Agent finds a Warrior (16 page)

The service didn’t start for another fifteen
minutes so it wasn’t time yet to connect with God came to be her
consensus of the actions of those around her. There was something
terribly wrong with that mindset Zora couldn’t help but think to
herself.

Wasn’t this the house of God?

When had it come to be a social networking
platform?

Zora slipped into the ladies room and
breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that she was alone. She’d
only been in the building a few minutes, but she felt like she was
suffocating from the weight of the condescending looks that had
been directed at her.

She went over to the mirror to check the
damage and winced. Yes, her vampire slayer outfit did not fit in
well with present company, but it wasn’t like she’d had a choice in
the matter. And yet what really was the problem with the way she
was dressed?

She wasn’t indecent. While her form was
clearly outlined and the leather pants snug on her hips and rear
she was still more decent than many of the women that she’d seen
trolling about moments before.

This was Zora’s first time inside of a
Western Pentecostal church and it was not going well. It was so
very different from the church that she had grown up in as a
child.

She had the distinct feeling that the
service was going to disappoint her too.

Memories of her childhood flooded her all of
a sudden. Her brothers and sister and her papa all sketched across
the corners of her consciousness in vivid relief. Her mama had died
when she was just a baby and it had fallen to papa to raise her and
her siblings alone. He had been everything to her.

He’d been a pastor and a farmer. A pastor
because the village had needed one. A farmer so his family wouldn’t
starve.

Zora pressed her hands to her eyes to keep
from crying, as a sudden up swell of emotion threatened to
overwhelm her. She was on assignment. She had no time for
emotion.

Zora quickly left the restroom and headed
back out into the chattering throng leaving her memories of the
past behind if for only a moment. She had to fight against the urge
to just leave the church. Second in appeal to that option was to
slink into the sanctuary and take up residence in a darkened corner
away from the condemning or lustful eyes as the case may be of all
those around her.

What kept her from doing either was that she
didn’t know if Elon would have need of her or not so she forced
herself to go back out to the foyer and the people still gathered
there locked in conversation.

Her training to spot somewhat off
occurrences seized onto the scene of the two doormen, who had let
her in not opening the door for someone else. In fact they looked
on the verge of holding the door shut!

Glancing beyond them through the glass door
Zora saw why. A man was dragging his way up the sidewalk and he was
the picture of homelessness.

She guessed him to be in his mid-fifties,
but he looked older, because of the characteristic hopelessness
mirrored across his face and features. Admittedly he looked rough,
his clothes were stained and tattered and his messy beard and
greasy hair looked like they were the breeding ground for more than
one objectionable entity of vermin, but that was no reason to turn
him away.

The man had to push his own way in past the
doors as the two doormen hovered to either side in extreme
objection of attitude. One of the doormen quickly walked off,
probably to get someone in authority to intercede.

The man’s progress across the floor was
painful to watch, as he dragged one leg behind him, even as he
muttered unintelligibly to himself as his head jerked around as if
it had a mind of its own. He was a clear picture of mental
unstableness on one good leg.

He stank. It was bad and despite herself
Zora felt herself start taking a step back along with the rest of
the people in the foyer.

She hated bad smells like his, because they
reminded her of too much of her past. The man was halfway across
the foyer vestibule, when he started to hack on phlegm that seemed
caught in his throat. He sounded as if he was choking to death!

Zora rushed to a water dispenser along one
wall and poured a cup of it fast and hurried out to the man who was
now down on one knee straining for his next breath.

“Here take this!” Zora said holding the
water to his mouth, even as she tried to not breathe through her
nose.

His eyes rose to hers and shock went through
her as she thought projected, “Elon?”

“Pretty good disguise for thirty minutes of
prep time don’t you think?” He responded with by way of her
thoughts.

“What’s that smell?” Zora asked.

“Don’t ask.” Came Elon’s reply.

He took the water from her and miraculously
his throat cleared. He then pulled himself up with a grip on her
hand looking to the world as an arthritic old man. He then started
hobbling onward toward the sanctuary mumbling as he went. The cup
fell from his hand and water sloshed onto the pristine marble
floor, which he ignored as he left muddy imprints through the
spilled water.

All of those gathered in the foyer pressed
back as he made his way through them toward the sanctuary in a
general attitude of disgust.

“You might want to wash your hands.” Came
the thought into Zora’s mind and she quickly headed for the
restroom as she held her hand away from her even as she saw several
important looking nobody’s try to stop Elon’s progress into the
sanctuary. But short of laying hands on him, which everyone looked
loathe to do there was no stopping Elon’s progress forward.

It was hard to fight back from grinning and
when Zora had reentered the ladies room her face broke out into a
full smile. Being with Elon was a blast, whether it doing crazy
stunts like fighting demons or turning churches upside down by day.
There was never a dull moment to be sure.

She looked into the mirror and with her
voice choked with emotion she said, “You gave me away as a gift and
yet I feel that I’m the one who’s been given something priceless!
Thank you God!”

Her spirit warmed within her and she left
the bathroom quickly not wanting to miss one moment of her
husband’s performance. She slipped into the back of the sanctuary
as worship time commenced.

Dutifully the still chattering throng broke
off their conversations to mutely turn forward as if in rote
response to the excited yelling of the worship leader echoing out
of the sanctuary on the too loudly set speaker system. Exuberantly
she told everyone how excited she was to praise Jesus today and
then asked the crowd if they were to, but she didn’t give them any
time to respond before launching into her song.

Good thing too, because she probably
wouldn’t have gotten much of a response. In fact the noise of some
six hundred people in attendance was less in volume than the praise
team who consisted of about seven individuals. And yet what was
weird was that the people who were being drowned out by the loud
sound volume from the stage had just moments before been filled
with sound as they reconnected outside the doors of the
sanctuary.

Perhaps one reason for the lower volume from
the crowd was because as near as Zora could see maybe only one in
three people at best was actually singing along with the praise
team!

The rest of the audience stood staring
dazedly forward as if in some zombie state of mind or they were
still chatting among each other about what they had been outside
the sanctuary moments before as they relied on the volume of the
praise team to hide the distraction their words were causing to
people near them.

In a crowd of over six hundred people it
looked like there were only ten to twenty people who actually
looked as if they were worshiping. Even that could be deceiving as
it was just a look that could be manifested. It was no guarantee
that what was being seen was genuine or not.

And there could be no excuse for such a low
output of volume from the crowd because they didn’t know the words
of the song, as the words of the song were emblazoned in vivid
relief by projectors against the back open wall of the stage for
all to see and follow along with.

The lack of participation from the crowd was
in sharp dissension from the praise team gathered on stage who were
blaring music out and shaking all around as if they had ants in
their pants. Forget pants, when it came to that.

The lead worship singer could’ve benefited
from a pair of pants, as her dresses hemline was so short that she
unconsciously from time to time reached down to try to tug the
dress lower to no avail. Short was short.

What a disgrace this was!

Truly it could be said that Christians could
be the phoniest of people. If she was an unsaved person nothing
about this congregational atmosphere of lackluster belief would
convince her to step forward in conviction of faith. She now full
well understood the pastor’s anguish over the condition of his
wayward flock.

There was no life in this place or if there
was it was buried under ceremony and false pretenses of
sanctimonious worship.

Zora’s eyes moved about in search of her
husband to see how his mad charade of a homeless man was going. She
found him on the front bench of the center aisle in the middle of
the amphitheater styled sanctuary. His arms were moving, his feet
were dancing, and in short he was totally worshiping God with
everything he had.

He was also ticking off all those seated
towards the front of the church by both his presence in the church
and his overt acts of worship.

His praise reminded Zora of her own duty as
a believer to give God praise, but she had no sooner than begun,
then worship time was abruptly over. Four songs and done. That was
it.

Everyone sat, as if relieved from a great
burden, after standing for maybe less than twenty minutes.

The offering plates were passed out.

The band had continued to play mood music,
while the offering was being taken, but they now stopped as a
casually dressed man stepped onto the stage that had public
relations guy written all over him. He began to talk into a headset
mic, as he gave a few perfunctory and completely disingenuous claps
with his hands, “All right! Wow! Wasn’t that an awesome time of
praise and worship! Let’s give Katie a hand!”

There was an equally perfunctory clap of
applause from a smattering of those in the crowd as Katie smiling
big bowed over as if she’d gotten a standing ovation, even as she
most likely had just given the drummer and electric guitarist
situated behind her and eye full.

The commenter was back, “All right I hope
you’re all enjoying yourselves, we won’t keep you much longer.”

We just got here was all Zora could
think!

He went on, “Here’s some exciting news
taking place around the church and just to let you know we’ll be
having a guest speaker today, but don’t worry I’m sure you’ll still
get out early enough to beat the Baptist’s to the restaurants
first!”

People laughed.

They actually laughed!

Was this what church had become on Sunday
morning in America?

If this church was to judge by then
apparently so.

The church news bulletins flashed by as they
were projected onto the wall above the stage area.

Zora actually heard one man comment to his
buddy that he’d like to just stay at church and watch the game
projected onto the big screen instead of watching the football game
at home on his smaller screen.

The news bulletins were over and there was a
lull that stretched out a little longer than was usual and people
started looking at each other half smiling and half alarmed. They
weren’t use to such an un-choreographed program when they came to
church. Usually one segment flowed right into the next until it was
over and it was time to go to lunch.

The silence got even more awkward as a few
nervous laughs sounded out here and there and then Elon stood up.
The silence became a suspenseful hush that brought everyone to
attention.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I walked up the steps to the stage sourly
noting that this church didn’t even have an altar for people to
come to pray at or seek healing. Several men I took to be Security
stood up here and there in the crowd, but looked unsure of what to
do.

I faced the crowd of affronted people, as I
stood to the side of the pulpit. I reached up and pulled my wig off
to let it fall to the stage floor. Then I let the tattered coat
slip off to join the heap along with the torn pants I wore, until
gradually I revealed the suit that I wore beneath the get up I had
been disguised in.

Pulling a rag from my pocket I started to
wipe off the facial makeup I wore even as I cleaned my hands up
some before I dropped the now dirty rag on top of the pile beside
me on the stage. The place was quiet and already emotional.

My voice carried well throughout the room
without the use of a microphone as I pointed at the pile beside me,
“What does this pile consist of?”

It was a rhetorical question that no one
answered.

“It’s a pile of dirty rags. Everyone of you
who stepped past those doors this morning is no better than this
soiled and disgusting pile of rags. This is the house of praise
people! Tell me which one of you woke up this morning and meditated
on the majesty of God? Which one of you came into this holy
sanctuary bearing on your person the garment of praise? Is God not
worthy of praise? Is not your purpose, your created purpose, that
transcends everything else, to bring praise, honor and glory to the
Creator of us all? Where are your hearts? Have you remembered what
Jesus did for you on the cross or have you come here seeking a
show, a production of meaningless ritual? That’s right. Meaningless
ritual! You have become altogether worthless and heed my words for
you are in danger of being spewed out as lukewarm water. Rather
that you were cold than the quasi-religiosity of tepid poison that
you have become in how you have restrained the Kingdom of God! Do
you think it is enough to have this building? To have a fully
funded youth program and to fund missionaries to go do your work
for you in Africa? How can you show the world the love of Christ,
when you don’t even manifest it yourselves? Which of you shook my
hand this morning? Which of you was not offended by my presence in
this empty sepulcher? Which of you cared for my needs? My wife was
the only one among you with a tender enough heart to intercede. The
same woman that you have not ceased to dismissively regard ever
since she came in based entirely on her matter of wardrobe. She’s
not the one you should be looking at! Look at yourselves and you
will find filth enough to spare. There will be no church in this
place today! In your day you have become no better than the Jews of
Jesus’s day, whom He drove out from the Temple with a whip for they
had made God’s holy temple a place of buying and selling. A place
of talk and not prayer. Where the cry of a merchant hawking his
wares was to be heard over any cry of praise. Shame on you all for
you have turned the Divine commission that was entrusted to you
into a thing of vanity! Into the sound of false praise!”