“Sam, would you mind tidying up the fellowship hall before service this morning? It was left in a state of disarray after the potluck dinner last night.” Pastor Eli was doing some last minute reviews over his sermon notes. This was one of many habits that Sam had picked up on in the 20 years of living at the parsonage with Eli.

“You'd think that they could have picked up after themselves, huh? I guess they know that they have me to pick up behind them...”

The silver-haired clergyman looked up from his notes, eyeing Sam through his circular spectacles.

“That is no attitude for a Sander. Or a Christian for that matter. We must keep a desire to-”

“-serve the people!” Sam spoke in unison with the one scolding him.

“Even if they are slobs at times,” the pastor added with a chuckle.

Sam was now rather tall and had a slender, almost wiry frame. He had chestnut-colored hair, which was kept buzzed rather short by Eli. His jaws were peppered in a scraggly 5-o'clock shadow, much to the pastor's disdain. Sam's eyes were as bright green as they were the night Eli met him.

“Alright, dad. I'll get to it.”

Eli Sander, pastor of The Tabernacle now for over 40 years, officially became a father just a few short weeks after baby Sam was left at the church's doorstep. He always believed that Sam was left there for a reason. Eli never married, and always wanted a son of his own. He still sense hate from his adopted son's heart toward his parents. There were a few instances where they did try to figure out where Sam came from, and who his biological parents were. It always ended the same way.

“I have no parents.” Sam would always utter this remark in a cold, heartbroken way.

Eventually, he did start referring to the old pastor as his father. Eli even joked that Sam technically had 2 fathers: himself and God. The young man always appreciated everything the pastor would do or say for him.

He continued on to the fellowship hall and did as his father had asked.

As Sam swept the floor and straightened up the seating in silence. He was alone in here, and had some time to get lost in his thoughts. As a young man trained up in the cloth, he was not sure what future he would have in a city that rejected religious teachings.

Maybe one day he would leave this life. He knows it would be against Eli's wishes. The old preacher always wanted to pass the church leadership role onto him one day. Sam was always unsure about that. He was a young man who had never experienced much of the world. He had dreams of traveling, finding love, and doing great things.

Whoops, Sam thought to himself. Lost track of time.

Sure enough, he was late for the sermon. He would probably be scolded for that later today.

I'm already late. What's a few more minutes?

Sam sat down in an empty chair by a window. It was a beautiful day. Perhaps Eli would let him drive into the city today. I've been working very hard for him recently. I should be rewarded!

He had been hard at work at The Tabernacle of late. There was always a leaky pipe, faulty lighting, or hole in the roof that needed to be repaired, and it always seemed to fall on his shoulders to repair it. Normally a congregation would have members that would volunteer to tend to such matters. As it stands, the few members that remained at The Tabernacle were all... old. There weren't more than about 10 loyal members anyway, save for a few stragglers here or there. He never really took many breaks, even though Sunday was supposed to be a day of rest! All of that work would make anyone tired, right?

As Sam rambled in his own mind about how tired he was, his eyelids got heavy. Heavier. Heavier still.

I shouldn't sleep. I better go to the sermon. Just a minute longer...

Those were his last thoughts before he succumbed to the slumber.

He slept.

And he slept.

And he slept a little more.

Until a sudden burst of noise stirred Sam back attention. Shouts and screams came afterward.

He looked out of the window. Was it thunder? Was there an earthquake?

Oh no. It's gunfire!

He panicked. His breathing shortened. What to do, where to go? Sam looked to hide. Under the table? In a bathroom? Maybe he needed to go help.

One more shot cracked.

Then, silence. Deafening, heart-pounding silence.

Sam was light-headed. He went to the church's phone and called the authorities. All he could do was mumble The Tabernacle's address and mention 'gunshots,' and hung-up.

Trying to collect himself, he hugged the wall and slowly eased his way into the sanctuary. One step in front of the other... He almost fell a few times from nearly passing-out.

He approached the door to the sanctuary and gently pushed it open.

Massacre. It was a massacre.

Near the door, he saw the gunman, lying dead on the floor from a shot to the head. Had to have been self-inflicted.

As he looked around the rest of the room, he saw old friends and long-time church members, all dead or dying.

Sam looked to the pulpit, and saw blood splattered on it. His heart sank.

His father laid on the floor, behind the pulpit that he had preached behind hundreds of times. His chest was still moving up and down. Eli looked over and saw his son.

“Dad!” Same yelled as he rushed to his father's side.

“Son,” he said and smiled.

“Help is on the way. You're going to be okay.”

“No, Sam. My time is up,” Eli said in short breaths. “Listen. The Church never dies. It will live on, through you now. You must carry on from here. For me. For God.”

Sam cried. “I can't be like you. You will pull through and keep preaching. I'm not ready to let you go.”

“My son. It is time. You know what the Scripture says... This world is not my home. I am just a pilgrim passing through. I love you.”

As he spoke, his last breath escaped his body, and he smiled.

“I love you too, dad.” Sam cried as he felt the spirit of his father leave the building.