Spiritual Citizens: A Christian Fiction Anthology Page 3

  Henry wasn't sure what to do. If he met with this person for supper, he risked letting people know that he wasn't a Christian and that revelation might lead to embarrassment and ridicule. He wanted to resolve the issues he had with this person, but under the circumstances, he wasn't sure if tonight was the best time to meet. Henry heard the door knock again. With fear and trembling, Henry walked toward the door and slowly opened it. The person smiled and asked if he could come in. Henry lifted his head and replied back "Yes, Lord".

  *Michael Austin welcomes you to read more of his various and unique stories here https://www.woodlandsonline.com/blps/blog.cfm?weblog=477.

  The Yellow House on the Hill by Judy K. Haught

  He sits alone under a tree, taking out His knife making a carving from a piece of lumber He found lying on the ground. His eyes never stray from the yellow house on the hill. As darkness falls, the lights begin to come on. A light shines out from the front bay window. He sees movement but cannot tell if it is the man of the house or lady as they pass by the window. In another part of the house, another light shines from the side. Must be the dining room, He thinks to Himself.

   

  He curls up under the tree as night sounds begin to sing their song. Crickets chirping, the bull frogs at a nearby pond croaking, the hoot owl calling out in the dark. Sleep falls upon Him as He thinks about the house on the hill.

   

  The next morning the sun begins to shine on Him, and He stretches. He thinks what a glorious night’s rest He had. Again, His eyes go to the yellow house on the hill. He thinks about the man and lady of the house as they prepare for their day. They will be home today; this is Saturday. They will be busy with chores as they have a routine every Saturday. After they eat, they will go to the grocery store and come home to do their chores. He will keep watch over the house on the hill.  

   

  He goes into the wooded area and finds some berries and eats, then walks on a path that leads Him to a nearby stream. The water is cool, but invigorating. He hears the birds chirping their morning welcome. They seem to say, "Good morning, good morning." He smiles and walks back to His spot under the tree, never taking His eyes off the house on the hill.

   

  He sees the family leave, and decides to walk around the property. He talks to Himself and knows He will soon get to meet this family. He looks in the window. A fireplace is beginning to burn out. The smell of smoke lingers in the chilly air. He walks to the back of the property and finds a beautiful garden. He loves flowers. These are not ready to bloom, but soon they will.

  He walks back to the tree from which He had positioned himself. He whittles some more, and waits for their arrival. His thoughts drift from where He had just come from. He was not welcomed and was told to leave. He knew He meant the people no harm, but He bowed gracefully, thanked them, and left. He sat musing at the places He had been, people He met. Not all were accepting a stranger’s presence.

  His eyes now focused on the yellow house on the hill. The family was returning home. They would be taking their groceries in the house. He would give them time. Then, He would make His move.

   

  He hears children playing, and one asks if he could go climb the tree. Dad tells him to put his bike away that he had left out the night before. Reluctantly, the little boy puts his bike away. He thinks to himself, I don't know why; I will be riding it later anyway.

   

  The Man watches the little boy from under the tree where He now stood. He sees him climb up on to a limb. The little boy sits there, legs swinging back and forth. The Man could hear the little boy singing a familiar tune. He never takes his eyes off the child.

   

  A rabbit hops past the Man. It stops and looks at Him with His brown eyes shining. The Man looks at the rabbit and smiles. Just at that moment, a scream pierces the air. The sound comes from the house on the hill.

  "Call 911, call 911," a voice cries. “He has been hurt. Oh, dear Lord, please let him live. He is our only child.”

  Blood seeps out from his skull and pours out on the ground.

  "Oh please God, get them here quickly." She yells for her husband to get a towel so she could apply pressure. "Oh, Lord, save my little boy,” she wails.

   

  The Man walks up to the tree that stood next to the yellow house, and He asks if He may do something to help.

  She is startled. Where did he come from? She is so intent on stopping the bleeding. She concentrates on that more.

  The Man asks again, "What may I do to help?"

  She says, “Sir, if you are a praying man, please do that for him. He is our only son.”

  "May I touch him?” asks the Man.

  She thinks, Why such a strange question? Can't he see my child is losing blood? "What do you want to touch him for?” she asks.

  He replies, "I would like to speak to him. You may keep pressure on his wound."

  The Man places his hand on the little boy’s shoulder and says, "Be healed."

  The mother looks startled. Is he crazy? That is all he is going to do?

  Several moments pass by and the little boy opens his eyes. His mother lifts the towel from his wound. It is bloody, but no blood is coming from the wound.

  "You are amazing,” she says to the Man. "How, what, who, how did you do that?"

  The little boy says, “Mommy, I am hungry.” She grabs him and holds him next to her and weeps with joy.

  The father comes out and says the ambulance is on its way.

  She replies," I don't believe we will need one."

  "What?” he exclaims. “He is bleeding. He fell out of the tree. Have you lost your mind?"

  "No,” she replies, “this Man touched him and healed him. Sir, thank you, thank you so much.”

  Her husband glares at the Man."How dare you touch my child! If you ever come back to my house again, I will have you arrested for trespassing."

  His wife says, "Sam, please no. Don't you see? I was praying and asking God to help. This Man came immediately."

  Sam says, “I don't want a religious fanatic around my house. Get out now!”

  The Man walks away. He can hear the woman sobbing. Her tears are tears of joy but also hurt that her husband treated the Man so badly. The sirens get louder as they approach, and the Man walks away. He would go to another town.

   

  The woman is grateful to Him, and her heart is filled with love and gratitude. She accepted Him and knew what happened was a miracle. Unfortunately Sam, on the other hand, was so self sufficient that he wanted no part of what he thought was a religious nut.

   

  As the Man walks away, He knows He found a place in the heart of a lady who recognized who He was. His heart aches for the man, because he had no room for Him in his heart.

   

  "Father, some will accept Me,” He prays, “and some will reject Me. I thank You for the one who became Your child today."

   

  The Man walks on pondering where He would be needed next, knowing another will be given a chance to accept or reject Him. As long as there is an earth to walk on, He will always be ready for the next one who calls out to Him.

  Snakes Alive! by Lynn Wehmeyer

  Nobody knew how the snake got into the church.

  Sunday morning Pastor Larry was delivering his sermon about the hidden temptations of sin. It was a stirring sermon so at first he didn’t notice that there was a stirring in the congregation.

  Someone said, “What’s that on the podium?”

  “Looks like a rope,” was the reply.

  “No. It’s moving!”

  The whispers became louder and the Pastor stopped speaking and looked quizzically around the sanctuary.

  Miss Marilyn, who always sat in the front row, whispered loudly and pointed at a spot behind the Pastor. He turned and suddenly jerked erect.

  “Is that a snake?” he queried, to nobody in particular.

  T
here was a muffled scream and several people stood as if to run out of the building, but the pastor quickly considered how the snake might react to a commotion.

  “Nobody move,” he spoke in a level tone. 

  As the congregation calmed down Pastor Larry slowly backed down the steps of the podium, keeping his eye on the snake and trying not to fall.

  The snake was keeping its eye on Pastor Larry, too. It was pressed against the wall of the podium, just in front of the baptismal pool. There had been a baptism that day, and the pool was still warm, so that may have been the reason the snake had appeared where it did. Its brown and tan coloring had partially camouflaged it.

  In a low, calm voice, Pastor Larry said, still watching the snake, “I would like the deacons to remain and would like everyone else to leave quietly.”

  He didn’t have to say it twice. How quietly they left is subject to controversy, but it wasn’t long until only Pastor Larry and the deacons were left standing in the middle aisle, looking at the snake as if it were the devil incarnate.

  “Maybe we could catch it in a pillowcase,” Joe Stern suggested.

  “Are you kidding?” was the retort from Harve Spinnel. “That thing must be all of 6 feet and heavy as all get out. Even if we could get our hands on it we’d never get it into a pillowcase. And I for one do not think we should try to get close to it. Could be poisonous.”

  The standoff continued, snake and humans locked in a staring contest.

  Maybe the snake got bored with it all and decided it had had enough of these creatures, or maybe it was as scared of them as they were of it. After a few long minutes, the snake slithered across the podium and disappeared from sight.

  The air was pierced by sirens. Someone had called 911. Two officers came in to assess the situation. 

  “A snake you say?”

  “And it just up and left?”

  “Well, if I were you I’d call animal control tomorrow. Nobody there right now, it being Sunday.”

  The next day Pastor Larry called Animal Control and found out that if the location of the snake was not known there would be no use for anyone to come, but if it appeared again they should try to contact an emergency service to come out and try to catch and remove the snake. So the problem was tabled.

  Pastor Larry made a cursory search every now and then to see if he could find the intruder, but to no avail. The snake had found a good place to hide, and Pastor Larry did not relish sticking his head in a hole and actually finding the snake staring back at him.

  The next Sunday was nearly a repeat of the previous one. Sermon, snake, skedaddle. It was noticed, however that the head count this week was half again as many as usual. However, that blessing was ignored as a future of snake visitations was contemplated.

  Pastor Larry was perplexed. The snake never showed up during the week. At least nobody would admit to seeing it. 

  Then he had an epiphany. 

  The next Sunday, he waited for the unwelcome visitor to show its ugly head. He heard and felt the wave of excitement coming at him from the sanctuary.

  “Everyone quiet, now,” the pastor said calmly. “We are going to do what we should have done in the first place. We. Are. Going. To. Pray.”

  Quiet overtook the room as this statement was absorbed. It was all well and good to pray when someone was sick or lost a job, but for a snake? What could God do about a snake? The doubt was palpable, but Pastor Larry was not deterred.

  “Everyone hold hands and try to concentrate and ask the Lord to give us an answer,” he ordered. It was one of the few times that nobody closed their eyes in prayer.

  “Dear Lord,” he began, “You know all about this quandary we’re in. We worry that someone will get hurt. So we are here today to ask your help.” Pastor continued praying and the congregation remained in solemn silence. After a while, the snake waved its head in the air a few times, then slowly slithered out of the church, followed by audible gasps as it moved through the sanctuary, down the middle aisle, out the double doors eased open by an usher and out the main entry that was opened by another usher. Pastor Larry, who had also not closed his eyes, watched the sight in awe.

  It was the beginning of real faith for a lot of the congregation. Several testimonies came later, baptisms were up by 100%, and the offering had never been better. Pastor Larry just pointed to Romans 8:28 “ …God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God…”

  Flash Mob by Voni Harris*

  Ever since her teenage granddaughter, Jewel, had shown her a video of a flash mob on the internet on TubeYou—or whatever it was called, it had been on the list.

  It was just what the senior center needed to spice things up from the usual Bingo and quilting routine, so she had dragged Jewel around—constantly urging her to quit giggling and attracting attention of the others—to show the video to a few of her friends.

  All five agreed: walkers, wheelchairs, Ben-Gay, support hose, sensible shoes and all.

  So there they sat, eating their ham and scalloped potatoes for lunch separately, each pretending nothing special was going on. Jewel sat with her. She’d smuggled her portable stereo and her Eye-Pod—whatever it was called—in her backpack for them.

  She watched the clock like a hawk. Five more minutes, then three, then one. Then the clock finally showed 1:07. She grinned at Jewel and stood up, with the other five, praying they wouldn’t give anyone a heart attack. They pumped their fists in the air and yelled into the quiet of the lunchroom.

  “BUCKET LIST FLASH MOB!”

  Then Jewel started her Eye-Pod, and the music came through the stereo, pumping a strong beat.

  She and her friends stomped, danced, rolled wheelchairs back and forth, twisted, and turned. Just as they’d practiced. She let the music take over. Certainly she was far too old for cool dance moves, but she could enjoy the music. It was her bucket list, after all.

  The other seniors first gaped, then one at a time, they began laughing and clapping along.

  But it was when she saw Jewel in the corner with her Eye-Pod laughing so hard she was crying, that’s when she really started to have fun.

  * Voni Harris welcomes you to enjoy her blog at https://www.vonildawrites.wordpress.com.

  Stolen Apples by Kim Bond*

  Twelve-year-old Juni tossed the apple core on top of the stack sitting next to him. It felt good to be full after being hungry for so long—even if it meant stealing apples off the back of a delivery truck. He was an orphan living on the streets of the Manila in the Philippines. He hardly remembered his parents and his life before the flood took their lives so many years ago. Still, he often wondered why God had taken them from him. That is the exact thought that Juni was dwelling on as he drifted off into a deep sleep.

  In his dream, he was walking down the road when he spotted a man with wings carrying a letter sack.

  Juni tugged the angel’s white robe and said, “Excuse me. Where did you get those letters?”

  The angel said, “These letters are replies to questions humans have asked God. Did you ask the Lord a question?”

  The unkempt boy nodded excitedly. “I asked Him why He took my parents from me like a million times! Please check and see if there is a letter for me. My name is Juni.”

  The angel flipped through his bag and lifted out a beautiful white leaf of paper with a golden seal. “Here you go!” He handed it to the young man with a smile.

  Juni broke the seal and ripped open the letter. He read, “Why do you blame Me for taking your parents from you? I came to give life—not steal it.” The boy cringed as he read the word “steal.” He felt so guilty about stealing the apples now that he was standing before an angel reading Jesus’ words. He shook off the shame and continued reading, “There is one who comes to take life and that is the prince of this world—Satan.”

  The boy looked up, “I blamed the wrong man! It wasn’t God who orphaned me. It was Lucifer. Can you tell Jesus….”

  “Tell Him yourself wi
th your prayers, young man. I only deliver messages from God. Peace be with you.” The angel’s wings flapped and lifted him from the ground into the sky.

  In his dream, the delivery truck Juni had stolen apples from sped by. As it made a sharp turn, it flipped on its side. The Filipino boy ran to check on the driver, but he could not find a pulse. It was too late. He jumped up and down to flag down help, but no other cars passed.

  There was only a pedestrian walking slowly toward him. As it neared, Juni saw its hideous shriveled skin and blank eyes. In its grasp was a giant scrapbook with gold trim.

  The demon said, “I have been notified there has been a death. Tell me precisely how this man died.” He opened the book and took out a pen and propped it in his hand to write.

  Juni said, “Why?”

  “My master wants to know for his history book. Every death since Abel’s has been recorded in this book. He reads it every night and cherishes every detail.”