Author's Note: This is part II of the short story "The Preacher, The Pimple Faced Boy and God - Inside the Heart of Evangelism". To access part I click below.

The Preacher, The Pimple Faced Boy and God - Inside the Heart of Evangelism - "The Dilemma"

I have problems, doesn’t everybody? But I’m a pretty good kid. All I had wanted to do was steal a kiss from Sally Battle. How high could that rate on the sin chart? Yes, I wanted to slam my fist Martin’s nose, but that wouldn’t be a sin, that would be heroic. Yet, here I was, the one in the spotlight, the one expected to confess to sins I didn’t even know I had done. I needed to solve this problem. In a split second I went through my three options.

Option 1: Walk out of the tabernacle

Option 2: Run out of the tabernacle

Option 3: Run like hell and don’t stop till God strikes me down dead.

I chose option #3.

“Son, the Lord can run faster than you…. The hound of heaven will be on your tail…,” the preacher shouted. The hound of heaven must have been on my tail, because I ran right through those big screen doors in the back of the tabernacle. Even though part of the mesh screen was plastered to my face, I kept on going. I sped past the picnic table were Martin was now kissing Sally. I wanted to swear at him, but I was so disoriented I couldn’t even decide what word to use. My legs turned over and over and my arms swung in circular motions in a desperate attempt to maintain my balance. I rumbled down the grassy hill toward the lake. My feet hit the granular brown sand of the beach and I lost my balance. The night before the beach had suffered through a torrential downpour. Deep crevices snaked down the beach where rivers of water had run down the hill and through the sand. I found one of the crevices. Down I went, stumbling and crashing toward the water. My body hit the sand hard, six inches short of the water. I kept on going. I crawled into the lake and pulled at the water as I trolled my way out into the blackness of the night. I’m not the best of swimmers but that night I was as fast as Mark Spitz. I didn’t even raise my head out of the water to take a breath.

That’s when I bonked into the raft; a gigantic 30ft. by 30 ft. floating dock anchored 200 ft. off the beach. “Oowww,” I clutched at my head. It was then that I realized that I had just made a big fool out of myself. Where did I think I was swimming to? I pulled my self up onto the raft and crawled to the middle of the rough square surface. I looked up the hill. The flood light attached to the side of the tabernacle burned bright, and there, sitting on the picnic table in front of the tabernacle sat two figures kissing. “There you have it,” I lowered my head. “I made an idiot of myself, and lost the girl at the same time.” I didn’t want to look again but I couldn’t help myself. My emotion shifted from dark depression to sheer terror. It was the preacher. He was walking down the hill. I crouched in a kneeling position. “Lord, I’ll do anything. I’ll go to the deepest jungles of Africa, I’ll mow Mrs. Crabtree’s lawn for the next 10 years, I’ll never look at Johnny’s Playboy magazine again…. Just keep that preacher away from me. I looked back up the hill. The preacher was on the beach, I could even see the outline of his suit. “If I just stay on the raft, I’ll be safe,” I muttered. “I can pretend that he’s not calling out to me.” Splash! My blood drained from face. He’s coming out to get me. My head dropped; there was no escape. I watched as the preacher’s arms sliced through the water in neat consistent strokes.

“Son, do you mind if I join you,” the preacher pulled himself up onto the raft. His tie stuck to his face as water dripped off his nose. I didn’t answer. “Why did you bolt son?” the preacher asked as he sat down.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Hmm,” the preacher rubbed his chin. “Seems to me you were running from something.”

“I was running away from you!” I shouted.

“Now why would you be running from me?” the preacher asked.

“Because..,”

“Because what?”

“Because you got it all wrong. I wasn’t going up to the altar. All I wanted to do was talk to someone and you told everyone that I was some sort of sinner in need of repair.”

“You’re not a sinner?” the preacher seemed shocked.

“Well…I am a sinner, but not a bad sinner. I haven’t stolen anything, killed anybody or egged a neighbor’s house,” I could have listed off some other biggies, but decided to stop lest the preacher asked about some of the ones I left out.

“So overall you feel pretty good about yourself,” the preacher continued.

“I did before tonight.”

“If you were feeling okay about your self, why did you take off like a rocket? When you tore through that screen it looked like the temple curtain being ripped in two,” the preacher laughed.

“Everyone was looking at me, expecting me to go up to altar and ball my eyes out. What was I supposed to do, be a liar? I didn’t want to go up to the altar. I was thinking about punching Martin in the nose.”

“Why did you want to punch Martin?”

“Because the two faced twerp stole my girl.”

“Who’s your girl?” The preacher inquired.

“That’s privileged information,” I said. “Has anybody ever told you that you’re kind of nosy?”

“Yup,” the preacher said. “So why is ‘the girl’ so important to you?”

“Because she’s hot…,” I slipped.

“So she’s beautiful,” the preacher said rephrasing my blunt assessment of Sally’s looks. “Does she like you, the same way you like her?” the preacher probed.

“Don’t know, haven’t talked to her yet.”

“And you were going to talk to her tonight…,” the preacher interrupted.

“That was the plan before you and Martin moved tag teamed with the double whammy.”

“Did you listen to sermon tonight?” the preacher continued.

“No.”

“What were you doing?”

“Thinking about Sally,”

“So her name is Sally,” the preacher said.

“No offence preacher, but I couldn’t have cared less what you were talking about tonight. I had plans.”

“Well, it looks like your plans backfired.”

“No thanks to you,” I said.

“What do you think God wanted from you tonight?” the preacher asked.

“To go up to the altar,” I shot back.

“No, that’s what I wanted,” the preacher continued. “Looking back on things I think we were both a little off the mark.”

“I’ll say,” I said. “I missed the stupid lake.”

“You see, son, the altar just a place to meet God. At this point God doesn’t care where the altar is, he just wants to meet with you. If I’m reading the tea leaves right, it sounds like you’re more worried about a date with that girl more then meeting with God.”

“If you saw her, you’d now why.” I said.

“Maybe so, but there will come a time when all of the Sally’s in this world won’t be enough. A time when the hole in your hear gets so big you can drive a truck through it.” The preacher stood up and stretched his arms up to the starry sky. “Son, I’d love to sit here and chat all night, but I don’t think it will accomplish anything else. I think you need some time to think and I need to get back up the hill and have me a few doughnuts and a big cup of coffee back at the cafeteria.” He jumped into the water and I leaned away, trying to avoid the splash. It didn’t happen. The splash never came. I stood up and looked out over the water. Nothing moved. I scratched my head and looked up into the sky.

“What just happened?” I whispered.