HEAVY METAL MIRACLES

CHAPTER 1

ELI

FOR WE DO NOT WRESTLE AGAINST FLESH AND BLOOD, BUT AGAINST PRINCIPALITIES, AGAINST POWERS, AGAINST THE RULERS OF THE DARKNESS OF THIS AGE, AGAINST SPIRITUAL HOSTS OF WICKEDNESS IN THE HEAVENLY PLACES (Ephesians 6:12)

            My name is Elijah Alderson Jr. III. But most people know me by my stage name, Eli Endor, which is a play off of the Witch of Endor. I was the lead guitarist for the band ‘The Sons of Molech,’ which was of the genre of dark heavy metal music. I am a recovering rock star. I am also a recovering alcoholic, drug addict, sex addict, smoker, basically a sinner to the power of extreme. I had sold my soul for rock and roll, as did my three band mates.

            How did that work out you may ask? In Matthew chapter four, you can read about Satan offering Jesus the kingdoms of the world. He refused, while we accepted. Life was carnal bliss for several years. Then imperceptibly we all got to the point where we were beyond empty.

            What is beyond empty? I don’t know, I’m still figuring that out. But I can tell you this much, it’s the things I mentioned in the first paragraph. An addiction to various harmful things, like chemicals, sex, money, and fame. Not one of them ultimately gives you peace.

            What makes it especially bad is when you seek out and submit to dark spiritual forces for so called success. We were all occultists on some level. We were all Satanists to some degree. We all embraced what Allister Crowley taught: do as thou will shall be the whole of the law.  

            How did that work out? Well, not well. Kyle Cobra, our drummer, was so intoxicated one evening, he choked on his own vomit and died, just like his idol John Bonham of Led Zepplin fame. Izzy Iscariot, our lead singer, and lead Satanist, died violently by his own hand. As a matter of fact, he severed his left hand using an ax, then managed to slit his own throat. Was he demon possessed? I believe so.

            The death of my bandmates frightened me into a life change. Ironically, attempting to free myself from the sins that held me captive, put me face to face with the demons that held me prisoner. I thank God for my third bandmate, bass player extraordinaire, Arlo Aldo… He died too… But he died to self in the Biblical sense. (See Romans 6:8-11). When he died, his life was then hid with Christ. (Colossians 3:3) The physical life he now had in Christ was more abundant. (John 10:10).

            Would you believe Arlo met the love of his life at one of our concerts? She was with a group of Christians outside of the arena. They were handing out Bibles and literature to our fans. Ironically, most rejected the free material they were handing out. Yet they had paid good money for a ticket to hear loud raunchy music about sex, violence, death, and the devil.

            So Arlo, in a sense, was the first to die. He left the band, died to selfishness by taking up his cross and following Christ. (See Matthew 16:24-26) Thus becoming a born again Christian. At the time, I was bummed. We had been best friends since we met when we were seventeen year olds. But before we could replace him in the band, Kyle drank himself to death, and then Izzy committed self-murder three weeks later.

            Arlo did his best to convert me to his new lifestyle. Like I said, our band, Arlo included, participated in occult rituals for our band’s success. In other words, we sold our souls for rock and roll. Just like the 1976 Black Sabbath album entitled ‘We Sold Our Soul For Rock and Roll’ states.

            I told him it wasn’t possible to be a Christian, that he had sold his soul and achieved the success per the agreement. But Arlo insisted that Jesus bought back his soul, and that he’d do it for me. I have to admit, I was impressed with Arlo’s positive lifestyle change. However, for a couple of years I resisted.

            I don’t understand how Arlo turned his life around seemingly overnight. For me it took years. It was as if I allowed the demons that held me captive to be in negotiations with the Savior, who was offering me the best gift known to humankind. My only explanation is found in Jerimiah 17:9. ‘The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked; who can know it?’ We’re all different, and we’re all given a measure of faith. (Romans 12:3).

            I received a significant letter just a couple weeks before I turned forty. It was to be the last ingredient the Lord used in His recipe for buying back my soul. Ironically, I almost pitched this letter that drastically changed my life.

            Due to my rock star status, I have received thousands of fan letters over the years. I rarely read them myself. But the personnel who did would only share the letters of special intrigue with me. For example, letters that contained provocative photos, or the couple dozen claiming I had fathered their child. These parenthood claims induced a sarcastic laugh. I had never wanted children. So at the age of twenty, already achieving rock star status, and still very immature, I had acquired a vasectomy.

            It had now been a few years since our band was disbanded. Along with no band activity, came decreased fan mail. So I read what correspondence I received myself. I hadn’t been accused of fatherhood for half a decade by the time I was in my late thirties. So imagine my surprise when I get this letter claiming I was not only a father, but a grandfather. It also mentioned some type of accident and medical bills. I figured somebody was just trying to scam money.

            After reading the letter quickly, I was about to file thirteen it when something caught my eye. It was in a P.S. It caused a shiver up my spine. It said, ‘A Penny for your thoughts.’

            I had this girl that was a friend when I was seventeen. Here name was Ariel Grobstick. To me she seemed as pure as the wind driven snow. She was wholesome, lovely, innocent, and a virgin. I loved to just be with her, watch a sunset, and discuss the meaning of life. I had no intention of stealing her virginity. My sights were one hundred percent focused on musical success. I did not want a relationship at all, and I didn’t want to hurt her.

            Anyway, Ariel had this pistol of a fifteen year old sister. She was smart as a whip. Whereas Ariel would smile at me with adoration, Penelope, AKA  Penny, would eye me cooly and with suspicion. I resented it, for I had no ill intentions with her sister. When it came to females my senior year of high school, I had more admirers than the quarterback. But in the end, Penny seemed to know me better than I knew myself.

            So a few times when I encountered Penelope, I would hand her a penny and say, ‘Penny for your thoughts, young one.’ She would glare at me, throw the penny over her shoulder and say something like,  ‘I think you’re full of yourself, Adonis.’

            I looked at the return address. It was from just outside of Cedar Rapids, Iowa. A little city called Vinton. The letter head was from a veterinarian clinic, and a Dr. P.A. Baldwin. Could the P stand for Penelope or Penny? I didn’t know of any Baldwins. Could it be a married name?                                 Although I had lived in Cedar Rapids, Iowa for only a brief time during high school, I had kept in touch with no one from there, except my father and stepmother with whom I had lived with for sixteen months. But I had never returned.

             Not long before we graduated high school, Ariel and I became spontaneously passionate one night despite my not wanting to violate her. For the first time in my early romantic endeavors, and the only time pre-vasectomy, I had intimate relations without a prophylactic. So, for the first time, a parental claim appeared as though it could be. And I do say could be… legitimate.

            The correspondence also gave a not so subtle hint about parental neglect. But how do you neglect something you don’t know you have? Something you don’t even have access to? Like the salvation of Christ I was so willfully ignorant of for so many years? I decided right then and there to go on a road trip. I would give Penny a penny for my thoughts in person.

DR. P.A. (PENNY) BALDWIN DVM

            “Penny,  there’s a guy in the lobby to see you,” my receptionist told me.

            I was washing up after surgery on a Corgi and spoke over my shoulder. “Jill, you know I’m doing surgery all day. If he needs someone to see his pet, squeeze him in with Jenny.”

            “He doesn’t have a pet.”

            “If he’s a salesman, just send him away. I don’t have time.”

            “He’s not a salesman.”

            “Well, what is he?”

            “He’s a gorgeous man that just pulled up in a vintage Mustang.”

            I walked briskly to the lobby of my clinic. I didn’t have time for any interruptions, but if this person didn’t have a sick pet, or wasn’t a salesman, I wanted to know the reason why he wanted to see me.

            At first I thought Ashton Kutcher was standing in my lobby. After all, he was from the area. Then a surge of adrenaline raced through my body when I recognized the man. It had been over a month since I wrote him a letter after I had acquired a belly full of wine. Yet as cool as I could be, I marched up to him very businesslike and offered my hand. “I’m Dr. Baldwin. What can I do for you?”

            “You can give me a Penny for your thoughts,” he said with that same sexy smirk I hadn’t seen in person in twenty plus years.

            My normally quick wit was hidden somewhere in the panic I felt. I had no business telling Eli that he had a son and a granddaughter. But I happened to know that his biological son, Ethan, had written to him when he was sixteen, not long after my sister Ariel had told my nephew about his true parentage. Ethan received no response. This angered me, and apparently the resentment hid in my psyche for years. Then it came out of hiding after Ethan’s injury, and my own bout with intemperance.

            “And you are?” I responded, playing dumb.

            “I think you know that I’m Eli Alderson,” he replied, his smirk growing more annoying.

            “Oh, you mean the dead beat dad.”

            “I’m no dead beat dad. I’m not even convinced that I am someone’s father, yet here I am to find out. I had no clue about any possible child of mine until I read your letter.”

            “What about the letter your son himself wrote you six years ago?”

            “I have no recollection of any such letter.”

            “You mean you don’t recall someone telling you that they were your son?”

            “I’ve have received numerous letters claiming such a thing over the years, but I’ve had reason to not take them serious.”

            “Is that right? May I ask why?”

            “In terms you will understand, I had a form of castration when I was twenty.”

            I snorted a sarcastic laugh. “I may be a vet, but I am familiar with human medical procedures. So what makes you think my claims were legit?”

            “What makes you think I do?”

            “You’re here, aren’t you?”

            “Let’s just say I thought your claims were possible, and since I am not a dead beat dad, I want to find out for sure.”

            “My claims are not only possible, they’re factual.”

            “Okay then,” he said, spreading his arms. “So, I’d like to meet my son and granddaughter.”

            A chill went up my spine and I slapped a hand to my forehead. I sucked in a breath. “Can I ask you a favor?”

            His eyebrows raised at what I supposed was my sudden appearance of meekness. “Depends on what it is.”

            “After Ethan’s injury, I was distraught and wrote you that letter in haste. I have no idea how Ariel, in particular, will respond to your presence here.”

            “You mentioned medical expenses. What’s going on? What happened?”

            “Ethan, your biological son, was in an altercation with his two stepfathers a couple months ago. That’s all I have time to explain for right now.”

            “Is he is okay?” Eli inquired casually.

            Did he really care? “The short answer is yes, for the most part.”

            “What does ‘for the most part mean?’”

            I looked at the time and felt my pulse quicken. It was almost three. Not only was I behind on the day’s schedule, my sister would be here any minute to walk her two dogs. I had been keeping them ever since her first husband paralyzed her second husband from the neck down during the altercation that gave her son a traumatic head injury. Ariel stopped by daily at approximately three o clock to walk her dogs. What timing!

            “Look, Eli, I truly am glad you want to make things right, or whatever. But I’m super busy. Can I put you up in a hotel until I have a chance to talk to Ariel and Ethan?”

            “What did you mean by ‘or whatever?’” Eli asked, casually crossing his arms, indicating no urgency to leave.

            “Listen, I…” My heart stopped. Ariel’s little light blue Chevy Spark pulled up in front of my clinic. “Eli, Ariel is here. Quick, come in the back. Please.”

            I took him by the hand and led him into an examination room. Despite the awkward situation, I smiled to myself. I was walking hand in hand with a guy I had both despised and had fantasized about when I was a girl.