“This world is not our home. We are all just pilgrims, passing through.”

It's another typical Sunday night sermon at 'The Tabernacle.' A small but loyal crowd is present, listening to their pastor speak as they have dozens of times before.

“We know that this world is temporal. Our treasures are not found in our daily lives of Lumen City.”

The Tabernacle sits on the edge of Lumen City.

It remains rejected, dejected, and disrespected by the population. Accused of being 'disconnected' by a people who are disaffected. The congregation suspected that they should have their church erected away from the persecution to which they were subjected.

Rain pitter-patters on the rickety roof of the church, as thunder rumbles and rings in the ears of the congregation.

On the stoop of the church stood a man and a woman. The woman was holding a baby.

“Are we doing the right thing?” the woman asked aloud, perhaps to herself.

“You know we don't have a choice,” came the man's response.

It was a cold, stormy night. They shuddered as the wind and rain whipped them as they stood and contemplated. Their clothes were tattered. Skin was pale. Both of their faces and arms were cut and bruised.

The baby looked at its mother with green eyes opened wide. She looked away from him and looked to the sky.

“God, if you exist, I know you'll take care of our son. And I'm sorry.”

The man shuffled and sighed heavily, shushing the woman and wishing to move along.

Lightning lit up the sky, and thunder echoed deafeningly.

The baby began to scream and cry.

It was time.

The woman laid him on the stoop, right at the front door of the Tabernacle. He wriggled and whined on the cold wet concrete. The couple rushed to their car and vanished into the night.

It was not long before the congregation heard the cries of the baby boy outside their door. The pastor paused his sermon and approached the door, with the members of the church standing and watching with curious eyes.

“It's a baby... someone left him outside. Go look for anybody outside while I dry him off,” the preacher instructed one of his trusted members.

While the crowd clamored and searched for clues to the baby's family's whereabouts, the friendly pastor wept over the apparently abandoned child.

A few hours passed with no results.

Some of the ladies of the church had went in together to buy some food and clothing. Diapers. Blankets. Even some toys.

The pastor was very grateful for everyone's help. He apologized for cutting the sermon short tonight.

Some had offered to take the boy to the city's orphanage. There were very slim odds that he would ever be adopted there, or be shown love that he would so desperately need in this dark world.

He decided that he would keep the child with him in his parsonage for the night. Tomorrow would be another day, and maybe things would look a little brighter. Maybe the parents would reconsider their choices.

Maybe things would work out.

The pastor thanked everyone again, and sent them on their way.

He proceeded to feed the child, give him a stuffed bear to hold, and finally wrapped him in a warm blanked.

The storm raged on outside, but the baby was finally smiling.

“Good to see you smiling now, little one.”

It came to the pastor that they hadn't been formally introduced.

“Forgive me of my poor manners, little guy. My name is Pastor Eli. Can you say 'Eli?'”

The baby gurgled nonsense.

“You didn't have a name that we could find... but, until we find out who you are, we should call you something. How about... Sam?”