He awoke, and looked around to see the back of the CVS. Daylight was beginning to take over the sky. He could already make out a few of the buildings across the street. One of them is the bar where he was last night. In a sober moment he had parked his car in the CVS parking lot. Some time during the night he had returned and fallen asleep.

The young man of twenty-eight stumbled out of his pickup truck and made his way to the donut shop, next door to the bar. He saw a reflection in the glass window reminding him of him self; but the reflection looked out of place on that early Sunday morning. He rumbled through his pants pockets and found enough cash to buy a large coffee. Entering the shop, he asked the woman behind the counter to keep her advice to herself. He made his request, added two sugars and a little bit of cream; put the lid on the foam cup and shook it twice. Stumbling back to his truck, he started the trip home.

As he drove out of town, he heard the church bells and for a moment started to sing. His mind drifted back to the last time he remembered being anywhere near sane. It was in a small church out on a country road, where his father preached three times a week; and his family sat in the front pew. That was before his older brother died, and his mother wished that she could join him. Dad retired from the little church to take care of what was left of the family.

He drove past the little church on his way home. Passing by the parking lot, his heart leaped and said, “Take a chance.” He drove to the next road and made a u-turn back to the little church. Parking his truck on the side of the road, he made his way across and walked up to the door.

He could hear singing coming from inside, as he pulled on the handle to the door. Two men saw him coming in, rushed to him, and helped him back out. Mr. Brown said to him, “You cannot come in here dress that way.” The young man’s black studded jeans and a concert t-shirt clashed with red carpet; put on the floor to represent the blood of the Lamb. In contrast, Mr. Brown was wearing the three piece suite he had worn to the country club last night.

The young man ran across road, jumped back into the truck, and drove to the next road. The truck made a left turn, and drove until it came up to a farmers field then turned in and shutdown. Tears were running down his face, as he removed a small handgun from its place in the glove box. As he held the gun, he remembered that his little brother always called on Sundays. He put the gun back in place, stated the truck and made his way down the little country road that led him home.

The phone rang and father answered. He could hear his brother’s voice from across the room. It felt like his dad would never be done, but soon the phone was in his hand. He heard a voice that sounded like his saying, “I wish you could come home.” But that is something they agreed to never say when Rodger called. He shared a little about his morning; then he listened as his little brother talked about the minister that had visited the prison that morning. Rodger remembered that something was said about the kingdom being more that food and drink, and not to worry about what you would wear.

Rodger went on to say, “The church is more than the people that met that Sunday morning. It is more than the pews and the song books; it is the people that made it that morning and the ones that stayed away. You must forgive Mr. Brown, because Jesus is coming for His own. When He came the first time, He came for those that could not find their way any other way but Him.” The young man hadn’t found the Lord waiting at the door of the little church on the country road; but the Lord was coming through the telephone using his little brother’s voice.

The story you have just read is true, but the names have been omitted or changed to protect the forgiven.

© 2009, Tim D. Coulter Sr.