Revelations(25)

This is not the sort of love God advocates—a picking and choosing kind of love.

God told us to love each other. Unconditionally. Those who dare to put themselves above the word of God will be very surprised at the Day of Judgment to discover just how wrong they truly are.”

I pause for breath, even as I decide where I wish to go from here, for I find myself walking a fine line here, and I know it. I don’t wish to alienate anyone, and yet I wish to convey the idea that intolerance is…intolerable, for lack of a better word. It’s at this point that instinct begins to guide me, and without pausing to consider what it is I’m doing, I leap lightly from the stage. The crowd, obviously discerning my intent, has moved back slightly to give me room. It’s not much, I admit, but it’s enough. Once I’m safely on the floor, they push closer to me, jostling for position.

I can feel the agitation from my faithful apostles who are still upon the stage, their protective natures coming to the fore. If Judas were here, he’d be the first to take a stand beside me, and I realize it, which only serves to emphasize his absence that much more. I resolutely push the thought aside for later, however, as I continue to address the crowd. “The children are the hope of the future. It is they who shall carry on in the footsteps we leave behind, who will continue to blossom and grow, and work to improve the world in which they live. We must give them the basic building blocks with which to do this. We must instill in them, at an early age, a love for their fellow man which will permit them to live together in harmony.”

I gently touch the hand of a towheaded youngster who stands before me. He looks at me, hope in his eyes, hanging on my very words. I smile at him. He returns it. Ah, the unfettered innocence of youth.

They’re drawn to me, these young ones. They hang on my every utterance as I thread my way through their midst. I gather them to me, my confidence in myself and in my message growing stronger, renewed by their innocence and by their faith and trust in me. As if sensing my mood and my intent, my band begins to play softly in the background. I begin to sway as I move. I’m almost dancing now, a fire flowing through my limbs. I beckon to the young to follow me, to seek the word of God and to take it to heart in their daily lives. They clap their hands together in delight, taking up the beat now, forming a laughing, dancing, clapping caravan of hopeful youth as they follow me about the tent.

As I pass by Lucifer, his eyes and mine lock for a moment. I can see an amused smirk in his, a knowing one, as if he possesses information which I do not. And which I need. I do not allow him to faze me, however. I stand firm within myself and my belief in my Father, and when I glance back, he is already lost to view.

I raise my voice in song, and the young ones join me as I leap back upon the stage, leading this revival, this energetic outpouring of emotion, hosannas sung in the name of our Lord. By the time that the last chorus has faded at last, amid the cries of the cheering children, I’m ready to return to our regularly scheduled program once more.

Have I forgotten Jude? Of course not. I’ll find him when I’m done here. And I will do my best to right whatever is wrong. With him. With me. With us. He is my friend. I shall not forsake him.





Chapter Fifteen: Judas


The night has relapsed into a sort of silence at last. The crowd has all gone home, back to the little problems that make up the fabric of their lives. I don’t care.

Why should I care? They’re nothing to me, not at this moment. My mind is filled with so many other things I have no thought to spare for them. Perhaps that is callous of me. Selfish even. Normally I have more sympathy for my fellow man.

But not right now. Not at this moment. My thoughts are self-centered ones this night. I cannot get the whore’s words out of my head, no matter how I try. How I hate that woman, how I’ve always hated her. She’s done nothing to endear herself to me in any way throughout the long years since we first began. Why does she not simply leave us alone?

Because there is no us? Why are you so delusional when it comes to him?

Normally your vision is clearer than that. You’re more sensible than that. But when it comes to Jesus you cannot see a foot in front of your face. You’re worse than a schoolgirl with a crush. Gah, I’m talking to myself. Again. What purpose does that possibly serve? None that I can see. Might as well be pissing in the wind. What a lovely thought, that. Goes to show where my head is at, eh?

Once I fled the confines of the tent, I walked. That is all, simply walked.

Nowhere in particular. I paid no heed to where I was, or where I was going. But I never strayed very far either. I was always within a radius of a mile or so at all times of the tent. And of him. I tried to walk away the agitation her shrewish words produced, but I found that I couldn’t. I tried to stay away, yet I found myself drawn back. Back toward him, back toward the sound of his very melodic voice. Back toward his very presence—that which I longed for so desperately, yearned for so greatly, but wouldn’t allow myself to have. Even so, I made no move to rejoin them, or to help them with the clean-up of the aftermath of the unwashed masses once everything was over, once the audience was sent along their way, home or wherever. I’m generally on top of that as I’m on top of everything, but not tonight.