Day of the Bomb (19 page)

A gangling lad of eighteen stumbled around the car’s
rear and grabbed the hands meant for Rev. Oxfort. “Pleased to meet
you, sirs.”

The next half hour was spent talking about the
logistics of the three consecutive nights of meetings. Then the
evangelist glanced at his watch. “Just enough time left to get
prayed up. Please take me to a room where I won’t be interrupted.
Charles will sit outside the door to make sure I’m left alone.
He’ll knock on it as soon as it’s time for the meeting. I need one
of you two to lead those gathered in prayer that the Lord will
bless it. Maybe you can take turns each night.”

An hour later the evangelist climbed behind the
pulpit and smiled at those who filled half of the church’s pews.
“Thanks for coming tonight, folks. I know you’re all busy with
lives way more complicated than mine so my assistant Charles will
raise his hand a half hour from now to tell me it’s time to shut
up.”

“Praise the Lord! Thank you, Jesus.” The oldest man
in attendance stood up and raised his left hand heavenward. “The
mind can only stand what our bottoms can endure, brother.” He
patted his rump and sat back down.

“Amen.” Rev. Oxfort opened his Bible and read, “In
the beginning God created the heavens and earth.” He shut the worn
leather cover. “And ever since then His creation, at least Lucifer
and his angelic followers, Adam and Eve and all those born after
them have done their best to go their own way. Cain killed Abel.
Descendants of Adam grew more and more wicked until they were full
of evil day and night. But God in His infinite mercy spared Noah
and his family when the flood covered the earth. Generations later
Noah’s descendants disobeyed God’s command to fill the Earth and
instead built their Tower of Babel so the Lord divided them by
sending them many languages, which caused them to spread throughout
the earth. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, and Moses lived by faith
and not by sight. The Israelites wandered in the wilderness for
forty years before obeying God by entering the Promised Land. But
then they took on the idolatry of the nations around them and
demanded a king. God Almighty gave them the desire of their hearts
but also sent leanness to their souls. King after king married
heathen wives and adopted their false religions until the
Israelites sacrificed their sons and daughters in fire to false
gods. The Assyrians and the Babylonians invaded their land and
carried them off into exile. God’s people became ichabod, without
glory.”

He wiped the sweat from his forehead and removed his
damp jacket.

“That is what the church in the year 1950 A.D. has
become. We are ichabod, without glory. We spend our days dreaming
of an escape from this life and its trials. We tell the eternal,
omnipotent God to save us, bless us, prosper us, heal us, and send
Jesus back to Earth according our timetable. We search for an
Antichrist instead of bowing our knees to Jesus Christ. First we
said the Antichrist was FDR, then Mussolini, and then Hitler. Now
that they are dead and gone, some say Stalin is the
Antichrist.”

The most pious frowned or flipped through Bibles in
search of verses with which they planned to enlighten this wayward
evangelist.

“The Book of Hebrews says God the Father has spoken
to us through Jesus. Before He ascended into heaven Jesus said all
authority in heaven and on Earth had been given to Him. Then He
commanded us to make disciples of all nations. I’ve been told there
are over 150 nations presently on Earth. But the way things are
going, folks; even America is no longer a disciple of Jesus Christ.
Some say it’s the communists’ fault. Others say it’s President
Truman’s fault. I say it is the church’s fault. Because we are not
the light and the salt Jesus told us to be, our land is drenched in
darkness and our society has rotted to the core.”

A high-pitched wail from a pew in the back of the
church turned every head toward the one from which it emanated. It
startled Mildred Schlosser, who jabbed her finger with a knitting
needle and let out a lesser yelp as blood spurted on the sweater
she was knitting. Ninety-two year old Grandpa Parksdale awoke from
his nap. As an usher, any disturbance was his responsibility to
control. By the time he reached the source of the continuing
piercing shrieks, the twelve-year-old girl was flailing her arms
and legs on the carpet of the center aisle. When he touched her
forehead a deep guttural voice poured from the girl.

“Leave her alone. She belongs to me.”

Two other ushers joined him. As the three tried to
lift the girl, she began thrashing her fists and feet at their
faces. One of them held her left arm and the other her right.
Grandpa Parksdale sat on her ankles but was lifted up and down as
if he were riding a teeter-totter. Rev. Oxfort joined them and
spoke to the invisible one whom he discerned.

“Stop tormenting her, you evil spirit.”

“I own her.” The voice passing through the girl’s
mouth grew loud enough for every attendee to hear it. Mildred
Schlosser fainted. “You have no authority over me. You didn’t pray
and fast enough.”

“You lying spirit. None of that matters because Jesus
prayed and fasted in my place. I serve Jesus Christ of Nazareth. By
His death and resurrection I command you to leave her.”

A final wail caused those nearby to cover their ears
as the girl’s body bent again and became still. She opened her
eyes. “Where am I?”

“It’s all right now.” Rev. Oxfort helped her to sit
down in a pew. “Do you want to know Jesus?”

Her eyes grew wider until more white than blue was
showing. “But I already do. The angel came and told me all about
Jesus wanting me to run away from home.”

“What angel?”

“The one who talked to me through my ouija board. The
angel said his name was Apollos.”

“Did he tell you to do anything else?”

She glanced at her parents. “Apollos told me to take
money from my mom’s purse.” She stared at the floor. “I only did it
once. It was okay because my angel told me to do it, right?”

“What’s your name?”

“Vickie.”

“Well, Vickie, there are bad spirits who pretend to
be good angels. They like to play tricks on people. Apollos is a
bad spirit.”

“I’m sorry.” Her father interrupted. “It’s all my
fault. I gave her the ouija board for Christmas.”

“Will you get rid of it?”

“Yes. Just as soon as we get back home.”

Rev Oxfort stood and stretched his arms, weary from
the daylong trip and hour of prayer. “Vickie, would you like Jesus
to live inside of you and make your spirit alive?”

“But Apollos said I was bad and that’s why I had to
run away. He said Jesus would leave me if I didn’t.”

“Forget all about Apollos and what he told you. Just
tell Jesus how you feel.”

She uttered the kind of longing, desperate prayer
that only one set free from darkness knows. By the time it ended,
her tears were raining on the floor. The evangelist returned to the
pulpit. Lightheaded, he grasped it for support.

“Sorry for the interruption, folks. Sometimes these
things happen. Please listen carefully to these verses from Mark
16.” He turned his Bible’s pages. “Verses 17 and 18: And these
signs shall follow them that believe; in my name shall they cast
out devils; they shall speak with new tongues; they shall take up
serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt
them; they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover.” He
closed his Bible.

“Amen. Preach it, brother.” Usher Grandpa Parksdale
had decided not to return to his nap.

“Tonight, by the mercy and grace of God, a devil was
cast out of young Vickie. It did not happen because of me or
because I’m special or holy or sanctified. It happened because God
ordained it to happen. I’m going to be as honest as I can with you,
folks. The verses I just read said, ‘they shall speak with new
tongues.’ I have prayed and fasted for years seeking that gift of
the Holy Spirit but God in His wisdom has yet to give it to me.
Truth be told, most of the sick people I ever laid hands on either
stayed sick or ended up dying.” He shrugged. “I can’t figure out
all of that.” He pointed heavenward. “All I know is that I’ve got a
million questions that I’m going to ask the Lord when He finally
takes me home.”

He then instructed Pastors Trueblood and Lacharetti
and any elders from any church who were present to stand in front
of the pulpit.

“Folks, I don’t know all of your needs. But please
come forward and pray with theses servants of the Lord.” He pointed
at those he had drafted. “If you can, come back tomorrow night.
Bring a friend or neighbor if you can. Thank you.”

On the road since 3 a.m., Rev. Oxfort collapsed into
an empty chair behind the pulpit. Fred waited until those seated on
his left had joined the crowd gathering at the front for prayer
before quietly slipping out the door and walking to Jason’s
car.

What the hell was that all about?

Jason had pestered him for years to attend annual
missionary conferences at the Full gospel Evangelical Church but
this was the first evangelistic crusade he had been invited to.

I knew I shouldn’t have come. Sally warned me how
this church is just a bunch of holy rollers.

He leaned against the car’s front bumper and waited
for twenty minutes until Jason joined him.

“Sorry it took so long but I had to wait in line to
get prayed for.” Jason hopped into the driver’s seat and started
the V-8 engine.

Fred hung his head out the window so that the humid
air could partially cool him.

“How did you like it?”

“I’m not even sure what went on back there.” Fred
jerked his thumb at the church. “What took you so long?”

“Like I said, I went up to get prayer.”

“For what?”

“You got to promise not to tell anyone, especially
Thelma.”

“Okay. Whatever you say.”

“I asked for prayer that I might could go back to
Monkey Island.”

“What for?”

“To get Kong and bring him home.”

“That monkey friend of yours?” Fred slapped his knee
and hooted. “You really are crazy like Thelma says.”

“No, I’m not. He’s the best friend I ever had. It was
Kong who kept me going all that time I was stuck on Monkey
Island.”

“And all these years I thought I was your best
friend.”

Jason shrugged. “You’re a close second. But Kong is
still number one in my book. Don’t feel bad. You’re the best human
friend I have.”

***

After hearing her husband’s version of the first
meeting, Sally demanded that he take her and their children to the
second one. Fred kept protesting even as he neared the church.

“I still don’t see why we have to go.”

“Because he sounds like a genuine man of God. The
real deal. That’s why.”

Fred grumbled until he pulled into the church’s
parking lot. “What happened? Last night it was half empty. Tonight
it’s full.” After parking a block from the church, he joined his
family at the steps by the front door.

“It’s full already.” Sally crossed her arms. “I told
you we should have left home earlier.”

Fred spotted a fellow churchgoer from Madisin
Community Church. “Hey, Ted. Where you going with your amp?” He
grabbed a corner of the wooden box that housed two twelve-inch
speakers. “Your band playing tonight?” He started his spoof of a
recent Hank Williams’ gospel song. “I saw the light, I saw the
light…yee-haw! Praise the Lord and –”

“Nope. We’re setting up some speakers in the windows
to run the pulpit microphone through so people stuck outside can
hear the sermon.”

They stopped at an open window and balanced the
amplifier on its sill. An usher closed the window to wedge it into
place. While Fred helped carry another amp to a window on the other
side of the church, Sally found a spot to sit in the shade of a
weeping willow tree. She smiled when she heard a familiar
voice.

“You brought the whole tribe out for the
revival?”

“Thelma.” Sally stood and hugged her.

“Guess you heard about all the excitement last
night?”

“Yeah. From what Fred said it sounded like an old
time barnburner of a revival meeting. I’m sorry I missed it.”

“Better late than never.” Thelma and Stanley sat on
the grass.

“Where’s Jason?”

“Inside. No way I’m sitting in that hot box of a
church. When I went in it felt hotter there than out here. Must be
because every seat is filled up. They even put the overflow up in
the choir loft and chairs along the aisles.”

When the message began Karl, Dan, and Stanley took
turns pantomiming Rev. Oxfort. With only his booming baritone
firing their imaginations, they stood and gestured as they had
watched their pastors do every Sunday. Their mothers’ warnings to
behave went unheeded until Thelma grabbed Stanley and swatted his
butt with her palm. His head jerked back and he gawked at her. She
buried him in her breast and arms and whispered into his ear.

“Now you know better, Stanley. Just sit on my lap and
listen.”

Stanley obeyed by nodding off into a dream. He awoke
as the call went out for prayer. To accommodate those outside, Rev.
Lacharetti and Rev. Oxfort set up prayer lines on the east and west
sides of the church while Rev. Trueblood and three elders handled
the throng inside. Sally blinked when Fred joined those lined up in
front of the visiting evangelist. Thelma elbowed her ribs.

“Looks like Fred is going to get prayed over.”

“Yeah.” She shook her head. “I don’t believe it.”

Neither woman could hear what was said. When Fred’s
knees hit the lawn, the women stared at each other. As he walked
back to the shade where they sat Thelma jumped to her feet.

“Where are you going?” Sally pulled her arm.

“To get prayed for. I’m going to ask him to pray that
Jason will forget all about Monkey Island. Anybody that can get
your husband to pray has got the anointing for sure.”