The Message

It represented the best and worst of him. In all his extremes he still fell within its spectrum because within it lied black, white and grey. From inside the womb of his mother he was fed its words and the day after he was born he was presented to the community as a follower. His toddler years were spent in Sunday school classrooms every day of the week where his mother would read story after story from its pages. By five he had memorized many of the versus contained in it. He even had opportunities to preach them. At night after his prayers he repeated its books in order from first to last until he fell asleep. He did this same thing as he brushed his teeth, combed his hair, got dressed and any other time when he wasn't required to talk. Everything he was came from it. Everything he desired was in it. He knew from a very young age the importance of its sacred text and planned to spend every waking moment trying to understand and show others its meaning.
By the time he was 13 he had practically taken over his fathers job as preacher. He was still too young to run the church business but there was rarely a Sunday that he was not the one behind the pulpit. The congregation had grown tremendously in the short amount of time he had been teaching and the church itself had been picked up by the local media as something locals and tourists alike must bear witness to at least once. There were no snakes or poisonous juices. There was no rolling on the ground, screaming or jumping around. There was just him, and his voice and his understanding and his grace. It was clear he had been groomed for this job, but it was also clear that his understanding and power lived and breathed inside him long before his parents could teach him anything.
At 20 he was not only the lead pastor at what used to be his fathers church, but he has also planted 3 churches in the surrounding areas all of which he attended every Sunday. He had staggered the start times of every service so that he could preach for all of them. Believers from all over the country came to his services and left with a heart ten times the size it was before they came. It was as if he was a hypnotist, changing the minds of all who heard him without them even realizing what had happened. The angry left at peace, the saddened left with joy, the hurting left without pain. There was no magic, no smoke screen and no tricks. Just words. Living, breathing, redemptive, understanding words that threw a blanket of grace and forgiveness over all who heard them despite their situations.
 At middle age he not only had 15 churches, 2 of which were abroad but he was also seen on television, had written 12 books and traveled all over the world teaching to people who didn't even speak his language. He appeared on daytime talk shows, prime time news interviews and was the most desired guest speaker by most churches within the country. His father and mother had both passed away and he had never married. The church had been his wife since he was child and he had no desire to severe that relationship in order to have a real one.
When he turned 70 he celebrated with a small group of close friends. They took him for dinner at his favorite restaurant and presented him with sentimental gifts which dictated how drastically he had changed their lives.  Afterwards he returned to his home, which was small and humble considering the empire he had built. He drank a cup of chamomile tea and went into his room to undress for bed. As he lay down he looked to his left. That side of the bed was untouched and even as he slipped under the covers it was is if the blankets never moved over there. For a moment his heart sank and he longed for someone to hold as he fell asleep. As quickly as that moment came, it passed and he reached to his nightstand and lifted the Bible to his lap.
It represented the best and worst of him. In all his extremes he still fell within its spectrum because within it lied black, white and grey.