"Purge the Evil" - a novel

by Bill Dunn

(Note: this is a work-in-progress attempt at writing a novel. Feedback, critiques, plot suggestions are more than welcomed.)
 

CHAPTER 34

Saturday, November 27th, 8:25 p.m.

            The regular Saturday night Alcoholics Anonymous meeting concluded, and the twenty or so attendees grabbed their coats and began to leave the social hall in the north wing of the Faith Cathedral. Among the meeting attendees was Tom Wilkins and Duane Waller. Wilkins had attended three, sometimes four A.A. meetings per week when he first stopped drinking four years earlier. Now that he was much more comfortable with being sober, he went to the meetings approximately twice per month, sometimes more frequently if he felt stressed out, such as during the past few weeks. Although Waller’s personal demon had been drugs and not alcohol, the basic principles and the fellowship of A.A. meetings were similar to Narcotics Anonymous meetings, and because he always felt at home inside the Faith Cathedral, he rarely missed the Saturday night meeting.

            Rev. Morton also was at the Cathedral this evening, working on the finishing touches of his sermon for the following morning. Whenever he was in his office on a Saturday night, he made a point of greeting the A.A. meeting attendees once the meeting was over. He walked down the long hallway from his office to the main entrance of the complex. As he turned the corner, people from the meeting were walking toward him, also headed for the main entrance. Rev. Morton smiled broadly and began to speak in a cheerful voice as the people shook his hand or waved as they passed by. “Hello, Daniel, how are you?” “Good evening, Michelle, so nice to see you.” “We’ll see you tomorrow at Sunday service, won’t we?” “God bless you, and have a wonderful evening.”

            After exchanging pleasantries with the departing people, Rev. Morton continued on to the entrance of the social hall. A couple of people still were in their chairs finishing cups of coffee, and in the far corner of the room Tom Wilkins sat next to Duane Waller. The two men were deep in conversation. Wilkins glanced up and noticed the pastor standing in the doorway. He waved and said, “Hey G.W., c’mon over here.”

            Rev. Morton walked over to the men. When Duane saw the minister, he immediately stood up and politely said, “Good evening, Reverend.” The two men shook hands.

            Wilkins remained seated and offered a little wave. Then he said, “Sit down for a minute, G.W. Duane and I were having a very interesting talk just now. Duane, tell Rev. Morton what you were just telling me.”

            The young service manager’s eyes briefly opened wide in surprise. He cleared his throat, visibly nervous that the leader of the church was now sitting beside him, and said, “Oh, um, I was just saying to Mr. Wilkins that I’ve been very frustrated lately about all the immorality in our society these days. I mean, half the people who go to these meetings—including me—got into this predicament in the first place because society tells us we can do whatever we want to do, total freedom. You know, if it feels good do it. It’s almost like there’s no rules anymore, no right and wrong.”

            “That is true, son,” Rev. Morton said. “We live in a very faithless and sinful age.”

            “And then,” Waller continued, not as nervous anymore, “it’s like there’s no law and order. People do whatever they want, even the most sinful behavior, and no one is allowed to even say anything about it. People go around hurting other people, committing all kinds of crime, and don’t get punished for it. It’s really kind of crazy.”

            “You got that right,” Wilkins said. “Tell him what you just told me.”

            Duane looked at Wilkins with a puzzled expression. “You know,” Wilkins said, “that you’re tired of just talking about it all the time.”

            “Oh, right,” Duane nodded. “Well, yeah, everything is so chaotic, but it seems like all we ever do is talk about. Oh, of course we pray about it, too, Reverend. And that’s important. But I was telling Mr. Wilkins that I’m just so sick and tired of talking and complaining about it, but never doing anything about it. When so many people are so screwed up, when they’re embracing evil as if it’s a good thing and spreading misery all over the community, and no one in authority has the guts to stand up and say, ‘Stop it!’ then someone else has to do something about it. Well, I want to do something about it!”

            Wilkins glanced at Rev. Morton and raised his eyebrows quickly and smiled. Without saying a word the two men had the same thought: This kid might make a great addition to our group some day.

            “Well, Duane, it just so happens that Rev. Morton and I have had this very conversation in the past,” Wilkins said. “Many times, in fact. The real question you have to ask yourself is, what am I willing to risk? Am I ready to take some drastic action? Action that some people might consider radical, even crazy, to change the lawless, unacceptable situation we have in our culture today.”

            Wilkins stopped speaking and sat back in his chair. He didn’t want to say anything further or offer any specific details. He just wanted to toss out that general idea and see how Duane reacted to it.

            Duane took a deep breath and looked directly at Tom Wilkins. Then he turned to look at Rev. Morton. Finally he spoke softly, “Well, I have been thinking about some radical actions. Even crazy actions, I guess. I hope you’ll understand. Since there are so many godless, immoral people in our community nowadays, what I really think I should do is…love them. I mean, spend time with them, live with them, serve them, teach them, wash their sores, hold them in my arms when they’re grieving. You know, exactly what Jesus would do if He were here in the flesh today.”

            Wilkins and Rev. Morton both frowned and glanced at each other. That was not what they had expected Duane to say.

            “You see, the thing is,” Duane continued, “I really think the main problem is these people don’t experience any love. They’re shunned, they’re outcasts, and that’s probably why they do such self-destructive stuff. We Christians say we love them, and I guess we do, in our own way, but we say to them, ‘Come join us, in our church, on our turf.’ And then if they do come, all smelly and dirty, we look down our noses at them. I really think Jesus is calling me to bring the Gospel to them, on their turf. I think demonstrating Christian love, sacrificial love, right in their midst is the best way to reach them. So I’m thinking about moving into a tenement apartment in the Park Street section of Hartford.”

            Rev. Morton took a deep breath and folded his arms across his chest. Tom Wilkins sat back in his chair and slightly shook his head in confusion.

Duane looked at the two men and smiled weakly. “I said it was kind of crazy. I guess you think I’m nuts, huh?”

            “No, Duane,” Rev. Morton replied. “We don’t think that. I think it’s very, uh…admirable. It shows you have a compassionate heart.”

            “But it’s really not practical, Duane,” Wilkins said sternly. “And besides, I don’t want my service manager getting mugged and killed in some back alley.”

            “I know what you’re saying,” Duane said. “Some of my friends told me the exact same thing. But I just keep asking myself, ‘What would Jesus do?’ and the answer keeps coming back to me, ‘He’d go to where the hurting people are located.’ I just think that’s what I’m being called to do.”

            “Aw Duane, you’ll get killed,” Wilkins said.

            “So what if I do?” Duane replied forcefully. “Jesus got killed. Should He have shied away from doing the right thing? If I get killed, well, then I’ll enter into glory a little sooner than expected. But at least I’ll be doing the Lord’s will.”

            The three men sat in silence for a couple of minutes. For one of the few times in his life Rev. Morton was at a loss for words. Finally, Duane said, “I really appreciate you two gentlemen taking the time to talk to me. But I, uh, I have to get going now.”

            “Oh sure, I understand,” Rev. Morton said. They all stood up and shook hands. Rev. Morton put his large hand on Duane’s shoulder. “Duane, please do me a favor,” he said. “Think about it and pray about it for a couple of days before you do anything. I’d like to talk to you again about this, maybe in a few days. I’m not going to try to talk you out of it. I just want to make sure you’ve thought it through completely, OK? Will you at least do that for me?”

            “Yes sir,” Duane answered. “I can do that. Maybe we can talk again before Wednesday Bible Study class.”

            “Good idea,” Rev. Morton said. “Have a good night now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

            “Good night, Reverend. Good night, Mr. Wilkins,” Duane said as he left the room.

            Tom Wilkins watched the young man leave the room. Then he turned to Rev. Morton and said, “Can you believe that? What a dreamer. And you know, I thought for a minute there he was going to be a good recruit for our group. What a waste. He could be doing a whole lot more good for society doing things our way rather than his cockamamie way, that’s for sure. Don’t you agree, G.W.?”

            “Oh, um, yes,” Rev. Morton replied unconvincingly. “No doubt, Tom. A dreamer.”

            “Well, listen, big guy,” Wilkins said. “I gotta get going. I’ll see you at service tomorrow morning.” The car dealer scooped up his jacket and walked out of the room.

            Rev. Morton stood alone in the social hall, deep in thought. What would Jesus do? he asked himself repeatedly. For the first time in many months the minister had doubts about whether or not the secret group was truly doing the Lord’s will. Every time he asked himself, What would Jesus do? he could easily envision the Savior joining Duane in a tenement apartment. He had a hard time envisioning Jesus with a Glock in his pocket ambushing a hoodlum.

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