It was right where he left it.

It is always a good feeling when something is found exactly where it is expected.  He expected it to be sitting there on the long folding table in the vast hallway.  He had left it there the night before.  The night before, just eleven hours ago, when he had turned off the lights, turned off the heat, and placed his old half-filled coffee cup on the table.  He was truly surprised to see his coffee cup there because the more familiar feeling is to never find anything where it is expected.

He had left it there last night because he didn’t want to walk back out to his study, and his hands were too full to put it in the kitchen.

It spent the night right where he put it.

The mug was like him.  On the outside was a picture of bright daisies yellow against a green field with a verse about Jesus being the way, the truth, and the life.  But on the inside it was all brown, stained with years of very strong coffee.  It truly was a perfect metaphor for his life: cheery and happy on the outside for the world to see yet dark and stained (or maybe strained, he thought out loud) on the inside from years of worry and struggle trying to keep the caffeine flowing to give the church a shot of energy.  He thought there was Bible truth in there somewhere—whitewashed coffee cups, he chuckled to himself.  That might just preach.  He would have to write that down in his little black book of sermon ideas and other miscellany.

He felt especially stained this morning.  Monday morning.  It was a dreaded cycle which repeated itself every week of his life.  For most of the free world, Monday is the first day of the week.  There is an understandable drain on most people about the thoughts of going back to work.  He understood that.  But what he felt every Monday was different.  It was psychic.  It was emotive.  It was physical.  But most of all, it was spiritual.

Monday was not the first day of the workweek.  For Pastor Butch Gregory, Monday was the second day of his cyclic labor.  His first day had been yesterday.  Sunday was the big show, and he had to be on his game.  If he wasn’t, it could mean disaster.  He even knew of some in his calling for whom a few bad Sundays strung together resulted in a long board meeting that ended in someone getting fired, and it was never the board which was fired.  Butch kept that pressure always in the back of his mind.  Sundays he had to be at least good, and if possible, great.

His family’s financial well-being depended on him performing to the church’s satisfaction.  An unfortunate reality, but experience had taught him it was cold, hard fact.

Fortunately, most Sundays Butch was at least good enough.  This Monday morning he felt particularly good about yesterday’s sermon.  It had pieced together quite a bit of biblical literature ranging from the Patriarchs to the Apostles as well as pop culture.  He had argued for a connection between Joseph, Paul, and Chuck Colson in their prison experiences.  He had likened it to a beluga whale he had seen at the aquarium.

The majestic white whale had caught his eye, and the two made eye contact—mammal to mammal, Ahab to Moby.  In the whale’s eye Butch thought he caught a glimmer of sad resignation.  The whale seemed to know the rest of her life would be spent in captivity.  A beast meant to frolic in the frigid seas was now being hand fed, spending its time pushing around a red ball while swimming in a giant pool.  God had made the behemoth to swim the depths of the ocean and live in the depth of mystery humanity would never know.  We had stolen that destiny from the whale and cast her in prison.

Butch told his congregation that we were the same way, except our prisons were made of our own doing.  “The shackles binding us,” he’d said, “were poor choices, negative thinking, and a haunting past.”  He had told them, “God did not make us like that.  God made us to be free and to swim the depths and mysteries of life.  Jesus came to free us,” he said.  He believed it.

It was a good sermon.  He would keep it in his files.

But that was yesterday.  This was Monday.

This Monday morning he felt… [end excerpt]

Read the story as it was entered to ACM below:

CONVOCATION

J. D. Greening

All worshipers of images are put to shame,

who make their boast in worthless idols;

worship him, all you gods!—Psalm 97:7

The meeting place smelled of sweet smoke. An aroma of cedar and myrrh was strong, but pleasant. It was noticeable enough to get the nose’s attention but not so strong that it elicited a cough or throat clearing. The scent wafted high through to the top of the large chamber.

The room was lit from above with dazzling torches mounted on large Doric columns. At the top of each column was an impressive golden capital covered with elegant engravings of plants and vines, lilies and flowers. There was no roof. It was open aired. A row of six titanic columns equidistant apart lined each side of the room framing it in a perfect square. Fifteen feet behind the columns lay a stone wall that stretched immeasurably upward beyond the columns. These walls seemed to elevate for miles. The full moon hung overhead with Venus nearby marking the night sky.

In the middle of the room was a large stone altar made from rugged rock. This stone had never been chiseled by hands. The five craftsmen who formed it were named Time, Wind, Rain, Heat, and Cold. Neither iron tool nor hammer had ever touched this megalith. The top and the sides of the stone altar were stained with blood; human blood.

“This reminds me of Athens, or maybe Thebes,” said Zeus—to no one in particular. “Yes. I indeed like the columns and hanging there, why yes it is, hanging in the sky is lovely Aphrodite’s namesake. This room is almost perfect. It is worthy of Noble Hector or my strong son Hercules.”

“It reminds me more of Memphis!” barked another voice. The voice was irritated and annoyed; like one who was spoiling for a fight, or at least a good argument.

Zeus responded bitterly, “I thought I smelled the foul stench of Egypt. Greetings, Ra.”

“Why have you called me here, O Zeus the Indulgent?”

“Me?” said Zeus inquisitively. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Seconds later two more figures appeared around the stone altar. It was a couple: male and female. Both had coned shaped heads and elongated faces.

“Who are you?” asked Zeus.

“I am Baal, Lord of the Sky. This is my consort Asherah. Now who, pray tell, are you?”

“I am Zeus Almighty, King of Olympus, Son of Kronos and god of the Hellenes.” Zeus raised his hands and shot a dazzling array of lightening bolts into the upper reaches of the chamber.

“And I am Ra—Dread Lord of the Under…”

“We know who you are. I could spot your stench anywhere.” Asherah cut him off indignantly.

Within seconds the room became populated with all manner of figures: the many armed Shiva, Marduk, the Buddha, Tao, Thor, Sky-Spirit, the feather serpent Quetzalcoatl, along with many, many others. There were thousands of deities who suddenly appeared. Some were animals like the Native American Wolf or the Hindu Brahma. Some were more personified symbols or images, like the Tao or Humanism. After a brief hubbub they all stopped asking why they were there and, curiously, began to mingle like people would at a cocktail party.

The deities seemed to form in affinity groups. Those from the Mediterranean Basin grouped together, and those from the East stood together, the ancient Celtic and Norse deities from Europe mingled as best warrior gods can in a social context, and the mystical tribal gods from the American continents fused into something of a homogenous group. Allah, however, stood off alone in a corner and fumed while plotting domination. He was searching for a burkha to put over the ancient fertility goddess. This particular goddess is known by many names, the most common one is Isis.

Some were having fun with the event. Zeus was taking bets on exactly how long it would take the Sumerian Moon goddess Ishtar to seduce the chaste Buddha. Others were academically comparing and contrasting aspects of their cult. They discussed such things as requirements for novitiates, priestly adherence, ceremonial actions, and holy texts. It was a grand dialogue of comparative religion at the penultimate place. That was, until the main event began.

Just when everyone was getting comfortable and had forgotten where they were and the mysterious circumstances of their gathering; a light.

A great light shown and filled the chamber.

The light was pure. The light was penetrating. Oden held out his hand and the light made an X-Ray of his digits. In a moment of panic Zeus again shot out lightening bolts from his hands, but these seemed pale and yellow compared to the perfect light. The light started with a glow and slowly built up in intensity. When it reached an unbelievable zenith of photoscopic power a billion decibel choir rang out, seemingly from nowhere but everywhere, “Alleluia!” Then, just as suddenly, the light flashed out.

A man stood in its place. He was standing on the blood stained rock altar. At his appearance all the deities were pushed—not pulled—pushed by the force of the man’s gravity toward the marble floor. The gravitational force of the push flattened them prostrate onto their stomachs with their face down. Proud Ra fought to stay on his knees but he could not resist the intractable pressure pushing him into a fully humiliating position.

The man on the stone altar smiled.

“You may rise,” he said to the pantheon.

Shiva popped up and proudly asked, “Who do you think you are?” With the question he pointed all of his flailing hands at the man standing on the stone. To the question, the man replied, “I am.” As the word “am” came out of his mouth, again the push from above forced all the deities onto the ground once more.

The one on the bloody altar, the only one left standing, sat down upon the stone. It now no longer looked like a stone altar. It now looked like a throne. In his right hand was an iron rod. In his left hand was a shepherd’s crook. His legs and feet were bronze. He wore a simple white tunic.

He lifted his iron rod and regally proclaimed, “You may stand. But no more questions.”

They all slowly came to their full height. No one said a word, but many glances were exchanged. The dominant feeling among the convocation was confusion and fear. Never before had these deities been so powerless. A moment or two passed and the seated one began to speak.

“My name is Jesus, The Alpha and the Omega.”

The Roman god of war Ares shouted, “How can that be? We killed you on that hillside. I remember it. I was there with my faithful Roman soldiers.”

Hades chimed in, “Yeah, I was there too. You died. Why won’t you stay dead? You’re breaking all the rules.” The other deities chimed in with similar affirmations, “I was there when we crucified you. I remember!”

Jesus just smiled. “Obviously you are not as powerful as you thought. I am resurrection and I am life. But now it is time for judgment upon all the gods. Let me begin with the greatest pretender of all, Zeus.”

Instantly Zeus was front and center before the throne. He opened his mouth to make an argument, a defense, or even a plea. Yet nothing came out. For the first time in his existence Zeus was silent.

“You are not allowed to speak. You have spoken too much already; o Thundering Zeus of the Hellenes. You are guilty. You are indeed very guilty of being a very bad example. You have reflected all that is evil in people: Power, lust, capricious whims, vengeful spite, and anger. You have no love, only eros. You have no compassion, only pathos. You are a sham. You are a bully. You and the whole pantheon over which you preside are evil.”

The chief god of the Hellenes knew it was true. He cringed. There was nothing noble in him. Suddenly and without warning Zeus was moved out and another stood in his place. Actually, it was two others who stood before the altar-throne. The Semitic gods Baal and Asherah of Palestine stood where Zeus had just been.

“Baal, you are not alone in your wickedness. Asherah and her evil poles have done more harm than Zeus could ever hope to. No one really ever believed in him. Yet you, you have time and time again lead the peoples of the Near East away from their journey to true faith. You have lured them in with prosperity and wealth, good harvests and fine climate. None of which, incidentally, you have any power over. The only work you ever did was to lie and take credit for what I created.

“Under every green tree and on every hilltop in Palestine you deceived people, male and female. In this deception you model the old liar, Hasatan, and led my people astray. You have added sexual iniquity, prostitution, and violence to humanity. You stand condemned as did your prize pupil, Jezebel.”

Within the next few minutes Jesus moved very quickly through many of the shuddering deities. Ra was deemed demonic and oppressive. The pyramids of Egypt do not celebrate his greatness, but stand as a monument to his own vanity. The eagles of the Native American folk religion were dismissed as being too distance, uncaring, and impersonal. Christ condemned Thor as a cheap imitation of Zeus and with the added guilt of encouraging the heinous terrorism of piracy. Quickly the pace intensified as the God of gods summarily judged one false deity after another.

Then the pace slowed down again as the major world deities came before the stone throne.

“Shiva—I will allow you to represent all of the Hindu gods. You have held billions of people hostages to a caste system which benefits the wealthy and protects the privileged. Have you no shame? Do you not see the potential beauty in releasing people from their cultural shackles? You invent oppression and call it religion. Evil!

“You have added to your evil the belief system of past lives and future incarnations. What nonsensical bilge! Do you not know that man is noble? Each human being—woman, man or child is as unique as the Milky Way or as vast as the depth of the oceans? You and your ilk have missed the mark terribly in your estimation of what exactly comprises humanity.”

The Lord moved on.

“Oh Buddha; he who is not a god yet venerated; not divine but the enlightened one. Truly, truly I say unto you, you were not far from authentic revelation. In you I find no violence or greed. But you have likewise missed the concept.

The secret to enlightenment is not within the individual. No amount of reflection or meditation can bring truth. It only brings the hint of truth. True enlightenment emanates from the outside and penetrates the soul. You reversed the order and put humanity as the source of spiritual knowledge. What a terrible usurpation. Yes, you were close but still so far away. In your nearness you did not recognize the distance still to go. Instead you mistook almost there as arrived. This misjudgment led to arrogance and certainty.”

A tear formed in the fat Buddha’s eye for he knew the truth.

“The Tao must now be examined. Tao, you reflect the timeless truths which I have placed in the created order. There is indeed a balance in nature. Hot must have cold, day must have night, summer is tempered by winter, male is only complete with female. Humans have a yen for every yang and a yang for every yen. Opposites do attract.

“Nevertheless, you are a fraud for you claim to be the way when there can only be one way. I am. There is nothing in you which bringing the harmony you preach. Description is your only gift.”

There was only one more left. All had been exposed as insufficient and deceptive. All had been judged, except one. Jesus, still sitting upon the throne called him by name. “Allah,” he shouted. “Come here.

“Your time has come. I saved you for the end. You are more recent than these ancient false religions. As with all the others there are elements of truth in some of your words. There is only one God. Alms are proper. Fasts are good. Hospitality pleases me. Good works are a blessing.

“But you have led the sons of Ishmael astray taking them down the path of violence. For centuries you have conquered with the sword, the machine gun, and the suicide bomber. You use fear as a spiritual tactic. You have oppressed the daughters of Eve. You are guilty of turning human beings into automatons. You have rejected your heritage of learning and science. You are guilty of abusing the human race which I made in my image. Therefore, you are guilty of abusing and therefore blaspheming me.”

The truth of what the Lord had said to all of these deities penetrated the hard hearts of all. They knew their place in the cosmos. They were not what they thought they were. They stood before him shamed.

King Jesus began to speak to the group as a whole now. “You are created in the image of man; gods and goddesses he made you in his own likeness. Male and female he made you. From his imagination he formed you; out of his own futile thinking he molded you and gave you substance. You were created by him and he breathed into you his own sexual appetites, violent tendencies, legalism, and desire for undisciplined spirituality without moral absolutes in order to justify his sin.”

As these words were spoken each of the deities stood with outstretched arms and said in one voice, repeating over and over again:

Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty,

Who was and is and is to come

Worthy are you, our Lord and God,

To receive glory and honor and power,

For you created all things,

And by your will they existed and were created.

Now the brilliant light re-appeared and grew in ever more intensity. As it came to a crescendo the repeated spoken words were louder and louder until the blend of sound and light were one unified sensory experience. It was as if they were in the exploding core of a supernova. Then it flashed out and became silent. All the deities slowly dissolved into nothingness. Only Jesus was left.

He sighed deeply, stood up, and said, “Now it is time for judgment to begin with the household of God.”

Jamie Greening grew up in the piney woods of East Texas.  It was as a farmer’s son that he unwittingly learned important lessons about ministry:  the harvest comes in bunches, the work is often seasonal, and preparation for the future is always vital work.  He was nurtured in a loving church home where the Bible came alive and community was natural.  In this environment Jamie learned that Jesus loves him, so he gave his heart to Jesus and became a Christ-follower.

He studied history at the University of Texas in Austin, where he met the most beautiful woman in the world, Kim Wells.  They both graduated with degrees and were married.  Jamie earned an Master of Divinity from Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary in Fort Worth, Texas where his first daughter was born.  He learned Hebrew and Greek while she learned to walk!  While attending seminary, Jamie pastored his first church in Bosque County, Texas.  It was here that he learned what to do and what not to do in pastoral work.

After graduating from SWBTS, Jamie and Kim felt a calling from God to minister in a part of the country which was not heavily Christian.  This led them to the great Pacific Northwest where they have served First Baptist Church, Port Orchard since 1999.  Early in their ministry in Washington there their second daughter was born.  Jamie wanted to continue to sharpen his skills, so he studied and earned his Doctor of Ministry from Beeson Divinity School in Birmingham, Alabama.

Jamie Greening believes that the pastoral ministry should focus on intentional quality with biblical truth.  To this end, preaching and writing have become his main work, as well as a constant emphasis upon pastoral ministries.  He often says, “No leader can rightly be called pastor unless he or she is actually engaged in the care of souls.”  In addition to The Haunting of Pastor Butch Gregory and Other Stories he is working on two other projects.  One is a reflection on Romans with sociologists David Caddell and the other is a novel about the haunted Butch Gregory.

Church Website:  www.fbcpo.org

Personal Website:  TBA