Alter Call

A Story by wrldbrkr

No place hides their secrets like church.

The flock of faithful was at church that morning and Lester Freeman knew their secrets.

Lester sat on the back pew. People filed into the little white country church and took up their usual seats. The children were upstairs today due to the renovation going on in the basement. Work had been done on the sanctuary last year. New pews with red cushions to match the red carpet, a hand carved offering table and a new pulpit were the first things that caught your eye when you walked in. Pastor Smith had a habit of saying there were no “Kliq” in his church but you could see them. Everyone smiled and hugged but there were just some people who just didn’t want to be near each other.

The opening prayer was led by Deacon Jones. As he watched him, Lester could feel the anger rising in him. Deacon Jones was stealing money from the church. He was doing the remodel job in the basement and had done the one on the sanctuary. Lester had seen the invoices and knew there was some shady stuff going on. A job that could have been done for around $15,000 had the final price tag of around $25,000. That extra lined the pockets of the “Good Deacon Jones.”

Next came the special singing. The Carter family was on the program today. As they got into “The Old Rugged Cross” Lester felt filled further. He wondered how long it would be before it begins? The Carter family was Jennifer, the mother, Patrick, the father, Thomas and Samantha, the children. The children were in their mid-teens and Lester knew they were sexually active. This isn’t what enraged him. It was the fact they were active with each other. Jennifer and Patrick knew and did nothing to stop it.

After the singing was complete the offering plate was passed around. Lester took and passed it on without dropping in his tithes. He hadn’t tithed since he discovered everything that was happening. Pastor Smith had even confronted him about it. Lester was told if he didn’t begin tithing he would be removed from his position because failing to tithe was stealing from God. It took all his restraint to hold his hands by his side and not lash out at the pastor. Deacon Barber took the offering plate from the man at the end of the row and took it to the lobby to count it up. Lester knew he would take a few dollars off the top.

Then it was time for the prayer requests. Deacon Jones assumed his position behind the pulpit.

“Sister Moss,” he said pointing.

“I just want to thank everybody for their prayers. As most of you know I fell off the toilet and got pinned between it and the wall. I was like that for a few hours before my son came home. I just want to thank God because I’m doing better and ya’ll keep praying for me.”

A “Praise God” went up in unison.

“Brother Napp.”

Lester didn’t hear a word Jeff Napp said. All he could see and hear was how he beat his wife and daughter. He had noticed the bruises first on his wife Kathy. She fell out during one service and her skirt slid up past her knee revealing the bruise on her thigh. In the bruise you could read the word “Stressed.” The belt that Jeff Napp wore had the phrase “Blessed not Stressed” engraved on it. After this Lester began to watch them. When Jeff would raise his hand or make any sudden movement, his wife and daughter would flinch. Lester thought they don’t even feel safe in the church sanctuary.

The fire of rage had reached his stomach. As it inched up he felt more certain he was on the right path.

“I’ve been sick. Pray for me,” asked one drunk.

“Save my brother,” cried another drunk.

“Need the Lord’s guidance,” said the harlot. Lester knew of three men in this very congregation that had paid her for services. One of those men led the choir.

“I want to thank God for watching out for Bobby,” called out Martha White. Her son Bobby was in prison for assaulting an inter-racial couple. Lester knew he got that from his mother. He had heard her on more than one occasion use racial slurs and claim “God’s going to cleanse them from the planet. If you ain’t white, you ain’t right.”

Mitch Williams and Andrew Collins sat behind her. People suspected they were part of the lynch mob that killed two black boys after they were accused of raping a white girl. It turned out to be a lie, but those young men had already been murdered. Lester had heard the confession from their lips as they bragged about it at the bar.

All rose to take the prayers to The Throne. Some prayed with their heads bowed. Others did so looking up at the heavens with their arms reaching up like a child reaching for a parent to pick them up. Some people were not to be outdone and came forth with dueling prayers. Who can be the most eloquent and the loudest?

After the “Who can pray the loudest” contest, the children took to the stage. They sang “Jesus loves me”. Before they began “This Little Light of Mine”, Lester had to leave. He ducked into the stairwell that led to the basement. He hurried to the bathroom. He flung the door open, ran in, and closed the door. He turned on the water and splashed his face.

“Is this right?” he asked his reflection. “Is this right?”

“You know it is,” the voice said.

“Why? I still don’t understand.”

“They need to be shown and God has failed to act.”

“He’s showing mercy,” Lester said still looking in the mirror.

“Evil has been imbedded in this church your whole life and nothing has happened to these people. You help to conceal these facts from the world and you are the one who suffers judgment. You lost everything!”

“But the children,” he said. Tears has spilled over the dam of his eye and flooded down his cheeks. “Must they also be shown?”

“They are being raised by these heathens. They will grow to be as bad or worse.”

Lester just looked in the mirror.

“Kill the weed and the root,” he finally said. His resolve had returned. He took some paper towels form the roll. He blotted his face and dried his hands. Overhead he could hear the pastor gearing up.

“I feel my help coming!” he heard the pastor call out. A chorus of Amen and Praise God followed close.

Lester returned to his seat. He sat leaning forward watching the people feed into the pastor’s sermon. In Lesters mind Pastor Smith was the worst. He, like Lester, knew and kept all these secrets. That is unless he needed to use them to his advantage. He was blackmailing two members of the congregation to vote his way on close issues. He and his wife had allowed the harlot Jenkins into their bed. Pastor Smith had also been the drunk that had killed Lester’s wife in a head on collision. Pastor Smith walked away without a scratch and was back in the pulpit a week later. There was no holding the tears back. They came free flowing. The time was almost here.

“Please stand,” Pastor Smith called. Every head bowed. Every eye closed. No looking around.

Lester kept his eyes fixed on the altar.

“If you need salvation or a special touch from the Lord I want you to step on out. Make your way to this alter where salvation, redemption, healing, and counsel wait.”

The flock of faithful nearly trampled each other trying to be the first. They wailed and cried. They prayed loud enough to be heard at the back of the sanctuary. They waved their hands, jumped and shouted. They fell to the floor “In the Spirit.”

“PAAAAASSSSSSTOOOORRRRRRR,” Lester yelled!

Silence fell in the church like an avalanche. The music stopped. The praying and crying ceased. Even those lain out on the floor were to their feet. Lester stood at the back of the sanctuary in the center isle with the detonator in his hand.

“Brother Freeman,” Pastor Smith said after a few minutes. “What’s going on?”

“Judgment,” Lester Freeman answered. “Judgment has come to this church.”

The people who weren’t at the altar began to move toward it. Began to move toward the bomb. Lester had put the bomb under the altar. Enough dynamite to level the church.

“I don’t understand,” Pastor Smith stated. Everyone seemed content with letting him handle this situation.

“You all have been making a mockery of God and His Son. You’ve perverted your position as church leader and elders to steal funds and extort power. You’ve used the disguise of Christian to hide a heart of hate, a bed of lovers, and lives of rage. You commit your evil and suffer nothing for it.”

“Calm down,” Deacon Jones said now trying to get a grip on this situation. “Let’s just calm down.”

“And I’m no better,” Lester added. “I covered up for you. I kept my mouth shut. And how was I taken care of? My wife was killed.”

A few heads snapped towards the pastor.

“What happened was a terrible tragedy,” Pastor Smith said.

“That’s not what you told Pam Evans after spending the night in her bed,” Lester replied. His eyes were bright red with tears. “You wondered what I had done to deserve God’s judgment.”

People kept looking from Pastor Smith to Lester as if they were watching a tennis match.

“How did you know that?” Pam Evans spoke up and asked. “How did you know what he said?”

“I was told.”

“By who?” It was now time for Deacon Jones to get back in on this.

Lester sobbed and felt his knees get a little weak. He steadied himself against one of the pews.

“Lester please,” cried someone from the midst of the crowd.

“I’m not the one you need to be crying out to,” Lester replied. He reached up and rubbed his eyes. “Those of you washed in the blood are going home. Those living the lie will be with me before the Great White Throne of Judgment.”

Lester pressed the button.

****

News reports swept the country. A small church was the victim of what appeared to be a terrorist attack. The bomb was concealed under the pulpit and set off via remote. Pictures were shown and glowing remembrances were made of all those who died in the explosion. After all, they were in church. They must have been good people.