Chapter 10: The Imaginary Church...

Malachi 3: 1-12

“Behold, I send My messenger, and he will prepare the way before Me. And the Lord, whom you seek, will suddenly come to His temple, even the Messenger of the covenant, in whom you delight. Behold, He is coming.’ Says the LORD of hosts. ‘But who can endure the day of His coming? And who can stand when He appears? For He is like a refiners’ soap. He will sit as a refiner and a purifier of silver; He will purify the sons of Levi, and purge them as gold and silver, that they may offer to the LORD an offering in righteousness. Then the offering of Judah and Jerusalem will be pleasant to the LORD, as in the days of old, as in former years. And I will come near you for judgment; I will be a swift witness against sorcerers, against adulterers, against perjurers, against those who exploit wage earners and widows and orphans, and against those who turn away an alien- because they do not fear Me.’ Says the LORD of hosts. For I am the LORD, I do not change; therefore you are not consumed, O sons of Jacob. Yet from the days of your fathers you have gone away from My ordinances and have not kept them. Return to Me, and I will return to you.’ Says the LORD of hosts. ‘But you said ‘in what way shall we return?’ Will a man rob God? Yet you have robbed Me! But you say, ‘In what way have we robbed You?’ In tithes and offerings. You are cursed with a curse, for you have robbed Me, even this whole nation. Bring all the tithes into the storehouse, that there may be food in My house, and try Me now in this,’ Says the LORD of hosts, ‘If I will not open for you the windows of heaven and pour out for you such blessing that there will not be room enough to receive it. And I will rebuke the devourer for your sakes, so that he will not destroy the fruit of your ground, nor shall the vine fail to bear fret for you in the field,’ Says the LORD of hosts.”

The heat of the rising morning sun in Sixshot bears down, molten steel, heavy, unrelenting, drawing fresh sweat from beneath the brim of Moose’s hat before he and Cbot even clear the short picket fence. The dusty whitewashed slats lean at slight tired angles, some boards warped by dry wind and lack of rain, their paint cracked and peeling like old skin remembering better days. Cbot moves at his shoulder, her cloak stirring faintly with each measured step, the fabric brushing softly against the dusty steps.

The streets are alive with Texans in faded denim and scuffed boots mixing with tall, iridescent aliens whose multiple limbs click against the packed red dirt, and the odd “alien Texan” hybrid sporting both a wide-brimmed hat and a cluster of glowing antennae. Voices drift on the warming air: low drawls, metallic chirps, and the occasional burst of synthetic laughter. Several heads turn as the pair passes. Eyes—human, compound, and mechanical—linger with open curiosity.

A grizzled old rancher pauses mid-chew on a toothpick. A slender alien merchant tilts its elongated neck, light catching on its scales. No hostility, just quiet, small-town appraisal that weighs strangers against the dust they kick up.

A lone tumbleweed rolls lazily across the road ahead of them, bouncing once with a dry rustle before catching on a hitching pos.

Moose slows at the base of the Meeting House steps. The weathered wood creaks faintly under his sneakers as he plants one foot and turns to survey the grounds. His gaze sweeps across the lighted cross mounted above the door, the small yard dotted with hardy scrub brush, and the faint shimmer of residual energy lingering near the corners of the building.

He wipes the back of his neck with his bandana, the cloth already damp. With out fanfare or much ado, Moose opens the door for Cbot. She steps inside and Moose follows behind, closing the door behind them.

Nothing had moved or changed in the empty Meeting House. Moose steps carefully past the wooden pews to the center of the room, his sneakers shuffling on creaking wood floors. Pools of sapphire blue, amber yellow, ruby red, and emerald green light filter in through the stained glass windows. Dust hangs in the air, illuminated by the light.

Moose reaches into his back pocket and takes out his coms unit. He slides a finger across the screen to unlock it and tap taps a few taps. It isn’t long before quiet music rings from the small speakers, surrounding him with quiet music. It carries through the empty room, bouncing off the wooden walls.

“Cbot,” Moose says and slides the coms unit into his back pocket, the music still quietly playing. He wrinkles his nose, pulls his hat off, rubs his head, and pulls his hat brim low. “Head on up to the steeple and keep watch. Let me know if anyone comes through the gate.”

“Yes, Captain,” Cbot chimes quietly. She moves with speed, a jackrabbit jump and swirl of cloak as she climbs the stairs and disappears up the stairs into the steeple.

“Well, Lord,” Moose says as he stands alone in the Meeting House. He takes a deep breath, lowers himself to his knees slowly, a slight wince as he kneels. Moose removes his hat and lowers him head to the ground. “Where are we going today?”

He raises himself back up, pushing up off the ground with a fist in one hand, another wince and furrowed brow. “Looks like we’re on cleanup duty.”

Luke 16: 1-13

“He also said to His disciples: ‘There was a certain rich man who had a steward, and an accusation was brought to him that this man was wasting his goods. So he called him and said to him, ‘What is this I hear about you? Give an account of your stewardship, for you can no longer be steward.’ Then the steward said within himself, ‘What shall I do? For my master is taking the stewardship away from me. I cannot dig; I am ashamed to beg. I have resolved what to do, that when I am put out of the stewardship, they may receive me into their houses.’ So he called every one of his master’s debtors to him, and said to the first, ‘How much do you owe my master?’ And he said, ‘A hundred measures of oil.’ So he said to him, ‘Take your bill, and sit down quickly and write fifty.’ Then he said to another, ‘And how much do you owe?’ So he said, ‘A hundred measures of wheat.’ And he said to him, ‘Take your bill, and write eighty.’ So the master commended the unjust steward because he had dealt shrewdly. For the sons of this world are more shrewd in their generation than the sons of light. And I say to you, make friends for yourselves by unrighteousness mammon, that when you fail, they may receive you into an everlasting home. He who is faithful in what is least is faithful also in much; and he who is unjust in what is least is unjust also in much. Therefore if you have not been faithful in the unrighteousness mammon, who will commit to your trust the true riches? And if you have not been faithful in what is another man’s, who will give you what is your own? No servant can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or else he will be loyal to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and mammon.’”