Thrower wept in fear, but he spoke the words that the Visitor demanded: “Samuel hacked Agag in pieces in the presence of the Lord.”

Now the only sound in the church was Thrower’s own ragged breath as he tried to control his hysterical weeping. The Visitor smiled at him, his eyes filled with love and forgiveness. Then he was gone.

Thrower sank to his knees before the altar and prayed. 0 Father, I would die for Thee, but do not ask me to kill. Take away this cup from my lips, I am too weak, I am unworthy, do not lay this burden upon my shoulders.

His tears fell on the altar. He heard a sizzling sound and jumped back from the altar, startled. His tears skittered along the surface of the altar like water on a hot skillet, until finally they were consumed.

The Lord has rejected me, he thought. I pledged to serve Him however He required, and now, when He asks something difficult, when He commands me to be as strong as the great prophets of old, I discover myself to be a broken vessel in the hands of the Lord. I cannot contain the destiny He wanted to pour into me.

The door of the church opened, letting in a wave of freezing air that rushed along the floor and sent a chill through the minister’s flesh. He looked up, fearing that it was an angel sent to punish him.

It was no angel, though. Merely Armor-of-God Weaver.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt you in prayer,” said Armor.

“Come in,” said Thrower. “Close the door. What can I do for you?”

“Not for me,” said Armor.

“Come here. Sit down. Tell me.”

Thrower hoped that perhaps it was a sign from God that Armor had come just now. A member of the congregation, coming to him for help, right after he prayed—surely the Lord was letting him know that he was accepted after all.

“It’s my wife’s brother,” said Armor. “The boy, Alvin Junior.”

Thrower felt a thrill of dread run through him, freezing him to the bone. “I know him. What about him?”

“You know he got his leg mashed.”

“I heard of it.”

“You didn’t happen to go visit and see him afore it healed up?”

“I’ve been given to believe that I’m not welcome in that house.”

“Well, let me tell you, it was bad. A whole patch of skin tore off. Bones broke. But two days later, it was healed right up. Couldn’t even see no scar. Three days later he was walking.”

“It must not have been as bad as you thought.”