Ten Plagues

“How can you know things about me like that?”

“I don’t know things about you. But I know God. I know He’s always trying to bring His children home.”

Roger’s eyes seemed to look back over the years, and Keren hoped he was remembering times when God had tried to bring him back.

“You’re right.” He nodded. “I know you are.”

Keren cradled Roger’s grimy hands with their claw-like nails, caked with dirt. “God loves you, Roger. He has never left you, not during all these years you’ve lived such a hopeless life. He has never quit calling to you. God asks us only to believe in Him, to believe in Jesus.”

“I do believe. How could I live through what just happened and not believe.” His hands turned in her grip and clasped Keren’s. “I’ve done so much evil in my life. I abandoned my wife and children. I’ve wasted my life hating the whole world.”

Roger looked sideways at Paul. “Can you help me….” He looked down at himself. “I want to be clean and decent. I have two children. I need to find them.”

“You know I’ll help you, Roger. I’ve been praying you’d let me help you for a long time.”

“Why would you pray for me, Pastor? There’s so much more hope with a lot of these men. Why would you pick me?”

“I didn’t pick you over them, Roger. I pray for all of you. Every one of you, every day, by name.”

Roger’s eyes filled with tears.

Paul’s hand on Roger’s back shifted. Keren knew it was an offer of comfort.

“Are all of these men like me?” Roger asked Keren. “Is a demon living in all of them?”

“I can’t answer that. God told me there was a demon in you. He may only tell me of those who are ready to listen.”

“So we can’t know for sure.” He looked around the dingy room with its dozens of grizzle-faced, raggedly dressed men and the handful of equally suffering women. “I wonder—” He looked at Paul. “Would you accept my help? If God can find me here, then He can find these other men.”

“I think God is speaking to your heart right now.” Keren patted his hand. “He’s telling you of a way to grow in your faith by helping others.”

“I would welcome your help,” Paul said. “You could speak to the homeless with so much wisdom because you’ve experienced it. You know the struggle.”

Keren, Paul, and Roger talked quietly until Paul stepped to the front of the room.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Paul talked about Juanita and led them in a prayer for LaToya. The crowd seemed to nearly vibrate with the attention they paid him once the women were mentioned. Paul knew God was using this nightmare for good. After he finished his prayer, he preached a simple sermon of salvation. When he was finished, his eyes rested on Keren. She sat next to Roger, still holding his hand.

Paul felt such profound respect for her. She never shrank from Roger because of his smell or the wild look that always lurked in his eyes. She had shown the kind of compassion and courage that Jesus Christ had shown in touching the leper and eating with the tax collector.

Though Paul had reached out to Roger many times, the truth was, Paul had never held much hope. Roger seemed further gone than even the average transient.

Keren had seen the demon in him.

Even more, she’d seen a way to deliver him, and she’d seen Roger’s longing for deliverance. Now she sat at Roger’s side, and everyone who’d come in for breakfast stayed for a change, to listen to Paul’s sermon.

Paul didn’t know what Keren made him feel. He only knew she made him feel something for the first time in a long time. He didn’t like getting entangled with the police. He remembered last night when those bushes rustled. He’d reached for his gun. It had been a reflex. Thinking about it now sickened him.

He couldn’t deal with the things she awakened—the cop things, the man things—so he left it up to God and walked out among his congregation. He spent time talking with each of them. He saw Roger, now standing clear eyed, talking rationally, ministering to those who gave any indication of being interested.

Roger came up to him. “Can I stay here and help you? I’ll cook or clean or whatever you need.”

“Of course you can stay. We’ll find you some clean clothes and get you a bath and a good haircut, and then I’ll help you find your family.”

The joy that flooded Roger’s expression was almost more than Paul could take. He pulled Roger close and hugged him.

Roger tried to back away. “I’m so filthy, Pastor. Let me get cleaned up before you touch me.”

Paul smiled. “No. I’m not hugging you to be nice, I’m just so happy. I’m so glad you’ve found God’s love. I’ve been dirty a few times in my life, so I’m not afraid.”

Roger let Paul hug him again.

They talked about Roger’s future for a bit, then Roger thanked Paul for speaking of LaToya and Juanita. “You know, I overheard someone in the breakfast line talking about all that gasoline being hauled into LaToya’s old hangout. I think whoever did it dressed up like he’s homeless. He just walked right in with a baggy coat.” Roger looked over at the knot of men and women.

“Do you remember who said it?” Paul asked, studying the crowd.