“This is what we have to do: be good to each other. If someone is different from you, get to know them instead of turning your back on them. For years I’ve preached to you that you should judge others, and lead them to change their ways. But I’ve changed my way of thinking. What I’m telling you right now is that the only one who can judge any of us is God above.” Electricity ran up the backs of his arms, causing him to shiver as if he were about to speak in tongues.

He waited for someone to join in. This was a congregation that liked to participate, shouting “Amen!” or “Hallelujah!” to punctuate the rhythm of the sermon, but today they all sat silent.

Asher caught sight of Justin, who was leaning in close to Zelda. He was doing this for him, to show him that church didn’t have to dim the God in people, that it could do the opposite.

Lydia sat on the other side of Justin, nearby yet apart. Her arms were folded and she shook her head just enough for Asher to notice, trying to protect him.

“All my life I’ve been told to love the sinner and hate the sin. But I’m telling you it’s not my place to say that other people who aren’t hurting anyone are committing a sin. I’m telling you what John said to us in the Scripture: ‘Thou doest faithfully whatsoever thou doest to the brethren, and to strangers.’ Do you know what this verse is saying to us?”

He took a deep breath as he waited for a response from the congregation. There was none. He saw all their faces like snapshots being thrown down on a table in front of him.

“It means you’re pleasing God when you are good to strangers. That’s our charge.” He paused, hearing the quiet. Since no one else would say it, he offered a quiet “Amen.”

The choir hesitated before rising. Asher turned to them and threw his arms wide. “Sing ‘This Little Light of Mine’ for us, will you?”

Asher sang along with the choir, who were doing a pretty feeble job although they usually had the Power all over them. The congregation always stood and sang along, too, but they didn’t today. Asher scanned their faces. He didn’t care if he had their approval and didn’t want to appear as if he did.

As the choir finished he walked to the back of the church where the double doors led outside, just as he always did.

“Lord,” he said at the door, “help us to love one another as you have loved us, without question, without judgment, without persecution. Amen.”