Perpetua

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A preacher exposes his wife during a sermon.
1.9k words
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This story is based on a dream that I had one nite, and completed with the kind help of "Gee". It is a work of fantasy, involving religion and nudity. It is NOT an attempt to demean the belief or practices of ANY religious group or person. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, or incidents is a coincidence.

I had been sent by my editor to cover a "special" evening service at a small, rural congregation. I wasn't too thrilled about the assignment, seeing as it came on one of the few evenings I get to relax. But, as he was paying my salary, and I want to keep eating, I went.

It was a drive into the middle of nowhere. Out in the country. As I drove up to the small church, I was surprised to find that cars and wagons filled the adjacent field. "Must be some show!" I thought to myself, as I parked the car in the field. Little did I know.

I entered the church and, as always in such settings, the front pews were empty. I walked to the front of the church and my seat. Right down front. The front of the church was pretty plain, with only a raised floor. A single wooden beam stood upright in the center of the floor. A pulpit stood off to the side. A small organ over on the other side, with some little 'ol lady looking over her music.

Nothing fancy. I looked around. I had never seen so many folks in a church, especially since it wasn't Sunday morning. But then again, how many country churches have I been in? Perhaps there was something out here that made people look diffrently at worship.

Everyone was chatting with their neighbor. "You new here?" I turned to see the tanned, lined, face of the man next to me. "I don't believe I've seen you here before." he said. Rather friendly like.

"Yes," I said. "This is my first time here." I wasn't going to tell him I was a reporter just covering a story. "Uh, my name's Jon." I stuck out my hand.

"Pleased t'meet cha, Jon. I'm Mark." he said, wrapping his calloused hand around mine, giving it a firm shake. "This here's, Amy, my wife." he said, elbowing the woman next to him. "And, Josh, my youngest." I nodded to them both, and smiled. "We are pleased to have you with is this evening." he remarked.

Before I could say another word, the organist begin to play. Everyone stood up as the minister strode to the pulpit. He wore a simple suit and tie and looked pretty much like my image of a young country preacher. I began to wonder what in the world was special about this church, other than the fact that it was packed out for an evening service way out here in the country.

He nodded at the congregation, and everyone settled into their seats. The buzzing conversation died down quickly as he looked over his flock and smiled. He started the time with a group of routine announcements about upcoming events. It all seemed both boring and ordinary.

Then the service began. A group of young people came up to join the old woman at the organ. They carried guitars and other instruments. I noticed then that there was also a drum set in the back. They started to warm up, tuning their instruments. And then, all at once, there was singing... a country up-tempo beat, far cry from my image of staid old hymns. It was amusing to see the old grandmother-type banging away at the organ with the rest of them.

The people got into it, singing, raising their hands, swaying back and forth. It went on for fifteen minutes and, looking around, it was quite a show. I was amazed to see tears flowing down the faces of several people as they sang, looks of bliss on their faces.

Then there was a time of prayer. Led by the young pastor, people shared from their heart. Requests for prayers, for a job for an out-of-work man, for healing for various illness, for an operation this week, for the ability to meet a large financial emergency, and, most of all, that some friend or relative would "be saved" or some variation on that line.

Finally, the prayer came. I was surprised this time to see tears in they eyes of the pastor as he poured out the various requests in his prayer. I could hear the mumbled "Amens" and "Yes, Lords" from the people around me, including my weathered neighbor. Above all, I could sense the conviction that here were people who truly expected their God to answer those prayers.

At the end of the prayers, the people settled down, waiting for the sermon. "My friends..." The minister began. His voice rang strong and clear in that small church. "You all know that we are told that 'in this world we will have tribulation' meaning that persecution for our faith is common."

Murmmers swept over the congregation. Heads nodded in agreement. Faces looked up at him, eager for his words.

"You know too, that this is not something that is from the past, but is here and now. Were you aware that more people were killed and tortured simply because they are Christians in the 20th century than in all previous history of the church? Perhaps not, but it is true."

"This forces us all to consider an important question," he continued, "how many of you would be willing to suffer REAL flames in THIS life for your belief?" he asked.

I could see heads shaking, hesitantly. "What was this all about?" I thought.

"Tonight, friends, I want to tell you the story of a courageous, young girl. A girl who was tortured and killed for her faith. And died for her belief. Her name was Perpetua, and she was a believer back in the 3rd century. But, do not think this as a tale from the past. In light of the increase in numbers of Christians being killed for their faith, this is real, this is going on today, and this, if God is not merciful, could happen to us."

I heard the doors at the back of the church open. Everyone turned around and looked. I watched as a young woman, wearing a only a simple white tunic, was escorted up the center aisle by ushers on each side, holding her arms. Her bare feet made no sound on the wooden floor. When she reached the front, she stepped onto the raised floor, and up to the wooden beam in the center before turning to face the congregation.

The two men stepped up next to her. One man took a length of rope and bound her wrists together. Then he raised her hands over her head and wrapped the rope around the beam and her wrists, pulling her arms straight up before tying a secure knot. The other man knelt down, tied her ankles together with another length of rope, then wrapped the remaining part around the bottom of the beam and tied it off. Standing up and turning to look at the minister, they waited.

As she was secured he told of the tale of Perpetua, a young and beautiful Chistian girl, desired by a pagan Roman noble. As she spurned his advances, wanting only a man true to her faith or, better, the purity of virginity, he was angered and had her brought to "trial."

He nodded silently to the men. Reaching out, they grasped the neckline at the front of the woman's tunic, and ripped it off, leaving her entirely naked and bound up for everyone to see. "Oh!" She gasped at the suddeness. She turned a bright red, in what appeared to be acute embarassment, and looked up at the minister. She struggled in her bonds, panic-stricken.

Was this in the script for the evening, or was it something she hadn't planned on? In either case, she appeared to be in genuine distress and very embarassed to be so exposed at the front of the congregation.

Needless to say, I was on the edge of my seat - speechless! The woman was a beauty - long dark hair, a pale complexion, thin, trim, and perfectly shaped. Her mons covered with wispy curls. I watched her gasping as she struggled in her bonds - her pert breasts with erect nipples rising and falling with each breath.

The men begin to stack branches and pieces of wood around the woman's feet. At a nod from the minister, one of the men reached down and flames shot up around the woman's ankles and legs!

Everyone gasped! But, as I looked closer, I saw that the flames were really red and yellow crepe paper being blown upwards by a small fan. From a distance, tho, the effect was remarkable!

The woman looked straight out at the congregation, as she realized her fate. Her breathing slowed, and she seemed to calm down. She was the very image of courage in the face of certain death - although feigned.

The minister continued with his sermon about Perpetua, and her bravery before the pain and indignation of what had actually happened, although, in truth, I hardly listened to a word he said. I was so awestruck by the tableau before me.

I tore my eyes away from the awesome sight and focused again on the young minister as he was was concluding his sermon.

"Dear people of God, this has been a shocking demonstration, as my wife and I both know. The meaning is this...

"...for one, do not take lightly the religious liberty you have in this country. It has not always been so, it is not so in much of the world."

"...understand that any of us, at any time, might be called to suffer for our faith, perhaps suffer in ways we can not imagine. Do you think that, even in making this point, my wife did not suffer? Or I?"

"...understand too that we live in a fallen world. God told us that in the begining we were 'naked and not ashamed.' If any of you were aroused or shocked by what you have seen, I have news... this is the natural state of man and women."

When he was done, he nodded to the men in front, who stepped up and unfastened the "victim." She stepped over the branches carefully, and stopped to stand before everyone.

The minister walked up to her, and, picking up a robe, draped it over her shoulders but left it open in front. She smiled up at him, kissed him, and slowly walked back down the aisle to the back door, where she disappeared. A murmmer of approval arose from the congregation, then spontaneous applause.

He went on. "Today, if this has caused any of you to wonder... to wonder about where you stand before God, to wonder about your own thoughts and sin, to wonder about whether you have the faith that could endure to the end, do not leave this place without seeing me.

Everyone stood up, and began to slowly filter out of the church as the minister stood in the front watching them leave. I must admit, he and his lovely wife sure had a way to prove what they stood for and were willing to do for what they believe.

And, I wonder but if I'll be joining his congregation very soon.

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BarbaraBarbaraover 13 years ago
Great story that deserved more thought? Worthy of a 4!

Shakespeare could have cut a few corners on the twelfth night and stuffed up the bloody story! Imagine a book called the first Night? --Y'all get the idea?

AnonymousAnonymousover 13 years ago
wow!

good story... clearly, a lot of thought from several different angles... it would be interesting to read more...

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