The 2 Fingers of God

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Hope Village Community Church had finally found someone who would go to the pub in order to make friends with people. It was always looking for new members, and making new friends was a necessary part of its outreach. Sam had volunteered for this dangerous mission. Sam had been brought up by strict Christian parents. He was 56 and had never drunk alcohol at all. He felt comfortable having a meal in a pub, and, unlike some of the other church members, was not a recovering alcoholic. He had no reason to avoid pubs. Sam sat in the pub with the church orange cross around his neck. It was attached to his even stranger “Greenbuild Expo” neck band which he had brought from work, intended for his identity card at an industrial exhibition. Sam was proud of this combination. The bright orange cross on the professional neckband. Unlike Sam’s previous attempts to make a Christian statement cross, no one would ever think this was simply an ornament. Anyone who saw Sam in this guise would know he was a Christian and what he was trying to do. Steve was a journalist from a seedy national newspaper. He saw Sam sipping his orange juice.
“Are you from Hope Village Community Church?” Steve asked.
“Yes.”
“Could I join you at this table?”
“Certainly. I’m here to make friends with people.”
“Could I get you an apple juice?”
“Yes please.”

Steve returned with a scrumpy cider. To those who had never had an alcoholic drink before, scrumpy cider could easily be mistaken for apple juice. It is also a strong alcoholic drink, far stronger than regular beer or lager and stronger than most other ciders. It has a very pleasant taste.
“This is nice,” said Sam, sipping his apple juice without realising that it was the fermented kind.
“What is it like, this community of yours, then?”
“It’s a nice happy family. Grandmas, granddads, women, children.”
“Attractive young women?” asked Steve.
“They’re not all young. Some of them are over seventy.”
“Who’s the oldest woman you’ve got there?”
“Stephanie is 76. Just 20 years older than me.” Sam sipped some more of his apple juice and giggled. “I feel great. I’m full of the joy of the Lord. There’s a presence here. There’s a joy in this pub. Can you feel it to?” Steve took another sip of his vodka and orange.
“Yes, I feel it too. Sam, who’s your favourite woman?”
“We call them sisters,” said Sam, sniggering. “Sister Stephanie is lovely. I met someone who knew her in 1976. In my mind I wind back the video tape and try to imagine what Stephanie looked like in 1976. Then I see her in the morning and think, you look an awful lot older than you did yesterday, in my dreams.” Sam had nearly finished his first pint.
“Would you like another apple juice?”
“Yes, go on.” Steve returned with another pint of Scrumpy cider.
“What would you do, Sam, if you could jump in a time machine and go back to 1976?”
“The first thing I’d do would be to try to find Stephanie. How old would she be? Oh, my brain can’t add two numbers together.”
“It’s 37 years ago. She’d be 39.”
“Stephanie, aged 39. No electric wheelchair. No arthritis. I’d marry her, then.”
“Do you have sexual feelings for any of the sisters?”
“I don’t think it’s wrong to have sexual feelings for someone when you like them that much. As long as, in your fantasy, you’ve married the person first. If you dream that you’re lying with your wife on the beach drinking coconut juice, that’s not immoral, is it?”
“What kind of feelings do you have for the younger sisters?”
“It doesn’t matter how old they are. Susan’s nice, she’s 25. Her sister’s really pretty, she’s 19.” Sam’s apple juice went down a lot further. “Look at this ring on my finger. I made a vow never to get married.”
“Do you ever feel lonely?” asked Steve.
“I never feel lonely. I’ll tell you why. Sister is not a strong enough word. They are my girlfriends. They’re all lovely people. Do you have a girlfriend?”
“Yes.”
“I love all the sisters in that church the way that you love your girlfriend, nothing less than that. That is the kind of love that God wants. Let us love one another, for love comes from God.”
“Should I get you another apple juice?”
“Yes, go on.” Steve brought another scrumpy cider. “I’m the romantic type,” Sam continued. “Maybe I’m different. I love them in the Lord. I care about them in the Lord. I think they’re wonderful in the Lord. My feelings are innocent. At least, most of the time, my feelings are innocent.”
“What are other people’s feelings like?” asked Steve.
“It’s not the ones you’d expect, is it?” said Sam, taking another sip of his apple juice. “It’s senior leaders. You can’t trust anybody. No woman is safe. They flirt with the girls and lead them on. They’re obsessed with sex. Have some respect for the old dears and the disabled people in electric wheelchairs, I say. Have some respect for your dearest sisters in Christ. Keep sex in its proper place.”

After his third pint Sam decided to walk home. He staggered as he came through the front door.
“I can feel the spirit moving,” he said to Rachel. “Can you feel it? The room feels as if it’s going up and down.”
“That’s because you’re drunk,” said Rachel.
“I met this really interesting guy in the pub. He bought me apple juice in long, tall glasses.”
“That’s cider.”

The next morning Sam woke up with a headache. Why was Johnny doing the vacuuming while Sam had such a terrible woodpecker inside his head, trying to get out? The vacuum cleaner was getting on his nerves. Finally, Sam managed to get up, around lunchtime. He saw the newspaper on the coffee table in the lounge. Sam’s picture was on the front. So was a picture of the community house. Next to them was the headline, ‘All Age Sex Cult.’ Next to the headlines were the paragraph headings in large bold print. ‘Senior Leaders Obsessed With Sex.’ ‘No Woman is Safe.’ ‘You Can’t Trust Anybody.’ Sam began to read the text underneath. ‘Members of the Hope Village sex cult take a vow never to get married and live together as boyfriends and girlfriends. All ages are welcome – the oldest is 76, the youngest is 19. Sam Taylor, who is a member of the cult, told us their slogan, ‘Let us love one another, for love comes from God.’"
“I think the man you spoke to last night was a journalist,” said Rachel.
“I’ve been misquoted,” said Sam.
“I certainly hope you have. How much apple juice did you drink?”
“3 of the long, tall glasses.”
“That’s 3 pints,” said Rachel.
“Look, I’ll leave. I’ll go to Mars, I’ll become one of the colonists. They give you a one way ticket and you never come back.”
“Don’t go to Mars. We need you here. Who would empty the bins?”

Three days earlier, Sam had been leading the house group meeting on Tuesday night.
“A reading from Luke chapter 10. ‘But into whatever city you enter and they receive you not, go your way out into the streets and say, Even the very dust of your city we wipe off our feet as a testimony against you. Be sure of this, the Kingdom of God has come near to you. It shall be more bearable on the day of judgement for Sodom and Gomorrah than for you.’ Hope village is like this. We are called Hope Village Community Church. We should be called No Hope Village Community Church. Why do we carry on with this unsuccessful church plant, year after year, decade after decade? Look around you at this room. How many of the people are there here who actually come from Hope Village? You can count them on one hand. We’ve been here for 20 years. It’s time we left.”
“I get so angry when you go on about Hope Village. We pray for a miracle,” said Rachel.
“For how long will you pray for a miracle? 20 years? 40 years? For the rest of your lives?”
“We need to send the intercessors,” said Stephanie. “We need to intercede for Hope Village.”
“Well, send the intercessors somewhere else, where they’ve got some chance of winning the battle,” said Sam.

On Sunday night there were huge queues of people at the church. The steward put out another row of chairs.
“Don’t put them there,” said Isaac. “No one can get out to the toilet.”
“Perhaps Rachel’s prayers have been answered,” said Jonah. One of the visitors was a rough looking man who was in his sixties. He sat down next to Stephanie and put his hand on her knee. Stephanie slapped his face.
“What did you do that for?” he asked. “I thought you people were into that sort of thing.”
“I assure you we’re not. Don’t believe everything you read in the papers.”
“They’re not here to find Jesus,” said Rachel. “They’re here because they think we’re a sex cult.”
“Perhaps they’ll hear the gospel anyway,” said Isaac. “Enoch is here.” Enoch was a very old man. He stood on the stage in front of the microphone.
“In 1934 I was a Church of England Vicar. I was expelled from the Church of England because I prayed in tongues. In a meeting in the Pentecostal church in 1934, a young man gave a prophecy. He said that revival would begin in England. It would start as the sound of rustling in the leaves on the trees, and then the rain would come. Then there would be flood after flood after flood, and there would be no end. It would start in a little village in the Pennines. Oh, little hills of the East Midlands, you are not least among the mountains. Snake Pass will ring with the sound of praise. He said this would happen during my lifetime. I think the time is now.” Enoch collapsed on the stage.
“Call an ambulance,” said Isaac. Sam went down to the stage to take a closer look.
“I think he’s dead.”
After a few minutes an ambulance came. Enoch was carried away on a stretcher.

Isaac stood on the stage behind the microphone. He made a V sign with his fingers.
“God is making a victory sign. If you stay on the right side of God, you will see victory. If you get on the wrong side of God, you will not see victory, you will see his judgement. Brothers, let us not get on the wrong side of God at this time.” Jonah stood behind the microphone.
“Do you want to know what the sex is like in this church?” The visitors sniggered, chattered and looked around excitedly. “I tell you, it’s fantastic. Sex with my wife is fantastic. I’ve never had it with anybody else. Why spoil it? Those celibates, they haven’t ever had it all. They love each other in the Lord. They see someone they fancy, they like them in the Lord, they care about them in the Lord. So the sex in this church is fantastic, and the love in this church is fantastic. Unspoilt by sin. Unspoilt by degrading, dehumanising lust.” A quarter of the people in the hall got up and walked out.
“Oh well,” said the steward. “At least everyone in the hall can get a seat now.” Jonah continued preaching.
“In the Bible, Esau sold his birthright for a bowl of lentil soup. Don’t give up the wonderful life God wants you to have for a moment of pleasure.”
“Why not?” shouted a man. “It sounds like a good idea to me.”
“Then you’re an Esau. You don’t have to get right with God tonight. If you’d rather have sensual pleasure, there’s a pub and a fish and chip shop over the road.” Another quarter of the people in the hall got up and walked out. There were still quite a lot there, and a quite a few of them new people, too. They sang a hymn.
“We are one in the body, we are one in the Lord. We are one in the body, we are one in the Lord. And we pray that our unity will soon be restored. And they’ll know we are Christians by our love, by our love, and they’ll know we are Christians by our love.”

Those who had remained in the hall came back with the Christians to have supper in the community house.
“There’s still a lot of people here tonight,” said Sam.
“Yes,” said Rachel. “You were wrong. There will be a miracle.”
“We all get discouraged sometimes,” said Isaac. The doorbell rang. Rachel put down her boiled egg and rice and went to answer it. There was a gang of Hell’s Angels.
“We’re looking for somewhere to stay tonight. Could we stay here?”
“You can stay here if you want. There’s the men’s bedrooms over there,” Rachel said, pointing, “and there’s the women’s bedrooms in the other building over there.”
“We could always go to the local youth hostel,” said one of the others. They left.

James couldn’t get used to Stephanie’s old electric scooter. He drove it around the garden. He reversed into a plant pot, flew the other way and knocked over a wheely bin, turned around, came forward and demolished another plant pot. Sam was walking along the garden path. He didn’t see James coming up behind him. Wallop! Sam examined himself, lifting up his foot and rubbing his ankle, wondering if it was broken. Stephanie was watering the plants nearby.
“Sorry,” said James.
“Praise the Lord! I’m just so glad you crashed into me and didn’t crash into Stephanie. She’s just over there. Stephanie’s got brittle bones. She would have been badly injured. You haven’t broken my ankle, but you would have broken hers. She’s disabled already. If you broke her ankle she’d never be able to walk around the house again, like she does now. I shall limp around for days, happy in the knowledge that I was a human crash barrier and saved Stephanie from serious injury.”

James drove down to the woods. He loved being by the stream in the woods. It was his favourite place. He hadn’t been there for six years. Now he was 96. He was delighted to be by the stream again. He wondered if Heaven was like this, the woods, the stream, the Sun shining in the sky. James would soon find out if his understanding of Heaven was theologically sound or heretical. He was going much too fast. The scooter went flying off the path right into the stream, where it landed upside down, trapping James underneath it. It was much too heavy for one person to lift, and James was too old and frail to pull himself out from underneath it. He drowned.

Jonah made the announcement to all the members of the community house, who were gathered together for their evening meal.
“James is dead. He lost control of Stephanie’s old scooter in the woods. It went into the stream and turned upside down. He was trapped underneath it.”
“I shouldn’t have given it to him,” said Stephanie. “It’s my fault.”
“No it isn’t,” said Sam.
“Yes it is. Someone has to blame themselves.”
“Have you seen the evening paper tonight?” asked Rachel, passing around a copy. The headline said, “Sex Cult Suicide.” There was a picture of the overturned scooter in the stream.

There was an inquest. Sam gave evidence. He hadn’t given evidence in a court before. Sam was terrified. The court looked exactly like a court would on a television programme. It really did have a plaque on the wall that said, “Dieu et mon droit,” which Sam new, from his limited knowledge of French, must mean, “God and my right” or wasn’t it something equivalent in Latin? Sam was not under oath but he was determined to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
“How well did you know James?” asked the solicitor.
“I shared a room with him for two years.” The solicitor seemed impressed by that answer.
“Sam, did James ever discuss how he felt about living in the community?”
“He complained about the shower. It never worked properly. One moment it was boiling hot, the next it was freezing cold. It had never worked since they had got that new boiler.”
“Did James ever discuss how he felt emotionally?”
“He was lonely. I know he had 16 people living with him in the same house, but he was still lonely. He told me that he had prayed, ‘God, either give me a companion or end my life.’ That’s why –“ The coroner interrupted.
“- I need to write that down. He asked God either to give him a companion or to end his life. Now you’re probably going to tell me something else.”
“That’s why I shared a room with him. I became his companion.”
“What was James like on the morning of his death?” asked the solicitor.
“He destroyed 3 plant pots with the scooter and crashed into me, nearly breaking my ankle.”
“Were you aware of his state of mind?”
“He seemed to be quite happy. He wanted to go to the stream in the woods. It used to be his favourite place. He would walk there all the time when he was in his 80s. I think he lost control of the scooter. He didn’t know what he was doing with it.”
“If it was an accident, why didn’t he just get out of the scooter and walk away?” asked the solicitor.
“It’s a big heavy scooter. It takes two people to lift it. He was trapped underneath. He couldn’t just pull himself out and swim for it, he was 96 years old.” The coroner spoke.
“I have had a number of cases, in recent months, which have required me to look into men’s souls. It is not easy. I think the right decision, in this case, would be an open verdict. We will never know whether James intended to end his own life.” Sam was shocked. So were the other church members sitting with him in the court.
“But it was an accident,” shouted Rachel.
“He didn’t know what he was doing on that scooter,” said Sam.
“He lost control of the scooter,” said Stephanie. “Anyone can see that.”
“An open verdict,” said the coroner. “It could have been an accident, I admit. But who knows what life in your cult is actually like?”

Next Sunday the church was full of people. It seemed that the negative newspaper reports brought the oxygen of publicity. One person there was Wendy. She was 11 years old. She sat on her own, sobbing to herself. Her father had been a lovely man. Not at all suited to her mother, rather accustomed to spending too much time at work or on the computer and away from the family but nevertheless, kind. The new man her mother had married was a monster. He drank too much, he argued with everyone, and he made no secret of the fact that he regarded Wendy and her sister as a nuisance. He had fallen in love with Wendy’s mother but hated her children. Wendy had begun drinking to ease the pain but drinking fruit flavoured alcopops just made her more depressed.

A picture of James’ scooter, upside down in the stream, appeared on the screen. Jonah began speaking.
“James died this week. He was 96. The papers said it was suicide, but it wasn’t. He lost control of his mobility scooter.” Wendy burst into tears. She wanted to die like that. She had always been bullied at school for being clever and gentle natured. They said she was soft. They said she was a swat. Now she had tried to make some friends by drinking with the ‘hard’ people, but they were cruel to each other, stole money from each other and beat each other up. Now she was in trouble with the head teacher. Wendy had no friends. Even the teachers weren’t her friends anymore. She wanted to drown herself. She would think of it as a scientific experiment to prove the theory that no one would care. Jonah continued speaking. “Jesus loves you. Jesus loves you more than you could ever know. Jesus thinks you’re wonderful. Jesus wants you to come to him just as you are. Jesus can forgive you for all the things you have done wrong. He took the punishment. He died in your place.” Wendy was amazed. Christ was the answer. Her tears stopped. She smiled.

“I was going to preach a long sermon today but I’ve decided not to. I want to worship God. The Spirit is moving. I can feel it.” There were a few minutes of silence. Stephanie prayed in tongues boldly. She was a tiny woman, with a tiny voice who usually struggled to make herself heard. Now she prayed with fire and passion, in a voice that could be heard clearly all over the church without a microphone. One of the men stood up to give an interpretation of what Stephanie had just prayed.
“There are people here who are tied up in chains in dark dungeons. Today, God will set them free. God is light. God’s light will break through to set free the prisoners who are in the dungeons. Come and be healed. Come and be forgiven. Come and be filled with joy.” Wendy’s face lit up as if it was an electric lamp and someone had plugged it into the mains. She started praying in tongues loudly so that everyone could hear. She had never been to church before. The Spirit was moving in her so strongly. She walked up to the front and picked up the microphone.
“I came here today thinking about suicide. Now I have found freedom in Jesus. Now I am full of joy. God has healed me and I want to praise him.” She now prayed in tongues over the microphone. It sounded like angels singing. The crowd of people in the church began to join in.

Wendy felt that God wanted her to leave the meeting. She was led to the derelict old Methodist church at the end of the street. God told her to say, “Wakey, wakey!” Wendy said, “Wakey, wakey!” in a normal voice. She soon realised she would have to shout louder than that if she wanted to wake a sleeping angel. “Wakey, wakey!” she screamed at the top of her voice. A huge angel appeared. It looked like a man made of glowing bronze. It was taller than the church tower.
“I am the angel of the English Methodists,” he said. “They were the first people to be born again, they were the envy of the nation with their godly Christian lives, they taught people to read, they helped the needy, they probably prevented a violent revolution. I have been asleep for 120 years.”
“Why have you been asleep for 120 years?”
“Because there are so few Christian Socialists around these days. You’re the first one I’ve met.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing. I’m going to do it. God’s going to do it. You are Wendy the Warrior. We will do mighty miracles through you. At Hope Village Community church there is a man praying for people to be healed. He’s really struggling. He’s been trying really hard, and nothing’s happening. Go there and pray for him.”

Wendy returned to the church. Sam was standing at the front, praying for a teenage boy who had a wrist in plaster.
“If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can move a mountain,” said Sam. “You might find that when you go back to the doctor it’s so much better than he thinks it should be.” Wendy walked up to Sam.
“Can I pray for you?” she asked.
“Yes.” Wendy laid hands on him and prayed in tongues. Sam flew across the room as if he’d had an electric shock. He got up from the floor and touched the bandaged wrist of the boy he had just been praying for. The bones clicked back into place with a loud crack.
“I’m healed,” said the boy. “I’m healed.”
“Praise God,” said Sam. “I can’t see, what’s wrong with my glasses?” He took his glasses off. “Now I can see.” Sam took the microphone. “Is there anyone here who is ill, any kind of illness at all, whether it’s really serious or really trivial? God wants to heal you today.” About a hundred people came forward and were healed.

Wendy went to see her grandmother in hospital.
“Hello Grandma.”
“Hello Wendy, how are you?”
“I’m fine, Grandma. How are you?” Grandma looked down at the oxygen cylinder by her bed and laughed.
“Oh, how am I? Great. I’m fine apart from having terminal lung cancer.”
“Grandma, I’ve found Jesus. I’m a Christian.”
“Good. Joining a church will get you out of the house and you’ll make lots of friends.”
“I talk to angels, Grandma. I can work miracles.”
“Can you, dear?”
“I prayed for this man and he flew across the church as if he’d had an electric shock.”
“That’s nice, dear.”
“Could I pray for you?”
“Of course, dear.” Wendy put her hands on her grandmother’s shoulders.
“Lungs, in the name of Jesus, be healed, right now. Tumours, in the name of Jesus, be gone, right now.”
“I can breathe,” said Grandma. “For the first time in years, I can breathe.”
“Praise the Lord,” said Wendy.

Wendy left the hospital ward and walked around the grounds. The angel appeared.
“Wendy, visiting time is not over for an hour and a half. Why don’t you heal all the patients in the hospital?” Wendy went back to the cancer ward where her grandmother was. Wendy walked around the ward and placed her hands on each patient. “In the name of Jesus be healed, in the name of Jesus be healed,” she said.
“That’s Wendy’s granddaughter,” said one of the old ladies, laughing. “She thinks she’s a missionary. Where’s that lump on my skin gone?” On the maternity ward a baby had died. The sister was instructing a student nurse as to what should be done.
“Let Ann and Joe see the baby, let them hold it. It is their child. It has died.” Wendy laid her hands on the baby.
“In the name of Jesus –“
“- Jesus?” Ann interrupted, furiously. “Jesus? What’s he going to do about this? Look love, when you get a bit older, you’ll understand that there isn’t really a God, and he isn’t like Superman, and he doesn’t come down from the sky to rescue people.”
“He’s moving his eyes,” said Joe. “He’s breathing.”
“He’s moving his little hands,” said Ann. “Are you sure this baby was dead?”
“I’ve been a midwife for 30 years,” said the Sister. “That child has never taken a breath since he came into the world two hours ago. We could see him this morning on the ultrasound scanner and he had no heartbeat. He died inside you. I’ve never seen anything like this. I shall have to start doubting my atheism.” In the orthopaedic ward arms and legs snapped, crackled and popped as Wendy walked around laying hands on people. A man with a broken neck suddenly started moving around.
“I was completely paralysed. Now I’m healed. I don’t believe it. Thank you, little girl.”
“Don’t thank me, thank Jesus.” A nurse grabbed Wendy’s arm and started shouting and screaming,
“Get out, get out, get out! If you carry on like this the whole of the NHS will be closed down and we’ll all be out of a job.”
“That’s the only way the government would ever pay off its deficit,” said one of the other nurses.

That Sunday morning there were thousands of people standing outside Hope Village Community Church.
“We’ve come to be healed,” said a man with crutches. “Where’s the little girl?”
“What little girl?” asked Isaac.
“The one who went to visit her grandmother in Glossop and healed everybody in the whole hospital. I want her to heal my ankles.”
“Wendy,” called Isaac, and ran into the church. Isaac grabbed a bottle of olive oil from the kitchen. He found Wendy, standing in the main hall with about a hundred other members of the church. “Wendy, quick as you can, anoint every Christian in this hall with a little drop of this oil on their head. There are people outside who want to be healed. They’ve heard what you did at the hospital. There are so many of them. We’re going to have to organise ourselves into a little army.” Wendy took the olive oil and anointed Isaac. Isaac’s hair began to fizzle with Holy Spirit electricity. Then she anointed Jonah, who went flying across the room as if he had an electric shock and landed on top of Stephanie.
“Sorry,” said Jonah.
“Don’t apologise,” said Stephanie. “I can feel the power of the Holy Spirit. My arthritis is healed. What I have, I must pass on. I’m anointed to heal.” Stephanie rushed out into the street with Jonah. A man asked Jonah,
“Can you pray for my –“
“- Don’t tell me,” said Jonah. “I don’t need to know. If I touch you, or if you touch me, your disease is gone. According to your faith, so be it.” Stephanie began touching the sick people as well, and so did the hundred other Christians who had been in the hall.

The next morning the doctors sat in the surgery at Hope Village.
“There’s no one here today,” said Dr. Raymond Brown. “There’s no sick people in Hope Village.”
“Or in any of the villages nearby,” said Dr. Helen Scott. “They all went to church yesterday in Hope Village and got healed.”
“There’s no sick people in Glossop either,” said Dr. David Jones. “A little girl went into the hospital and healed everyone in sight.”
“What are we supposed to do?” asked Dr. Helen Scott. “Become vicars? Form a monastery? Do you have a big lump in your throat, Sir, I’ll just pray for you. Abracadabra, it’s gone. Oh sorry, what did you say? You don’t need me to pray for you, the little girl has prayed for you already. God bless that little girl.”

Isaac designed an advert for the Hope Village Community Church website. He would organise an event in Sheffield in Hillsborough Stadium. “Come to Hillsborough and be Healed.” On the website there would be photographs and testimonies from all the people who had been healed in Hope Village. People who had had cancer, blind people, deaf people, people who couldn’t walk had all been healed. Wasn’t there a story in the Bible about Peter touching a cloth and anyone who touched the cloth being healed? Isaac had a brilliant idea. The church would sell anointed cloths. Not for much money, just the cost of VAT, postage and a cheap handkerchief. £5 would be enough. Selling anointed cloths would cause this revival to spread worldwide.

3 months later Isaac was sitting in a magistrate’s court.
“Mr. Isaac Abramson is charged with selling pharmaceuticals without a licence,” said the magistrate.
“There is nothing pharmaceutical at all about these products,” said the solicitor. “They are handkerchiefs. They have been prayed for and anointed in oil by people from the church.”
“It is also an offence to make misleading claims in an advertisement. Mr. Abramson has made some very exaggerated claims about these products. Mr. Abramson’s website claims that an old lady cleaned her glasses with an anointed cloth, put them back on, and her cataracts had gone. It also claims that someone blew his nose on one and was instantly healed of pleurisy. A man was instantly healed of terminal bowel cancer after apparently having run out of toilet paper. A man wiped some crumbs from his mouth with the cloth, and suddenly grew a perfect set of front teeth. He had some missing teeth and had had extreme difficulty talking clearly or biting properly before, even with dentures. A lady polished a church pulpit with her cloth and the next Sunday her pastor preached a sermon and 300 people were saved. I find these stories difficult to believe. Obviously some people believe them. Thousands of people are buying Mr. Abramson’s anointed cloths.”
“People can make up their own minds whether they believe in God or whether they believe in miracles,” said the solicitor. “Many Christians all over the world believe in miracles and that is a matter of personal faith. All of these stories were contributed by customers of Mr. Abramson’s anointed cloths. The website has a page where they can add their own photograph and their own story. Mr. Abramson did not add any of these stories himself.”
“Why do the handkerchiefs cost £5?” asked the magistrate.
“The cloths are sold for a price that is just enough to cover the cost of the handkerchief, postage and VAT. Isaac Abramson and his church do not profit from the sale of these handkerchiefs.”
“Nevertheless, they are being sold as medical products. Any medical product sold in the European Union needs to be subject to proper clinical trials. There were also coach tickets sold to an event in Sheffield with the message, ‘Come to Sheffield and be Healed.’ Such a claim would also make the coach ticket a medical product.”
“But these regulations apply to companies selling medicines containing potentially dangerous chemicals. It is ridiculous to apply the same regulations to sale of bus tickets and handkerchiefs that have no pharmaceutical chemicals in them at all.”
“They are being sold as medical products,” screamed the magistrate. “They are not licensed. Mr. Abramson, I am fining you £8,000 for selling medical products without a license and £5,000 for making misleading statements in an advertisement.” The church website was changed. “There is nothing special about these cloths, they have simply been prayed over by members of the church.” The customers’ testimony page was removed. The Hillsborough page was simply changed to an advertisement inviting people to the event. Once the trial had been in the newspapers, more people became interested. More anointed handkerchiefs were sold, all 35,000 seats in Hillsborough Stadium were filled and with the 50p profit the church made on each coach ticket, the fine was paid.

Isaac stood on the stage at Hillsborough Stadium.
“I have been asked to sign the meeting today for the deaf people. I only know one sign.” Isaac made the V sign with his fingers. “The two fingers of God. V for Victory. In the name of Jesus, may all the deaf ears in this stadium be unblocked now.” A man stood up and shouted,
“I’ve been deaf and dumb all my life. Now I can hear. And talk. How did I manage that?”
“It must be a miracle,” said Isaac. “May God open the eyes of every blind person in this stadium, right now.” Shouts came from all over the stadium.
“I’m healed!”
“I can see!”
“I’ve got my sight back!”
“If there is cancer or leukaemia in this stadium, I command it to be healed in Jesus name, right now.” Cancer and leukaemia take longer to verify. There wasn’t any shouting this time. “Amputees. New limbs are going to grow right now.” A woman was standing in front of a man in a wheelchair who had no legs. Legs suddenly appeared. She went flying down the stairs.
“Sorry,” said the man in the wheelchair.
“It’s all right, I’m not badly hurt. And even if I was, I’m sure I’d be healed this afternoon.”
“Stand up if you’re an alcoholic,” said Isaac. A few hundred people stood up. “In the name of Jesus, the chains of your addiction are broken right now. God will take away all desire for alcohol. You are dead in Christ. You can offer a dead person a drink and they do not drink it. Stand up if you’re a heroin addict.” A few hundred people stood up. “In the name of Jesus, all addiction, all craving and all withdrawal symptoms are gone now. Praise the Lord. You are free. Now stand up if you want to stop smoking.” A quarter of the people in the stadium stood up. “God, whatever you did for these alcoholics and heroin addicts do to the people who can’t stop smoking. We all know how much harder it is to do that.”

Jonah came on to the stage.
“Every bad thing you’ve ever done, every evil thought you’ve ever had, all the sorrow and pain you’ve ever had, every illness you’ve ever had, Jesus took it all to the cross. Jesus hung there, and bore it all for you. He carried it all away. All your bad thoughts, bad deeds, and illnesses. Jesus took them on himself. Jesus destroyed them all on that cross.” While he was still speaking, Wendy’s angel appeared. He was standing in the middle of the football pitch, his bronze body towering above the stand. Wendy could see him, and so could all the children.
“There’s a big tall man on the football pitch, Mammy,” said little Johnny. “Look, isn’t he tall?”
“That’s rubbish, Johnny. You have too much imagination.” The angel started a song. The children joined in. Jonah stopped preaching his sermon. Soon the whole stadium were singing. This went on for half an hour. Sam stood on the stage.
“You have been baptised in the Holy Spirit. How about being baptised in water? Baptism is when you leave your old life behind and die in the water, and the water washes away all your sins. Then you come out of the water and you live a new life. Who would like to be baptised in water?” A quarter of the hands went up. The leaders of the church met inside the stadium, behind the stands.
“Thank you, Sam,” said Jonah. “Now 9,000 people want to be baptised. What are we going to do?”
“I think it’s an excellent idea,” said Isaac.
“How are we supposed to baptise 9,000 people?” asked Jonah.
“They must have done it in Biblical times,” said Isaac.
“Yes,” said Jonah, “but how are we going to do it?”
“We’ve hired these coaches for a whole day,” said Isaac. “Get the drivers to take everybody to Ladybower Reservoir.”
“Right now?” asked Jonah.
“That’s what I said, right now. Anyone who didn’t come by coach can follow the procession in their own car.”
“But they haven’t attended baptism classes,” said Sam.
“You gave them an excellent word of exhortation,” said Jonah. “Out of the old life, into the new life. I couldn’t have put it any better myself.” They could hear the people singing in tongues, even inside the stadium. The sound was growing louder. “They understand baptism. What more could you teach them?”

Sam ran down to the electronics shop in Sheffield City Centre. He flicked through the catalogue anxiously.
“I need a loud haler. Have you got a big one?”
“Try that one there, it’s probably the most powerful.”
“Have you got some of those lithium batteries that are supposed to last longer?” Megaphone and batteries in hand, Sam ran back to the stadium and boarded the bus to Ladybower Reservoir. When they arrived at Ladybower Reservoir all the people who wanted to be baptised stood in the water. They were going to baptise themselves. Sam began preaching through the loud haler.
“You are leaving behind your old way of life, with all its darkness, depression and sin, and you are starting a new life. Bend your knees and put your heads under the water to join in the death of Jesus.” All 9,000 of the people did this. “Jesus was in the grave for three days. He went to Hell for three days.”
“I don’t think they can hear you,” said Jonah. “Their heads are under the water.” A few at a time, the people in the water began to stand up again. A minute or two later, their heads were all above the water. Sam continued preaching. “Now you enter a new life. God will give you a glorious new life in his Holy Spirit. The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness and self-control. That is how you are going to live. You have been crucified with Christ, and it is no longer you who live, he lives in you. Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.” They walked out of the water on to the shore of the reservoir. 35 people entered Stephanie’s coach. 9 of them were soaking wet.
“I hope you’re not going to soak the seats on my coach,” said the driver. Stephanie explained to everyone,
“Can anyone who has a dry coat take it off and put it on a seat, so that the people who are wet have something to sit on?”
As Wendy’s coach was going along the winding, twisting, country road, she saw her angel standing on the grass. His tall bronze figure towered above the trees.
“Wendy,” said the angel, “start singing in tongues, now. You’re in great danger.” Wendy began the angel song. Everyone else joined in. A lorry was coming the other way. It swerved to avoid a motor cyclist. The coach driver jammed the brakes on and just managed to avoid a collision.
“I hate driving through the Pennines,” said the coach driver. “3 fatal accidents on these roads in the last year.”

The council had a meeting.
“A planning application to turn Hope Village into Hope Newtown. An application to build 10,000 community houses by Hope Village Community Church, to house all the people who are expected to become Christians in the next 2 years,” said Councillor Colin Jones.
“But they’re a sex cult,” said Councillor Gary Davis.
“These are liberated times,” said Councillor Karen Smith, the Planning Officer. “If 9,000 people want to be baptised into a sex cult, let them. You’re not one of those people who write letters to their MP about things people do in their bedrooms, are you Gary?”
“Would children be at risk?” asked Councillor Gary.
“They’re paedophiles now, are they?” asked Councillor Colin. “I wouldn’t believe everything you read in the papers.”
“I want to see their child protection policy,” said Councillor Karen. “I want them to write me a really good one. We’ll make a good child protection policy one of their planning conditions.”
“It’ll have to be open to public consultation,” said Councillor Gary.
“I think the public have a high opinion of the sect,” said Councillor Colin. “Lots of people worshipping God, lots of people being healed. There might not be many objections to the plans.”

A few weeks later, Isaac looked at his email box. There were emails coming from all over the world. There was one from Egypt.
“We filled a football stadium with 35,000 people in Cairo, most of them not Christians yet. They were by the time we’d finished healing them and praising God for 12 hours.” There was an email from Sunderland.
“35,000 people saw the light in the Stadium of Light. Most of them have never been to church in their lives.” One email was from Mozambique.
“10,000 people baptised in our church this weekend. We expect civil war to break out on Monday.”
“Praise the Lord,” Isaac said out loud, to himself. “Revival is spreading worldwide.”