Preacher Creature

He was speaking to a crowd on the corner of Haight Street when I first saw him. "You there son," the preacher spoke to me thrusting out his arm, the Bible clenched in his hand and index finger pointing in my direction.

The man delivered a courageous and powerful sermon that Sunday morning. His message moved me. I felt this sermon had been prepared just for me. Some people appeared uncomfortable with his topic. Others were inspired and amazed by his words.

He appeared alone and vulnerable on the corner with his Bible in one hand, holding his wheel chair with the other. I blurted out a hearty
Amen whenever he touched on something close to my heart. Soon others
joined in.

I could tell he appreciated the encouragement. It fueled the fire
already in his heart. This wasn't typical behavior for me or the people
of this conservative little town.

He was no ordinary street corner Bible thumper screaming out hell fire and brimstone epistles. This man was a smooth soft spoken articulate
fellow who delivered his message calmly and with authority.

A few people walked past him trying to ignore him somehow they were drawn back. They leaned in towards him to hear him speak. The stranger
drew a good crowd creating quite a commotion.

I focused on the wheelchair he was occupying, wondering if he'd been in some kind of accident. Perhaps, he was wounded by Vietnamese shrapnel.
He appeared paralyzed from the waist down. I wondered what it must be like to live that way. Had he ever married or even known a woman? Did
his passion for God help him overcome the desires of the flesh?

Could this man have actually found a secret way of understanding things not readily apparent to others? A gift obtained by grace and long-suffering. Possessing a secret wisdom earned by faith and baptized with tears.

My mind was racing taking in everything as he spoke. I wanted what this man had or so I thought at the time. This charismatic nomad possessed
an uncanny ability to read people then deliver whatever they wanted.

Afterwards, I talked to a few people who were there and heard his Sermon. What was particularly disturbing, everyone received a different message. Even more remarkable was the fact that no one described him as having the same physical characteristics I witnessed.

This raised my suspicions. I was beginning to see how dangerous it could be. A few strange thoughts flooded my mind. I dismissed them thinking stuff like that only happens in the movies. This is a small town in the Deep South with good God-fearing people. What would someone like that want in my town?

The following morning the coffee shop was crowded as usual. I didn't notice him as the door closed behind me. The waitresses were scurrying about taking orders and pouring coffee. The smell of home fried potatoes, bacon and eggs filled the air. Most people were engaged in conversation. Those sitting alone were preoccupied reading the morning paper.

Scanning the room looking toward the rear I found an empty booth facing the door. I always sat with my back against the wall, preferring to be
close to an exit whenever possible. A habit I picked up from too many years of working the streets with unsavory characters.

When I saw him, he was sitting alone oblivious to everything around him. I approached him hoping he wouldn't recognize me. An opportunity I thought to get inside his head, find out what his game was then nail him if he was up to no good.

"Mind if I sit at this table? I asked. The counter is full and most of the other tables are taken."

At first, he ignored me then finally looking up motioning with a nod to sit. He said nothing. Gripping his pen he feverishly continued
scribbling notes on this little pad.

His eyes were blood shot; his facial skin covered with a beard of gray stubble drooped. His clothes were unkempt, wrinkled like he had sleptin them. He appeared to be a man recovering from a night of too much drink.
The man was deep in his own thoughts. Didn't seem to care he was in a public place. My presence at his table did not bother him in the least.

The waitress poured coffee and took my order. I sat there trying to appear indifferent. I knew this man sitting in front of me was not a drunk, despite his haggard appearance. I assumed he suffered from insomnia or perhaps his pains deprived him of his sleep. Relieved he did not recognize me I started to implement my plan of action.

"Why are you here?" He asked suddenly.

"I'm having breakfast of course. Just like you. My name is Thomas Ryan. What did you say your name was? Sorry if I made you uncomfortable by
staring."

"I didn't say, Thomas. You do understand that nothing happens just by chance, don't you? Why were you staring at my chair? Do you have some
kind of morbid curiosity about crippled people? Do you wonder if I can feel my ass when I wipe? What's your problem, man? What is it that troubles you?"

His remark made me feel like I'd been slapped on the side the head. I regained my composure and answered him. "I can see I am not welcome
here. I will leave if that's what you want."

I felt a churning in my stomach. This mysterious drifter who appeared as if from thin air had me on the defensive. I was the one who intimidated people. It was my job to investigate, question and if necessary arrest people like him.

However, this man was different and I was determined to find out why he made me feel so powerless and insignificant.

"I am not asking you to leave I'm simply asking why you are here? Why did you pick this table? There are others you could have chosen but you
chose to sit here. Did I appear to be in need of company? Do you think I look like an exceptionally social creature?"

I paused before answering avoiding his eyes. I could see the lake through the dusty diner window. The children in the park were playing while their mothers were busy with local gossip. The water rippled whenever a gentle breeze blew through. The sun was now hotter than a match head, with shimmering waves of heat bouncing from the road like a mirage on a lonely desert.

I knew another dog day afternoon was in store for all of us on Haight Street. Surely the night would bring some relief.

"Well Sir," I said. I asked to sit at this table because all the others were taken. To be honest with you I was hoping you wouldn't remember
me. But apparently you have. So I'm out of here, sorry to have bothered you."

He smiled, "A hearty Amen to you my friend, maybe now we can break some bread together. Wash it down with truth. My name is John Rivers. I'm a preacher of sorts. Thomas, I sense you're looking for something. Are you lost or in need of counsel? How can I help you?"

I smiled back thinking, Why you miserable worm you know exactly who I am and now you want to play games. I should put a cap in your ass and
make you dance these tabletops all the way out of my town.

"I want to talk about your sermon on spiritual and carnal relationships and all that stuff about the Garden of Eden. You know John, the sermon you gave on Haight Street." I said.

"Oh, I see, you want to talk about Theology, the metaphysical transcendental nature of man. I was hoping you wanted to talk about last night's football game," he answered with a smirk on his
face.

We got a real comedian here, don't we? I thought.

"No, not exactly theology, I wanted to know how you can be so sure about the things you said. How is it possible for a man to be carnaland spiritual at the same time? Can one be secular and holy without falling into hypocrisy?

When I heard, you speak you said:

"It pleases God to see his children enjoying themselves and living life abundantly without guilt or shame. The idea of sin is man's invention
and of no consequence in the grand scheme of things. You were very clear on this point. Isn't that what you said John?"

"I said a lot of things that day Thomas. Just exactly what didn't you understand? The biology and mechanics of lovemaking or are you stuck on
the concept of true love. The Devil can get in the way sometimes changing good things into something ugly and wicked."

No kidding, John. No Guilt? No Sin? No Conscience? No Laws? I'm sure you would love to have all of us believing that. Sure would make your job much easier. Just mix in a little truth to disguise the lies and have us all dancing to your tune. I thought.

"The Devil," I asked.

"Yes Thomas the Devil."

"But you never said anything about the Devil in your Sermon."

"I didn't have to Thomas, Lucifer and his legions were all around us then as they are now.

He lives in the hearts and minds of all men, including yours. Look around you. You see the waitress pouring coffee serving her customers
with that superficial smile plastered on her face. All her efforts and hard work are motivated by her desire for tips. Those tips will later feed her ever-increasing drug habit. Meanwhile, her children will go to bed hungry tonight.

The manager standing in the corner looking at her ass as is full of lust and impure thoughts. His wife, the mother of his three children is lonely and unfulfilled. She can't remember that last time he touched her. Her bitterness grows inside her and she cries herself to sleep every night. She knows the love they once shared now belongs to
another.

The old man sitting across from us is haunted by the memory of the knife he used in an alley one dark night during a drunken brawl. On this night, one young man lost his life and the other his
innocence.

He looks like such a good kindhearted old man doesn't he. This man loves and hugs his grandchildren but the blood of another is on his
hands. The memory of it will follow him to his grave.

Look around you Thomas! Wake up and see the world with spiritual eyes, open your heart and mind so the wisdom of the ages comes upon you. Only
then will you learn not one of us is innocent or free from the old Serpents touch. Beware Thomas you never know where you might find him.

Consider the story of Eve in the Garden. Eve was deceived but Adam willfully disobeyed. He knew the penalty for eating the forbidden fruit from the Tree of Knowledge was banishment. Adam chose to disobey because he loved Eve and didn't want to be alone. In his separation from God, he became like God, in that he gave up his life in the Garden
for love.

God is love. Isn't he Thomas? I have much work to do now I must go. Try not to worry so much about God, the Devil or the Woman in between they
all have their place and purpose in this world. "Don't they?"

I looked him in the eye and nodded my head in apparent agreement,letting him think I had fallen for all his lies. "But how do you know all these things? Why I'm not even sure you even answered my question. Who are you anyway? Why do you always answer my questions with another question?

I need you to give me the truth."

I really wanted to empty my clip of 45's in his face. But he and I both knew I was powerless to stop him.

He turned slowly, looking back smiling as he pushed away proudly saying, "The Truth" Thomas? The truth is staring you right in the face
you're just too blind to see it." He laughed mumbling something about how his day was coming soon.

"Go back to where you came from." I screamed defiantly. He did not hear me. The other patrons of the coffee shop shocked by my outburst looked
at me like a mad man.

I watched him until he disappeared into the crowded street. I walked out found his wheelchair folded up lying on the sidewalk, bent down to
pick it up but it was too hot for a human touch. I noticed the chromemetal chair would give no reflection.

Looking up again I saw the children still playing in the park. Their mother's busy with gossip as was their custom. The water on the lake was now smooth as glass. It mirrored a deep blue sky with the exception of a lone dark cloud trying to catch the sun. It was a vain and futile attempt to obscure its light. In an instant, I understood.