The Walk

THE

WALK

BY

DOUG BALL

OTHER BOOKS BY

DOUG BALL

*also in audio book on Audible

Copyright 2019– Douglas H. Ball

Cover designs by Crystal N Koellen

This is a work of fiction.

Any resemblance between the characters of this book

and persons living or dead is purely coincidental, with the exception of historical figures, even then the persona is that of the author’s imagination.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

This book is dedicated to

my LORD and SAVIOR,

JESUS, the CHRIST.

and the men of the

Thursday morning breakfast club.

And, of course,

my beloved

Patti.

THE WALK

Two men, one in casual office clothes and the other in a sweat shirt soaked with sweat, sat in Mug’s Diner talking over coffee cups that were empty, awaiting the waitress. Both wore the total body expressions of frustration. Pastors and preachers can get that way on occasion. The waitress finally brought the coffee pot and filled both men’s cups, getting a quiet ‘thank you’ from each of the men.

You two ready to order yet?

No. Two cup of coffee first and then order. You know the routine, one said gruffly.

The waitress turned, heading for a table in the other dark corner of the diner. She could tell when she wasn’t wanted.

"Andy, I’m ready to call it quits and move to a quiet place on a mountain top and spend the rest of my days meditating on the presence of God and His Word. Two families left the church Sunday because I said that the nails in Jesus’ hands were probably in the part of the hand we call the wrist and not the palms of his hands as generally presented. I even added it could have been either based on historical information. One of them said I should be using the King James Version only.

"Did it matter that much? Was it really enough for two families to grab their Bibles and run out the door before I could end the closing prayer. Then, my cell started buzzing just as I got out of the car in the driveway. As rapidly as they could talk, I was informed they were leaving the church and wouldn’t be back. I didn’t get a word in edgewise before they were gone. I went to both of their houses after lunch, figuring they’d have had time to cool down, and got the door slammed in my face at one place. The second stop even said, ‘I won’t listen to your speculations and heretical doctrine anymore,’ before he slammed the door.

Tell me something, Andy. Is the location of the nails that important?

Yes, to them.

Stan looked up from his coffee cup, Should I just concede to their way and forget what I consider to be the truth?

No. Never. How about letting them go? The Bible says, ‘they went out from us because they were not a part of us.’ Do you think they will split the congregation over this? Personally, I am tired of chasing folks who get their feathers ruffled because I or someone else said something they didn’t like.

No. Others have called and supported my presentation.

How many?

Three.

They both went silent until the waitress said, You ready to order, Pastors? She was not happy with them.

They ordered.

The waitress turned to leave.

Add a piece of pity pie and some sour grapes to Pastor Stan’s order.

Stan’s look changed from hang dog to defense. Pity pie? What do you mean?

Just joking, Judy. Andy turned back to Stan. Athough, I do hear some whine. You want, maybe, cheese and crackers to go with the whine instead of pity pie.

Get off it. What kind of a friend are you? Stan’s voice dripped with incredulousness.

Andy leaned back in his chair and put up both hands as if to defend himself. Don’t hit me. Don’t hit me.

Stan just looked with his jaw in his lap. What? He got up and walked to the bathroom.

Andy sat with a painted-on smile for those watching, sipping his coffee from time to time until Stan came back to the table.

Feel better? Andy asked as Stan sat down.

Yeah, the pity party is over. It’s been rough, and sometimes, I forget that I’m supposed to count on Christ to carry me through the rough times. I’m okay now, I think. It’s just that my congregation is so messed up and I think it’s because I’m the pastor. What am I doing wrong?

From that statement, I’d say you are taking it too personal.

Remedy?

Prayer and searching the Word. Jesus is always the answer, it’s just the application that can be tricky.

The meals were set in front of them with a, Will that be all? Catsup? Hot sauce? Crying towel? She backed up.

What? Stan looked up.

Pastors, I have been serving you both for a couple years now and I think maybe you are both a bit troubled. I think I know why.

Why? said the two men in unison.

You are both in love with people and changing people to walk with Jesus. Who’s in charge of that change?

God is. We know that, said Stan.

Judy offered coffee. Both men lifted their cups. She withdrew the pot.

What? asked Andy.

Hey, I want more coffee and you’re supposed to dish it out.

Just because you want doesn’t mean you are going to get, boys. I am in charge of the coffee. When and how much I pour is my decision, not yours. You can ask, but it’s still up to me. You can call and ask all you want, but I’m in charge of the coffee.

Leave the pot and let us pour our own.

She walked away and came back with a carafe. Here’s your pot.

She turned and walked away.

What is this all about, asked Andy.

Beats me.

They returned their attention to the food, both heads shaking in frustration.

Stan reached for his cup and found it empty. He found the carafe empty and cold. He raised his cup and said, Judy, in a voice just loud enough for her to hear which was the normal method of getting coffee from Judy.

She ignored him.

He yelled louder.

She ignored him.

Finally, he walked over to her and said, Would you please give us some coffee?

She answered, Do you really want it?

Yeah, we really want coffee.

You have to ask the way I want to be asked, not the way you have done it for these past two years.

How’s that?

Sincerely, quietly, and with intense feeling of surrender.

Stan fell to his knees, I surrender to your way and not my way, with all my being I will follow your directions.

Andy laughed at the show.

Why, surely I will pour out my blessing of coffee for you, my good man. All who surrender and ask from their very being, I provide their needs.

The sarcasm rolled, the coffee was poured, and the men continued with their meal.

I get it, Andy said, pushing his plate to the side.

Judy walked over, What do you get, kind sir?

At first, you are playing the role of God. We are somehow told how to get your blessing of coffee, but it has to be your way or else. Then, you are the proclaimer of how to achieve a full cup of coffee. We are the folk in the chairs who listen to you and it is up to us to ask and, at the end, you are the one who has total control of the outcome, which is God again. You can choose to deliver or not depending on the sincerity of the needy one and your will.

Stan piped in with, Just like we are the teachers and God has His method of delivering the changed life. The people in the chairs are the decision makers who choose yay or nay in following the directions.

Gents, God is in control. All either of you can do is teach the sheep in your flock. And, there’s a lot of folks that hate the idea of being sheep. Some are going to stick, and others are going to run. Judy turned and went to the kitchen.

They ate as they discussed the heavy topics of apathy in the pew, how ten percent of the people carry the church financially and the work, and then there was the modern concept of industrial assembly line made salvation of say this prayer and you’re okay, and the ever-popular personalized gods.

Okay. I’ll flip ya for the bill. Andy pulled a coin from his pocket and tossed it up.

Call it.

Tails.

The coin landed on the floor. They both watched it roll under the table and out the other side, rolling until it strangely took a sharp right turn, hitting a man’s shoe. The man promptly stomped the coin.

Mine.

Stan said, Okay by me. Just lift your foot up so we can see who won the honor of paying the bill.

Mine.

Andy turned, pulling another coin from his pocked, Suits me. Call it.

The coin turned over and over in the air, landing on the pile of dirty dishes. It stuck edgewise in left over cottage cheese on Stan’s plate.

How did you do that? Stan asked.

Skill. It’s on your plate. You pay.

Stan agreed.

At the register, Judy told them, The man going out the door picked up your tab. He said for you to think on who’s in charge a bit more and walked away.

Andy went out the door, looked in the direction the man had turned. There was no one there. Only three cars were in the parking lot. One was his, another was Stan’s, so the man had to be in the third. A short run to the third car found an empty car. The area around the parking lot was wide open and the man could not have moved far enough to be out of sight.

Stan caught up, Where’d he go?

I don’t know. Let’s adjourn to my office for some prayer time.

2

In the office, both knelt on the soft cushions that Andy kept for just that purpose. As they prayed, sometimes they were both speaking at the same time and at times there was total silence in the room. This went on for an hour and a few minutes until, in the silence, Stan said, Amen.

Andy slowly got up from the floor only to sit down again in his desk chair. Stan crawled to the couch against the wall. Neither said anything for a while until the outer door opened and then the office door opened. It was the man from the restaurant.

Gentlemen, am I interrupting anything? said the man. By the way, here’s your quarter. He tossed it to Andy.

How may I help you, sir? And, thanks for the breakfast.

I’m here to help you both. I need no help.

How can you help us when you don’t know the problem?

The two pastors sat quietly awaiting an answer.

Finally, the man said, I was once a pastor. I led a large flock. The fantasy you call Jesus was my every focus for many years until one day I realized that it was all a pack of baloney. It was all for naught because man is so full of sin that even if there was a God, nothing could save him. I left the church on a Tuesday morning and this is the first time I’ve been in one for over fifteen years. Give up and live your lives for yourselves. Your deacons will not help, elders are a farce, and the idea that a man could die that we might live is a blood thirsty fantasy whereby the masses can be led like sheep. They that say they believe it all, are caught up in mass hysteria and just so much hoowee. Get out before you are ruined by finding out it has all been a waste. He turned and walked out the door, closing the door with a bang.

Stan got up and ran to the door. The outer door was closed. He ran and opened it. To his right and left there was a sheer wall of the complex for over a hundred feet in both directions. The parking lot was empty except for the pastor’s two cars. He ran back in and searched the outer office.

Nothing.

Don’t bother, Andy said. He’s disappeared again.

Who is he to say those things? Through all that I’ve been through I have never doubted God or the Bible. I will not start now.

Didn’t you ever doubt, Stan?

Okay, yeah. Once or twice. But, I refuse to go along with that man’s line of thought. God is real. God sent His Son that I might live, and you might live, and all the world might live. It’s up to me to preach the Word of God. I know He called me to that task and I am convicted that is what I will do for the rest of my days.

Sit down, Stan.

Stan walked back to the couch and sat on the front edge of the cushions. If he shows up again, I’ll hold him until we find out who and what he is.

So where do we go from here? My flock is apathetic most of the time and, at the best of times, only looking out for themselves, or maybe even stretch that out to the rest of their friends in the congregation. They couldn’t care less for the poor, downtrodden, foreigners, or missions of any kind. They just want to be entertained, I think.

As is mine.

How do we change that?

That is the question, is it not? How?

I will not do another canned program our denomination pushes on us.

Yours also? Mine has a new witnessing program every year or so. A new Bible study that is supposed to change lives every six months, fall and spring.

I am constantly bombarded in the mail with canned programs for everything and requests for special offerings over and above what we are already pouring into the national offices. I hate getting the mail, it’s one sales pitch after another and all of them cost way too much money for what we get and money is tight for my people.

Mine, too.

They both went quiet.

Twenty minutes later Stan said, Andy, I’m going home. My prayer closet needs cleaning and my personal Bible needs dusting off.

I agree. There has to be a change, somewhere, somehow. Call, if you come up with a thought.

+++

Stan’s car started on the first try, which was a rare occurrence. The slight wisp of white smoke that normally came from the exhaust seemed thinner. When he got to the signal where he had to turn right, a man with a ‘Help a Vet’ sign waved it at him. Stan turned his head and made his turn.

As he did the man hit the side of his car with his fist and yelled, Just a buck for a burger, is that too much to ask?

Stan drove all the way around the block to stop in front of the man where he rolled down the right hand window and handed the man a five dollar bill. Here, enjoy. He rolled up his window as the man laughed.

Stan stopped in shock as he heard the man say under his breath, Thanks, sucker.

Stan drove up the block, stopping close enough to see what the man did. Even as he parked his car in a cleaner’s parking lot, he saw the man walk across the street with the light.

Stan followed, jay walking from where he was to keep the man in sight.

The man walked half a block and into a liquor store. He was out in a short time with a brown paper bag in his hand. The glass neck capped with a bronze colored cap stuck up an inch or better.

So, I give you five for food and you buy booze.

I didn’t sign no contract for the use of that five spot. I need this sweet nectar of the gods, and I need it now.

How about an AA meeting instead?

How about you leaving me alone, Bible thumper? You gave me the money, so it’s mine to spend. He sat on the curb and took a long pull on the bottle.

Stan turned with a shrug and walked back to his car. A thought came to him, How would Jesus have dealt with that?

He had to admit, he didn’t know how Jesus would have dealt with that. Would He have made a whip and taken it to the man, or maybe just plain kicked the bottle and watched it break on the sidewalk?

3

He sat in his car in front of the cleaners thinking and praying, until the owner came out and asked him to go elsewhere. The noon rush is coming up and I need all the parking spaces I can get.

Okay, sorry to bother you. I’ll bring my suit in tomorrow for its annual cleaning.

Annual?

Yeah. I never wear one except for weddings and funerals, and then only if requested.