Free The Hand of God by Tim Miller Page A

said.  “A ministry with armed guards, so much for turning the other cheek.”
    “Can’t be too careful these days.  No telling what kind of dangerous folks might be about.  Now get on your knees and put your hands on your head.”
    I didn’t know how far he would take this so I did what he said. There was no way out.  We were squeezed into the tight space of the RV and there were men outside the only exit.  I had nowhere to go.  He walked up to me slowly as I kept my eyes fixed on him.  With a quick motion, he struck me on the side of the head with the butt of the gun.  I kept my eyes on him as he faded out of focus, then everything went black.
                 

 
     
     
    Part II: The Fallen

 
    Jude
     
    6And the angels which kept not their first estate, but left their own habitation, he hath reserved in everlasting chains under darkness unto the judgment of the great day.

 
     
    Chapter 17
     
    When I woke up, I was sure I was actually awake.  I was a teenager again, eighteen years old this time.  Church had just gotten finished and I was going through the sanctuary picking up the hymnals from each of the pews.  This was the best way my father and I felt I could contribute and learn how a church worked from the inside.  I did a variety of things to help out the pastors.  It was a humility lesson.  As badly as I wanted to do things like study the Bible and teach and preach, I had to start at the bottom, cleaning and running errands.
    I took a stack into the back office when Pastor McElroy stopped me.  He had been our pastor since I was little.  In his fifties now, he still had a full head of brown hair and a bright smile with perfect teeth.  I always got the feeling like he’d wanted to run a big church or be on TV, but here he was, stuck in our little church.
    “Hi Charlie,” he said.  “Could I talk to you for a minute?”
    ‘Sure,” I said.  He didn’t usually talk to me after services.  So I was curious what this was about.
    “Your father has told me how much you want to work in ministry.”
    “That’s true,” I nodded.  “I want to do God’s work, to be His disciple.”
    “That’s great son.  God uses us all in many ways.  You have some great gifts yourself.”  He put a hand on my shoulder.  “But as a pastor, you have to speak in front of people.  You visit them when they are sick, give them comfort, hope. You sing with them, pray with them.”  He looked me in the eyes, obviously looking for some kind of reaction.  He was going to get no such thing.  Emotional reactions were not something I did.
    “Charlie, you barely say two words to anyone.  You’ve attended this church since you were a baby, yet no one here knows anything about you.”
    “Does that mean God can’t use me?”
    “Oh, no, not at all.  I’m just saying there might be some things for you to work on.  We all have our own calling, or special gift.  Some of us don’t know what it is until later in life.  God doesn’t need just pastors, you know.”
    I already had a good idea what my calling was- protection.  God needed strong shepherds to protect his flock.  The sheep needed protection from the wolves, and there were plenty of wolves out there.  Most people were oblivious to the danger that awaited them, whether it was physical or spiritual danger.  People just didn’t pay attention, or didn’t care.  I learned from my encounter with the dog that had killed my brother, I was stronger than most wolves. 
    “I understand sir,” I said.  “I already have an idea of some of my gifts, but I hope to learn more.”
    He smiled.  “That’s great, son.  Let’s get this stuff put away and we can grab some lunch.”
    I nodded as he walked out to his car.  I loaded more stacks of hymnals into the office.  The office where the hymnals were kept was where the church secretary and assistant pastor worked.  The pastor’s office opened from inside there.  I noticed his office