I want to fight them. Fight them for what they've done not only to me. If that's what it takes, to fake the full Armor of God, I will do it.
Everyone has it's own reasons and own agenda. God has his own agenda. Everyone does.
Mine is to make them all pay by living longer in pain and seeing what they done.
I would not want to mention you how many times I had packages stolen. USPS Intl Express, not even Priority. Last time they snatched my brand new iPad. Send the empty box to another city. I got ended really bad. People like that must pay. I cannot forgive someone like that. Thats why I warned you. I may not be true believer, but I will stick around. For greater good I reckon.
"That is not the way of the Savior my young brother." Those are the words young Robert Sheffey heard while attending a revival after a wild night at the Inn.... Here is the story...
One of the mule skinners looked about the walls of the crowded tavern. He shivered a little and pulled the collar of his sheepskin coat more tightly around his neck.
“Wanna’ move a little nearer piece to the fireplace?” Muley asked.
“Naw, I’ll go get us all a mugful of hot coals we can drown in our stomachs.” He got up, crossed the room to the open fireplace, and paused to warm himself in front and behind. The fireplace, big enough for a man to stand in, roared with a furious fire, but for those who sat or stood near the outer walls it was sheer accident if the heat ever reached them when the wind whistled icy cold through the hewn logs and woodshingled roof of the tavern.
Robert also pulled his greatcoat tighter around his neck and thought he would have one mug of rum or a dram of brandy to be sociable and then go home. It was too mild to wander about the streets, and the two mule skinners might decide that they –did not want to head north, facing a chill wind, without a good night’s sleep.
Clefus returned to the table with four mugs of rum and a grin on his face. “Well, I’ve heard a lot of mule stories in my time but I ain’t never heard that one before.”
‘”Who told you one?” Muley asked.
Clefus pointed “That feller talkin’ to the tavernkeeper.”
“Why, that’s old Rote Ewing. He’s been driving mules down the valley since ‘fore you was born,” Muley said. “I’ve probably heard the story, but you tell it.”
Clefus repeated the story and got a spontaneous round of belly –laughter.
“Clefus, you can take that’ll with you clean back to Baltimore,” Muley said, still laughing. “I reckon it’s my turn to buy a round, unless you want to volunteer first, Robert?”
The word “volunteer” struck a sensitive nerve somewhere in Robert and suddenly he came to life.
“Set ‘em up all around,” he said. “I’d just as soon spend my week’s wages for that as anything I know. Old Man Russell would pop a gut for sure if he knew I was doing that with my money.”
“I ‘spect he might already,” Muley said, and headed for the tavemkeeper with Robert’s money.
Robert shivered as he acknowledged the prospect of Muley’s suspicions being well-founded, and his tablemates noticed his lack of ease.
“You work for this Russell feller?” Clefus asked.
“I work for the county, and he’s over me.”
“How you goin’ to keep him from a-knowin?’”
“I‘m not trying to, I reckon,” Robert confessed, “but I’d just as soon he didn’t find out.”
Muley plopped the mugs on the rough table and Shem made a grab for one of them, spilled most of it, and let out an oath.
“Well, at least you’re sayin’ somethin’,” Clefus said. “Thought you was a-dying layin’ against that wall – er froze to death.”
Shem cursed his partner and sat looking at the nearly empty mug.
“I’ll take that one,” Robert said and gave Shell his own in exchange. “I don’t want any more anyway.”
Shem let out another oath to the effect that Abingdon was dull and full of dull people who went to bed with the chickens __ and he wished he was back in Baltimore where he had plenty of women and chances for real hell-raising.
“He gets plumb ornery when he’s had a few,” Clefus explained.
“Next time I get a round I’ll get the tavernkeeper to lace his run with some egg whites. I understand them spirits hide in little balls of egg whites and won’t bust till daylight,” Muley said.
Clefus disagreed. “That won’t do. There won’t be any road between here and Lexington wide enough to keep the wagon in. He sure don’t need no bubbles full of rum abustin’ in his stomach.”
Robert watched Shem sip his rum faster than he should, and instinctively he pushed his own mug away.
“Say, what’s all the people leaving fer?” Clefus asked.
“I ain’t sure,” Muley said, looking toward the door. “Most times they stay till the doors is locked, and the night ain’t hardIy started. I’ll find out for you. Something is goin’ on.” He came back on the run. “They’s a revival happenin’ up over Greenway’s store! Some of the fellers is goin’ and make it hot for the dd sin-socker.”
Clefus shook the arm of Shem and brought his sleepy head from his forearms.
‘’Wrap yourself tight. We’re goin’ to sober you up ill that January weather out there or we’re goin’ to let that-there evangelist do it fer us. You may be just about right to get saved! How’d you like to wake up in the mornin’ and know you was plumb, teetotally saved!”
Muley laughed as heartily as Clefus, and between them Shem staggered first against one and then the other. The three of them reached the door before Muley relinquished his hold on Shem so that he could pass through the entrance. Robert had not moved.
”You go ahead and tell them I hope they don’t get snowed in before they get back to Baltimore.”
“I ain’t goin’ to do it. Nearly everybody’s left here now. See – there ain’t a dozen people. You know they all saw you here and they’ll be awonderin’ why you didn’t have nerve enough to come and pelt that old sin-socker with corncobs.”
‘He hasn’t done me any harm,” Robert said.
“I been thinkin’ lately – you getting’ too good for us fellers what sweats a little for our livin’?”
“No, that isn’t it.”
Clefus called impatiently from the doorway. He was minus his partner, Shem. “I knowed you wasn’t man enough to be in the volunteers! If we was in battle we couldn’t count on you to reach us the gunpowder. You’d be as scared as a sucklin’ kid. You’re scared of a big-mouthed old preacher!” Muley said.
“I am scared of nothing!”
“Then don’t stand here talkin’ about it. We ain’t goin’ to get seats, and all the corncobs will be gone. Let’s get goin’!”
Muley pulled the bench out of Robert’s path and the way was clear to the door. Robert looked at Muley and the blacksmith grinned wide, until his yellow teeth showed. Robert crossed the distance hurriedly and they were out in the street. Muley called to Clefus, “Let’s get goin’! Make Shem take deep breath of this cold air. If that don’t sober him up it’ll give him a coughin’ fit and shake loose his liver and he can let it all out.”
When the four of them reached the top of the stairs over Greenway’s store, the third-floor room still had vacant seats. Robert could tell the serious worshipers from most of the faces he had seen in the tavern. There was little need to draw a line of division, for many of the tavern patrons sat enmassed to the rear of the large room. There could not have been more than twenty-five or thirty people in attendance before the men from the tavern arrived. Now the congregation numbered sixty or seventy. Having come last, Robert could not be certain, but the old man who stood before them, thin but tall, with his bony knees and elbows outlined against his worn clothes, had an inquiring look on his face. It was not hard to see the brightness in the aged man’s eyes when he first began to notice the empty benches starting to fill. Although the revival must have been half finished, the countenance of this old evangelist strongly suggested to Robert his willingness to start the meeting all over again if there were those who would benefit and if their attendance was sincere.
Bony hands caressed each other as the old man tried to smile and welcome the newcomers. The skin of his face was wrinkled and loose, and he stooped slightly, though he tried to stand erect. He walked across the front of the room to pick up something, and the arch of his back became much more apparent. It seemed to start at the base of the spine and continue to the base of the neck – the type of arch a man would develop when he had ridden a horse for many more years than his strength had been sufficient to hold himself erect.
The object the old man fetched was a pitch pipe.
“The Lord has blessed us with many who have come late. Since they have not joined us in fellowship by the singing of a hymn, we will sing together that old hymn you all know, ‘Blessed Be the name of the Lord.’ Sister Louise will pass out the songbooks, but we don’t have many. Please share them with a Christian brother by your side.”
The preacher blew the “C” note on the pitch pipe, and led the singing. Those near the front sang vigorously, but only a few in the back joined in, and then only until they were stared down by their fellow tavern patrons.
By the middle of the second verse the copper kettle sitting to the side of the single Ben Franklin stove began to yield what few corncobs yet remained of the kindling. In the absence of more corncobs, someone reached for wood chips, but an older man nearby squeezed the taker’s wrist until the chips were dropped. “Don’t use chips on him,” the older man whispered. .. We don’t want to kill him – or blind him – we just want to slow him down.”
A corncob was passed to Robert. He held it in his hands for a moment, and passed it on. Not a corncob was in sight when the hymn was concluded; each man concealed his weapon with the same skill with which he concealed his intentions.
Robert knew about when to expect the onslaught. He had heard the men at the tavern talk about how they had carried out this devilment before. They would let the visiting itinerant work himself into a sweat, and when the invitation I penitence was issued the corncobs would begin to fly through the air until the helpless preacher looked like an awkward schoolboy fighting off a swarm of bees.
The crowd all listened, and Robert sensed that this man who stood before them was not of the common variety of itinerants Greenway’s meeting room was rented to. Not only did he sense it, but some of the men sitting close to him were looking on with a degree of concentration that was not just good acting.
The white-thatched preacher pushed a strand of hair from his forehead after his opening remarks were made and announced his text.
Our Scripture tonight will be taken from Second Kings, chapter two. To those of you who do not have Your Bibles, our Scripture deals with the last days of Elijah and his companion, Elisha. In this chapter we see by the hand of God, Elijah taken into heaven in a fiery chariot, drawn by fiery horses. Elijah, as he rises toward heaven in a whirlwind, drops his mantle, or cloak, and Elisha catches it and receives the divine powers God had given Elijah.”
A grunt and then a snicker originated from someone near the stove. Robert saw Shem sit up straight and slap his knee “You reckon my mules will catch fire on the way back to Baltimore, Preacher?”
Although Shem laughed heartily and Muley and Clefus chuckled, few others made any sound. The old preacher ignored the outburst and continued.
“When Elisha received the powers originally bestowed on Elijah, he went and stood by the river Jordan and smote it with the cloak of Elijah, and it parted so that he walked across the river on dry land. Elisha tarried in Jericho and used his God-given power to purify the water and enrich the land so the people might prosper. But, my friends, I must tell you tonight that everyone did not receive God’s servant Elisha without mockery. Be not deceived, God will not be mocked. . . But let us not leave Elisha. We must examine what happened to God’s servant Elisha in the closing verses of the chapter. Follow me in the Scriptures if you will:
‘And he went up from thence unto Bethel: and as he was going by the way, there came forth little children out of the city, and mocked him, and said unto him, Go up, thou baldhead; go up, thou baldhead. ‘And he turned back, and looked on them, and cursed them in the name of the Lord. And there came forth two she bears out of the woods, and tare forty forth two children of them. ‘And he went from thence to Mount Carmel, and from thence he returned to Samaria’.”
Suddenly Shem stood in front of his bench and hurled a cob, which missed its mark.
“My brothers and sisters, it is not God’s will that any should perish but that all should have everlasting life. Are there those among us tonight who search for something without knowing for what they search? Or those who forsake God to seek their own selfish desires? What would you give in exchange for your soul? Is God your loving father, who walks with you each day, holding your hand as a little child? Your enemy to be feared? Does He give you the wind and the sun and the rain and the flowers and the trees and smile down at you with His blessing to enjoy them and use them?”
Shell and Muley were both on their feet now, letting a barrage of corncobs fly with all their might. Clefus kept the two others supplied, and occasional cobs flew from further behind him. At the beginning the preacher tried to dodge the raspy and cutting objects, but as they kept coming he stood immobile. His strategy stopped the cob throwers only for a moment; then they were incited to throw harder and faster.
Muley connected with a hit directly on the nose and Clefus, after two tries, knocked the preacher’s glasses to the floor.
When Robert saw blood dripping from the face of the old man, he could stand it no longer. Leaping over three other men, he picked up the copper kettle by the stove and brought it down hard on the heads of Shem and Clefus. When they appeared dazed, he turned it over, brought it down on the head of Muley and left it there.
The preacher wiped the blood from his face and proceeded to speak. His sermon consumed the better part of an hour but even before he had ended his pleas, a line had formed. His invitation to more penitents was all that remained.
Robert sat on his bench with head bowed and his eyes wet with tears. He did not enter the line of converts; in fact, he was ready to leave the building. He resisted raising his head for fear the pleading eyes of the older man would be there searching out his own.
Presently an unsteady arm rested on his shoulder.
“Let’s get out of here, Robert. I didn’t know we was makin’ you mad. We just wanted to do a little hell-raisin’. You plumb near knocked me senseless. Clefus and Shem still can’t hardly get on their feet.”
“Go away,” Robert whispered.
“I ain’t goin’ to leave you.”
Women and children near the front of the room started to sing as he pushed Muley away from him.
“Come on. Robert.”
“I’ve got to go down there.”
“You outa’ your head? Why that old sin-socker is just runnin’ this business for the money,” Muley argued.
“Not this one. He didn’t even take up ‘a collection, and it wouldn’t matter anyway. I’ve got to go down there. Get out If my way.”
Muley stood aside until Robert made his way down the aisle and fell upon the wrinkled neck of his deliverer.
When the building was cleared of all the other people, Robert faced the elderly preacher, who now stood shivering from the cold. Suddenly the boy felt drained of words. And. He too was shivering. He picked up two of the corncobs at the Preacher’s feet and gripped his fist tightly around each until he could feel the sharp edges of the outer cob collapse.
“Maybe if I put a few of these in the stove we could get some heat back in this place,” Robert said.
The older man stopped blotting the shallow cuts on his face and put his red bandanna handkerchief in his hip pocket. “I can’t think of any better use for them.” He chuckled and assisted Robert.
“I want to apologize for the way the men from the tavern acted,” Robert began. “They’re not such bad people – not so bad at all.”
“Most of the smoke and anguish of hell will surely come from people who don’t think themselves bad.”
Robert swallowed hard and made his confession complete. “I was with them. I came from the tavern. So were three other men who were in the line and made their professions of faith in Christ.”
“God bless each of you” – the older man smiled again “and we’ll keep working on all the rest of them. They will probably look upon you and the three others with contempt. The four of you will be a reminder to them – a painful reminder they would just as soon forget but cannot.”
“I will certainly do my best to see that no rowdy crowd comes up here again and bothers you – even if I have to knock them down the stairs with this poker.”
“That is not the way of the Savior, my young brother. You do want to be more like Him?”
“Yes.”
“Then he who would be more like the Christ must study the Bible and learn of His life and works. Imitate Him in all your thoughts and deeds. You are not so foolish as to think that that will come easy?”
“No,” Robert said.
The short life of the burning corncobs left the room chilled again, and the older man stood with great effort. “My aging joints do not work well in the cold,” he said apologetically. “One day you will be old, and understand.”
“Will I see you again?” Robert asked.
“Oh yes. Our business is not complete. We cannot baptize in the cold months of winter, but I shall be back in the spring – about May – with a host of others, God willing, and we shall cause the waters of the Holston to froth as they carry away the sins of His new sheep.”
