The Sheriff and Chief Duke will have to do their dirty work
in front of live TV cameras. They weren’t planning on that.”
“Good thinking!” Nan exclaimed.
“It would be a good idea”, Bill suggested aloud to the assembly,
“to open that front curtain you have on that new window, and turn on
all the lights. That way, everything that happens in the house will be
clearly visible in the cameras, even if Duke tries to keep the cameras
out of the house, which he probably will.”
“Good idea!” Julie said, and immediately pulled the drawstring to
slide the red velvet curtain all the way open.
*********************
The police and Sheriff’s squads began to pull up silently at 6:56
p.m. Simultaneously, unexpectedly, mini-cam crews emerged from
three parked cars.
Their sudden appearance made Chief Duke go white with anger.
“What is happening here?” Margo Green pushed a mike in front
of Chief Duke.
“They’re holding a church service, he half-way growled.
“Why is holding a church service a crime?”
Several officers brushed passed her and her crew and went up to
the front door.
“Police! Open up!” They banged angrily.
The hymn singing inside continued.
The police found the door was unlocked, and they opened it and
entered the room.
“You are all under arrest!” the one officeer shouted.
“What is the charge?” Pastor Robinson demanded.
“Defying court orders, contributing to truancy, unlawful use of
property! We’ve got them all here!” He waved a stack of warrants
in his hand.
There was a sudden noise, as each person present shoved his chair
an inch or two and kneeled on the floor. They began to pray, some
silently, some shouting.
By now the camera crews were at the open door, taping.
“You TV people get the hell out of the way!” Chief Duke called.
“We’re on official business!”
“You’ve got several warrants, there, Officer,” John challenged.
“How do you know that the people here are the ones named in the
warrants?”
Chief Duke pushed his way into the room and ordered the men
to start the arrests.
The police worked in pairs, pushing aside the TV crews, and
picking up the kneeling worshippers by the arms and legs, and
carrying them outside to the paddy wagon.
“Don’t you know you’ll stand at God’s Judgement Bar for this,”
Bobby Joe Fairchild demanded of the two that were manhandling him.
He got no answer.
As the Christians were roughly thrown into the paddy wagon, they
immediately began to sing.
“Onward, Christian soldiers!
Marching as to war!
With the cross of Jesus
Going on before!”
Across the street, Elijah’s lungs had astonishing volume as he
raised his voice and shouted.
“The kings of the earth take counsel together! The rulers oppress
the righteous! Jesus declared, Yea! The time comes, when he that
kills you will think that he does God service! Repent of your evil!
You bring the Hand of God’s Judgement upon yourselves and upon
our once Godly nation!”
Duke called out the door.
“Somebody go over and shut up that old fool! You, McMahon and
Landy! Come here and help me get the big spook!”
The camera crew managed to get into the now almost empty room.
They aimed the camera at Titan Wills, kneeling at the front wall,
near the picture window, his hands raised in prayer.
McMahon and Duke and Landy grabbed his arms and hauled him
almost to his feet. Titan let himself go limp, and sank to his knees
again. The three cops managed to haul him to his feet, and dragged
him a couple of feet across the floor.
They stood in front of the big picture window, scuffling with
Titan’s huge bulk.
With a spontaneous lung, the three of them shoved him with force
backward into the picture window.
His head and shoulders hit the
glass violently, and the window shattered. The glass shards opened a
wide bloody gash in the back of Titan’s head.
Broken shards shattered and sprayed outward and across the small
lawn.
There was pandemonium. The police shouted at each other and at
the TV people. The TV people moved in closer and shouted questions
that never got answered.
Finally, two paddy wagons full of Christians were driven off into
the evening. The police were all for shoving the wounded and
bleeding Titan into the wagon with the rest, but Bill Somers
immediately got on his cell phone and ordered an ambulance.
He then shouted at his former boss that he had better not hinder
the ambulance while the cameras were aimed at him. Then he helped
Titan sit on the curb, and put a handkerchief to his wound.
The room was a total shambles. Chairs were strewn here and there,
A few items of personal property scattered on the floor. The night
breeze blew through the large shattered window.
Margo Green approached Bill and Titan at the curb.
“You mean you actually resigned from the police force because
you disapproved of the actions taken here tonight?”
“Yes. This whole thing has been a mistake from the beginning.
I couldn’t go along with what is happening. As soon as I get my
brother here to the hospital, I have to get to the police station, to help
my friends.”
Margo thanked him, and motioned for her crew to follow her over
to Chief Duke, and she managed to stand between him and his Squad
car door.
“Chief Duke,” she demanded boldly, “Do you have a comment on
the report that you used a racial slur in the process of an arrest
tonight? Is it true you called a black minister a ‘big spook’?”
“None of your bleeping business!” he snarled.
Margo backed away and let him enter his squad.
She turned to face her camera.
“Well, there it is. A bizarre story of a church congregation defying
the police, in a strange dispute over a zoning ordinance that people
believe has unconstitutionally denied them the right of free worship
and assembly.
“There are many facets to this story. There are sure to be charges
by both sides. A young policeman actually left the force in protest
over this event.” She consulted her notes.
“Four ordained ministers of the gospel were arrested tonight, and
several members of the congregations. I have also been informed
that there are several parents wanted for arrest because they enrolled
their children in a school that was illegally operated by the church.
We will continue to bring you all continuing developments. This is
Margo Green, channel Two news.”
The weary TV crew shut off their equipment and headed for their
van.
The street was quiet now, a few stragglers standing around to see if
anything else happened. The flashing blue light of one squad car lit
up the street. The lights were still on in the Gorman living room,
shining through the broken window.
The moon shone brightly across the sidewalk and small front lawn
of the Gorman’s home.
The shattered shards of the broken picture window sparkled in the
moonlight like shattered crystal on the ground.
TO BE CONTINUED