TPV Chapter 28: Prayer

 

c. 2025 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(1-25)

 

 

At the newly renamed World Church of the Creator Faith Assembly, Pastor Cabriel Forester stood at the pulpit with a copy of the NIV Bible in his right hand. He intended to address parishioners in the manner of a traditional, worship service. Yet from the time that members of his parish first arrived in their spacious sanctuary, a hint of rebelliousness tainted the air. He began to lead the flock in a prayer. But was quickly interrupted by a lone voice from the crowd.

 

Senior member Roel Psenka, wrapped loosely in a wool sweater with wooden buttons down the front, shook his fist and stammered with the deliberate cadence of someone who was almost 90 years old.

 

“YOU WANT TO PRAY WITH US? THEN DO IT FOR THE ONE WHO SITS IN JAIL RIGHT NOW! DO IT FOR OUR SPIRITUAL BROTHER, AIMES HEFTI! AMEN, I SAY! AMEN!”

 

A chant rose from the gathering in support of this verbal petition.

 

“AMEN! AMEN! AMEN! AMEN!”

 

The unexpected venting of anger from a respected icon of their community rattled the preacher. He had to pause for a moment of silence, to collect his thoughts. Perspiration beaded on his forehead. Then, he responded to this populist demand, by placing the volume of scriptures on his lectern. He bowed while pressing both hands, palms down, on the book.

 

“It is written in Matthew 5:8-10, ‘Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.’ Hear and receive the Word of God!”

 

Roel was not impressed with this familiar quote. He gestured with arthritis slowing his pace, and pointed at the minister, directly.

 

“PEACEMAKERS? WHEN OUR CHAMPION HAS BEEN INVESTIGATED, HARASSED, RAIDED, IMPEACHED, CHARGED AND CONVICTED, AND INSULTED? I DON’T KNOW WHERE YOU GO WITH THAT, CABRIEL! INTO A CELL NEXT TO AIMES, I’D GUESS! I’LL CHOOSE A DIFFERENT PATH! ONE TO GLORIFY OUR KING OF KINGS!”

 

The theologian tightened his expression, and held on to the pulpit at its bottom corners.

 

“Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: ‘It is mine to avenge, I will repay,’ says the Lord. That is Romans 12:19. Do you believe in the scriptures, my brother? I challenge you to accept the will of our creator.”

 

Psenka huffed and spit drool as he growled like an aging bear.

 

“Deuteronomy 20:4 says, ‘For the Lord your God is the one who goes with you to fight for you against your enemies to give you victory.’ There’s the promise for believers, Cabriel! Those who fight for good will have their victory! I say again, Amen! Amen!”

 

The sanctuary filled with a din of exuberant worship.

 

“AMEN! AMEN! AMEN! AMEN!”

 

Pastor Forester went limp, as if his energy had been wrung out like a spent dishrag.

 

“Very well then, very well. Here is my prayer: In the blessed name of Jesus, who makes intercession for us when we come to him with our cares, I ask that our neighbor be given his freedom. He is being held as a prisoner for no reason except his strong belief in the Word of God, and in the Constitution of our land. He is a patriot and a pioneer. One who gifts us with protection, and the skill of a warrior. Let him not be forgotten in his cell. Instead, allow him to join us here, and lift up praise to you! He is one of many. And we are one in spirit! A tribe commissioned by gospel truth, and ready to reveal prophecy by divine inspiration! Let us go forth, to all of Ohio, and America!”

 

The chanting resumed, with even greater intensity, after this pleasing invocation.

 

“AMEN! AMEN! AMEN! FREE THE CAPTIVE, AND MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!”

 

Roel needed oxygen to survive traveling to the church, alone. Yet his voice echoed loudly, in a call to action. Suddenly, the entire hall was electric with raucous ire.

 

“IT’LL TAKE MORE THAN YOUR PRAYER TO GET THIS DONE, REVEREND! WE NEEDTO STORM THE SAFETY CENTER! THEY CAN’T SHOOT US, OR BIND OUR HANDS, BECAUSE WE CARRY NO WEAPONS. NONE, EXCEPT FOR THE WRATH OF ALMIGHTY GOD! HIS SWORD IS WHAT WE CARRY!”

 

Forester felt his legs weakening. He was not eager to stage a confrontation with deputies at the county facility. That sort of idea seemed destined to fail.

 

“Brothers and sisters, I want you to ponder your emotions carefully. If you put pressure on our lawgivers, it will harden their hearts, defensively. Is this what you really want? If you desire a vigil, outside of that building, where we open our hearts to the Father, I have no issue with your plan. We are free to sing and pray and show our love. But I chasten you, do not forget that any appearance of brute force would ignite a tinderbox! There are already enough irons in the fire! We need not add to that desperate number!”

 

A different chorus resounded at this plea of caution.

 

“COWARD! COWARD! COWARD! COWARD!”

 

Psenka snorted and fiddled with his thick spectacles.

 

“IT’S LIKE PRESIDENT TRUMP SAID ON CAPTIOL HILL, ‘GO AND FIGHT, OR YOU WON’T HAVE A COUNTRY ANYMORE! WE’RE WASTING TIME! LET’S GO, LET’S GO!”

 

The clergyman gulped hard, took a deep breath, and folded his hands.

 

“Friends, I beg you. Don’t let your zeal for Christ make you go blind! Our duty as good citizens is to calm the waters, not stir them with sharpened words of retribution...”

 

Laughter exploded from every pew. Then, the throng of supporters began to exit their seats, and stream toward the vestibule, en masse. Rage swelled their veins with righteous fury.

 

“ONWARD, CHRISTIAN SOLDIERS! TO THE WORK! TO THE WORK! TO THE WORK!”

 

In only a minute, the religious steward found himself alone in his church. The clatter of rusty cars and pickup trucks spinning to life could be heard, from outside. Smoky plumes of exhaust grew thick, against the blue sky. Soon, a swarm of vehicles headed toward their target destination, south of Chardon, the capital city.

 

Cabriel Forester closed his eyes, which had filled with tears of regret.

 

“Forgive them, Lord. For they know not what they do...”