How Have the Mighty Fallen

HOW HAVE THE MIGHTY FALLEN

John Christian Orndorff

How Have The Mighty Fallen

By John Christian Orndorff

Published by Smashwords

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s vivid imagination and are not to be interpreted as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover design by John Christian Orndorff

Copyright 2002, by John Christian Orndorff

To my very best friend and wife, Debbie.

The human heart is more deceptive than we can imagine-psychotic at best; no wonder we don’t understand our own motives.

Jeremiah 17:9, Author’s paraphrase

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

About the Author

Chapter One

A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the room where Curt Goodman stood, briefly revealing the lifeless body of his longtime friend, Mike George. Curt could only stand there, seemingly frozen, in a state of shock as he limply held his nine-millimeter handgun at his right side. Not even the follow-on crash of thunder seemed to faze him. Perhaps a thousand thoughts and memories were flooding through his mind as he tried to comprehend what had just happened. He didn’t even seem to notice the stinging sweat as it rolled into his eyes and commingled with a solitary tear now racing down his cheek.

A few moments later a flood of flashlights and red laser pointers filled the room, all of them focused on Curt. Freeze! Drop the gun! shouted an angry female voice directly behind him. Curt recognized the voice as that of Lindsey North. Give it up Rev, yelled the voice of a man somewhere in front of him. It sounded like James Lewis. There were several other commanding voices, but they all seemed to blend together into a chaotic mass of sound.

Slowly and deliberately, Curt released the weapon letting it drop to the floor. The moment the gun hit the floor with a hard thud; four men threw him to the floor. Curt didn’t expect the tackle and as he hit the floor he bit into his lip causing a bloody flow. One of the men ground his knee into Curt’s back, as he tightly cuffed his hands behind him. They just as quickly jerked him up again and began to escort him out of the house.

Before they made it out of the room several emergency lights came on and Curt could see the room that a moment before was only a dark blur to him. Mike’s body was near the door leading from the library into the living room. He had two well-placed rounds in the middle of his chest and his blood was splattered everywhere. Having seen the sight Curt could only close his eyes and turn away in agony.

Curt loved Mike and his family. Mike was the closest thing to a brother he had ever had and now he was dead. How did this happen? How could this happen? Curt asked himself over and over as his former friends took him out of the house.

The rain had let up some, but was still coming down steadily, soaking Curt and everyone else with him.

Rev, you know the routine. You have the right to an attorney, anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law…, James Lewis recited while they walked to the Chevy Suburban parked just outside. You better not say anything, Rev. You know you’re in a world of trouble. I’ve never really liked you anyway, so now…. Well…. James could only shake his head in disgust as he forcefully pushed Curt into the vehicle and slammed the door behind him. Dennis, get em out of here. Take him back to the office.

Right James, Dennis Jones said as he and two other men climbed in the truck.

Curt was trying to make himself comfortable in the back seat. He was also looking to see what had become of Michael. He saw the Porsche sitting where he had parked it, but nothing else. Then the Suburban took off, the motion threw him back and into the left door. As he gained his balance, he sat himself down and again began to try and sort out the events of the evening and the past few days. The shock was wearing off and he could hear Dennis, Frank and Marty laughing about him.

That’s one stupid guy, Frank Turner let out as he shook his head back and forth.

Curt needed some quiet time, so he did his best to tune out these men who had been his friends. First he trained his ears on the sound of the wheels on the wet pavement and the sound of an occasional burst of thunder. Then Curt whispered a prayer, O God, if you can hear me, I need you now. Your great mercies are boundless. Help me understand. Curt finally tuned out his captors as he continued to pray. Soon the prayers turned into reflections on what had been long lost memories. Curt’s mind drifted back several years to one day at Mount Zion Evangelical Presbyterian Church in Philadelphia.

How have the mighty fallen! the young preacher exclaimed as he raised his hands in a gesture and scanned the congregation. David lamented this over Saul and his best friend Jonathan. This, my friends is a warning to us. We have all tasted the goodness of the Lord and we all would say we’ll never forsake the one who bought us with His own blood. Yet Saul tasted the goodness of God and he fell, bringing down the rest of his family with him. And why did he fall? He fell because he wanted to hold on to what was not his. God gave him the Kingdom of Israel and he blew it because he did what he wanted to do and not what God wanted him to do. Then when God told him he would lose it, Saul held onto it even tighter, even to the point of trying to kill David; a man after God’s own heart. The Proverbs tell us plainly, there are ideas and actions that seem right for us and only end in death. Just because something seems right to us, does not mean that’s what God wants us to do.

Following the sermon, the young man of God greeted the parishioners as they departed the church. Mrs. Smith was the last to depart. As she took the young man’s right hand she squeezed it with all the might her ninety-year-old frame could muster. You have the anointing Brother Curt. Be careful to always use it for God, she whispered with a smile. She started to walk away and paused, turned and added, You know, you’ll never fully understand your own sermons until you’re older than you are right now. She smiled and turned away.

You know she’s right Curt, John Lane, the senior pastor added as she slowly and carefully descended the steps. I’ve watched you carefully, the whole time you’ve been here and I can’t say I’ve ever seen a young man preach the word the way you do.

Pastor, I’m just doing what comes naturally to me, Curt responded as he carefully watched Mrs. Smith make the last step. She really scares me pastor. Such a godly woman and so vulnerable.

Brother, there’s probably more fire in that weak looking frame than you’ve ever seen in one place, Reverend Lane said with a grin. She’s not as vulnerable as you may think. Why you know, when the prophet Elisha died, some men hurriedly threw a dead body into his tomb to escape some raiders. Well, as soon as the dead body touched Elisha’s bones the body came back to life. Sometimes the greatest power is where you least expect it.

You know, I believe you’re right, Curt responded laughingly as he casually took a look at his watch. Holy smoke! I’m late to pick up Becky. She had to work at the hospital this morning and I promised to pick her up right after the service.

Well you better get going. Don’t worry about the church, I’ll lock up.

Curt raced to his old Datsun 210, and was off to pick up the love of his life. The former Becky Brown was the only woman Curt ever wanted. She was what he referred to as a godly woman, but she was also very beautiful. She was five feet six inches tall, slender, with long brown hair. Becky was the kind of girl who turned heads, and Curt was blessed to be the one to win her heart. He often thought of how she could have been a fashion model, but she married him. Thoughts of his love for her filled his mind as he sped around the corner leading to the front of the hospital. As he made the turn, he saw her patiently standing by the curb waiting for him. Her nurse’s uniform seemed to accentuate her shapely body, which caused Curt’s heart to race when he saw her.

Did your sermon go a little long? Becky asked with a smile as she slid into the front seat and gave Curt a brief kiss.

Yeah, I guess I got carried away. It seems like I can’t preach a sermon without wanting to discuss it with every parishioner as they leave the church. It’s not the sermon that takes so long it’s the after sermon that gets me.

So, are you saying you completely forgot about me? Becky asked as she pinched Curt’s side.

Ouch! Not while I’m driving. Of course I didn’t forget about you. Just a lot on my mind. You know.

Well, tell me about the sermon. I wish I could have been there. How did the congregation receive it?

Oh, I think they loved it. We did have quite a good response. I guess about twenty people recommitted their lives to the Lord and I think there were three or four who asked to receive Christ for the first time.

That’s my man! Becky responded as she squeezed his leg.

Curt and Becky Goodman met at a Bible study during their freshman year at the University of Pennsylvania and were married during their senior year. They agreed their chosen fields complemented each other. Curt was a minister of the gospel and Becky was a nurse. They frequently told others that working together, with God’s help, they could mend bodies and souls. While Becky worked hard to be the top nurse in general medicine, Curt’s success in the church was nothing less than phenomenal. Pastor Lane referred to him as a modern day Charles Spurgeon or John Wesley. He could preach a sermon like no one had ever heard. Pastor Lane was fond of saying, While he doesn’t preach fire and brimstone, he presents heaven and God’s grace in such real terms, you’re scared not to accept; because if heaven is that real, hell must be just as real.

Preaching was Curt’s strong suit, but he often seemed dissatisfied. Something is missing, he would tell Becky and Pastor Lane. However, when they asked him to explain he would shrug his shoulders and reply I don’t know what it is. Something haunted Curt, and he was desperate to find out what it was.

After picking Becky up from the hospital, Curt drove directly to their humble row home on Tasker Street in South Philly. After insisting on carrying her over the threshold for the hundredth time, he ordered Becky to sit down and relax. I’m going to cook you a Sunday dinner fit for a preacher, he said authoritatively.

Oh, you’re an expert on what preachers like the best?

As a matter of fact, I am, Curt responded as he reached for the Hamburger Helper. Did I ever tell you about my grandfather?

Which one?

My dad’s father.

Well Yeah, but what are you getting at?

Well this is a lesson in feeding preachers and the perils associated with it. You see, my grandfather was a fairly rough fellow, you know, cussed a lot and when he was younger was given to drink more than he needed. I remember when I was a boy seeing him get up in the middle of the service and just walk out. He also had a less than favorable opinion of most preachers. As I’m told there was a reason for that. My great-grandfather was a very devout Christian who regularly invited the pastor over to his home for Sunday dinner. And if there were visiting pastors, he invited them all. Apparently the preachers ate all the food and my grandfather got what little, if any, that was left over. So that was the reason for his dislike of men of the cloth.

I’m not sure how this connects with you cooking a meal fit for a preacher, Becky said as she tried to keep a straight face.

Well, I’ll tell ya how this connects, Curt responded as he stirred the hamburger. It doesn’t matter what you place before the preacher, the preacher will finish it off. So the moral to this story is don’t get your hopes up.

I can’t believe you said that, Becky yelled out as she bent double with laughter. Is that what my cooking is like?

Now I never said nor did I intend for it to come out that way.

Okay, your safe. Just promise you won’t tell that story in one of your sermons.

Was it that bad?

Yeah, it was. Becky said behind the laughter.

Well, that’s fine. Laugh if you want to, but it is a true story. Now for the good stuff, Curt added as he carefully poured the contents of the packet in with the ground beef. Oh Yeah, this is going to be good. You go relax Becky. I’ll call you when it’s ready.

Okay, I will.

Curt watched Becky as she walked to the bedroom and began to change into her casual house clothes. I can’t believe she’s mine, Curt whispered. Thank you God.

In a very few minutes Curt had completed his mealtime preparations, and set the table. Come and get it!

Becky ran into the room and kissed Curt. I’m the luckiest girl in Philadelphia!

Well, I’m the luckiest guy, Curt said with a great smile.

Following their humble meal together, Curt told Becky he wanted to go into North Philly with Pastor Lane to work with some youth.

No Curt. Stay home with me. I’ll make you glad you did, Becky tempted him with a mischievous grin.

Oh sweetheart, please don’t do that. You know I can’t resist.

Okay, go be a preacher. I’ll wait for you.

Becky waved goodbye as Curt drove off in the old Datsun leaving behind a puff of white smoke.

Curt met Pastor Lane on North Broad Street and drove to a ghetto like neighborhood. Dirty young children were playing on the sidewalks and in the streets. The sight of the children didn’t disturb Curt, but the predatory looks of the older teens and some adults turned his stomach.

Remember this Curt, Pastor Lane said as he began to open the door. I know you have a knot in your stomach right now and you’re thinking about how tough this is and that you as a white guy don’t fit in here. I felt the same way as a black man in the white man’s world. What we’re going through is no different than what David felt when he faced Goliath. Now, let’s go do God’s work.

You’re right, Pastor, Curt said with a smile as he hopped out of the car.

John Lane was one of the first black pastors to cross the racial barrier and build an integrated church of all races from all walks of life. Curt looked up to him as if he were the Apostle Paul, and valued his counsel more than his years of education.

Alright, who wants to know Jesus? John called out to a group of teenagers sitting on the steps of a row house.

Why don’t you just go back to the white man’s side of town? a young man called out adding several expletives that made Curt cringe.

Now if I did that what kind of man would I be? I’ve found a treasure and I don’t want to hoard it all to myself. I want to share it.

When John mentioned the word treasure, Curt noticed several ears perked up as if they were actually expecting to get some money out of this.

Hey man, what’s this treasure you talk’n about?

I’m talking about living in a mansion with God. I’m talking about never dying and never being ashamed of who you are and where you’re going.

The young man turned his back and shook his head. I knew this preacher man didn’t have no money! What you do’n here anyway? he asked as he barely turned his head.

I came here for you. What’s your name young man?

I’m Lewis. What’s your name preacher man?

My name’s John and this is my friend Curtis.

I don’t know who’s crazier, you or your white boy, Curtis, Lewis said with a sneer as he eyed Curtis.

Why do you say that Lewis? Curt responded in a firm and steady voice.

Man, you’ll get killed here and there ain’t noth’n the cops can do to help you. You better get your honky self back to the white side of town.

Lewis, you and your friends can kill me. But you can’t kill the love of God in me. In fact unless God allows it, you can’t even kill me.

John cringed at Curt’s bold challenge. Now Curt, let’s not give them any ideas, John whispered to his friend.

However, it seemed that as the exchange continued, Curt became bolder in standing up to Lewis’ threats and the intimidation of Lewis’ friends encircling him.

You talk big for a boy in somebody else’s backyard, Lewis continued as he pulled out a large pocketknife and opened the blade and began cleaning his fingernails. You could disappear and no one would ever know where to look. Tragic, don’t you think?

Yes it would be tragic, Lewis. But the thing that would be more tragic would be for you and your friends to burn in hell for eternity. I’m going to die someday, and it could be today, but I know where I’m going. Just as I’m sure to die so are you and your friends. How many of you know someone your own age who’s died unexpectedly? Curt asked as he scanned his hostile congregation. You all do, don’t you?

Now preacher man, we’re talk’n about you, not us.

But I’m talking to you, Curt responded in a curiously gentle yet firm style. God loves you guys and he wants you to have something you won’t get anywhere else. He wants you to be with him in heaven when you die. He also wants you to live good and happy lives right here and now.

What’s God care about us preacher? a young man in the back of the crowd asked. We’ve grown up here in this ghetto, we get the leftovers from the whites, and they let us peek at how they live on the TV. If God loves us so much, why’d he give us all this?"

God didn’t give it to you, but he is offering to help you out. Pastor Lane here grew up the same as you, but the love of God brought him out. As he said, he’s come back to share with you the treasure God has given him.

It took a few hours of preaching and talking but in the end, the knives were put away and the young men took turns asking questions. John Lane had never seen anything like it. It was like the power of God descended upon Curt and gave him the words to touch the hearts of these men. By the time the sun was going down Lewis and two others were praying to receive Jesus Christ. John and Curt gave them Bibles and promised to return on Tuesday evening to continue teaching them.

Curt, John said as they began to drive away.

Yes, pastor.

I’ve never seen a man talk the way you did and walk away without a beating. You’ve got the anointing. Just please be sure it’s on you when you do something like that. I was a little worried there for a while.

Don’t worry pastor. I was worried too at first. But I realized who’s holding my life in his hands. I felt a peace and let the words roll. It wasn’t me speaking it was the Holy Spirit.

Curt returned home about ten o’clock that evening to find Becky patiently waiting for him. Sweet heart, I’m sorry to keep you waiting, but I’ve just had the most exciting time of my ministry.

Just as long as it’s not another woman, Becky responded with a smile. Now tell me about it!

Curt enthusiastically described his experience to her, carefully covering each and every detail of his encounter with the angry young men in the North Philadelphia neighborhood. While his excitement over the experience was at a level Becky had never seen, she became increasingly alarmed at the obvious danger he was in.

You have no right to put me in danger of becoming a widow! she broke in with a tear running down her cheek.

Wa…What?

Curt I love you; I’m planning to spend my life with you. Many years I hope, and you’re out carelessly throwing it around like a cat, as if to see how many lives you have. Your desire to be a man of God is what I love about you, but don’t lose your head and get killed.

Hey honey, I’m not going to get myself killed. But you’ve got to remember the things we talked about before we were married. We discussed counting the cost. Our lives, as much as we love them are not our own. Martyrs beginning with Stephen all the way to Dietrich Bonhoeffer counted the cost, to them and their families. I want to spend a good long life with you, but we’ve got to trust God to take care of us and if I have to die in his service, well, so be it.

You’re right, honey, but please be careful.

Believe me. Knowing I have you to come home to makes me want to be the most careful man in the world. Curt went on to finish telling Becky everything that had taken place and the response from Lewis and his friends. After discussing the situation and some prayer, they both agreed he was moving in the right direction.

Curt’s work with the youth in North Philly became his life over the next few months. While he still enjoyed preaching Sunday services, he most loved seeing the changed lives among the young people to whom he ministered. Lewis was just the beginning, as many teenagers and adults came to hear Curt’s sermons and responded to them. Lewis also began to change. Rather than carrying a knife, he was packing a Bible. The change in many of these people was phenomenal and it affected the entire neighborhood. Curt, John and Lewis organized work Saturdays for picking up trash and painting some of the row house doors. Even the police commented how they’d never seen such a transformation.

Preacher, Lewis said one Saturday morning as he looked at the newly painted door on his grandmother’s house. I’m glad you and Pastor Lane came to see us when you did. I would have never let on, but I always was afraid of dying and going to hell. Now, like you said that first night, I know where I’m going.

Lewis, I’m glad we came too, Curt replied with a smile of friendship as he tried to hold back tears.

While they were admiring the results of their work and drinking lemonade, a car raced by and several shots were fired from the passenger’s side in their direction. They all fell to the ground so quickly the events were just a blur to Curt.

Is anyone hurt? Curt yelled out as he jumped to his feet.

No preacher, I think we’re all okay. Lewis said as he dusted off his trousers.

What was that all about? Pastor Lane asked.

It’s the local drug dealers. You preachers are biting into their profits since you moved in and they don’t like it, Lewis answered matter-of-factly.

Well, maybe we’d better go talk to them, Curt said. The same God who changed our lives can change theirs’ too you know.

Preacher, let’s just wait and pray about that one first. I used to be a pretty mean fella, but they’ll shoot you before you can say the first word, just for fun.

Maybe we should go to the police, John said thinking they should do something.

Preacher, I’m tell’n ya, leave those muthas alone. Before you ever consider seeing them or crossing them, well, just make sure it’s God tell’n you to do it. Besides, what’s the police going to do. They already know who these gangsters are.

Curt was thankful no one was injured from the drive-by shooting, but that incident was the beginning of a growing concern for the young minister. As Curt began to reason, he felt there could be no peace in a city where drug lords ruled. Worse for Curt, the drive-by shootings and intimidation by gang members began to increase as he and John Lane continued their ministry. Curt realized these people were different from most. They were seemingly closed to the gospel and unreachable. There were several times when he tried to talk to a gang member, and each time it ended in expletives and on a couple of occasions a black eye for Curt. I don’t mind taking a beating for God, he told Pastor Lane, but I despise the haughty attitude of these punks.

Curt, John answered, don’t let these guys drag you down. Remember when the Roman soldiers beat the Lord just before the crucifixion? I’ve often thought about it. They blindfolded him then hit him and commanded that he identify who hit him. Or what about the temple guards? You know they didn’t like the way Jesus answered the high priest, so they struck him and said, ‘Is that any way to talk to the high priest?’ Imagine, some soldier strikes the son of God because of the way he addresses the high priest. Doesn’t seem fair now does it?

I get the picture pastor. You’re right, it will do no good to let these guys cause me to give in. But would you do me a favor?

Sure Curt, what is it?

Pray for me. I really need it.

Curt, you’ve got it, John responded as he slapped Curt on the back and walked him to his car. Curt, how much time have you been spending with Becky lately?

Well, pastor, you know we’ve been awfully busy, and, well I haven’t spent much time with her in the last couple of weeks.

You get home and be a husband to your wife. God gave you the responsibility to do your best with these people. But he first gave you a wife and he still expects you to take good care of her. Do you understand?

Yes sir! You don’t have to tell me twice.

And Curt, take tomorrow off, I’ll see you Sunday morning. That’s an order.

Curt drove home with mixed feelings of guilt. He had not spent as much time with Becky as he should have. He also thought he should be able to do more to help the community in which he was working. There’s got to be a way to make more of a difference, he thought as he drove down Broad Street toward his home. He finally arrived at the old familiar street and began looking for a place to park. It was a typical Friday evening in the neighborhood with lots of friends visiting friends resulting in double parked cars and a frustrating search for any suitable parking space. As it turned out, Curt finally found a spot two blocks down the street. Well, I guess I need to walk out some frustration, he said to himself as he locked the door and headed to his apartment.

Becky was there waiting for him when he opened the door. She looked more beautiful than ever and made him forget the frustrations of drug dealers and the shortage of parking. So, how was the day?

Well, it was okay. We had some more trouble with the local gang.

Honey, you need to take some time off. You’re taking on too much of a burden. God doesn’t intend for you to carry this alone. I know, let’s go to Valley Forge tomorrow and have a picnic.

That sounds like a great idea Becky. We’ll do it! I do have one request though.

What’s that?

Do you mind if I take some work with me? I haven’t prepared my sermon for Sunday.

I’ll tell you what. I’ll do even better than that. I’ll let you practice the sermon on me.

You’re the greatest sweetheart, I love you, Curt said as he swept her into his arms for a long kiss."

That was a special night for Curt and Becky. She had prepared his favorite meal consisting of lasagna, salad, French bread and red wine. The food, for some reason tasted better than usual to them that evening as the two lovers watched the other eat and shared their secrets from the day. While Curt had a fairly good, although frustrating day, Becky was excited over the seemingly miraculous healing of the little Steinberg girl, who had fallen from a second floor fire escape. Curt, the doctors just couldn’t believe it when Sara opened her eyes and asked for her mother. They are trying so hard to understand how she could recover the way she has, but they just can’t accept that it’s the work of God.

Sounds pretty obvious to me, Curt replied. I mean how can a young girl who was declared brain dead, just come out of it the way she did? I’d say there was a lot of prayer behind that recovery. Did you say anything to the doctors?

"Well I tried to talk to Doctor Sloan, but he didn’t seem too interested. Besides, I