Pastor Needs a Pistol

Pastor Needs a Pistol
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It’s happened so many times, yet and still enough is not enough.

Pastor James Carlson sat up in his leather chair, reminiscing about where the time went. Only 15 years ago, he had started Holy Baptist Church. As a retired accountant who understood the pressures of the corporate world, he took all his savings to establish a safe haven for life’s struggles and strengthen his community. He struggled himself as well, in his early 20’s he’d been arrested for battery. It’s funny how a charge on a sheet of paper can say so little about the state of a man’s mind. At that time, Pastor Carlson had been a young buck, wild and free, left alone to care for his daughter. One night, his daughter’s mother and her boyfriend wanted what they believed was there’s. He pistol whooped that man unconscious until the blood trickled out his mouth and kept his baby safe and warm. She was his pride and joy. She grew to be an accountant, just like her dad, and brought him a grandchild — Lilith, who was to be christened today at Holy Baptist Church. He sat in his chair and thought of all the good decisions that led him to this beautiful day.

The choir was moaning to the hum of an organ signaling his procession to the pulpit. That’s it, it was his time — the people we’re ready to receive and he was ready to give. The Hallelujah’s had been chanted, minds were clear and everyone had their hand out for a blessing. Pastor Carlson sauntered to the pulpit as he does every Sunday looking for his loyal listeners, but today no one was looking at him. He could only see the back of hats and skulls. Why, Mary Lou’s who sits in the front pew and attends Bible Study twice a week, could only be identified by her traditionally extravagant First Sunday hat. Pastor Carlson was offended. But before he could forgive himself for his lack of humility, the back door opened. A beam of sunlight hide their fate and the bangs of the rapture invaded their free minds. Instantly, pandemonium, mayhem, screams of fear, babies crying and little Lilith's white bonnet soaked in blood.

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