c. 2026 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(2-26)
In the downhill garage behind his cousin’s house, Parker Redman returned to find that the single stand of shelving next to its workbench was empty. He had completely run out of cigarettes, whiskey, and salty snacks. Only a half-empty jar of instant coffee, and a few cans of Vienna sausages remained. Yet for the first time in many years, he did not feel anxious about ditching his vices, at least for the present. His mind was focused on a reanalysis of what had gone before. From the time of his birth, until this moment. He could not erase the scars of having walked away from his birthright, and heritage, to seek a meandering path toward no particular destination. This choice made him who he was, in every way. But he now realized that damnation did not have to be a component of that reality.
From the Bible for Bikers, he began to read aloud, with no one else present to hear.
Acts 2:1-21, “When the day of Pentecost came, they were all together in one place. Suddenly, a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting. They saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them. Now there were staying in Jerusalem God-fearing Jews from every nation under heaven. When they heard this sound, a crowd came together in bewilderment, because each one heard their own language being spoken. Utterly amazed, they asked: ‘Aren’t all these who are speaking Galileans? Then how is it that each of us hears them in our native language? Parthians, Medes and Elamites; residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya near Cyrene; visitors from Rome (both Jews and converts to Judaism); Cretans and Arabs – we hear them declaring the wonders of God in our own tongues!’ Amazed and perplexed, they asked one another, ‘What does this mean?’ Some, however, made fun of them and said, ‘They have had too much wine.’ Then Peter stood up with the Eleven, raised his voice and addressed the crowd: ‘Fellow Jews and all of you who live in Jerusalem, let me explain this to you; listen carefully to what I say. These people are not drunk, as you suppose. It’s only nine in the morning! No, this is what was spoken by the prophet Joel...’”
The willful misanthrope felt himself beginning to tremble. His hands could barely hold the worn and tattered manuscript, which still carried greasy fingerprints from past readers. Other penitent souls, who must have flipped through its pages while wrenching on their roadgoing beasts. Or maybe, when gathering in humble venues like the repair shack where he was staying, to ponder holy scriptures.
He continued to vocalize from the book, after regaining his composure.
“’In the last days, God says, I will pour out my Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your young men will see visions, your old men will dream dreams. Even on my servants, both men and women, I will pour out my Spirit in those days, and they will prophesy. I will show wonders in the heavens above and signs on the earth below, blood and fire and billows of smoke. The sun will be turned to darkness and the moon to blood before the coming of the great and glorious day of the Lord. And everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.’”
Upon finishing this familiar passage, he sat with his engineer boots dripping melted snow on the concrete. His joints ached from the cold. Yet the propane, shop heater warmed him gently with a glow of blue flames. He reflected on hearing his father preach about this incredible story, many times over. But now, the selection caused him to wonder.
“What is the point, papa? I don’t get it! Why did I open this Bible and see the description of Pentecost? How does that connect with me?”
Instead of jonesing for smokes and liquor, alone, he decided to climb the slick hillside, once again. His short journey was easier because of footprints left from his previous excursion. It proved easy to follow his own tracks through the frosty drifts. And use exposed branches and tree trunks to aid in his ascension.
Angelette was busy in the kitchen when he arrived at their back porch. She had biscuits baking in the oven, and a Lodge, cast-iron skillet of sausage gravy simmering on the stove.
“Howdy Feeshtail! Could y’all smell vittles cookin’? There’s plenty fer everybody, no need to sit down in that old garage, feelin’ hungry. I never turn newcomers away from our table!”
Parker was still in a solemn mood. Both from his visit to the Dadisman Road Christ Fellowship Church, and the impromptu reading in Bodean’s shed.
“Angie, I was sitting on a parts crate down there, and did some reading. Not about discontinued models of Harley, Indian, Ariel, Matchless, BSA, BMW, Norton, or Triumph, but from that odd translation of the Bible your husband kept on his shelf. As a matter of fact, I took it to church with me, yesterday. But when I held it in my lap, this afternoon, that volume fell open to the second chapter of Acts. And I still can’t figure out what the upshot of that coincidence might be...”
His cousin’s spouse wrinkled her nose. Then, she wiped White Lily flour on her apron before offering insight.
“Feesh, what does it talk about there, that’s the story of Pentecost, right?”
Her house guest nodded and sipped from a mug of coffee that had been brewed in an enameled pot on a back burner.
“Yes, that’s right...”
Angelette smiled and delivered her own opinion, candidly.
“See, I remember Papa Podmore teachin’ that lesson from his pulpit. Yer dad always had a way of puttin’ things in plain English. It says that everybody heard the message in their own tongue, that was a miracle, right then and there. Y’all gotta think it shook people up pretty good! But he said that we can make that same miracle happen nowadays, by ministerin’ to folks in their own language, face-to-face. Now, if some dude came in here to Grafton, with fancy duds and a big hat, and a long car, we might be suspicious of his intentions, right? But if he looked and sounded like a Mountaineer, some good ol’ boy straight outta the hills, then we might react differently. That’s part of preaching the gospel, according to the old feller. It’s bein’ able to talk with those who wouldn’t hear the word, otherwise. I figure that’s probably why they printed that book yer carryin’ around. Not as a joke or an insult, but because somebody on a bike can speak to others from the same tribe. Yer own identity matters when spreadin’ the message. Which might be a reason fer ya to find that chapter, by accident.”
She checked the pan of biscuits, then stirred her gravy before offering a conclusion.
“Think about it, maybe that wasn’t really an accident at all!”
No comments:
Post a Comment