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The Church: The Return (Part13of15)

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*Though this is definitely outside of what I normally write, I’ve decided to publish a novella entitled “The Church.” From Nov. 30 to Dec. 15, I will be publishing the work of fiction in 15 parts. Each day, I will publish a part of the story of Christian and his quest to plant the largest progressive church in the world.  I will publish the entire work at the end.  Today, I’m publishing part 13 entitled “The Return”  Enjoy!

 

Perfect turned to partial in one plane ride. The ocean turned from blue to brown. The air went from refreshing to suffocating. The bounce in my step turned to a drag. What in the hell was happening? Everything was getting worse. Thanks to Angela’s reckless grace and compassion, I was being drug back to a world I tried to leave forever. The only thing that kept me from jumping out of the window was Angela. In the midst of it all, Quincy warned me that there would be a greeting party from the Cathedral of the Swinging Dicks at the airport. I told him, “Unless you want to be embarrassed, you better phone ahead and tell them to go home.” When we got off the plane, I couldn’t believe the media was still interested in Angela and I. I thought a year would be enough to suffocate the frenzy. I was wrong. Until we got in the car, cameras and journalists confronted us at every turn. That shit was crazy.

Still confused, Angela and I spent three days at a retreat center praying about what to do next. When we felt a peace, I called the governing board of the Cathedral of the Swinging Dicks to tell them we were ready to talk. Over the last year, the Cathedral had declined by thousands, gained a nasty reputation and the physical premises sat in ruins. There was no question in my mind that they were desperate. I guess you could call us their last chance. We were ushered into the secretive basement room where the board typically met. I couldn’t believe it was so cold. One of the board members whispered that they were behind on the electric bill. For many hours, the board apologized repeatedly, outlined a plan to deracist and detransphobe the community, handed us a check for a hundred thousand dollars for what happened and begged us to consider coming back as their pastors. Before I said no, Angela loudly declared, “There is not a single chance in hell that we’ll be coming back as your pastors. Try again my friends.” After some discussions, we were both offered positions as “Dean of the Cathedral of the Swinging Dicks.” We were to be the figureheads of the Cathedral. I didn’t give a shit if they were offering me the title of “King of the Fucking Universe,” I didn’t want it. I just wanted to be done with it all. In the midst of my silence, Angela accepted the positions for both of us. Immediately, people swarmed us in jubilation. What had she done? I just wanted to be done with it. The entire situation felt very violent to me. On the way out, Angela looked at me and said, “How are you going to love your enemies from Venezuela? We’re going to be right in the middle of it here.” I felt betrayed. I was betrayed. Now, I was in a prison that I never wanted to be in.

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