The Sermon

A priest speaks to a man whose faith is wavering.

The man in the black suit gritted his teeth, tightened his grip on his briefcase, and walked into the chapel. Low turnout, it would seem, all the better in his eyes. Before he did anything too imprudent, he decided to take in his surroundings. It was a quaint and humble little building, with specks of dust flitting about and the floorboards creaking with every step he took. The only extravagant part of the place was the absolutely massive metal statue of The Creator in the very front of the building. He took a seat near the back while a young man in a green robe was in the middle of a sermon in front of the statue. A young girl with her two front teeth missing grinned at him. Putting his briefcase by his feet, he looked up at the girl and grinned back, after which she began to once again pay attention to the sermon. The man, too, decided to listen in, his rage being somewhat assuaged.

“...As it says in scripture! ‘Those who believe in my grace will prosper, and those who lurk in darkness will receive their persecution!’” the man in green read from the large tome in his hands. Once again, anger found its way back in his mind, but he took a deep breath and looked back up at the chapel’s stage.

The sermon was over, and the small crowd began to filter out. The man in black stayed in his seat and held his head down. Once the final person had exited through the rickety door, the man sighed, stood up, and slowly picked up his briefcase, making his way to the back of the church with a steady yet authoritative stride. He stopped and took a long, hard look at the statue.

“Why…” the man murmured. “Why do you have a predilection for the sinning masses…? Why do you leave your true followers to suffer…?”

Just then, the man in green walked back into the chapel. The man in black gasped, turning back.

“Oh, hello, sir,” the man in green softly smiled. “I noticed you walk in today. It’s not every day this town has visitors, let alone ones who will visit a small church like ours. Welcome to our family.”

The man in black squinted. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, sir.” the man in green nodded.

“Why do the believers need to suffer?” the man turned back to the statue, “The wicked seem to run off scot-free, but the ones who put their faith in The Creator…”

The man in black sighed and turned his head at the man in white, who had an attentive smile. “Do you get what I’m trying to say?”

“I do.” the man in white politely nodded. “I understand your concern, but I tell you, The Creator takes wonderful care of his children.”

The man in black’s eyes squinted. “You’re positive.”

“I am. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

“Then you haven’t seen enough of the world.” the man in black turned to the statue indignantly, glaring into the eyes of the statue with a stare so indignant, so profound, that even The Creator would shudder. “I’m convinced. The Creator is not a man of mercy. He is a tyrannical beast of a man, his morbid sense of humor so warped that even I look down on him.”

The man in black tightened his grip around the suitcase. “Everything is so vapid to him; he’s god, after all, but the things he does with his repertoire of power are so evil. His predilection for sin is what drives him. After my travels, that has become clear to me.”

The man in white maintained his neutral smile. “Despite your profane words, I understand what you say. The world is cruel and I realize that. But can you not say that the light, in such cases, prevails against the dark?”

The man in green faced the statue. “I think hope born out of complete despair creates the strongest individuals. It seems you have faced a lot, and become very strong. I can only hope I’ll meet you in the afterlife as one of The Creator’s hands, rather than one of The Punisher’s pawns.”

The man in green bowed at the man in black and exited the chapel, leaving the man in black gazing at the statue.

“He’s right… but he just doesn’t get it…”