“I don’t think I’m special,” I said, meeting Abel’s eyes. “I just wanted to help people.And I think the people in this room deserve a faith that doesn’t require fear as a foundation.”
“Oh, is that what you call this?” Abel spat. “You gonna serve up mashed potatoes with sin and sodomy and call it grace?”
There it was.
A ripple of discomfort moved through the room. Beau’s face darkened. Delilah’s smile sharpened into somethinglethal.
But I didn’t flinch.
“Actually,” I said, “I call it lunch. I call it community. I call itpresence.You know what Jesus called it? A table.”
The air shifted again—cool, tingling.
Familiar.
And when I looked toward the back of the sanctuary,she was there.
Clear as anything.
When I was twenty-one, when I’d tried to overdose…I’d seen her for the first time—the guardian angel who’d shown me I was called to ministry. She’d pulled me from perdition and then I’d woken up in a hospital bed.
I saw her the night the snake bit me too—the light Silas had mentioned. Not pulling me toward some great beyond, but back tohim.
And now…she was watching.
I didn’t let it rattle me, lifting my chin and looking back at Abel—who, maybe for the first time ever, was speechless.
“My faith didn’t come easy,” I said. “It was earned. Dug out of the rubble. Wrestled for in the dark. And what I’ve learned—what Iknow—is that the God I believe in isn’t threatened by the living, breathing mess of us. He’s in it. All the way down.”
Behind me, the angel stood silent, hands still open. I felt her like wind at my back. Like a spine.
Abel stepped forward.
I saw it before anyone else did—the twitch in his jaw, the set of his shoulders. He was going to reach for me. Maybe to grab my arm, maybe just to reclaim his authority with proximity.
Didn’t matter.
Silas moved first.
One arm came around me fast, a protective pull that tucked me behind him as he stepped in front—shoulders squared, eyes cold.
“You’re not touching her,” he snarled.
Abel froze, mouth open.
The doors banged open behind him.
Everyone turned.
Whit strode in like judgment day with blood on his knuckles, a split lip, and a face that said he’dfinallygotten the swing in he’d been craving. Dragging behind him by the collar was one of Abel’s cronies—scrawny, red-faced, and cussing under his breath.
“Sorry I missed the sermon,” Whit said, like he hadn’t just brawled in the church parking lot. “But this one was sneakin’ around back, and I figured June’s got enough snakes to deal with already.”
A few gasps. Someone laughed. Abel looked like he was about to combust.
“You wanna try again?” Whit asked Abel, all swagger and steel. “Because I’ll finish what I started.”
Abel turned to the room—wild-eyed now. “You’re really gonna stand here and let this...this woman turn your church into a circus? You’re all just gonna sit there andlether twist the word of God into somethin’ weak and perverse? Don’t you fear the wrath of God?”
