There Is A Storm (Fiction)

I wrote this 12 years ago and have come back to finish it for publishing. I've got to update it for 2015, but other than that I'm ready to go. This a small excerpt from the first chapter of the book. Don't read too much into the first chapter, after all, it is just the beginning. Read on!

There Is A Storm

It was Sunday morning and the church was unusually quiet. Bishop Bailey sat slumped in his chair at the front of the choir. He looked tired and beaten. Usually, there was a light in his eyes but this morning his eyes were dark masks of mystery and anonymity. The radiance of the smile that usually lit his face was gone, replaced by a look of weariness and fatigue. It seemed that he might be angry or even sad, but his body movements said defeat. Whatever battle he fought, he lost and it showed on his face.

All eyes were riveted to the troubled figure as he stood and walked to the podium. Despite his appearance, his step was measured like a soldier’s and steady as if a silent cadence kept a rhythm that only he could hear. Draped in the long folds of his robe, his arms moved with deliberate motion and helped push him toward the podium where the microphone waited as if a challenge to his approach. With each step, strength seemed to enter his body as his robe flared behind him like a leaf in a breeze. By the time he reached the podium, he was walking erect like a general leading his troops into battle. His nose flared slightly and there was a light behind the eyes where there had been trouble moments before. Bishop Bailey did not have a deep voice but when he spoke that day, it was like thunder crackling in the rafters. The power and intensity of his voice pulsed and reverberated throughout the church.

“Church. I’m tired today. My bones are weary and my heart is heavy today. I don’t exactly know what I’m going to say, but I hope that somewhere and somehow that I give you something to leave here with. I hope I give you something to leave here with that will stay in your mind and stick to your bones. I want to give you a bone to chew on that has some meat on it.

You see, I’ve been fighting for a long time. I’ve won some battles and I’ve lost a few, but that never mattered because even when I was defeated I always did my best and a man that does his best cannot be defeated even when he falls as every man must. No, it is not that we didn’t win the fight; it is that we fought well and carried our beliefs before us like a mighty sword.

Still, there are times when there is something more troubling than our fall. There are things that upset us much more than losing. There are times when even victory is not enough to carry you forward. It is times like these when we pull on the reins of the almighty and ride the winds of faith. It is times like these when we forget about what we can’t do and call on someone who can do. I have been there and I have ridden the horse of glory and tasted that sweet wine.

Just like you, I have stood in the raging winds and the driving rain and dared it to put me down for I knew I was protected. Just like you, I have stood among the mighty forest of lightning and thunder and I have not been afraid. I have withstood the mighty torrents of temptation and avarice, just like you. Just like you, pain and suffering have been in my life but I have always made it through the storm, just like you. Just like you, I have braved the violent and furious whirlwind of today’s world with only my faith as armor and I have returned again and again and I have not wavered.

But today—today, I am much tired of the world. I am tired to the bone. My armor is too heavy to carry any longer and it irritates my skin. My sword is chipped and bent and my buckler is broken. I’ve been in one battle too many. I’ve stood against the raging winds of reason and logic too long. I’ve been battered and bruised too long by the whims of fortune and curious happenstance. I have been in the storm too long. So, this will be the last time I stand before you as your pastor and spiritual leader. I’ve already turned in my letter of resignation effective as of this day.

But before I go, I’d like to thank you for allowing me to help; thank you for allowing me to be part of your lives; thank you for being there for me as I’ve stood in the storm. And, most of all thanks for all the love you've shown and given without reservation.”

With that, Bishop Bailey left the pulpit and marched down the middle aisle and out of the church without looking back. As he passed, tears glistened at the corner of his eyes but his step was firm and resolute. And, then he was gone.
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Surrounded by the few things I had collected during my stay at St. Mark’s, I reclined in the leather easy chair and stared at the ceiling as if some answer was waiting there, but I knew better; I’d already searched this room and every other one in the rectory and there was nothing here except more rooms filled with doubt and disbelief.

I would miss the comfort and warmth of the old manse, but I had to leave. We had outgrown each other. The house was now only growing old while I was growing tired of looking into the mirror each day and seeing a fraud. I am surprised no one else saw it when it seemed so apparent to me. It was in my face, eyes and everything I said and did. I felt it living inside of me as surely as my heart pushed blood through my veins and my lungs sucked oxygen from the air. It was alive inside and finally allowing my suspicions and doubts come to the surface.

The doorbell didn’t surprise me. I had been expecting this call for months. I knew who it would be as I started walking toward the front door. As I looked through the yellowed sheers covering the door’s glass, I saw the troubled faces of Rev. Cooke and Rev. Berry. They were responsible for my tenure at St. Mark’s. They had chosen me to lead St. Mark’s flock, put their trust in me and supported me throughout my tenure and now were here there were questions they wanted answered and rightfully so. As I looked through the door glass it was difficult to miss the dismay registering on their unbelieving faces.