Serial The Anointed: 12. A Bizarre Encounter In Baltimore

A silhouette of a man lifting his hands in worship against a backdrop of an evening sky. Next to this man are the words: "The Anointed - a faith-based serial." — Follow along with this thrilling serial about the highs and lows of Pastor John.

It’s 2020. I’ve traveled to Baltimore to check on John. I’m not sure if he’s home or if he even wants to see me.

I’m standing at the door of his apartment in Baltimore. It was easy to find. When I ring the bell, John opens the door, surprised. This time, there’s no big hug or beaming smile. It’s been a year since I last saw John at a seminar. He’s aged a lot. He’s sporting a several-days-old beard. He gives me a cold handshake. “Well, Matt, what a surprise! What brings you here?”

I smell alcohol on his breath. It’s only half-past ten in the morning. In the hallway behind him, I see a pile of empty liquor bottles. “Are you here to laugh at me? To see how far I’ve fallen?” John turns and gestures toward the empty bottles in the hall. “I’m here because I’m worried about you.” He seems not to hear me. “Are you here to tell me how bad I am?” “John, who’s that?” A woman in a thong and a see-through bra walks up to the door. “Selina, it’s time to go.” She protests briefly, then quickly retreats into a room.

‘Will I see you soon?” I hear her whisper in his ear. John squeezes her buttocks. “I’ll call you…’

“Why are you here again? Come in.” Selina comes dressed into the hallway. John appears to hand her some money. She leans toward John, “Will I see you soon?” I hear her whisper in his ear. John squeezes her buttocks. “I’ll call you…” I’m stunned. Thoughts race through my head, “Did I see that right? I’m not naive, but I’m surprised this is happening so openly in front of me. Has John sunk so low that he no longer needs to pretend?” As Selina closes the door behind her, John nods toward a door. I follow him into the living room.

The living room is sparsely furnished. It all seems to come straight from IKEA. There are two couches and a coffee table. John sits on one of the couches. “How are you, John?” At first, he seems to hold himself together, then he hides his face in his hands and starts to shake. “I’ve lost everything. Everything I worked for all these years. I’ve lost the church. I’ve lost my house. My wife has divorced me. The kids have chosen Abigail and want nothing more to do with me. No contact. I’m everyone’s target. Look at what they write about me…” John walks to a laptop that’s on and shows me some sites I know all too well. “Why do people do that? They celebrate what’s happening to me. How sick can you be?”

‘John rants on. I let him vent. John is in a victim role and doesn’t see himself as the perpetrator. For two hours, he tells me everything he has endured.’

“I’m no longer a pastor. You must have known that already, right? That kind of news travels fast. Abigail just took my place, along with Eric. They just discarded me while she’s probably up to no good herself.” John rants on. I let him vent. John is in the victim role and doesn’t see himself as the perpetrator. For two hours, John tells me everything he has suffered. I listen, make coffee, and try to be there for him. Eventually, we sit quietly in his living room. So many thoughts race through my head that I want to tell him. He has no idea of the pain he has caused others over the years with his actions. But now might not be the time for that. I suggest we go out for lunch. Fresh air will do us both good.

‘For me, these small Scottish isles are thin places; spots where the veil between heaven and earth is thinner than usual and where God can be more easily experienced.’

At the restaurant, we talk about various things. I tell John about my trip to Scotland next week. Every few years, I go alone or with a friend to the Scottish Highlands for a two-week hiking holiday. I love wild camping with a tent on my back, enjoying the peace and nature. This year, I’m returning to three small Scottish islands off the west coast. Islands where Celtic monasteries once stood, where prayers were said day and night, and which are now almost uninhabited. For me, these are thin places; spots where the veil between heaven and earth is thinner than usual and where God can be more easily experienced.

I see John’s eyes light up. Before I know it, he asks if he can come along. His question catches me off guard. I was finally going to Scotland alone this year. And if I were to take someone, it would be my son, brother, or one of my best friends. What would it be like with John in Scotland? What do we still have in common? I think such a trip would certainly be good for him, but am I the one to take him? It’s my only trip to Scotland these coming years. I need to think about this.

‘Coming home, I tell Jessie that I’ve agreed to let John come to Scotland. Jessie is furious. This can’t be right!’

I tell John that I need to think about his request. John says he understands. Meanwhile, he asks me everything about my equipment, routes, food. I’m torn. On one hand, I love going alone. John and I barely know each other anymore. We’ve had almost no contact in the past twenty years. On the other hand, I sense a possibility that God might use this trip to restore something. What should I do?

Back home from Baltimore, I tell my wife Jessie about John’s request to join me in Scotland and that I’ve practically said ‘yes.’ “You did what?” Jessie looks at me angrily. “You have nothing to do with that man. You were supposed to go to Scotland alone for the first time in years. It’s your time with God. You’re so busy, and this is your time for yourself. You love being alone for ten days. That he uses prostitutes is one thing, but using you…”

‘That he uses prostitutes is one thing, but using you…’

“We don’t know if she was a prostitute.” I try to interrupt her. “You saw him pay her, didn’t you? Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’m really upset that he’s using you. Scotland is your time. It’s your trip that you look forward to all year. You use it as a retreat to meet God, and now you’re taking that guy along.” Jessie is furious. Not for herself, but furious that someone dares to threaten my trip to Scotland. “Maybe it will do him good!” I try again. “I don’t care about that, because I want it to do you good. I can’t believe you invited him. Matt, you’ve spent months planning this trip. It’s been years since you’ve been to these islands. You were going to go alone to the islands, and now you’ve invited him.” Jessie is on a roll.

“I didn’t invite him. He invited himself.” My defense sounds weak… “And you couldn’t say ‘no’! I’ll say ‘no’ for you. What’s his phone number? In all those thirty years you’ve known each other, he’s never looked out for you. He’s enriched himself at the expense of hundreds, no, thousands of others. He’s had a great twenty years. I feel sorry for him that he’s now divorced, his children don’t want to see him, he can never work in a church again, is on alcohol, has to use prostitutes, and in one word, ‘fallen,’ but that’s no reason to ruin your trip. That you went to him in Baltimore, I can still understand. But he’s definitely not coming with you to Scotland. That can’t be right…”

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Matt Vlaardingerbroek, a former seasoned church planter and pastor in Holland’s inner cities, brings Bible stories to life through ventriloquism and magic. He’s authored three books, and founded www.creativekidswork.com, providing over 1,500 innovative Sunday school activities worldwide.