The addict sat up front second pew to the right. Cool air blew down on him from the air conditioner’s supply ductwork. This was his first time inside the Church. He took his first shot of heroin on their outside back steps three years ago.
Church members stared at him as he walked into the building but no one said a word to him.
The day before he sat at his kitchen table contemplating suicide. He grabbed the gun and slowly brought it to his chin.
He pulled the trigger.
The gun jammed.
He remembered his mother telling him no matter what he’s going through God will always accept him.
The suffering addict didn’t understand how he’s still alive and sitting in Church.
Maybe there is a loving God after all he thought while scratching his right arm and glancing at the floor.
He never liked going to Church growing up because he thought they were all fake people hiding behind the Word of God.
The Church is no worse than the hell out in the world he pondered.
The stares made him feel not welcomed, uncomfortable and scared.
Whispers came from behind him confirmed everything he believed about Church folks.
He overheard an older Christian woman telling a younger one how bad he smells and looks and can’t believe how he turned out.
That’s all it took.
He stood up and walked out of the sanctuary.
A short stocky pastor strolled out with his Kings James Bible tucked under his right arm wearing a smile on his face.
He looked down at his notes and the title of his sermon for this morning read:
WHAT YOU SAY CAN HELP SAVE OR HELP KILL SOMEONE
The pastor said, “everyone please stand in the presence of the Lord,… now let us pray” then there was a loud gun shot that could be heard throughout the Church.