Words of Comfort -- Ray Comfort's Blog

Because of the cross

2012-06-04T06:30:00.000-07:00

David was indignant and said that the guilty party would die for his crime. Nathan then exposed his sin of taking another man's "lamb," saying,

"You are the man . . . Why have you despised the commandment of the Lord, to do evil in His sight?" When David showed signs of sorrow, Nathan then said,

"The Lord has also put away your sin; you shall not die."

Jerry then turned back to Psalm 51 and wondered what David's attitude would be when he approached God after his sin was exposed. He slowly read out loud the following words:

"Have mercy upon me, O God, according to Thy lovingkindness: according to the multitude of Thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions. Wash me throughly from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin. For I acknowledge my transgressions: and my sin is ever before me. Against Thee, Thee only, have I sinned, and done this evil in Thy sight."

It was at those words he stopped. They were no longer the expressions of a sinful king of Israel, but they were coming from Jerry's own heart:

"Against Thee, and Thee only, have I sinned." He dropped to his knees as a flood of his own immorality flashed into his mind. He remembered killing innocent people during the war. He recalled all the people he wronged in business, the things he stole as a youth, the lust that burned in his heart, his lies, the hatred and bitterness, his ingratitude for the gift of life, his proud atheistic arrogance, his prejudice against the minister; against God. He thought of the pain that he gave Connie by committing adultery; not once, but many times. A sense of shame enveloped him and he began to sigh deeply and weep like a little child. It seemed that there was a massive weight pushing down on his chest. He couldn't lift his head, but stammered,

"God, I have sinned against You! I deserve to go to Hell. Please forgive me."

As he did so, the weight lifted from his chest, and at the same time it was as though a dark cloud lifted from his tormented mind. From the time he was a child, he knew that Jesus Christ died on the cross for the sins of the world, but suddenly it dawned on him that when Jesus was on the cross so long ago, He was suffering for the sins of Jeremiah P. Adamson. He had never seen the cross as an expression of God's love for him before! This was God in human form taking the punishment due to Jeremiah! The words of Edwin came back to him—Jesus had broken God's Law, but because Jesus paid the fine for him he was free to leave the courtroom.

His eyes fell on verse ten of the Bible that lay open in front of him. Through the tears he said its words as his own prayer:

"Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me."

He sighed again deeply. Words couldn't describe the peace that flooded his mind. God loved him despite his sin, had forgiven him because of the cross, and Jesus Christ through the power of His eternal Spirit had made His residence in him, granting him everlasting life.

To be continued...

Made a 'decision'...

2012-06-01T06:30:00.000-07:00

Edwin, this is going to sound a little strange." Jerry gave a small nervous laugh,

"I have been thinking about the last time we spoke, and I have come to the conclusion that I haven't any 'faith' in God. Don't get me wrong--I believe in His existence, but . . . I really don't know what I'm trying to say . . . "

It had been three days since Jerry's visit to the eye specialist; three long days of an awareness of a sense of guilt, to a point where he felt he couldn't face God in prayer.

"I'm sorry to call you at dinner time, but this is really starting to bother me."

Edwin assured him that he was pleased to hear from him any time of the day or night.

"Jerry, there are different types of faith. In the past you denied God's existence, then you became aware of Him as a Creator, yet all that time He has been intimately aware of you, despite your lack of faith in Him. For example, even the hairs of your head are numbered. He knows your 'down‑sitting' and your 'up‑rising,' and He's acquainted with all your ways. In fact, there is not a word on your tongue that He doesn't 'know altogether.' Before you were formed in the womb, He knew you. You are not just some evolutionary species without rhyme or reason.

"After you left, I did a quick study of the meaning of your name, which has real significance. It shows how God’s hand is upon every one of us. This is what my book of names and their meanings said: 'Jeremiah Adamson-‑Jehovah will exalt‑son of Adam.'"

"God may have even used you for His purposes in the past without you having the slightest awareness of it. No Jeremiah, your lack of faith doesn’t make any difference to the faithfulness of God . . ."

Jerry interrupted, "When I made my ‘decision,’ I had some sort of faith. I really tried to believe that God would heal Connie, but that became overwhelmed with anger and bitterness when she grew worse. Now there's just nothing there."

"Jerry, the 'faith' the Bible speaks of in regards to salvation is more than an intellectual resolution. It's not merely a matter of asking Jesus Christ into your heart, but what the Bible calls 'repentance towards God and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ.'

"Jesus warned that many would seek to enter into the Kingdom of God and 'would not be able.' He said to strive to enter the straight gate . . . that means to agonize to get in."

Jerry then said,

"I appreciate what you are saying, but I still feel confused; and I still have this anger about Connie's death."

"That will go in time. Jerry, I don't profess to have all the answers or to know the mind of God, but one thing I have seen again and again is that suffering has a way of humbling the proud human heart. The prophet Jeremiah said of the Jews who suffered,'The people who survived the sword found grace in the wilderness.' Sometimes the only prayer we offer ourCreator is 'Why?' The wilderness of the life and the sword of tribulation brings us to our knees. It looks like God’s hand is on you Jerry.”

To be continued...

Chapter Twenty-one: The Enemy of God

2012-05-31T06:30:00.001-07:00

Later that night Jerry opened the drawer where he had placed the things that were dear to Connie, and carefully took out her King James Bible. The pages were worn for a book that was less than six months old, and hundreds of verses were underlined with notes written beside them.

He found the Book of Psalms and opened it again at Psalm 51.

Connie had neatly printed beside verse four, "See James 4:4," so he looked in the index and turned to the verse in the Book of James. It seemed to jump out of the page at him: "Ye adulterers and adulteresses, know ye not that the friendship of the world is enmity against God? Whoever therefore is a friend of the world is the enemy of God?"

This time Connie had written another verse beside it: "‘You . . . were enemies in your mind through wicked works’ (Colossians 1:21)‑‑natural mind 'enmity' to God. See also Matthew 5:28‑29."

Jerry turned to the verses not knowing what they were. His heart skipped a beat as he read the same verse that Edwin had read to him, about lust being adultery of the heart. It wasn't marked by Connie so he thought, I must try and remember where this is. It was then that he recollected the bookmark he picked up in Kevin Kickham’s waiting room. He took it from his pocket, but as he went to place it in the Bible, his eyes fell on the next verse:

"And if thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into Hell."

He stared again at the heading on the yellow bookmark: "What can be more important than your eyes?" and said,

Nothing could be more important, except the eternal salvation of my soul.

He slowly turned back again to Psalm 51. It began by making reference to King David’s adultery:

"To the chief Musician, A Psalm of David, when Nathan the Prophet came unto him, after he had gone in to Bathsheba." On the side of the Bible he found more neat handwriting, "See I Samuel Chapter 12," so, to get a background on the incident he turned there and began to read.

It was the story of King David and how he lusted after a beautiful woman named Bathsheba as he watched her washing herself. He found out she was married, committed adultery with her, had her husband killed, and then married her.

God then sent Nathan the prophet to reprove him. The man of God gave David a parable about something that he could, as an ex‑shepherd, understand. The parable was about sheep. He told a story about a rich man, who rather than take one from his own flock, killed a poor man's pet lamb to feed a stranger.

To be continued...

Chapter Twenty: A Spectacle of Yourself

2012-05-30T06:30:00.000-07:00

Kevin Kickham was a good man. He looked at Jerry, smiled and said,

"I'm glad you came. Some people put off getting a new prescription and end up doing permanent damage to their eyes."

He was Jerry’s optician, and he seemed to show a genuine concern for his welfare. What he had said made Jerry feel pleased that he had taken the time out of his busy schedule to have his eyes checked.

After the exam, he was ushered into a waiting room where he was seated, and told that he would have the new glasses in his hands within the hour.

As he sat down, he looked across the room and saw three other people. One was a very large woman who was sitting next to a very large boy who stared back at him. They were obviously mother and son. Along from them sat a woman whose face he couldn't see because of a magazine she was holding close to her eyes. No doubt she's waiting for her new prescription, Jerry thought to himself.

He looked beside him at the mound of magazines and a small stack of bright yellow bookmarks with the name, address, and phone number of the optician on them. Across the top was boldly written: "What can be more important than your eyes?"

He picked up a Time magazine and flicked through it. It was two weeks old, and Jerry was intimately familiar with almost every news item in it. He put it down, picked up a bookmark and read the words again, "What can be more important than your eyes?"

He thought, I would hate to be blind; imagine seeing nothing but darkness until the day you die? I wouldn't give up my eyes for the world.

He slipped the bookmark into his shirt pocket, then picked up another magazine, sat it on his lap, and for some reason began to think about Connie. It was strange that he didn't realize how much he loved her until she got cancer. Again the nagging began in his mind: Why? Why did God let her die? She was a good woman. She was a faithful wife. She believed in God and look what He did to her!

Then he thought on the words he had had with the minister the previous day. He went home that night and read Psalm 51 in the Bible Connie gave him. It was just a prayer that King David prayed after he committed adultery. After reading it, Jerry decided that he would try and clean up his act; especially after hearing what the Bible said about "lust." He knew that it was wrong to let pornographic thoughts invade his mind, so he would try and think pure thoughts.

At the very moment he thought that, the woman opposite him took the magazine down from her eyes. Jerry had imagined her to be a little homely‑looking with thick glasses. She wasn't. In fact, she was gorgeous. She was so stunning he found that he wanted to stare at her. At that moment, she crossed her legs. He quickly picked up the magazine and thought, Wonderful! I decide not to lust after women, and straightaway I do it.

He didn't feel as though he had taken a good look at her, so he secretly peeped over the top of the magazine, but to his horror she was looking at him at that same instant. He put the magazine back on his lap and began to casually flick through it. He hadn't realized that it was a woman's publication and almost every page had pictures of more ravishing women, usually advertising underwear.

A battle began to rage in his mind: "This is ridiculous! There's nothing wrong with just looking at beautiful women. But would I want other men 'looking' at my sister like I look at other men's sisters? It's not hurting anyone! Maybe not, but God says lust is adultery. Well, why hasn't this sort of thing bothered me before? Because you've never tried to stop before, that's why. It's only natural for a man to sexually desire a woman. Yes, it does come naturally, but you know that pornography is wrong in God's sight, so why do you then think He condones pornography of the mind?"

Jerry put the magazine back and tried to pull his thoughts together. It was as though his conscience, which had been dead for so long, had suddenly come to life.

He felt annoyed that something he enjoyed was being threatened to be taken from him, by puritanical fanaticism. He was fine until that stupid minister pushed the Ten Commandments down his throat. He decided he would forget about the time he had had with Edwin and merely try and live a good life.

As he drove home that day he wore his new glasses. They didn't help him too much. Kevin Kickham had done a fine job--all they did was bring into sharper focus how much he lusted after women. He had never been so conscious of the fact that he desired almost every female his lustful eyes could find.

When he arrived home he felt as though he had been wallowing in a pigsty of his own sinful desires. His time at the optician's had truly been eye-opening.

To be continued...

May be tempted to lust...

2012-05-29T06:30:00.000-07:00

Then Reverend Smalley reminded Jerry of the story of the Prodigal Son, a story that he hadn't heard since his Sunday‑school days when he spent most of the time counting the patterns on the wallpaper. He refreshed his memory by telling him it was the story Jesus told about a wayward son who left his father and ended up in a pigsty.

The young man then returned penniless and asked for his father's forgiveness. As Edwin spoke of the rebellious son, Jerry quietly thought about Johnny's experience. Then, as he was beginning to walk away, he turned around and with a troubled expression asked,

"What should I say to God?"

"Just pour out your heart to him. It's like a man who has betrayed his wife's trust, and committed adultery. His loving and faithful wife is more than willing to take him back, so, in what attitude should he approach her, and what should he say to her?"

Jerry knew that there was no way Edwin could have known about his experiences. He wrote off the first two stories, about the man who had all his debt paid and the son coming home destitute, as mere coincidence. But with the third "illustration" about a husband who committed adultery made him shudder. He had been unfaithful to his wife, but only he and the guilty woman knew that. Jerry said,

"His attitude should be one of genuine humility; humbled that his wife would take him back. He should simply say that he has violated her trust, that he has no words of justification for what he has done . . . and that he will never even think of committing adultery again."

Edwin answered. "Go and do likewise. God isn't interested in your words, but in your heart. Repentance is telling God you are sorry for sinning against Him and saying that you will never even think of doing it again. That husband may be tempted to lust after other women, but if he does, in the light of the grace his wife showed him, he will immediately pull his thoughts back into line with his new resolve to do only that which pleases her."

With that, he put one hand on Jerry's shoulder and prayed that God would continue to speak to him, and bring him to a point of genuine repentance. Then he said,

"If I were you, I would go home, get on my knees and read Psalm 51."

To be continued...

Amazing Grace

2012-05-28T06:30:00.000-07:00

He looked directly at Jerry with the same piercing look that Mr. von Ludendorff gave him in his nightmares, and asked,

"Have you ever done that?" Jerry tried to hide the fact that his mouth was dry and his heart was pounding in his chest. He rubbed his chin self‑consciously and said,

"Yes . . . once or twice." The minister then looked even more intently at him and said,

"Jerry, by your own admission, you are a lying, thieving, adulterer at heart, and you have to face God on Judgment Day . . . and we have only looked at three of the Ten Commandments. There are another seven you have to answer to, about blasphemy, greed, hatred, murder, honoring your parents and giving to God what is rightly His in the area of worship, etc. On Judgment Day, if God was to judge you by the standard of His Law, do you think you would be innocent or guilty?"

He didn't hesitate to answer,

"Guilty."

"Well, do you think you will go to Heaven or Hell?" The answer was quick and positive:

"Heaven!"

"Why? Is it because you think God is 'good' and therefore will overlook your sins?"

Jerry nodded in agreement with such a thought. He was pleased that Edwin had been able to articulate as to why he thought that he should go to Heaven. His only hope was that God would understand his mistakes, but it seemed that the Reverend didn’t want to leave the conversation there.

"If a rapist and murderer expects a judge to overlook his crimes because he thinks that the judge is a 'good' man, he will probably hear him answer such a presumption with, 'You are right about one thing. I am a good man, and it is because of my goodness that I am going to see that you are punished, and brought to justice.'

"Those who are hoping that God's goodness will overlook their sins, will find that the very thing they are trusting in to save them will be the thing that will condemn them and send them to Hell."

Edwin then closed his Bible as if to say, I rest my case. He stood to his feet and walked around his desk as if to close the conversation. Jerry felt like saying, "Don't leave me like this," but instead, he too rose to his feet and as they walked toward the door he asked the minister,

"What do you think I should do?" As they stood at the doorway he said,

"Jerry, you know the Gospel; that Christ died to save us. You know that He took the punishment for our sins. We broke the Law; He paid the fine. That means that God can now legally dismiss our case. He can commute our death sentence and let us live. You also know that He rose from the dead. But you need to ask God to give you understanding as to what that means, and you need to repent and put your faith in the Savior."

Then he stopped speaking as though he had thought of some better way to illustrate what he had just said.

"Jerry . . . it's like a man who found himself deeply in debt. He was utterly without hope. There was no way that he could pay his creditors. The law was about to take its fearful course, when a rich friend extended grace toward him and paid his debt in full. It was actually the law that drove him to grace. If the law hadn't pressured him, he wouldn't have sought help from his friend. Can you understand that?" The old minister smiled gently, then quoted a hymn that he loved to sing,

"‘It was grace that taught my heart to fear, and grace my fears relieved.’ Those are the words of a hymn the world sings—Amazing Grace, but it seems they have no depth of understanding as to what the words actually mean.

"When the Christian looks at the terrible price that the Law demanded--the suffering death of the Messiah, it horrifies him. Grace provided the payment, and it was at terrible cost. The Bible puts it this way: ‘Pass the sojourning here in fear; forasmuch as you know that you were not redeemed with silver and gold . . . but with the precious blood of Christ."

Jerry thought about the day the officers of the law drove him to Theodore’s house and how Grace welcomed him, and took him to Theodore who paid his debt in full. He could understand what the Bible was saying, more than the minister knew.

"Jeremiah, God's wrath abides upon every person who has transgressed His Commandments. If the Law is allowed to take its fearful course on the Day of Judgment, its sentence will be eternal Hell. It's the knowledge of our true state--that we are in big trouble, that drives us to the Gospel of grace.

"Our salvation was no small thing. When Jesus suffered on the Cross, He paid the fine with His own life's blood. Just as the friend showed that his love was more than mere lip service by paying the debt, so the Cross is an evident expression of God's love and grace toward you and me. But these are just empty words until God reveals the truth of them to you."

To be continued...

I’m really not a bad person?

2012-05-25T06:30:00.000-07:00

It was three months since his beloved wife's passing. Once again Jerry sat in Edwin's home, but this time it was in the minister's study. The walls of the small room were covered with books; hundreds of books about God and the Bible. After a little small talk about such an impressive collection, Jerry said,

"Edwin, I know I can be open with you. Since Connie died . . . well, even though I made a 'decision' some time ago, I seem to have lost faith in God. In fact, I haven't prayed in weeks. I feel bitter that He let her die. I wouldn't have bothered to come back and see you except for the fact that last night I had a dream that I have had a number of times since the war. In it, a minister keeps pointing to me, out of all the people in the room, and accusing me of different things. I'm confused as to what I'm supposed to do. One thing I do know, I can't go on as before; living in blind faith as though everything was all right. Not only that, I'm not sure of the Bible. Connie would read it all the time but I had no desire to . . . "

Edwin had a gentle firmness in his voice as he said,

"Oh, being a Christian isn’t a matter of 'blind faith.' The world thinks that that is what is required, but it is not true.

"Seeing as you mentioned it, let's look at the Bible for a moment and see if you can be 'sure' of its authenticity. It was written over a period of 3,000 years by as many as fifty different authors; from kings to fishermen, and yet there is incredible consistency throughout the whole of Scripture. Take for instance how God said of the Jews in Deuteronomy, that if they obeyed Him and kept His Law they would have His blessings of long life, health and prosperity. However, if they disobeyed Him and became godless, giving themselves to idolatry which would lead to all types of sexual sin, greed, corruption, etc., He would allow them to be delivered into the hands of their enemies, so that, as a nation, they would be humbled and seek Him once again. This happened time and time again throughout the Old Testament, and has continued to happen right up until this present day.

"One interesting consistency is that the number forty is God's number of deliverance. The Old Testament and the New Testament harmonize in this. In fact, in Chapter Seven of the Book of Acts, Stephen mentions that God delivered Moses from Egypt when he was 40 years old. Then He waited 40 years before He used Him to deliver Israel from Egypt. He also says that the Jews were in the wilderness for 40 years before God delivered them into the land of Canaan. This is unwavering--right throughout scripture, attesting to the fact that only God could have inspired such unerring consistency, and it's only one example of literally hundreds of perfect harmonies of numerical symmetry. That alone should convince an honest skeptic to at least set aside his doubts for a moment."

He stopped his mini-sermon for a moment and smiled at the thought of an "honest skeptic" because they were so few and far between, then said,

"But there are also many infallible prophecies which have been perfectly fulfilled such as the Jews getting Jerusalem back in 1967, something God had promised thousands of years previous. But there is something else you need to hear."

Jerry sat up in his seat and said,

"I don't doubt God's existence. What bothers me is the fact that I keep having this dream telling me I need to repent! I don't get it; I’m really not a bad person?"

The old minister leaned forward in his chair a little and said,

"Jerry, you've been candid with me so I trust you will let me be direct with you. Let me ask you a question. Have you obeyed the Ten Commandments?" Jerry smiled and said,

"No, I have broken one or two . . . but who hasn't? What I am more concerned with is the fact that God allowed my wife to get cancer, then He let her die . . . where’s the justice in that?" Edwin seemed to ignore that remark. He said,

"Well, let's look at God's Law for a moment and see how you do. How many lies do you think you have told in your whole life?"

In a flash Jerry thought of his childhood in Texas, his years in German, then the lies he told in England and those he told to Connie, when he was committing adultery. "Quite a few. But who hasn't lied. I think we are all guilty?"

"What does that make you?" asked the good minister.

"A sinner, I guess." The next statement made him shuffle in his seat,

"Yes, but more specifically . . . a liar. Have you ever stolen something, even if it's small?" Jerry said he had.

"What does that make you?" "A thief, " came the answer.

The Reverend’s eyes twinkled as he said, “No. It makes you a lying thief.” He then looked at the Bible he had opened on his lap and read:

"You have heard that it was said by them of old time, Thou shalt not commit adultery: But I say unto you, That whosever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery in his heart."

To be continued...

Chapter Nineteen: The Number Forty

2012-05-24T06:30:00.000-07:00

The conversation with Edwin shattered a lifetime of Jerry's philosophy. He couldn't argue with the simple fact that everything made had a maker. There wasn't a thing on the face of the earth that he could say didn't have some sort of maker; whether it was his car, his TV, his shoes, his belt, his telephone, his couch or his house. All around him were flowers, birds, trees, and thousands of different animals; things infinitely more complex than anything man had made. He felt stupid that he had thought himself to be "intellectual" in his atheistic beliefs. He had also found an adequate answer as to the next obvious question—Who made God? That one was reasonably simple. God is eternal. He dwells outside of the dimension of “time” that He created.

A few days after this, at the insistence of his dying wife, Jeremiah asked Jesus Christ to be his Lord and Savior and began to attend church each Sunday until the time of Connie's death.

To be continued...

You’re not an atheist

2012-05-23T06:30:00.000-07:00

After the meeting, the venerable minister invited the couple home for lunch. After the meal, the women washed the dishes and Jerry and the Reverend retired into the living room, something Jerry had hoped would happen. He wanted to test the man's faith, without hurting Connie's feelings or seeming rude.

As they sat on the soft lounge chairs, he picked up a cup of coffee, stirred it slowly and said,

"Reverend, would you mind if I ask you a few questions about …about 'God,' and His existence? I'm an educated man and I tend to lean toward atheism, so I would like you to tell me why you have a belief in a Creator when there is so much evidence in the other direction." Reverend Smalley smiled and said "I would be happy to try and answer any questions, if will you stop calling me Reverend. I’m Edwin."

Jerry continued,

"Sure. Here’s my question. I can understand why Connie suddenly wanted to come to church. Death is a very scary thing and that's when 'faith' comes in handy. My own father prayed when the Nazis were heading for Poland. I spent four years fighting with the French resistance, and I would be a liar if I said that I never prayed when things were tough. But that's my point, when things get difficult, we all need to look to 'God' or the bottle--something to pull us through.

“I remember praying once and even being convinced that God answered my prayer, but I was backed into a corner and couldn't do anything but pray. I’m sure what I then thought was an answer to prayer, was nothing but a coincidence.

"Then there is actual evidence against the existence of God. First, there is the ever-present issue of suffering. If a God of love existed, He wouldn't allow it. What father would let his children starve to death, as we have seen happen in China in years past? Or what father would let his child suffer with cancer when he could easily cure him, as in the case of Connie?

"Second, what proof is there for His existence anyway? You can't hear Him, see Him, touch Him, taste Him or smell Him. All I ever hear when it comes to God is, 'You've got to have faith.' Well, I'm sorry Reverend . . . uh Edwin . . . I don't want 'faith,' I want good hard concrete evidence."

Jerry sipped his coffee, then put his cup to one side, shuffled a little in his seat and said,

"I must say I feel a little uncomfortable. Here I am a guest in your house, and I guess I have shaken your faith a little."

To his surprise, Edwin didn't look one bit shaken. He smiled politely and said,

"I had exactly the same sentiments for years. If I gave you a book, would you take the time to read it and get back to me with your thoughts? It's about atheists. It's called, God Doesn't Believe in Atheists. If you take the ti . . . "

Jerry lifted up his hand before he could finish his sentence and said,

"I really don't think it will help." The minister smiled in that he had uncovered the fact that Jerry wasn't asking questions at all, but merely airing his beliefs. He said,

"So, you are pretty sure of your facts?" Jerry was quick to respond,

"Sure? To be quite honest, I haven't begun to bring out all the other evidence to support atheism--the fact of evolution—you can’t argue with science, the hypocrisy in the Church, the hateful doctrine of Hell, and the fact that Hitler was a Christian. " Reverend Smalley leaned forward a little and said,

"May I ask you a couple of questions?"

"Why not? Go ahead" Jerry retorted confident that he could handle anything the minister had.

"Look at my house. See the windows, the door frames, the interior paneling, the wallpaper, the electrical wiring, the tiles on the roof, etc. If I asked you if there was a builder, what would you say to me?"

Jerry's face revealed that he thought the question to be absurd and his tone carried a slight impatience as he said,

"The building exists; therefore there must be a builder. Buildings don’t make themselves. I don’t see your point."

Edwin said,

"But I can't see him, hear him, touch, taste or smell him. What actual proof is there that he exists?"

Jerry shuffled in his seat and quietly said,

"The building."

"What then would you think of my mental capacity if I told you that there was no evidence that there was a builder? What would you think of my intellect, if I said to you that I really believed that this house; with all the concrete, nails, glass, door frames, paneling, etc., happened by pure chance, by accident?"

Suddenly, it seemed like a light switched on in Jerry's head. He thought for a moment and said, "I would think that you were a fool."

“Here’s the second question. As an atheist, you believe that nothing created everything . . . a scientific impossibility?” Jerry didn’t answer. “You can’t truly believe that creation, or as a professing atheist you may call it “Nature,” made itself. This is because if it made itself, it had to pre-exist befor it made itself to be able to have the ability to make itself. So, you are stuck with the scientific impossibility of believing that nothing created everything.”

Jeremiah rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and said, “No, I don’t believe that. Obviously something created everything, I just be;lieve that it was God, and particularly not the ‘Christian’ God.”

“So Jeremiah, you’re not an atheist. You are what’s called an ‘agnostic.’ You believe that there was or is some sort of creative force. “

To be continued...

Chapter Eighteen: Educated Man

2012-05-22T06:30:00.000-07:00

The money from Theodore Lawson put Jerry back on his feet. Over the next few years, the economy improved and the casinos picked up. Life for Jeremiah P. Adamson became sweet once again. His relationship with Connie even improved a little, but he never confided in her of the depth of financial trouble. Nor did she ever find out about the Mob's little visit. Still, even with what they had been through, the marriage lacked the closeness it once had.

That was one of the reasons Jerry found it easier to travel on business trips. Back in Otley he hated leaving Connie even to go into town for half a day, but now the trips gave him more of a chance to appreciate life and meet other people; especially intelligent, attractive women.

One night after returning from a business trip to Vegas, he had a nightmare that began with him and his father running out of the back door as Nazis fired shots at them. This time, however, instead of running ahead when his father was shot, he stopped and lifted him up. Then he found himself once again in the von Ludendorff s home with the penetrating eyes of the preacher staring at him. Again he kept hearing the question,

"Do you know the mystery of Christ?"

Then he glared at Jerry and said,

"Adulterers will not inherit the Kingdom of God!" Jerry tried to hide behind the person in front of him, but the preacher stepped to one side and pointed directly at him and said again,

"Adulterers God will judge."

Jerry stood to his feet and cried out,

"No…I'm sorry!"

But the preacher took no notice. Jerry began to weep and say,

"Please…I'm sorry for what I have done!"

Just then he felt someone touch his shoulder, and he heard a soothing English voice say,

"It's okay honey--you are having a nightmare."

Jerry sat up in bed, looked at Connie, and then looked around him as though he didn't believe her. Sweat was dripping from his brow and his bedclothes were soaking wet. He looked down at his hands that were shaking even though he was wide-awake. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and his breathing labored as if he had just run up some steep stairs.

Connie stared at the fear in his face and said,

"That must have been some nightmare. " Jerry looked straight ahead and said,

"I don't know what's happening to me. I have had horrible dreams about the war, but they have never been like this one. With this one I keep ending up at the von Ludendorff s house." He turned to face Connie, and with the expression of a small child told her about the dream, minus the verse about adultery. The next night he dreamed again that he was at the Bible study. This time the preacher said,

"Murderers will not inherit the Kingdom of God." Jerry stood to his feet and said,

"I am not a murderer. I have only killed in war."

But the preacher looked at him with a piercing gaze and said,

"God knows how many people you killed when you could have let them go. He saw how many you slaughtered merely because they were Germans. You hated them. You are no different than the Nazis!"

Again Jerry began mumbling incoherently in his sleep and was wakened, dripping with sweat. Again Connie soothed his fears and held his hand until the fear had passed. It was in those times he felt a glimmer of the love he had had for her in the early days of their marriage.

One afternoon Connie returned from the doctor looking quite pale. Earlier in the week she had discovered a lump in her left breast and went to the local hospital to have it checked out.

Suddenly Jerry was the one holding her hand as she told him the lump was malignant. As gently as the doctor could, he informed her that she had a maximum of six months to live. Jerry held her in his arms and they both wept.

From that day on, Connie began to read a Bible that someone had given her, and it wasn't long until she was regularly going to church. After a few weeks Jerry decided to go with her, just for moral support. It was an old, cold, brick Methodist church building that had a warm interior. The elderly minister and the people showed the Adamsons nothing but love and encouragement.

Despite the fact that he went to church, and despite his prayer at the fire in England, Jerry still quietly leaned towards atheism, although for Connie's sake he never mentioned it. His thought was that we create a higher power, or a God--call it what you will‑‑in times of crisis. With a cold objectivity, he remembered the circumstances in which he had prayed when his daughter had stopped breathing. The incident confirmed his belief--in his time of weakness he had called upon a greater power. This was a natural inclination for the human species. This was what was happening with Connie, and he hoped that her faith would help her through her pains. With Connie’s gentle encouragement, he was also able to curb using God’s name in vain. This wasn’t easy because it had rolled off his tongue for so many years, he didn’t even know he was doing it.

To be continued...

"Welcome home, son."

2012-05-21T06:30:00.000-07:00

A thin‑face but clean-shaven young man stood at the opened door of his parents’ house a little north of Royse City. This time he didn't just walk in. Johnny looked at both his beloved mom who was standing by the door, and his father who was looking over a newspaper in his hands. He looked directly at his father and said,

"Dad, I would like to come home . . . if you will have me." Jerry was stunned. He put the paper down, stood to his feet, embraced him, something he hadn't done for years, and said,

"Welcome home, son."

Johnny poured his heart out to his parents. He confessed that he had stolen, taken drugs; that he had been a fool to waste his life as he did. Then he turned to his father and said,

"Dad, more than anything else, I feel bad that Granddad’s gun was stolen. You have had it since the war, and I know how much it meant to you."

Jerry smiled,

"Son, that gun means nothing to me compared to you. An old friend told me what you were doing to yourself, and I thought we had lost you. I don't care what you've done, you are still alive and that's all that matters."

The next evening Johnny's mouth dropped open as he sat in the living room. Once again, he couldn't believe what he had just seen on television. Lee Harvey Oswald, the man accused of assassinating the President, had been shot to death, and a newsman caught the incident on film. He leaned forward and glared at the slow motion replay . . . at the man with the gun and the black‑rimmed hat and hollered,

"I know that man. That's Jack Ruby! He is the owner of the nightclub where…"

Johnny stopped mid-sentence as the anchor man came back on the scene, and gave details on how the Dallas strip‑club owner had walked down a ramp with fifty reporters and had suddenly shot and killed Lee Harvey Oswald as he was being transported by police to a bullet‑proof van. Then the newscaster said,

"Ruby used a snub‑nosed gun which fired a .38 caliber bullet and pierced Oswald's left side."

To be continued...

The voice said...

2012-05-18T06:30:00.000-07:00

The happenings of that day dazed Johnny. He didn't eat, he didn't drink, and neither did he give any thought to his heroin habit. That night he walked slowly to the bathroom and looked into the mirror. The assassination had had a sobering effect on him, confronting him with the transient nature of this life. One moment a man was smiling and waving at crowds, and the next moment he was dead! It was then that he remembered what he once heard‑‑that life is just a dash between two dates on a head stone.

He stared into the mirror at his unshaven face. He was 18 years old yet he looked like an old man. His cheeks were sunken because of a lack of good nutrition, and his eyes looked like a road map, with dark lines under them.

He whispered,

"What am I doing with my life!" Deep in thought, he walked back to his room and picked up his still‑opened notebook from the bed, and began to read the poem he had written only days before. But as he read it, it was as though he could hear a sinister voice speak to him through it. The voice said:

Behold my friend! I am heroin,

Known by all as destroyer of men,

From whence I came no one knows,

A far‑off land where the poppy grows.

I came to this country without getting caught,

And since that day I've been hunted and sought,

Whole nations have gathered to plot my destruction,

They call me the breeder of crime and corruption.

More potent than whisky, more deadly than wine,

Yes I am the scourge of all mankind!

My little white grains are nothing but waste,

I'm soft and fluffy‑‑but bitter to taste.

I'm white, I'm brown, but deadly to use,

For once you're addicted, I really abuse,

I'm known in China, Iraq and Iran,

I'm welcome in Turkey and I've been to Japan.

In cellophane bags I make my way,

To men in office and children at play,

From heads of state to lowest bum,

From richest estate to lowest slum.

I take a rich man and make him poor,

Take a maiden and make her a whore,

Make a beautiful woman forget her looks,

And make the student forget his books.

I can make you steal, borrow and beg,

Then search for a vein in your arm or your leg,

I'm known to the selfish and those filled with greed,

All faceless regardless of religion or creed.

My gift is illusion, my blessing is fake,

Death and destruction follow in my wake,

I'm the kiss of death to all who I touch,

I start as a gift and remain as a crutch.

My friends are many but I'm loyal to none,

I come to destroy and my work must be done,

Some think of me as merely a toy,

But wise men know I maim and destroy.

Run from me if you wish‑‑I will never give chase,

For sooner or later you'll return for your taste,

Once in your bloodstream you'll think me not mean,

You'll praise me as master, then nod in a dream.

You've heard my warning but will take no heed,

Put your foot in the stirrup‑‑mount this great steed,

Get right in the saddle and hold on real well,

For the white horse 'heroin' will take you to Hell.

To be continued.

President Kennedy has been shot!

2012-05-17T06:30:00.000-07:00

In the drawer he read a scribbled note. All it said was,

"You owe me!"

The next day Johnny woke up wishing he hadn't. Not only did he feel nauseated, but he also felt a little and frustrated. Darlene was going to have an abortion and there was nothing he could do about it. He pulled the covers back, sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the calendar on the wall. It was November 22, 1963. He had written on it that today was the day he had to collect $200 from one of his dealers and give half of it to Lips. But he could hardly gather the enthusiasm to do anything, even though he had slept in his clothes and didn't need to dress. He rolled back into bed and went back to sleep.

Around eleven he woke up and fumbled with a packet of cigarettes that he had left beside the bed. His nicotine-stained fingers trembled as he struck a match, and then took a deep breath of smoke. He sighed loudly as he exhaled, and at the same time picked up a notebook he kept by his bed. In it were a few addresses and about a dozen depressing poems he had written about life. One was penned a few days earlier after a deal fell through and he began to withdraw. It was called "Heroin." The poem seemed to flow from his pen as he wrote.

Just after noon he got out of bed, walked into his living room and turned on a huge old television that was obviously too heavy for Darlene to steal. Then he slowly walked into the kitchen to make some strong black coffee.

He never finished making that drink. From the kitchen he heard words that sent shivers down his spine:

"President Kennedy has been shot! I repeat, the President of the United States has been shot . . . "

Johnny rushed into the room hoping it was some sort of sick joke, and sat on an old couch in front of the TV.

A man stood with a microphone, directly in front of Parkland Hospital and said,

"Just after noon shots were fired at the President's motorcade as it drove through the streets of Dallas." The reporter stopped speaking for a moment and looked slightly to one side. He began again,

"I have just been . . ." His voice cracked with emotion. He composed himself and said again, " . . . I have just been informed that President John F. Kennedy has been pronounced dead. He was killed today, just after noon by an assassin's bullet. It happened as he was being driven through Dallas to the sound of cheering crowds. Suddenly, shots rang out and stunned the masses as the 46‑year‑old president crumpled in the seat of an open limousine. We have also been informed that Governor John B. Connally Jr. of Texas, who was riding in the same car as the Kennedys, was severely wounded in the chest, ribs and arm."

Johnny sat glued to the television for the rest of the day as the media kept the public informed about the assassination. Some time later, they reported that police had arrested Lee Harvey Oswald and charged him with the murder.

To be continued.

Gone!

2012-05-16T06:30:00.000-07:00

The next day, Johnny sold his near new car for about a quarter of what it was worth. When that money was gone, he stole a car from a parking lot three blocks from his apartment and sold it the same night to someone at the club.

When Lips found out that he had hot‑wired an auto, he advised him on ways to raise some cash without so much risk. He told him that it was far easier and less perilous to unload electrical goods through the nightclub, rather than a stolen car. He said that one of the best times he found to lift goods was on Sunday mornings. He smiled as he said,

"Almost every houth ith empty becauth people are at church!" When Lips needed cash for his habit, he would carry a bunch of fake circulars in his hand and go door to door. It was easy to check if anyone was home. He said that many religious people didn't even bother to lock their doors, so he would just go right on in and take cash and things that were small enough to hide under his jacket.

But Lips had a better suggestion for Johnny. He could work for him, selling smack. He said that it was real easy and the money was good enough to support his habit and give him a very comfortable life. What's more, he would trust him with credit with the first shipment, and give him his own risk-free territory. Johnny could take over the college district, where there were no worries about undercover narcotic agents. He said that it was an easy market. All he had to do was befriend some prospective buyers by showing them a little porn, gain their trust, then give them their first hit free…and they will be back for more. He laughed and said,

"It's sthoooo good to be able to have that thort of confidenth in your product!"

Two weeks later, Darlene walked up to Johnny as he sat at the club. She would normally have crept up behind him and rubbed his shoulders or stroked his hair, but this night she simply called him to a corner table. He sat down opposite her and said,

"What's wrong? I haven't seen you for three weeks!"

She frowned and said,

"I need $600 quickly. I'm pregnant. If I don't get rid of this, Jack will fire me."

Johnny was stunned. It was the last thing he expected to hear. Also, he didn't like her "If I don't get rid of this" attitude. As far as he was concerned this was a potential child she was speaking about, and there was no way he was going to pay for an abortion. He reached out, put his hand on hers and gently said,

"Darlene, I care about you. I also care about our kid."

Darlene winced as though he had just slapped her face. At the same time she pulled her hand from under his. Her voice became a little louder,

"Don't be stupid. I told you that Jack won't like this!"

She then rose from the table and walked away.

Later that night when Johnny returned to his apartment, the door was unlocked. Darlene was the only other person with a key, so he hoped that she had changed her mind about the abortion and was waiting for him inside. When he opened his door and walked through the small apartment, he found that she wasn't there. Neither was the new stereo he had lined up for sale the following day. He rushed to his room and opened the drawer where she knew he kept his cash. The $400 he had left there was gone. So was his .38.

To be continued.

Chapter Seventeen: Risk‑free Territory

2012-05-15T06:30:00.000-07:00

A month had passed since Johnny put the first shot of heroin into his arm. In one month he had been fired from his job, and secured another one. This one was selling heroin. After his first hit, he found his friend Lips, and spent every penny he had on some more heroin, then raised money for the next week's supply by making another visit to his dad. He borrowed $500 by lying about wanting to fix his car. When that ran out he became involved in something he never thought he would stoop to--theft.

He picked up his grandfather’s short‑barrelled .38 and drove to a suburb of Dallas.

It was late at night. No one was around as he peered into a liquor store. Johnny sat in the parking lot for over an hour watching an Oriental man undo boxes, and then stack cigarettes and other things onto the shelves. At one stage, there were no customers for more than 40 minutes.

Johnny decided that he would wait until midnight, then rob the store. His hands were shaking as he checked the gun to make sure it was loaded. He removed the safety catch, opened the car door, got out and cased the area. Not a soul in sight. He tucked the gun into his belt and partly zipped up his black leather jacket. Even though he felt terrified at what he was about to do, there was a sense of excitement, both in the robbery itself and in the fact that by morning he would have enough smack in his hands to last him a month.

As he quietly pushed open the door, the man behind the counter greeted him, then carried on stacking his shelves. Johnny nodded and walked to the back of the store as though he was looking for something special.

Minutes later he burst towards the terrified man. Holding the .38 in both hands he yelled,

"I don't want to hurt you! I need money now! Give me everything you have in the cash register and I promise you won't be harmed!" The frightened man moved quickly and gave him everything in the cash register, then, without being told to, put his trembling hands in the air. Johnny then said,

"If you move from here, I will have to come back and shoot you!" As Johnny quickly moved towards the door, he stopped, turned towards the paralyzed man and said,

"I'm sorry . . . "

He felt physically sick as he drove home, partly because he was beginning to withdraw from the heroin, and partly because he couldn't get the image of the man's terrified eyes out of his mind.

When he arrived at his apartment, he pulled the wad of bills from his pocket and counted them. His heart sank as he totaled the cash and found that they were all one-dollar bills with an occasional five, two tens and a twenty. Everything he had gone through that night yielded a mere $86.

To be continued.

LSD

2012-05-14T06:30:00.000-07:00

Johnny did need the gun. Not only was his apartment in an area of town that often erupted in violence, but he regularly frequented a nightclub that had a few rough visitors. He didn't want any of them to make unwanted visits, and the gun gave him a sense of security. The nightclub was actually a strip‑joint, but Johnny maintained that he went there more to meet people. "Good conversation," he said.

Furthermore, the apartment was convenient in that it was only two miles from the newspaper where he worked. It also meant that he and his girlfriend Darlene could be alone. Darlene worked at the club and she wasn't the sort of girl one would want to take home to meet mom and dad. She also introduced him to a whole new world--the world of drugs. At first Johnny refused to have anything to do with the scene, but one day she convinced him into trying a new "psychedelic" drug called "LSD." A week earlier he watched her for three hours on a "trip," and listened to her rave about its mind‑opening qualities. When she showed him a newspaper cutting of a number of respected doctors actually recommending it for therapy, he succumbed.

She had also introduced him to Jack, the owner of the Ruby’s nightclub. Mr. Ruby was a quiet man, about 5'6" tall. He was originally a "hustler" from Chicago who liked to wear his black‑banded hat everywhere he went.

It wasn't long before Johnny found himself taking more and more LSD, and during that time there was a subtle change in his personality. It was truly a "mind‑altering" drug. It turned a bright outward personality inward. He also found himself in direct contact with drug dealers who sold more than "acid." They were forever encouraging him to try "smack," the ultimate "rush." Johnny vowed that he had too much self-respect to put a needle into his body, but as time passed LSD changed him even more. He found that without it, life was dull; so dull it became depressing. It didn't occur to him that the drug was causing his depression. Rather, he saw it as the cure.

It was during one of his times of despondency that he decided to go down to the club during the day, rather than to go to work.

The door was partly open, so he walked in to find a man he knew who talked with a lisp. It was because of his lisp that his friends called him "Lips." Lips was a pusher, who, by the way he dressed was obviously successful in his profession. When he saw Johnny open the door he stood to his feet and said,

"Hey Johnny, good to sthee you. What are you doing here at thith time of the day?"

Johnny managed a smile and said,

"I got sick of work. It is boring. Besides, my cash is a little low and I can't afford any acid."

Lips smiled warmly and said,

"Hey man, what are you doing on that junk anyway! I told you, you gotta give sthmack a chanth. It'th the ultimate buzth, I'm not lying to ya."

Johnny didn't say a thing. He just sat there and listened to the salesman do his thing.

"I'll tell you what. I will give you sthome at no costht. " He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a small folded piece of white paper and an outfit wrapped in plastic, put it on the table and walked off.

To be continued.

Chapter Sixteen: I Need a Favor

2012-05-11T06:30:00.000-07:00

The sight was momentous. More than 200,000 people--peaceful people, filled Washington to demand the passage of civil rights legislation. It was an evening in August 1963, and Jerry watched his television as the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King spoke to a great throng that stood before him. His voice resonated with inspiring conviction.

After the news that night the only words that remained in Jerry's mind were, "I have a dream." His mind flashed back to Otley the night of the fire so long ago, to the dream that he had had that was so vivid. He had often thought about it, and the consequences had he not been awakened by the sound of Faithful, his barking dog.

Suddenly, his thoughts were broken a car pulling up the driveway. A few minutes later, the key turned in the door and Johnny entered the living room. He was warm and friendly, somewhat different from the last time the two exchanged words.

As Johnny reached his teenage years, the relationship between him and his father changed. It was as though the dad he always looked up to had suddenly become "uncool." Then his mother became concerned about the type of company he was keeping, and asked Jerry if he could somehow mention it to the boy. Much to his sorrow, the conversation escalated into a full‑blown argument, at the height of which Johnny contested,

"What about you and your friends during the war? Some of them weren't the 'best of company,' and while we are on the subject, I'm sick and tired of hearing you talk about 'back then."'

By now he was yelling at his father. As he walked toward the door he turned and spat out,

"The days of glory are gone dad! All you have from them are some faded medals. I'm getting out of here before I end up an old man with nothing but faded memories!"

With that, he walked out and slammed the door. Jerry knew he was right about the medals. There was a strange irony about the war. He contended that he hated it, but at the same time missed the glory of living for what he believed was a just cause. The medals given to him by the French government were faded, and the "days of glory" had, over the years, become a pale memory.

Two days later, Johnny called and told his Mom that he had an apartment in Dallas. Now, more than three months after the blow up he had shown up at home as though everything was just fine.

"Did you see the news tonight; the protest at Washington? Incredible huh?" Jerry put the vivid memories of the last time they exchanged words out of his mind, rubbed his forehead, then his eyes, yawned and thoughtfully said,

"Something big is stirring in the nation. That man King is a born leader. He reminds me of a man I knew in the, ah. . . " He stopped himself from finishing the sentence.

Johnny walked into the kitchen, helped himself to a bottle of coke, took the cap off and called back,

"Yeah. Dad, I need to ask you a favor."

Jerry smiled and as Johnny entered the room he said,

"How much do you want?" He shook his head and said,

"I don't want money. I've been concerned lately about the violence in Dallas. I think I need a gun."

Jerry was suddenly no longer tired. He tried not to betray his surprise and calmly said,

"What do you want a gun for?" The subject was material begging for another blowup. It seemed odd that his son entered the room talking about a peaceful protest in Washington, and in the next breath he said he wanted a gun.

As the young man sat in front of him sipping his coke, Jerry said,

"Are you in trouble?" Johnny looked directly at him and said,

"Dad, I don't want to clash with you on this. I need a gun for protection. I'm not in trouble, and I'm not going to do anything illegal, but I feel defenseless when I'm in Dallas at night. You know what it's been like recently with the increase in violence. You have the shotgun, how about letting me borrow Granddad’s .38? I promise I will take care of it."

He had grown up with guns and he knew how to handle them, so without another word, Jerry went to his room and came back with his father's .38 and a box of bullets, handed them to his son and said,

"I know you will look after this." He took it from his father, placed it on the table in front of him and said,

"Thanks…I knew you would understand."

To be continued.

It's a gift!

2012-05-10T06:30:00.000-07:00

As Jerry entered the lavish room, he felt overwhelmingly wretched. The last time they had looked at each other had been when Jerry cursed him to his face. Theodore sat at a large oak desk. His clear eyes seemed to look right into Jerry's heart, but it wasn't a look of condescension. It was one of warm welcome. All Jerry could think of was the way he had insulted and ridiculed this truly good man. Theodore had always done business with the utmost integrity, something Jerry had scorned. As he sat down in front of the desk he could hardly lift his head. He took a deep breath and said,

"I have come for your help . . . "

When he confessed what he had done and that he was greatly in debt, Theodore asked for the exact amount of liability he had incurred, including the loan from the Mafia. The total was in excess of twenty million dollars, but if Theodore could lend him even half of that, it would give him some respite. Without hesitation, Theodore called for Grace, gave her a key and quietly spoke into her ear.

A few moments later, she appeared holding a check. Jerry noticed that her hand was trembling as she gave it to him. He whispered,

"Thank you," then glanced at the amount. He couldn't believe what he saw. The check was for the entire amount of the debt. He didn't expect them to lend him anything, let alone the full amount. He had an idea what these people were worth and knew that this check represented their entire fortune. This display of kindness was utterly undeserved. He felt humbled, and at the same time unspeakably grateful. This payment represented his very life. The loan would mean that he wouldn't be publicly humiliated and thrown into prison. It would mean that the Mafia would leave him alone, and that he could stand up once again and look his friends in the eye. The loan meant that suicide was no longer an option.

He looked into the eyes of the man he once despised and thought of as his enemy and said,

"You had every right not to lend me this money and throw me off your property." Theodore smiled and said,

"Oh, Jeremiah. It's not a loan. It's a gift."

To be continued.

Chapter Fifteen: Glimmer of Light

2012-05-09T06:30:00.000-07:00

The visit from the Mob scared Jerry. Really scared him. It brought back fears reminiscent of Nazi Germany. For three days he soaked himself in alcohol from the time he got up until the time he went to bed. As he pondered his dilemma, he began to contemplate the unthinkable: suicide.

On the morning of the fourth day there was a knock of a different sort at his door. It was the law with a warrant for his arrest. His overseas creditors had begun the proceedings they warned him about.

This once rich, happy, proud and generous benefactor was about to be arrested and no doubt with much publicity, humiliated and dragged to prison like a common criminal.

As the dark figures of two law‑officers stood in his doorway, Jerry desperately searched his mind for someone in his past that may be able to help him. The banks had pulled tight their purse strings and he now owned nothing of material value with which he could negotiate. The situation was utterly hopeless. His heart sunk into even deeper despondency. What was happening didn't seem real.

Suddenly, he remembered a man named Theodore Lawson, who lived near the property where he first struck oil. This neighbor was exceptionally wealthy, but the two had become hostile enemies, mainly because he frowned on Jerry's infidelity. One night, years earlier, when the two families gathered for an evening meal at the Adamson’s, Jerry had greatly insulted Grace, Theodore's wife, by making an unwanted and drunken advance towards her. This had caused terrible ill feelings between them because she was a delicate and virtuous woman. When Theodore confronted him about his low moral ethics, Jerry told him in no uncertain terms that his life was none of his business, and had had him physically thrown off his property. The two had been at enmity ever since.

But Jerry knew that Theodore was a religious man, and there was a chance he would forgive him for what he had done. Perhaps he would lend him the money he needed to get the law off his back and rescue him out of his terrible nightmare. In the light of the way he had treated him, it would be very humbling to ask, but it was his last and only hope. He obtained permission from the officers to make one call. He slowly lifted the phone and dialed the number.

When Grace answered the phone, Jerry nervously said,

"May I please speak to your husband?" She immediately recognized his voice and warmly answered,

"Jerry. Why don't you come in person and see us? Theo has often spoken of you. He has closely followed everything you have been doing."

Jerry couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was amazing that Grace remembered him and that her husband had actually shown an interest in what he had been doing. He put the phone down, walked over to the law‑officers and pleaded that they allow him to visit his old neighbor. When he explained that there was a chance that he could raise some of the money to pay his creditors, they agreed that they would escort him, explaining that if he made one wrong move he would find himself in deep trouble.

He sat quietly in the back of the police car, grateful that the law had at least allowed him to follow this last glimmer of light down the very straight and narrow road to Theodore's house.

After he knocked on the large door, it opened to reveal Grace in all her innocent beauty. She looked deeply into Jerry's weary eyes, reached out compassionately and took him by his hand. It was as though she knew what he had come for. Then she gently took him into Theodore's study.

To be continued.

Knock, knock...

2012-05-08T06:30:00.000-07:00

One evening there was a knock at the door. Instead of opening it, Jerry sat in the living room chair with a drink in his hand and hoped they, whoever they were, would go away.

Suddenly, there was loud crash as the door was smashed in. Three well‑dressed men stood directly in front of a quickly sobered‑up and wide‑eyed Jerry. The spokesman said calmly,

"You should have opened the door Jerry. My boss won't be too pleased to hear that we had to break down it down just to speak to you." He then smiled and said,

"We had hoped this would be a pleasant visit."

"Who are you and what do you want?" snapped Jerry. The man smiled again, calmly inhaled his cigarette and said,

"My name isn't important. My boss is Mr. Luciano, a name with which you are evidently not familiar. You should be; you owe him a great deal of money. We hear through the grapevine that you are in a hole."

The man forced an insincere smile through his yellowing teeth, reached up and picked a photo off the shelf, took his burning cigarette and stubbed it into the face of Elizabeth, Jeremiah’s beloved daughter. His smile disappeared as he said,

"My boss doesn't like to hear that people who owe him money can't pay up. It would be sad if something happened to your kid. You have one week to settle things with Mr. Luciano. I understand your accountant knows how to contact him."

At that, the three men left, leaving Jerry stunned. He quickly picked up the phone, called Vance and said,

"Who the blazes is this guy Luciano!?" Vance was quiet for a moment, then he said,

"I didn't know until this afternoon. I'm sorry Jerry. When I got you that corporation loan, I thought they were legit. He’s a cousin of 'Lucky' Luciano, who, back in 1936 was sent to prison for twenty-five years for running a $12 million‑a‑year prostitution ring in New York City. I had no idea that this guy in Florida was a big wig in the Mafia."

To be continued...

Dead end.

2012-05-07T06:30:00.000-07:00

Jerry appeared to be a warm and generous man, but beneath the exterior of benevolence, money had surfaced another side to him that was seen by only those who were closest to him. His war experiences and his business dealings made him into a cold and ruthless businessman. In time, he degenerated to a point where he only gave gifts because it created friends that would do whatever he wanted. Money gave him power over people, and power gave him pleasure.

Little did anyone but his accountant know that he had another dirty little secret. Years previously, he had invested almost all of his wealth into a very high‑yielding overseas fund and more recently, that had crashed overnight, sending him wildly into debt. But late one night, he and Vance met with some overseas bankers and secured a massive loan against casino properties he owned in Las Vegas. The casinos were not paying their way, and day by day Jerry was sinking into a giant whirlpool of liability. Once a month, he would secretly meet with his creditors and plead for an extension of his loans, each time assuring them that things would come right with the casinos.

At one of these meetings, his creditors advised him that they wanted to balance their books, and that he had until the end of the month to meet interest payments. If he was unable to do so they would take radical steps to "secure their investment."

After that meeting, Jerry took steps to acquire more credit through large city banks, but each time he was turned down, something he wasn't used to. This added more fuel to his simmering anger. His call to his accountant was pointed with expletives:

"Vance, I don't care what you have to do, but get me some credit somewhere!" With his veins bulging in his neck, he screamed,

"I don't care how much interest you have to pay, or where you have to go to get it, but get it. Now!" Click!

In a last ditch effort, he secured a huge loan from a foreign bank and embarked on a two million dollar television advertising blitz to promote his casinos. He also made public the fact that he had low‑risk, high‑yielding bonds, and vast quantities of revenue poured in from trusting investors. But instead of investing the money into bonds, he secretly used it for advertisements. He hoped to pay it back when the campaign roused the casinos from their slumber. But the advertising campaign was a disaster. Much to his horror the economy suddenly went sour and people held onto their dollars with a tight fist, sucking him even further and further into his mammoth whirlpool.

To try and keep his head above water, he mortgaged everything he still owned outside of his business. This included his home, his massive yacht and one of his two luxury cars, to yield liquid cash to stay with the extravagant lifestyle he so loved. He wouldn't face reality. Jeremiah P. Adamson was living in a dream-world, thinking that somehow he would never have to balance the books.

The sale of his assets, along with a large short‑term and high interest loan Vance secured through a private corporation in Florida, eased the pressure from his creditors. However, in time the stress began to take its toll on Jerry. This once happy man became deeply depressed and began drinking copious amounts of alcohol just to make it through each day. His dream-world turned into a nightmare. The parties, the admirers, the compliments didn't do for him what they once did.

It was evident to his close friends that something was drastically wrong. His creditor's phone calls became frequent and heated. His fast lane had become a dead end.

To be continued...

Short-lived pain.

2012-05-04T06:15:00.000-07:00

By the time Jerry had read the article, beads of sweat had formed on his brow and his jaw was clinched tight. He looked at the knuckles of both of his hands. They were clenched so tight, they were drained of blood. In his mind he tried to imagine Eichmann's eyes bulging with terror as he hung by the rope. It sickened him that the mass murder's pain was so short‑lived. He wanted desperately to believe that there was a God and a burning Hell that awaited him and every other Nazi that ever breathed this earth's air into his evil lungs.

He remembered the limited feeling of satisfaction after he so closely followed the Nuremberg trials back in 1946, which resulted in nine of Hitler's henchmen swinging from the end of a rope. It was almost an anti‑climax when they were hung. It didn't stop the pain of losing his father and sister or the countless friends who died fighting the cancer of the Nazis. Today's newspaper item only stirred the demons of hatred, bitterness and anger within him. All he wanted to do was forget the past, but the past would not forget him. Every memory brought with it other recollections that carried unbearable pain.

Vance was right. Oil had made Jerry very rich. Money dripped from the affluent fingers of the Adamson family. Everything Jerry touched turned to gold. What's more, everyone liked him. Why wouldn't they? He became a giver of fine gifts‑‑big gifts‑‑cars, boats and money, lots of money. The Royse City authorities also liked him because he was very philanthropic. Generosity was his middle name. Oil made him millions, but he had shrewdly transferred his wealth into stocks and shares, which had greatly increased his fortune. He was a risk‑taker in war and a risk‑taker in peace, and his risk‑taking had paid huge dividends.

Jeremiah P. Adamson was no longer the simple‑living farmer he had been in England. Money does strange things to people, and over the years affluence changed him into a man of the world. He had become a man who optimized Shakespeare's warning to "flee ambition, for by such sin fell the angels."

Amidst the sea of wealth Connie and Jerry had drifted apart and virtually lived two separate lives in their own home. Jerry's life was consumed with running his business and taking care of his money, and Connie's life was devoted to Elizabeth and Johnny.

Although his name was a household word in the district, the public wasn't aware that many of his business dealings had created adversaries. The business world is a hard and steep climb, and often one has to tread on a few fingers to get there. After death‑threats started, bodyguards followed Jerry almost everywhere he went. There were also more than a few large and shady financial dealings with people that the police had been investigating, but the investigations never came too close to Jeremiah P. Adamson, thanks to friends in high places.

To be continued...

Chapter Fourteen: Who is Luciano?

2012-05-03T06:16:00.000-07:00

The year was 1962. As he sat in the living room of his plush Texas home, Jerry flicked through the Royse City newspaper, sent to him by an old friend and casually glanced over the music section. A new group, with what was being called a "Mersey beat" was finding big success back in Liverpool, England. Jerry wasn't at all interested in modern music, but anything in U.S. newspapers about Great Britain always caught his interest. He smiled at the thought of Liverpool. Many times he and Connie had driven there and sat in the cold wooden stands, with cups of warm coffee and an even warmer crowd, and cheered on their favorite soccer team. He put the paper on his lap and licked his lips at the thought of English fish and chips, with salt and vinegar. He grinned that just the thought of them made his mouth water.

Then he continued reading the item. According to the article, the new group was named, "The Beatles." Decca, a major British recording studio, had rejected them, saying,

"We don't like their sound. Groups of guitars are on the way out." Jerry glanced across to the other page and mumbled,

"Well, they should know what . . . "

On the opposite page he saw another item that immediately caught his attention and stopped him in mid-sentence. His hands began to shake as he read the piece. It was headed, "Israel Hangs Eichmann for Death Camp Acts," and read:

"Inside a fog‑enshrouded Israeli prison, a noose was place around the neck of Adolf Eichmann just before midnight tonight. His last appeal for mercy had been rejected. Eichmann's ankles and knees were tied. He said a few last words and then a black trap door sprang open in the floor. Eichmann, the man who sent millions of Jews to their deaths in Nazi Concentration Camps, was dead.

"'Long live Germany. Long live Argentina,' Eichmann said before he was executed.

"’But to sum it all up,’ wrote Eichmann in his memoirs, ‘I must say that I regret nothing...Hitler was somehow so supremely capable that the people recognized him. And so with that...I recognize him joyfully and I still defend him. I will not humble myself or repent in any way...No, I must say truthfully that if we had killed all the 10 million Jews that statisticians originally listed in 1933, I would say, 'Good, we have destroyed an enemy.' "Argentina was the country where he hid until he was kidnapped by Israeli security agents. 'I had to obey the rules of war and my flag. I am ready,' were the mass murderer's final words. In denying Eichmann's appeal for mercy, the Israeli Supreme Court said he had shown no repentance for his crimes. It was reported that he had committed them with 'genuine joy and enthusiasm.' The Justices also called the death sentence 'inadequate compared to the millions of deaths in the most diverse ways he had inflicted on his victims."'

To be continued...

Chapter Thirteen: Not in the United States

2012-05-02T07:15:00.002-07:00

The Adamsons moved to their neighbor's home at their invitation, and took their dogs with them. The night of the fire, Faithful had chewed through his rope when he saw the flames coming from the house. Then he stood right outside the bedroom window and barked his sweet little canine heart out. The house was in ruins but the family was intact, and that was all that mattered to them.

The local police investigated the fire and found that it had been deliberately set. That was no surprise to Jerry. When their hired help had suddenly disappeared the night of the fire, it didn't take Sherlock Homes to put two and two together. Despite their investigation, Jerry didn't have too much confidence in the Otley Police Department. It wasn't exactly Scotland Yard. There were only three full-time officers, and the typical crime in the area was a stolen bicycle. Even that didn't happen too often. That's why it amazed him to hear Chief Inspector Simmons explain to him that Mr. "Bill Lovock" wasn't who he said he was. His real name was Wilhelm Schmidt, a German citizen who came with his parents to Britain in 1936. The parents returned to Germany in 1939 at the outbreak of the war and the father had joined the SS. They left their teenage son in Britain as an informant, thinking that because he was young and had no German accent, he wouldn't be a suspect and could be useful to the cause of the party.

The Inspector said,

"The man is a Nazi through and through. He is very bitter that Hitler's dream to rule the world, failed. Schmidt hated Jews, blacks and anyone who stood against the Party. We have been trying to track him for years, but he kept slipping through our fingers. Then he suddenly showed up in areas of the country and set fire to different things. He must have seen the article about you in the paper. In the past it has been church and government buildings. We will get him soon." He then turned to Jerry and said,

"By the way Mr. Adamson, in the course of the investigation we took a number of items away the morning after the fire. One of them was a .38 pistol. I know that you haven't the weapon for unlawful purposes, but this is not the United States. One of my men told me that you have been considering moving back there, so we will keep it down at the station until that time. Normally, we wouldn't normally return a weapon like that to its owner; but we are grateful for the work you have done for Britain, so you can pick it up when and if you decide to leave the country."

It was while the Adamson family was still staying with the neighbors, that Jerry received another call from the United States. Vance's rich Texas accent brought back memories of the last time he heard from him, and he braced himself for some more bad news. The accountant said,

"Thank you Jerry for returning the form I sent you earlier in the year." Jerry didn't know what he was talking about. He excused himself, covered over the mouthpiece with his hand and asked Connie,

"Did I sign a form earlier in the year; something to do with a release for an oil company to survey on Mom's farm?" Connie nodded and said ,

"You signed it along with about a thousand bills you paid in March. You don't remember because I addressed, stamped and posted it." He lifted the phone back to his mouth and said,

"Sorry about that Vance; carry on." The accountant then said that the company's prospecting was just routine, but that he now had some good news for the Adamson family:

"The whole area of surrounding farmland is oil‑rich. They struck oil on your land this morning at 9:35! Jerry‑boy, you had better mosey on home. You and your wife are rich. Very rich!"

To be continued...

Quite a statement . . . for an atheist.

2012-05-01T06:30:00.000-07:00

The sound of the barking had aroused a neighbor who called the local voluntary fire department. As Jerry pulled his beloved wife and children out into the fresh air in front of the house, he could feel the heat of naked flames as they licked through the kitchen window behind him like a huge monster still reaching to devour its prey. He rolled his wife onto her stomach, put her limp arms under her head and began to press firmly on her back. Suddenly, she began to cough. Jerry whispered,

"Thank God!" He turned his attention to his two terrified children beside him. Johnny was conscious. His face was white and he and was shaking with fear. But by the light from the flames he could see that Elizabeth had stopped breathing and had turned a ghostly blue. In a panic he grabbed her tiny and limp body, turned her over and with both hands pressed on her limp body again and again. Tears streamed down his face as he prayed,

"Please God. Please. Let her live! Oh God don't let this child die . . . I’ll do anything You want. Please!"

He kept pressing for what seemed like an eternity, but it was no use. Elizabeth wasn't responding. He picked her up and with trembling hands held her close to his chest and began to weep uncontrollably.

Suddenly, he felt strange. It was as though someone had touched him on his shoulder. He looked around, then down at Connie. She was still lying unconscious, but breathing normally. He looked behind him again. It was bizarre. No one was there. His baby lay lifeless in his arms, yet the fear had left and there was that same unmistakable peace that he once felt the time he entered the von Ludendorff home in Poland so long ago.

Then Jerry heard themost wonderful sound. A tiny gagging noise came from his child. Tears poured from his eyes, this time for a different reason. He squeezed his little girl tightly in his arms, looked to the heavens and whispered,

"Thank you God. Thank you God." Quite a statement . . . for an atheist.

To be continued...