A SAINT IN SIN CITY

MASON MAXWELL

CHAPTER 9

LET HIM WHO THINKS HE STANDS TAKE HEED LEST HE FALL (1 Corinthians 10:12)

Saul is a humble man, and I know he is uncomfortable with this story being called ‘A Saint In Sin City.’  But if this story was based on me, it might be called ‘A Sinner From St. Paul.’ I’m not actually from St. Paul, but I spent over a year there. A woman I had some trouble with, and fell in love with, also resided there. The following sentences will describe how a man can be the subject of a moving, touching story one day, and an infamous scoundrel the next day.

Actually it was a few weeks, not literally the next day. Anyhow, I made national news by not only pitching a perfect game in the World Series, but crediting my dead wife for visiting me the night before the most important game of my life. I also declared that she was with me during every pitch.

Three weeks later, the husband of my former wife’s sister filed for divorce. The reason was infidelity. The adulterous situation had also conceived a child. I happened to be the father of this child. When the story leaked and rumors ran rampant, I was asked about it.

I owned it, trying to do the honorable thing over a dishonorable situation. I was annihilated in the media, which I suppose I deserved, even though there were extenuating circumstances. Now Saul was no longer the lone goat of that infamous World Series. Ironically, neither of our scathing criticisms applied directly to the action on the field.

Some may beg to differ, especially in Saul’s case. The argument against Saul was that even if he pitched an average game for him, we would have won that game seven, and therefore the Series. Saul’s earned run average was under one. The two pitchers that replaced him allowed four runs. The relief pitchers in in the last three innings held the opposition scoreless.

So it does seem that if Saul would have played, we would have won the series. But you are still going off of a ‘what if.’ My dilemma was simply appearing as a major hypocrite. Expressing love and giving credit to my dead wife for on field success, while at the same time participating in a secret relationship with Becky, my deceased wife’s married sister.

Would it help me look better if I told you we were only intimate one time while she and her husband were married? Also that it happened months after my wife died? Or that the nucleus of our bond was actually our mutual love for Beth? Or how we took comfort with each other in our shared loss? Or how we shared countless tears and a myriad of memories? Or how she has a similar personality as Beth, and clearly resembles her, drawing me to her like a thirsty man in the desert? Or that her husband was a controlling, abusive ogre, drawing her to me like a child frightened by a nightmare?

But the facts are the facts. I had intimate relations with another man’s wife. There are also these additional facts. During the first year of their marriage, no children were forth coming. When Beth suggested they get fertility tested, Bruce declared that she was the one that needed tested. He had been married before, had two daughters, and thus proving he was not impotent. Her tests came back sighting no problems. Yet pregnancy was still not forthcoming.

Then came that fateful few days Becky’s husband went on a business trip with his secretary, who doubled as his mistress. Becky and I usually communicated via technology. But her husband traveled for business every few weeks, and we took these opportunities to see each other in person when my schedule allowed.

Even on that significant day, I had no intention of moving beyond platonic. But we shared a glass wine together as we watched a beautiful sunset. Then I built a bonfire in her back yard. Then we had a second glass of wine. As we consumed it, we began to express our fondness for each other. We hugged, I put my arm around her and told her how delighted I felt in her company. We kissed, and continued kissing until it turned into something that conceived a child.

Although a great time was had by both of us, we agreed that we shouldn’t see each other anymore. We were both troubled by her marital situation. When she discovered that she was pregnant, the thought occurred to her that it could be mine. But due to her husband being a rather amorous man, she concluded that it was more likely his.

With great delight and a hope that a child would bring them closer together, she informed him that he would be a father. But instead of delight, she watched rage build in his eyes. Then she saw a fist coming at her. After she dropped to the floor, dazed, and her nose feeling like it was on fire, she heard the words, “Cheating whore.”

He picked her up by the hair, and punched her several times in the stomach declaring that he would help her miscarry the child, using numerous foul slang words as he did so. Fortunately, the embryo was not harmed. When his rage was satisfied, it was replaced by remorse, and a trip to the hospital.

Due to his wealth and influence, he convinced Becky to lie. She told the emergency room techs that she had felt ill and had fallen down the stairs. She later recalled to me how the hospital employees had looked at each other, knowing that’s not what happened.

In the aftermath, her husband became diabolically pleasant. He wanted to know if I was the father. She wanted to know what made him think it wasn’t his. It was then he confessed to a vasectomy after his second daughter was born. He had lied during their premarital days because he knew Becky wanted children. He was afraid she wouldn’t marry him if she knew, and there was no way he would get it reversed.

Then, probably out of revenge over being a cuckhold, he confessed with cruel delight his own infidelities. So, due to my fame, Becky’s husband made sure to bring me shame by making his divorce from her very public, citing the blame on us.

I understood why Saul seemed to go into hiding after he refused to play in that game seven of the World Series. Due to feeling hated, I laid way low myself. But there was a big difference between Saul’s situation and mine. He was lambasted because of his religious conviction, while mine was due to disgrace.

I was nervous when I met with Saul the first time after my scandal broke. Even though I was staying isolated, I wanted to see my friend. I also wanted to get what I thought would be a stern rebuke from him out of the way. It seemed as though the scorn from others would be like going downhill after a reprimand by Saul. But when we met up, there was no scorn, only friendly council. But it wasn’t in an area I was expecting.

“Hey Mace,” Saul greeted with a big grin as he entered my home. We fist bumped and shared a quick hug. “You sure went out of your way to not make me the goat of the Series.”

“What are friends for?” I joked back.

Saul was quite sympathetic as I explained my side of the story. He shared some scriptures about God’s forgiveness. The one that really stuck with me was when he quoted Lamentations 3:22-26. Then I brought up the nights when Beth visited me. I knew Saul was skeptical, so I wanted to set his opinion.

“You don’t believe Beth came to me, do you?”

Saul’s face was somber and serious when he quietly replied. “No, I don’t.”

“So you think I’m lying?” I asked testily.

“No, I believe that you believe you saw her.”

“So you think I’m crazy?”

“No, like I said, I believe you saw something.”

“Something?” I replied with a sarcastic laugh. “If you don’t think I saw Beth, who did I see?”

“You need to understand what the Bible teaches about the state of the dead,” he said calmly. “Then decide for yourself.”

I knew a little of what Saul believed. It was enough that I deduced where he was going with this. First I felt anger arise within me. But then my skin crawled as I felt fear replace the irritation. “You think I’ve been toyed with by the demonic.”

His jaw tightened, and he nodded, causing my anger to return.

A SAINT IN SIN CITY

MASON MAXWELL

CHAPTER 8

YOU WILL SHOW ME THE PATH OF LIFE (Psalm 16:11)

I don’t think I ever would have made it TO the major league, if it wasn’t for my teammate, Saul Sallie. I don’t think I ever would have made it IN the major league without my friend, Saul Sallie. I don’t think my relationship with Beth would have survived without Marcella Knight-Storm Sallie. And I wouldn’t have ever known Marcella if it wasn’t for Saul Sallie. Ironically, the media made us out to be enemies.

But that was definitely my fault. When things got tough, I got weak. I’m not talking about baseball, but I’m talking about fame. When Saul came under scrutiny, I turned politician and rode the fence. I tried to distance myself from Saul, while at the same time not throw him under the bus. It proved impossible.

In my defense, although Saul gave me plenty of food for thought with what the Bible actually taught, I wasn’t fully convinced. When it came to Christians in our clubhouse, the locker room was divided. The majority sided with the popular worldview that now prevails, and the minority sided with Saul. Once again, this is where I rode the fence.

The majority used human reasoning, coupled with the common good, and an occasional scripture thrown in for seasoning. Saul had a ‘Thus sayeth the Lord’ for everything he proposed. He also had chapter and verses at the ready. He won a lot of true hearted, honest seekers to his side. But the hard reality is, most people don’t want to think too deeply. And when they do, they are governed by emotion, passion, and the herd instinct.

It was hard enough for Saul when he first took his stand on the Biblical Sabbath, and refused play on it back in 2022. Now, years later, the Sabbath was a major political issue, and Saul was on the unpopular side of the subject. For it is currently one the hottest topics on the political spectrum that both the right and the left actually agree on.

The left want a mandatory day of rest due to climate change. The right want a day of rest because they believe in legislating morality. Saul, along with people like him, declare that genuine morality cannot be legislated. We are not talking civil law. For some moral laws fall under civil laws. Obviously you cannot allow killing, stealing, etc.

And yes, I now say WE. I’m sorry it took that fateful world series for me to change. I regret it went that far for me to stand with my friend, my brother in Christ. I’m ashamed to say when the dirt hit the fan for him, I back petaled and betrayed him. But when the manure hit the fan, I don’t know, the Holy Spirit seemed to give me a swift kick, waking me up to what was truly right and wrong.

Life is a strange trip. Saul is one of my closest, dearest friends. Yet I spent much of our early relationship both despising him, being at odds with him, and yet at the same time, marveling at him. A teammate is an odd thing. You are often both an ally and an enemy. You both go to battle together against other teams together, yet you compete with each other to be superior at your particular position. This pushing each other, if handled correctly, not only makes the team better, but ourselves individually as well.

It can be like that in Christian fellowship also. I don’t mean that it is or even should be a competition. But I discovered in the minor leagues that it is important who you associate with. Who you choose as friends can and will affect your own character. You need to be around people who will make you a better you. You need to fellowship with persons of like faith.

I’m ashamed to say, that if it wasn’t for the Godly example of Saul, I likely could have turned into a womanizing partier. To what extent that would have been, I don’t know, God knoweth. I shudder to think what might have been. Thank God the Holy Spirit ultimately drew me to Saul, rather than the careless throng that liked to drink, gamble, and visit establishments where woman danced and disrobed.

But in those early days, when Saul made what seemed to me a bizarre demand of the manager regarding his religious convictions, I questioned not only his spiritual soundness, but his sanity. He had just had the worst start of his life, and was yanked before the first inning was even over. Before he even had another opportunity, he declared that he would not be participating in any team activities on the Biblical Sabbath.

I had regarded Saul as an extraordinarily pious man. Like I said, he was a great example to me of how a Christian should behave. But when he pulled the ‘I can’t play on God’s Holy Day’ card, I thought him a fanatic. I also thought he was going to get sent back down to the lower rank, if not cut entirely. Yet something strange happened.

Hindsight is better than foresight for us mere mortals. I now believe God blessed his servant’s obedience. You might call it a coincidence, I know I did at first. But going forward from Saul’s demand that he would remember the Sabbath, to keep it holy, he pitched lights out. Through six innings anyhow.

Over Saul’s next three starts, he had no hitters going into the seventh inning. Game one, first pitch of the seventh inning, WHACK, home run. That was followed by a single, two walks, and double. First pitch, seventh inning of the second game, WHACK, down the third base line for a triple. Followed by two singles before he was pulled. First pitch of the seventh inning of the third game, WHACK, home run, and Saul was done for the day.

Thanks to analytics becoming rampant in modern baseball, the powers that be quickly noticed a trend with Saul. He was absolutely fantastic through six innings. Especially the sixth inning. In those first three starts, he struck out the side in all three. That’s why it was so odd that he seemed to drop off a cliff in the seventh.

Not long after that, during a spur of the moment solo Bible study, I happened along Exodus chapter sixteen. This is the chapter where God gave His people manna from heaven. They were not to gather any on the Sabbath, but He gave them a double portion on Fridays. My jaw dropped at the parallel I saw with Saul and his first three pitching starts after refusing to participate on Sabbaths. Three sixth innings, throwing nine strikes, and no balls. Just a coincidence? I never forgot this, and it was instrumental in my spiritual growth down the road.

Just to be clear. Although Saul feels blessed by God, it is his belief that God is aloof when it comes to sports. In other words, he doesn’t think God answers prayers for specific teams victories, or waves a divine hand to manipulate games. I guess that was proven true by the outcome of the World Series we lost. I’m not saying I disagree with Saul. However, I still find his extreme success after becoming a Sabbatarian curious to say the least.

As impressed as I was, even jealous to be honest, I reacted the way King Agrippa did in Acts 26:28, when he told Paul that he almost persuaded him to be a Christian. Only for me, I was almost persuaded to be a Biblical Sabbath keeper. But out of pride and inconvenience, I justified my position on the traditional sabbath, which I didn’t keep in the purest sense anyhow.

Saul seemed on a fast track to advancement by his performance. But like most in positions of power, the powers that be didn’t like someone seeming to buck the system or their authority. I guess if you look at it from their side, they didn’t want a whole group of Saul’s, demanding this and refusing to do that.

But Saul couldn’t have been happier and more content staying put, despite playing like a big league pitcher. For he was dually in love. His heart yearned for the lovely Marcella as the two proceeded on the journey to becoming one flesh. In addition to finding the love of his life, his soul found refuge and nourishment at Cotton Creek Cove church, and the Biblical treasures he was digging up left and right.

I don’t subscribe to the theory of evolution, but life does evolve and change. Early the next season, I was  promoted to double A in Wichita, even though Saul’s numbers were clearly better than mine. But two weeks later, he joined me. Upon the news of his promotion, he and Marcella had an impromptu wedding, and she moved to Wichita with him.

To show you what a shallow Christian I was, maybe still am, God knoweth, I wanted Beth to shack up with me. She refused, but still relocated to Wichita. However, she moved into the Sallie’s apartment with them. So I roomed with another teammate.

Halfway through the next season, I again was promoted to triple A. Once again, Saul had better numbers than me, but once again, he followed two weeks later. We spent the next year and a half playing in Saint Paul in our home state. We both played well enough that we thought we were in our home state for good. The next step was across the river to Minneapolis and the show, the majors.

We both made it to the bigs alright. But it wasn’t with Minnesota. The following season, a team moved to Los Vegas. Saul and I were involved in a trade that took us to the Sin City along with their new team. Although we wouldn’t be playing in our home state, it became a faster track to the big league. This pleased me, but disappointed Saul. But typical of him, he took things that didn’t go his way in stride.

It wasn’t long before Saul’s Sabbath commitment became a national side story. It wasn’t headline news yet, but it felt like it to me. Because of our association together, it seemed like I had to answer for him as much as he did himself. This is where I first began to really distance myself from him. Yet he never held it against me. This was a good thing, because the truth is, I needed him more than he needed me.

You see, not long after we made it to the big time, Beth and I married. But we wouldn’t make it to our first anniversary. She died suddenly one day, due to a brain aneurysm. I would have completely lost way without Saul’s guidance. I almost did anyway.

A SAINT IN SIN CITY

SAUL SALLIE

CHAPTER 7

MAY THE LORD GIVE YOU UNDERSTANDING IN ALL THINGS (2 Timothy 2:7)

The next afternoon, after I had walked away from Marcella, I had the worst pitching performance of my short professional baseball career or even my amateur pitching career. I don’t ever remember being yanked from a game in the first inning before. But this happened for the first time on a beautiful Sunday. Weather wise that is. A day that up to that point I considered the Sabbath.

However, after my discourse with Marcella over the Biblical Sabbath of creation vs. the Sunday sabbath created by man, I stayed up late into the night with my Bible and concordance, looking up every text that had to do with the Sabbath. I concluded that Marcella was right. But what did I do with what I now intellectually believed, while at the same time my heart was troubled.

Sunday had always been my favorite day of the week. Unlike most teenagers, I loved going to church with my mother. And how would my devout mother react in regard to the actual Sabbath of the Bible? She took the Sabbath serious. She did most of her grocery shopping at Fareway because they closed on Sundays. Her favorite restaurant was Chick-fil-A because they were closed on Sunday. She loved to knit and sew, and bought all of her supplies at Hobby Lobby, a store closed on Sundays. She frowned at me playing baseball on Sundays.

I was beginning to see what Marcella had declared about seeking truth is like finding hidden treasure. There has been so much truth concealed in time and history. Even the most devout people get lazy and let the clergy tell them what to think.

We need to search things out for ourselves like the noble Bereans. (See Acts 17:11) Comparing spiritual things with spiritual, guided by the Holy Spirit. (See 1 Corinthians 2:13) The study of the Holy Bible is God’s best way to communicate with us. (See 2 Timothy 3:16) Let me get off the soap box, onto the pitcher’s mound, and on with the story of this fateful day.

So as I walked onto the baseball diamond, before a crowd of a couple thousand, my mind was not on the game. I was wondering what to do with the information I discovered from my own study that concurred with Marcella’s sentiments. I was also tired from lack of sleep. I couldn’t shut my mind off from the things I pondered.

Up to that point, Marcella had not missed a home game. I had given her two season ticket passes, so she could watch every home game with a person of her choice. But she wasn’t there that day. I was both relieved and disappointed, as strange as that may sound. This also added to my mental distractions. When I looked toward her seats, one was vacant and the other was occupied by Don Barrow.

Don was a member of Marcella’s church, and a former baseball player, who played up through the high school level. It was kind of funny. He and I talked mostly about baseball when I visited Marcella’s church. At the baseball park, we talked about life and God.

That horrible first inning, I allowed two runs to score, and still had loaded bases with only one out. When the Skipper came out to the mound, he extended a hand for me to give him the ball. After I handed it off, he patted me on the behind and said in a friendly voice, “It’s not your day, kid, you’ll get em next time.”

I walked to the dug out with a hanging head. There was a smattering of claps, mingled with a few boos. I stole a glance at Don. He was clapping, and wearing a sympathetic smile. When the game was over, we sought each other out.

“Tough break,” he told me, running a hand through his thin white hair.

“Yeah, but at least we won,” I said with a shrug. Then I added sarcastically, “No thanks to me.”

“Well, it is a team sport,” he said. “When one or more struggles, a good team picks them up.”

“Yeah, I guess, but pitching is a little like an individual sport in the middle of a team sport.”

“I see your point. But you also have the catcher and the defense behind you. Sort of like faith and fellowship. Your individual walk with God is the most important. But fellowship with like believers is the team. Personal, daily prayer, and devotion is spiritual food and exercise. But a meal with others often makes food more enjoyable. Interaction with others is the game if you please.”

What he told me was encouraging, but my mind was on overload sorting out life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. I simply nodded, then asked the one thing I needed to know in that particular moment, “Why didn’t Marcella come?”

Don looked at his feet, slid his hands in the pockets of his khaki shorts, and then looked at me. “The short answer is she feels she needs to give you space.”

“What’s the long answer?”

“It’s probably too complicated to put a timetable on.”

“Why?” was all I could manage, as I tried unsuccessfully not to scowl.

“For one thing, it seems you’ve been confronted with some profound spiritual truths,” he replied, and then paused for me to process.

I was already aware of his statement. “What’s another?”

“My wife noticed you leave yesterday with a less than pleasant demeanor. She went down to the creek and had a talk with Marcella.” Don paused, and looked at me with caution in his eyes.

“And?”

“It seems that you two are falling in love with each other, but you’re troubled by her past.”

He threw me a curveball. True, Marcella’s having been a sex slave troubled me, but for her sake.  I didn’t hold it against her. Holding in anger, I told him as much. “I don’t blame her even a little bit.”

“I know you don’t hold it against her, Son,” Don said sympathetically. “But you wouldn’t be human if you weren’t bothered by it. If you didn’t have feelings akin to jealousy.”

I realized I breathing hard. He was right. I hated the fact that other men had had their way with this sweet young woman I loved. And not just men, but vile animals that abuse minors, and treat human beings as objects for their perverted lusts.

“Her past is past,” I said quietly. “She’s a new creation, behold all things are new.”

Don put a sympathetic hand on my upper arm. His eyes were watery, and I had to look away or my own tears were sure to come. “Have you ever felt like Marcella has tried to push you away, while at the same time, letting you in?”

“Oh, yeah,” I replied with a non-humored chuckle.

“I know yours and my romantic situations are vastly different,” he told me. “Yet in a way, they are very similar.”

I stared at him wide eyed as I envisioned his old fashioned, grandmotherly wife. Dumbfounded, I asked, “Bonnie was a prostitute?”

Now he looked at me wide eyed, and then laughed. “No, no she wasn’t.”

“Well, how could your situation be similar to mine then?”

“Do you know how old Bonnie is?” he asked. I didn’t want to guess his wife’s age. What if I was off in the wrong direction? But Don persisted. “Come on, give me a number. I promise I won’t be offended.”

“Seventy,” I shrugged.

“She’s seventy-five. Now guess my age.”

“Seventy-two.”

“I’m fifty-eight,” he said frowning at me.

“Wow, sorry.”

Then he grinned. “I know, I know, my thinning hair along with the color don’t exactly make me look youthful.”

“So how is that similar to Marcella and me?” I inquired. “I’m only a year older than Marcella.”

“Let me explain,” Don said. “I was seventeen when Bonnie and I first met. I was a part time delivery boy at the company we worked at. She was a thirty-five year old married woman. Over the next year and a half, we got to know each other pretty well as friends.

Over that time, the crush I had on her only strengthened with every time I saw her. She was so beautifully wholesome looking, yet sexy in a subtle way. She usually wore skirts the fell just below the knees. But when she sat at her desk, they would hike up to just above the knee. When they had a split on the side, well, you can probably guess.

“She was the person I turned my delivery invoices in to. We would sometimes linger, talking, and I would steal glances at her legs. I got a good paying job as a machinist at one of the places I delivered to. About the same time, I heard she was getting divorced. One of the reasons for her marital problems was her husband’s infertility.

“It was right at Christmas time, and Bonnie and I were at a party. She was dressed as a sexy elf. Short skirt, low cut top, I had never seen her like that before. We were only professed Christians at the time, rather than practicing. So we drank quite a bit of spiked punched, and flirted. One thing led to another, we went back to her place, and I lost my virginity.

“I don’t know how deeply I was in love right then, but I was head over heels in lust. I wanted to keep seeing her, but because of our age difference, she wouldn’t give me the time of day. A couple weeks after our Christmas party encounter, I moved on.

“But three or four months later, she contacted me, and informed me that our encounter had conceived our first child. After that, we began a secret romance, and really got to know each other. And this is where we are similar, that being our helpless feelings about our ladies pasts.”

“I still don’t get where they are similar though,” I said.

“I don’t know, maybe they’re not,” he replied. “But hear me out and we’ll see.”

“Sure,” I responded, anxious to see where he was going with this.

“Obviously I knew she had been married,” he continued. “But the jealousy was in the details. The most profound aspect I struggled with, occurred with a simple comment she made several months before our first child was even born. She commented how bizarre it was that she had been intimate with her husband over a thousand times and never became pregnant. Yet she conceived with me the very first time.”

“Wouldn’t that fact, I don’t know, make you feel proud or something?” I tried.

“Did you get the part about intimate with another man over a thousand times? Just to be clear, and maybe this is TMI, but Bonnie is the only woman I, um, have gone all the way with. I can count on one hand the number of girls I dated. But nothing really happened with those brief relationships.”

“I see,” I replied. “So what you’re saying is when you and Bonnie got together, she was experienced and you were inexperienced. And young as Marcella is, she has been experienced, although not by choice, and I’m inexperienced.”

“Right, something like that,” Don said. “But my point in all this is patience. When you’re new to a relationship, it can bring insecurities, which lead to jealousies. But I want to leave you with this point. With every passing year, Bonnie’s previous relationship became more and more irrelevant. It hasn’t bothered me in years now. After four kids and decades of marriage, she even says it doesn’t seem like she was ever married to someone before me. And they were married fifteen years.”

I appreciated Don’s advice. One of my distractions was in fact coping with Marcella’s past. I didn’t know if I could do it even though I considered her, not only completely innocent, but a victim. Yet I sometimes selfishly obsessed about creepy guys touching her, defiling her. I didn’t understand my mixed feelings. Because spiritually, I saw her as a virgin that was as pure as the wind driven snow.

In all honesty, a part of me viewed Marcella’s and my religious differences as an easy out. So what drove me to study out the matter almost all night long? Especially when I knew I had to pitch the next day. It’s because I loved her, and wanted her in my life, even though another part of me wanted to run.

It’s funny that Don didn’t give me a pep talk about baseball. He also didn’t try to sell me on the Sabbath issue. God works in mysterious ways, and He also works through His servants. How else did the Barrow’s know what was going on with us? With me in particular.

When I was done conversing with Don, I wasted no time getting together with Marcella. The first thing I told her, after apologizing for my attitude the previous day, was, “You were right.”

“About what?” she asked with wide, innocent eyes. Man was she a wholesome beauty.

“About the Sabbath.”

“No I’m not.”

“You’re not?” I asked dumbfounded.

“The Bible was right,” she giggled.

I pulled her in for a tight hug, as we both laughed. I didn’t even care about the worst game of my life. After all, we won. So did I.

A SAINT IN SIN CITY

MARCELLA KNIGHT-STORM-SALLIE

CHAPTER 6

A WORD FITLY SPOKEN IS LIKE APPLES OF GOLD IN SETTINGS OF SILVER (Proverbs 25:11)

I had been so delighted when Saul had come to our fellowship, and so disappointed when he stormed off mad, leaving me alone at Cotton Creek. His departure left me with my own unhappy disposition. My first instinct was to confirm in my mind that I was unworthy of a decent man’s love. That my jaded past, coupled with the primitive Godliness I now lived by, was too much for him to handle.

I say primitive Godliness because even modern preachers seem to disregard Biblical truths. Even a moral, upstanding young man like Saul seemed to discount the ten commandment law of God. The one part of the Bible that our loving Heavenly Father wrote with his own finger. I suppose I should say that it is the fourth command that he, as well as most Evangelical Christians, have a problem with.

Yes, we are absolutely saved by grace. But for me and my church family, we keep the Sabbath out of love for our Lord. It is a delight (See Isaiah 58:13, 14). But my encounter with Saul still made me wonder why I understood this, and not others with a better education. Who was I? I was an eighteen year old woman with a lot of baggage. But it was my thirst and hunger for God’s word that had greatly reduced all of my luggage to just a carry on. Or did it?

I sat at the beautiful creek side and skimmed the cool, crisp water surface with my toes. I marveled at how fickle we humans are. I had repeatedly told myself I would need to go through life solo when it came to romance. So why did the prospect of losing Saul hurt so much? It tended to frighten me at how little we know ourselves.

But it calmed me when I let God take up the slack. When I prayed, God almost always spoke to me in His Holy Word, the Bible. But sometimes it was through a friend. Bonnie Barrow had come up on me so quietly, I jolted when she greeted me.

“I’m sorry, Honey,” she cooed. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“That’s okay,” I giggled. “I was so deep in thought, I wouldn’t have noticed you if you had bells on your toes.”

“It’s funny you should say that,” she said with a warm smile. “The night my Donald and I sort of became a couple, I was literally wearing bells on my toes.”

My mouth gaped open, and I stared at her in confusion. She smiled warmly, and her lovely green eyes sparkled. Bonnie was in her seventies, and her once long red haired was combined with white, giving it a lovely snowy rust color. She kicked off her pumps and put her delicate feet in the cool water next to mine. She chuckled at my expression. “Do you want me to explain?”

“You bet I do,” I laughed. “I didn’t know bells on toes was something that guys found appealing.”

“I doubt that they do. Bells on my toes just happened to be there the first time Don and I kissed.”

“Do tell,” I replied, already feeling my spirits lift. “But what do you mean by sort of becoming a couple?”

“Well, for starters, I was thirty six years old, and he had just turned nineteen.”

Did I hear that right? My mouth gaped open at bells on her toes, but now it fell open with this age difference. Although Don Barrow was fit for his age, with his thin white hair, I assumed he was also in his seventies. I insinuated such. “So, he’s in his early sixties?”

“He’s fifty eight, and I’m seventy five.”

“Wow,” I responded.

She arched an eye at me. “Would you be so surprised if it were reversed?”

“Actually, no. Why is that?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, but that’s why it took me well over a year to accept his desire to marry me.”

“I always assumed that your four children were all his,” I told her. “Were you, maybe, married before?”

“I was married before, for sixteen years,” she answered. “But just to be clear, Don is the biological father of all four.”

“Wow, so you had kids into forties?”

“Yes, I was forty two when our youngest was born.”

“So tell me about the bells on toes then. How in the world did that lead to romance, and four kids?”

“It didn’t,” she laughed. “They just happened to be there.”

“Please explain,” I replied, laughing.

“Don and I met when he was seventeen,” she began. “He was in between his junior and senior year of high school. He got an afternoon delivery job at the bearing company where I worked as a secretary and bookkeeper. So we got know each other pretty well over the next year and a half. Oh my, he was a handsome young man. Not only good looking, with curly blonde hair, but smart, as well as athletic.

“I used to think time and again, if only I was half my age. I had no idea at all that he fancied me. I was a late bloomer, so I was kind of a nerd in high school. But as a thirtysomething woman, I guess I was sort of pretty, and a little sexy in a librarian sort of way.”

“I’d say very pretty,” I told her.

“Thank you, Dear.”

She shook her head, smiled whimsically, and circled a toe in the water. “So where do the bells on toes come into the picture?” I asked.

“Fast forward a year and a half,” she continued. “That December was an eventful one in my otherwise simple life up to that point. Don had left our company to become a machinist at one of the factories he delivered to. My divorce was finalized after sixteen years of marriage.”

“Why did you get divorced?” I interrupted. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

“I think the root cause was my ex-husband was infertile, and he knew I dreamed of having lots of kids. But I rolled with the punches that were thrown us and suggested we adopt. But he kept putting it off, and gradually became more and more distant. Long story short, he left me for another woman.

“So that December when our divorce was official, I became quite bitter. I was also strangely relieved to be free of a man I once loved, but who ended up treating me, not just poorly, but was verbally abusive by times. So, newly divorced. Company Christmas party. My party animal co-worker talks me into dressing as a sexy elf with her. Our sales manager dressed as Santa. Little green dress, red Santa hat, green and red striped tights, and, you guessed it, green pointy shoes with bells on the toes.”

We both laughed. “So if Don left the company, how does he figure in with this outfit and the bells on the toes?” I asked.

“He left on good terms and was invited,” she said. “And I immediately could tell something shifted in our relationship. Between him leaving, the spiked punch, and my divorce, we became shamefully flirtatious with each other. Let me be clear though. I haven’t touched alcohol since that night, and even before that I rarely drank.

“So at one point, I pulled Don aside privately, and held mistletoe over my head. I asked him if he would mind being my first kiss now that my divorce was final. He was surprised at first, but then eagerly complied. Yada, yada, yada, I invited him back to my place.

“It was one of the most fun nights of my life, followed by one of the worst mornings. I still don’t understand why something that felt so good mere hours earlier, felt so bad just hours later. I guess that’s why sin is called the mystery of iniquity.”

“Are you talking about a hang over from the punch, or fornicating with Don?” I asked.

“Both,” she replied with a laugh. “He tried calling in the days following and left messages, but I never responded. In part because he still lived with his parents. But his last message came on New Year’s eve. He told me about a night club he was going to with friends. He said if I didn’t meet him there, he would stop bothering me. Drinking age back then was nineteen rather than twenty one.”

“Did you go?” I asked.

“Nope,” she said definitively. “As fond of Don as I was, I was sickened by the thought that I was old enough to be his mother. I actually went to school with his parents. We didn’t really know each other, but they were only one grade ahead of me. They actually married and had Don when they were right out of high school. Ultimately I think that gave them understanding for our situation.

“Anyway, Don didn’t call me again. Right when I thought I was starting to move on from my mistake with him, I discovered that I was pregnant. You want to talk about morning sickness. I was actually more sick over the situation. Thirty six years old, and pregnant out of wedlock by a guy barely out of high school.

“I decided to move. My company had an opening two hours away in Des Moines. I jumped at the chance to get away. I don’t know if it was the getting away, or the fact that I always wanted lots of kids, but  after leaving town, I actually became excited about the prospect of having my own baby. But I was oblivious to just how difficult being a single mother was going to be.

“I also couldn’t shake the conviction that Don had a right to know he was going to be a father. As much as I dreaded it, I called his house. Paranoia is a funny thing. People don’t usually know your stuff as much you build it up in your head. Don’s dad simply informed me that Don was living in an apartment and gave me his number.

“So I called Don. He was happy to hear from me. I had intended to just tell him about our baby over the phone, but then felt that the news I was about to give him was best done in person. He agreed to meet me at his apartment that weekend. To my surprise, once the shock wore off, he was actually excited, and asked me to marry him.

“I flatly turned him down, and told him because of our age difference, there was no way I would ever marry him. But I did fall prey to his intimate advances. He began driving to Des Moines twice a week. On Wednesdays he would go to Lamaze classes with me, and then he came again on the weekend just to spend time with me.

“Don was there for the birth of our baby girl. When my maternity leave was over, I had found an excellent daycare for my child with a co-worker’s grandmother. Don religiously came every weekend. Although I had found being a mostly single mother tedious, Don and I were careless, and when little Abby was only five months old, I became pregnant with her brother.

“I was mortified at first. Don was excited, and once again asked me to marry him, and move back to Cedar Rapids. At first, I wanted nothing to do with that. The church I had grown up in had shunned me, and my own family had given me the cold shoulder. But Don convinced me to meet his parents, and let them meet their granddaughter. They couldn’t have been nicer, and more accepting of our unusual relationship.

“Then there was a second element. Don had gotten to know a UPS driver through his work. I think you know him, Jake Weston.”

“Of course,” I replied happily. “Jake and his wife Mary Gold are pillars of the church.”

“Right, well, he invited Don to this church,” she continued. “Only it was located in downtown Cedar Rapids at the time, instead of out here in the countryside. Long story short. As passionate a lover as Don was, he told me he would no longer be fornicating with me outside of marriage. He held true to his word, and this impressed me. It also made me miss him, even when he was with me, as strange as that may sound.

“God works in mysterious ways, Marcella. An opportunity came for me to transfer back to Cedar Rapids, and I took it as a sign. I also felt accepted by his family and his church, even though my own had rejected me. So I joined his family through marriage, and his church through baptism. And, we decided to keep making babies as long as my biological clock kept ticking.”

“Wow,” I responded. “Did you ever make peace with your family?”

“Yes and no,” she shrugged. “We did make peace I suppose, but things were never the same. My parents and brother are all deceased now anyway.”

We were silent for a minute before she spoke again. “I’ve witnessed a lot of romance in my life, Honey. I don’t know this young man Saul very well. But from what I’ve seen, he reminds me a lot of my Donald. So I just wanted to come down and tell you a tale of impossible love. Whether he is troubled by the plain Bible truth we here at Cotton Creek live by, or whether he is bothered by your past. My instinct tells me he will come around.”

“You promise?” I asked with an arched eyebrow.

She looked earnestly at me for a long moment before replying, “No.”

Despite myself, I laughed. Then she smiled and put her arm around me, and gave me an affectionate squeeze. My eyes filled with grateful tears. I was so thankful for my church family. No matter what happened with Saul, I was loved from multiple directions.

A SAINT IN SIN CITY

MARCELLA KNIGHT-STORM-SALLIE

CHAPTER 5

FORSAKE FOOLISHNESS AND LIVE, AND GO IN THE WAY OF UNDERSTANDING (Proverbs 9:6)

How strange. It was love at first fight, rather than love at first sight during my early days with Saul Sallie. But it wasn’t actually a fight, but a heated exchange. And forgive me, but all of the heat from our verbal exchange came from Saul.

However, my point is, it was after Saul stormed off that I felt a strange sense of loss and loneliness. I had only felt this way once before, and it was when I was taken away from my drug addicted mother as a little girl. So I was confused at first. Then I realized that I was in love with Saul, and didn’t want to lose him, even if it was only as friends. However, my love of the truth, my love for Jesus, was far more important to me than romantic love.

Until Saul, I never even considered the possibility of romance. I had been the victim of human trafficking, and as a minor, forced into prostitution. So although I am physically attractive, my psyche was made ugly. I was severely, and I thought, permanently damaged. But never underestimate the healing power of the Lord Jesus. Nor God’s ability to put the right people into one’s life path.

It was really odd to me. The fact that Saul and I are both Christians is our strongest bond. Yet it was spiritual differences that seemed to be the biggest divide early in our relationship. Saul and I had hit it off so well from the beginning, and I could tell his interest in me went beyond my appearance. My interest in him also went beyond the physical.

Here is an example of what I mean. One of Saul’s teammates who didn’t like him, I’ll refer to him as Bruce, called us the beauty and the beast. Now Saul is not movie star handsome, but he is definitely not homely. As a matter of fact, you can see the family resemblance between Saul, his Uncle Seven, as well as my adoptive father, Brock Storm. Now these are a couple good looking men. Saul just has a bigger nose and a weaker chin. But his combination of gentleness mixed with masculine confidence, I have come to find irresistible.

Bruce was movie star handsome, yet had, forgive me, a rather ugly personality. I know this firsthand because he unsuccessfully tried to woo me away from Saul three times. On his third strike he even got very crude with a verbal assault that would easily be considered sexual harassment.

I didn’t tell Saul about Bruce contacting me until he was out of our lives. But the deliberate barb in our hearing, I couldn’t ignore, even though Saul patiently and impressively did. Saul’s teammate and friend Mason Maxwell also overheard the insult. When I had a chance, I asked Mason about Saul’s relationship with Bruce.

“Mason, can ask you something?” I began.

He looked puzzled at first. I rarely had said anything to him before, and never apart from Saul. But then he shrugged and said, “Sure.”

“Does Bruce bully Saul all the time?”

Mason chuckled. “You mean try to bully Saul.”

“Yeah, I know Saul tries to ignore him, but it must be hard.”

“So Saul must not have talked to you about what happened yesterday?”

“No, that barb about the beauty and the beast was two days ago.”

Mason chuckled some more. “Leave it to Saul not to brag.”

“Brag about what?” I inquired with a puzzled frown.

“Yesterday he put Bruce in his place, and then some,” Mason replied with a satisfied grin. “And it wasn’t the beauty and the beast comment. Bruce simply called him Howard, you know, after the ‘Big Bang Theory’ character.”

“I told him he should cut his hair,” I interrupted. “It’s that early Beatles hair style, with his, well, kind of big nose, that got him the nick name Howard.”

“It’s funny you should mention the Beatles,” Mason said. “Because I always thought Saul looked more like Ringo than the actor that plays Howard.”

“I don’t know which Beatle is which. I just know they had the flopping brown haircuts.”

Mason fiddled a few seconds with his phone and found a picture of the iconic 60’s rock band. It didn’t take long to notice the one with the biggest nose. I pointed to one of the three that wasn’t Ringo. “Which one is that?”

“Paul.”

“I think Saul looks more like Paul, only with a bigger nose.”

“Maybe,” Mason shrugged, and pocketed his phone. Today’s technology, right at our fingertips, and small enough to put in a purse or pocket amazed me. It made me think of Daniel 12:4, which tells us in the time of the end, knowledge shall increase. It also tells us that humanity will run to and fro. Wow, you don’t see that on the interstate highways, do you?

Another thing occurred to me. Wasn’t Paul, I mean the Beatle, not the apostle, referred to as the cute one? Leave it to humanity to say Saul looked like Ringo because of his big nose, rather than Paul, whose eyes resembled Saul’s. But I needed to stop pondering, and get back on point. “So tell me what happened, Mason. I find it hard to believe that Saul would retaliate over being called a name.”

“He didn’t,” Mason explained with a mischievous smirk. “Somebody asked Saul why he puts up with Bruce. Only he used rather colorful language.” Saul snorted a laugh, and continued. “So Saul calmly replied, and I know he was just being genuine, that if Bruce can live with himself twenty four-seven, I can tolerate being around him the little bit of the day that I am.

“So Bruce goes off! He starts swearing at Saul, gets in his face, and shoves him. Saul calmly, but sternly, told him not to ever touch him again. Bruce puts his hands on his hips, and mockingly says the sticks and stones thing. Saul, once again calm and composed says, “Correct, only it will be your bones breaking if you try to get physical with me.” Bruce says, “Is that right?” Right before he shoved Saul hard on the chest.

“But the next thing we know, Bruce is on his knees, and Saul has his wrist and hand contorted in an unnatural position. Bruce howls in pain, and Saul says, “You don’t believe me?” Bruce says, “Yes, yes, please, yes.” Saul says, “Are ya gonna mind your own business from now on?” Bruce says, “Yes, yes, absolutely.” Saul lets him go, and then goes about his own business as if nothing happened.”

“Wow,” was all I could manage. I stared at Mason dumbfounded for several seconds before asking. “So what did Bruce do afterwards?”

“I’ve never seen anyone more humbled, and contrite in my life,” he said, and then chuckled. “We’ll see if it sticks.”

Later, when Saul and I were alone, I gave him ample time to tell me about the incident with Bruce, but he didn’t. So I asked him about it. His face fell, and his jaw tightened. He quietly said, “I didn’t know what else to do. He was harassing me more and more, but it was only words. When he put his hands on me, I felt like that crossed a line.”

He shook his head sadly. So I told him, “Look Saul, you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t actually break his wrist, did you?”

“I wanted to,” he said, and shook his head in self-disgust. “I don’t recall the apostles retaliating with violence.”

“It’s not like he didn’t deserve it,” I tried. “And is twisting an arm really all that violent?”

“It was just his wrist.”

I almost said that the wrist is part of the arm, but it would defeat the purpose of helping him forgive himself, even though I didn’t feel he needed it. So I said with an encouraging tone, “See.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know how I’m gonna face everyone at the team’s services Sunday.”

“So come to church with me tomorrow on the real Sabbath,” I teased. We had already had a few brief discussions about the Sabbath, among other things.

“Ya know, I think I will,” he replied cheerfully.

“Great!” I responded happily, hooking my arm through his, and leaning my head into his shoulder.

He kissed the top of my head, and I closed my eyes contented, and hopeful. But twenty four hours later, church would be over, and I would be watching him storm off, wondering if I would ever see him again.

A SAINT IN SIN CITY

SAUL SALLIE

CHAPTER 4

FOR THE WORD OF GOD IS LIVING AND POWERFUL AND SHARPER THAN ANY TWO EDGED SWORD PIERCING EVEN TO THE DIVISION OF SOUL AND SPIRIT (Hebrews 4:12)

I wouldn’t call it a fight, but the first disagreement Marcella and I had was over one of the ten commandments of God. Although I did end up going away mad, we reconciled the next day. When I first began my stay with Uncle Seven, I quickly learned that my extended family’s main day of worship was Saturday. I didn’t think much of it until the nature of my relationship with Marcella turned romantic. Up to that point, I was fellowshipping with other Christian teammates, led by the team chaplain.

There was no yelling, or anything mean or unkind said between Marcella and me, even though it seemed like it at the time. Inside I was upset, even very angry. There were a multiple of factors involved. Primarily that our beliefs weren’t in harmony. Secondarily, pride, because her reasoning was, well, more reasonable than mine. Third was that I felt like her beliefs, their beliefs, were straining out a gnat and swallowing a camel. (See Mathew 23:24) I also suspected that they were a cult. Lastly, was tradition. I had been a strong believer in loyalty and tradition. I still do in its proper place.

But when tradition came up during our discourse, and she quoted Mark 7:7, I felt like she was getting too personal. It was also my first real lesson on how truth cuts to the core. I had thought myself a righteous dude. But on future examination, I had a form of Godliness, but was denying the power.

It all happened on a beautiful Saturday afternoon, right after I went to church with my extended family for the first time at Cotton Creek Cove Fellowship. After a potluck lunch, Marcella and I strolled down to Cotton  Creek, after which the church was named. I was troubled in spirit as I sorted out the new perspectives I was shown in the Bible. Things I had read before, but did not see.

The stream of water rippling over rocks, and the canopy of trees was beyond description. It was incredibly beautiful and peaceful. It felt wrong to feel so agitated there, but I did. I was ready to lay into Marcella about her church denying grace, being legalists, and putting their parishioners under the old covenant.

I had taken a deep breath, and then both a sigh and a fake chuckle. “You know, you have a friendly church and all, but it seems you all fail to understand grace.”

“We do?” she asked mildly. Her wide expressive eyes helped to relax me in my task of setting her straight. “How?”

“Your pastor is putting you under the law,” I told her.

“How’s that?”

“Well, the very first thing, the service started by putting the fourth commandment up on the screen, and you all read it.”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with that?”

“Well, nothing, but, I mean, you guys take it too seriously. I mean, what if, say, all doctors and nurses refused to work on the Sabbath?”

She giggled, and it was both cute and annoying. “There are exceptions for situations such as that. But as far as regular labor, or shopping…”

“The New Testament clearly tells us we are saved by grace through faith,” I interrupted.

“It sure does,” she agreed with an enthusiastic smile, disarming me even more, right before stabbing me with truth. She pulled out a small New Testament that she always seemed to carry. It wasn’t much bigger than a deck of cards. She opened it, found a passage of scripture, and handed it to me. “Read Romans 3:31.”

“Do we then make void the law through faith?” I read aloud. “’Certainly not! On the contrary, we establish the law.’ Okay, alright, now you read chapter four, and verse four.”

“Now to him who works,” she read. “The wages are not counted as grace but as debt.”

“Well?” I asked after she read it.

“Well what? I agree with the text. Are you insinuating that I don’t love God?”

“No, of course not.”

She frowned, puzzled. “Then why did you show me that passage of scripture?”

I scratched my head, a bit puzzled myself. “I guess to show you that were not saved by works.”

“Of course we’re not. I obey God because I’m saved, not to be saved,” she explained. “Jesus said that if we love Him, keep His commandments (John 14:15). Are you familiar with the Bible verse that says, having a form of Godliness, but denying the power thereof?” (2 Timothy 3:5)

“Yes.”

“The passage you just shared reminds me of that, because what it is actually implying, is works without love. You see, you could say, a form  of Godliness that denies the love thereof.”

“Okay, good point,” I admitted before getting to the heart of the matter. “But why be a stickler about the seventh day Sabbath, when the vast majority of Christendom keeps Sunday?”

“When has the majority ever been right in spiritual matters?” she asked sadly. “Were they right in Noah’s day? Were they right when Daniel’s three friends refused to bow down? Were they right during the dark ages? Most importantly, were they right when our precious Savior, Jesus Christ, was crucified?”

“Okay, fair point. But why Saturday instead of Sunday?”

“Sunday keeping became prominent when Constantine made Christianity a legal religion in the fourth century. But Saturday is actually the Biblical Sabbath, established at creation, and written in stone by God’s own finger at Mount Sinai.”

“But Marcella,” I said with a humorless chuckle. “We keep Sunday in honor of the resurrection.”

“We do?” she frowned, and then handed me her little Bible. “Can you show me in the Bible?”

“Not off hand,” I replied lamely, as she thumbed through the onion skin pages to the book of Acts. She showed me several passages where the apostles still kept the Sabbath, obviously after Jesus was resurrected. I wasn’t angry just yet, but very frustrated, and demanded. “What difference does a day make? We should pray and worship God daily.”

“Yes we should, and I do. But there is a specific day God commanded us to remember if we love Him. There is one day, one period during the weekly cycle, that He blessed and made holy. And that’s from sundown Friday to sundown Saturday.”

“See, that’s another thing,” I tried. “The world, not just Christendom, recognizes midnight to midnight as the daily cycle.”

“That’s insignificant,” she shrugged. “There are plenty of passages about not being conformed to what the world does. Just look at 1 John 2:15-17 for one example.”

“But Marcella, look at all the Godly men that kept Sunday. Reformers like Martin Luther, Tyndale, Wycliffe, and modern preachers like Billy Graham. Are you gonna tell me they are lost?”

“Of course not, Saul. Obviously I don’t know their hearts or how much light they have had. But I do know the light I’ve had, as well as a little understanding of history along with prophecy.”

“Oh, I suppose you have the gift of prophecy,” I said sarcastically, and instantly regretted it. Yet she seemed slightly amused, rather than offended.

“I don’t, but multiple Bible authors did,” she replied. “And with the guidance of the Holy Spirit and prayer, we can understand the prophetic books.”

“Oh, so you’re gonna tell me you understand Daniel and Revelation?”

“As well as someone with my experience can,” she shrugged. “So yes, I feel I have a pretty good grasp of them.”

I snorted and shook my head. “I’ve been taught that they were futuristic books that can’t be understood yet.”

“I’m sorry to say, you were misguided,” she replied mildly. Okay, now I was now becoming quite angry. “Most of what is taught in Daniel and Revelation is now history. Only the last few chapters of Revelation are yet to be fulfilled.”

“How do you get history out of all that symbolism?”

“It’s there, you just have to put the puzzle together with, like I said, prayer and the Holy Spirit.”

“I wasn’t misguided, nobody really knows. How can they? The closest thing to figuring it out is the ‘Left Behind series.’

She smiled sadly, hung her head briefly. “I’m afraid the ‘Left Behind’ series is misguided. There is no secret rapture. I know the word rapture isn’t even in the King James concordance. The Bible says Jesus comes back with a shout, a great noise, and every eye will see him. Not a select few, or even half, or whatever they claim.” (See 1 Thessalonians 4:16-18 and Matthew 24:30, 31)

“You just made my point, no one can understand it?”

“Then why does Revelation 1:3 say blessed are they that read the words of this prophecy?”

I didn’t know. I didn’t even know how discombobulated I was getting, but I felt the need to get off discussing prophecy. “Look we’re getting off topic. Now I know you haven’t met my family, but my mother, and my mother’s family, are some of the most Godly people you could ever meet, and they kept the Sabbath. They didn’t work or shop on Sunday.”

“Sabbath is not Sunday,” she replied. “Sabbath is the seventh day of the week. Other languages confirm this, as well as definitions. Look it up. Sunday is the first day of the week.”

“Don’t nitpick on terminology. Tradition is clear that Sunday is God’s day of rest.”

She aimed a sweet smile at me. In the moment, I felt it was a condescending smile. But her mild manner of speaking should have told me otherwise. “Jesus Himself said, ‘In vain they worship Me, teaching for doctrines the commandments of men.’ (Mark 7:7)

I fought to control my raging hostility, and my voice probably sounded sinister as I forced myself to calmly say. “Oh, I see, my family and me worship God in vain. That’s not judgmental.”

“No, it’s not meant to be,” Marcella said with wide, startled eyes, as she reached out and gently touched my arm. “I believe God only holds us accountable for the light we have, know, and understand.”

“Well, you haven’t shown me any light,” I said testily. “Because you’re enshrouded in darkness… I’m outta here.”

As I began to briskly walk away from her, I expected, even hoped she would call out. But she didn’t. As I had spoken, I felt justified by my mean spirited words. But ten seconds later as I stole a quick glance back. Her sad countenance as she watched me go already began to break my heart. But more importantly, her words during our conversation began to open my eyes to real truth. It would lead me into a closer walk with the One called, the Way, the Truth, and the Life. Jesus!

 A SAINT IN SIN CITY

MASON MAXWELL

CHAPTER 3

THE LAW OF THE LORD IS PERFECT, CONVERTING THE SOUL (Psalm 19:7)

“Maybe we ought to reconsider things,” Beth had told me on the day before I left our hometown for my second season in pro ball. Her large brown eyes either looked sympathetic, pleading, or angry, I couldn’t tell which.

“Suit yourself,” I shrugged, my male pride and ego not wanting to let on that my heart was breaking.

“Suit myself?” she spit, pushing a long strand of her dark brown hair behind an ear, and then crossing her arms defiantly. “You’re the one that just confessed infidelity. You should be on your knees pleading, not acting like some arrogant big shot, who’s really just a little shot, and probably always will be.”

“But like I said, I never had sex with them, they had sex with me,” I lamely defended.

“Oh, okay,” she replied sarcastically. “Let’s remain a couple then, and whenever you feel the urge, go ahead, and let some floozy have sex with you. As long as you don’t have sex back. Is that the way it works?”

“Beth, I’m just trying to be honest with you. I screwed up, okay? I love you, and I didn’t want a lie of omission between us.”

“Fine,” she said smugly, and with a shrug. “You take care of your needs, and I’ll take care of my needs.”

“Beth,” I soothed.

“Don’t Beth me,” she whimpered, and then began to cry. “I was faithful to you, but not anymore. You want to let women have sex with you, as you put it. Well, I’ll let men have sex with me then. I guess this is what I get for giving it up before marriage. I thought we were in love though.”

“We are,” I tried.

“We are not,” she declared through clenched teeth. “If you’re in love, you don’t fool around with other people. You don’t let them have sex with you.”

I didn’t know what to say, and she asked me to leave. I left town the next day to start the baseball season in high A Cedar Rapids. I hated not knowing if we were truly broken up or not. So I tried texting her.

“Beth do you forgive me? I love you.”

“I love you too. And I do forgive you… But.”

I waited ten minutes for more, but nothing was forthcoming, so I tried. “But what?”

“I need time to sort out our conversation, and your confession.”

“So are we still a couple?”

“I would like that, and I hope so. But I, we, need time to sort things out.”

“Okay, what does that mean?”

“It means I would still like to see you. But I think we should be free to see other people.”

“Are you saying we should have an open relationship?”

“Is that what it is? We aren’t married or even engaged. I just didn’t know the rules. Thanks for setting me straight yesterday.”

“Beth don’t be like that.”

“Like what? You’re now free to mess around with baseball groupies. And I’m going on a date with a guy I work with.”

I felt sick. Beth was a pretty brunette with plenty of male admirers. She was also feisty enough to call up one of the many guys who had shown interest in her. My only comfort was in her fairly strong moral code. We dated for almost a year before I persuaded her to go all the way. So I doubt she would give it up for a guy right away. Or would she?

She had been saving herself for marriage. But her nominal Christian boyfriend wore her down. He sold her on love, commitment, what their peers were doing, and the assurance that they would one day marry. So what was to stop her? She was no longer a virgin, and I knew part of her wanted to even the score.

“I don’t want to. I wouldn’t have confessed my transgression if I did.”

She didn’t reply, and I gave up, uncertain of our relationship status. How ironic. Beth and I started out as a wholesome Christian couple. But I wasn’t as committed to Christ as she. Yet I was blind to what I should have been. Lack of prayer, and time spent in the Word of God, wore down my principles. My desires were of the flesh, not of the Spirit, and Beth had great flesh. Now as I made the lonesome journey a couple hundred miles south, I found myself grieving the loss of my girl, and why? Because I let Saul Sallie manipulate my conscience with his.

Baseball gossip claimed that Saul was done. I knew he wasn’t at the winter league due to a bad injury. Well, good for me. I wouldn’t have to ever see him again. And good for him. If we ever did cross paths, I would tell him off but good. Maybe even punch his big nose.

So imagine my surprise on the first day of spring training, I hear a familiar voice that came from a good natured grin. “Hey Maxwell.”

“Sallie,” I couldn’t help but grin back as we fist bumped. Not only did I not punch his big nose, I didn’t tell him off. At first anyway. “I heard you were out of baseball. Tore up your rotator cuff really bad or something.

“Naw,” he laughed. “Who told you that?”

“I’m not sure, but I thought that was why you weren’t at winter league.”

“No, last game of the season, I took a line drive to my foot, and broke it three places. But I’m fine now, how about you?”

“I’m good,” I tried, but I could feel my face fall.

“Yeah?” Saul replied skeptically.

“Well, as good as can be. My girl and I had a spat right before I left for here.”

“I see,” he said, and forced a smile.

Irritation rose within me. “Yeah, I took your advice, and it went over like a concrete balloon.”

“My advice? I haven’t seen you in eight months.”

“Well, you’re the one that put it in my head to come clean about, you know, messing around with other women.”

“So that’s my fault? I gave you my opinion, not instructions. Besides, if you just recently told her, the statue of limitations has run out on me being any part of the blame. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

I shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“So she broke up with you?”

I shrugged again. “Don’t know for sure. But she did say we should both be free to see other people while I play baseball.”

Saul winced. “Once again, sorry, man.”

“How about you? Do you have a special someone now?”

“Naw,” he replied with a shrug, and a little smile. It was as if he somehow knew love was right around the corner.

It was a couple weeks later when I noticed Marcella for the first time. What a babe! Blonde hair, big blue eyes, pouty lips, a lithe physique. It wasn’t long before I detected something more than friends between Marcella and Saul. But low and behold, when I inquired about her, Saul shrugged it off and said she was some type of relative.

Then a few weeks later, with wonder in his eyes, and a goofy little grin, he tells me that Marcella isn’t a blood relative, and that he was in love with her. It wasn’t long after that when I got to know her myself. She was easy to talk to, and after she heard my tale of love and heartbreak, she showed up a couple days later, with Beth.

I don’t know if Marcella was some type of inspiration to Saul, but he was pitching very well, and two months into the season, they were gonna move him up to double A. But then he did something that blew all of our minds. I overheard most of his conversation with our manager.

“What’s up, son?” asked the manager.

“Sir, I won’t be available on Friday evenings or Saturdays anymore,” Saul Sallie said.

There was a long pause as the manager took this in. “You what?”

Saul repeated his statement.

“Is this some type of health issue?”

“No, it’s a spiritual issue.”

“How’s that?”

“It’s my Sabbath.”

“Your Sabbath? Are you Jewish?”

“No Sir.”

“Every week?”

“Yes Sir.”

“How come you are just now demanding not to play?”

“It’s new light I’ve received.”

“What kind of light? You into aliens or something?”

I stifled a laugh before Saul openly chuckled and replied. “No Sir, Bible light, truth.”

“I see, so why Friday night and Saturday, and not Sunday?”

“Have you ever read the Ten Commandments, Sir? From Exodus chapter 20?”

“I know the Ten commandments, but I can’t quote them verbatim.”

“Well, if you look at verses eight through eleven, you’ll see that the Sabbath that God blessed and made holy was the seventh day, not the first day of the week.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I don’t have time for any Bible mumbo jumbo right now. Look kid, you have a promising career ahead of you. I’ve been around baseball a long time, and if I was a betting man, I’d bet you’ll not only make it to the bigs, but barring injuries, have a long lucrative career. Don’t blow it by making ridiculous demands when you haven’t completely proven yourself yet. I’ll let you in on a little secret. You’re gonna be called up to double A before the week’s over. If you stick to your guns on this, you’ll be stuck here for a good long while.”

“But you’ll work with me on it?” Saul asked hopefully.

“Yeah, I’ll schedule your pitching around your, ah, Sabbath. But if you’re serious about this, I’ll have to inform the powers that be above me. And at a minimum, they aren’t gonna be happy about it.”

“So be it.”

And so it was. I don’t know whether the Lord truly was with Saul, or whether it was just natural progression that would have happened anyway, but he pitched lights out. He was virtually unhittable for the first six innings every time he pitched. He struck out more than half the batters he faced. Forget about double, and even triple A, most of us thought he should be in the bigs now.

But like the skipper predicted, he didn’t move up as fast as he should have. Yet he couldn’t have been happier spending most of the season in Cedar Rapids. You see, the love of his life resided there. In more ways than one.

A SAINT IN SIN CITY

MASON MAXWELL

CHAPTER 3

MERCY AND TRUTH HAVE MET TOGETHER (Psalm 85:10)

I have never had a relationship where I had so much in common, yet at the same time was so vastly different than with Saul Sallie. In the beginning, the nucleus of our relationship was baseball, but over time the core of our bond would evolve to spiritual. We loved each other like the brother’s we never had. Yet our friendship was volatile enough to cause the media to paint a false drama that wasn’t even there. That was never realized more prominently than by that fateful World Series.

These are the key things we had in common. We were both the only teammates drafted by Minnesota that were native Minnesotans. We were both pitchers. We were both traded to Las Vegas when we were in Triple A. We both grew up in rural settings, with Saul somewhere between Minneapolis and the Iowa border, and with me northeast of Duluth just a couple miles from lake Superior.

We both had older sisters that were superior athletes, and daddy’s favorite. We both accepted Christ as our Savior as teenagers. We both decided that if we were drafted past the eighth round we would go to college instead of playing pro ball. We were each other’s best men at our weddings. I guess the media ignored this when they tried to make us out to be enemies.

However, there were some key things that made Saul and me like oil in water, and they all had spiritual ramifications. Saul practiced his faith, and I say to my shame, I only professed faith. Saul grew in his spiritual journey, and was diligent in daily devotions. I was big on grace, and once saved always saved, and only cracked my Bible on Sundays. That is, if I remembered to take it to church.

So once again to my shame, I enjoyed some carnal pleasures, with God as some type of insurance policy, I guess. I wasn’t too wild, comparatively speaking. I partied with teammates, but never got drunk or out of control. Maybe a bit silly sometimes. Although I had premarital sex with my girlfriend, we eventually married. Once again to my shame, I did fool around a few times with baseball groupies, but never “went all the way.”

It was after I hooked up with a baseball groupie for the first time, that Saul and I came to verbal blows for the first time. Actually I came to verbal blows due to a guilty conscience. I suppose it was like a ‘Tell Tale Heart.’ I thought Saul saw me with her. I thought the next day he was giving me the cold shoulder. But it was only my guilty conscience making me paranoid. Then mad. Then without realizing it, confessing my sin as I confronted Him.

We had just left a team prayer meeting. I sauntered up next to Saul as we left, gave his shoulder just enough of a nudge so he would know it wasn’t friendly, and glared at him. “You have a problem with me?”

“Should I?” he asked calmly, yet staring hard into my eyes. It caused anger in me to rise, yet I couldn’t return his stare, and I averted my gaze.

“I saw your raised eyebrows when I got into that woman’s car after the game,” I said defiantly, as my ego gave me the will to look at him again.

“What woman?” he asked innocently.

“You know very well what woman.”

“I do? What’s her name?”

“Jill,” I spit, then frowned. “No, Jen. Something with a J anyway.”

“Wow, your bond was so special, names were irrelevant,” he said with a smirk, and crossed his arms. Saul is no dummy. He instantly perceived what was going on.

“Look dude, we’re over a thousand miles from home. Forgive me for not being the stoic holy roller you are. I’m not content just sitting in my room and reading, I need socialization. Jill, or Jen, or Jan, or whatever her name is, was a nice gal. After the excitement of the game, I simply forgot what she said when she introduced herself. We had nice time, a nice visit.”

“My bad,” he smiled, and shook his head. “I owe you an apology. I assumed by your attitude that you had sex with her, and were now lashing out at me due to a guilty conscience.”

My jaw clenched. “We talked, and yes, kissed, and then she, well, had sex with me. I didn’t ask, or even persuade her. It just, you know, happened.”

“Oh, I see. So I imagine you’ll tell your girl, Beth, isn’t it? About your one night friend?”

“Look man,” I tried, but the wind was absent from my angry sails. Some of us in low A were still teenagers, including Saul and me. A couple who wouldn’t give up their dream were in their mid-twenties. The rest were in their early twenties. The vast majority would have been hooting, and back slappy me, and saying “way to go.” As a pro ball player, it was easier than for most guys to get a casual hook up. But it wasn’t the major league yet either.

Saul’s patient words kept echoing in my head. “Beth, isn’t it? Beth, isn’t it?”

I was breathing harder than after a sprint down to first base. I slapped a hand to my forehead, and quietly said, “Man, did I screw up.”

I had shoved Saul on the shoulder a minute earlier, but he put a gentle hand on mine, and said softly, “The devil walks about as a roaring lion, seeking who he may devour.” (1 Peter 5:8)

“What do I do?”

“If any man sin, we have an advocate, Jesus Christ the righteous,” he said with a sympathetic smile. (1 John 2:1)

“Right,” I nodded. But that wasn’t necessarily what I was talking about. “But what about Beth? Do I tell her?”

He shrugged. “That’s your call. I’ve never met her, and I don’t know how serious you two are.”

“Very,” I replied. But all he did was nod. So I asked, “What would you do?”

“Well,” he said, and sighed uneasily. “I wouldn’t have a casual hook up in the first place, so I don’t think I can answer that.”

Although his reply was no rebuke, or any type of boast, my pride became indignant. I thought, that’s easy for you to say when your looks are on the order of Howard from the TV show ‘The Big Bang Theory.’ But who was I to judge that? I actually looked more like Sheldon, from said show, than I did Colin Farrell. We were both kind of nerdy looking guys above the shoulders, but lean and athletic below the neck.

“Besides, I don’t have a girlfriend,” Saul shrugged.

I nodded, and thought, of course you don’t Howard. But that would change when he was called up to high A in Cedar Rapids. That’s where he met an incredibly sweet, beautiful young woman named Marcella. I might as well stay on the same TV show. Marcy looked enough like Penny, they could be sisters.

“But if I did have a girlfriend,” Saul continued. “And I gave into temptation. I’d have to confess.”

Of course you would, I thought, but said, “Do you even get tempted with anything?”

“Of course I do,” he chuckled.

“With what?” I challenged.

“I’m prone to all the typical temptations of guys our age,” he said sternly, and with the unspoken message of mind your own business. We hadn’t know each other very long back then, so I respected his privacy.

“Well, I figure what Beth doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” I said boldly, despite my damaged psyche.

“That’s your call,” he replied with the unspoken message he didn’t approve.

“Look, most guys have to take care of carnal needs,” I continued. “If God blessed you with out the desire for sexual release, more power to you. But my needs get overwhelming by times and I have to take care of them one way or another.”

“Have to, or want to?” He asked mildly.

My jaw clenched, and I closed my eyes. I actually prayed. “Lord, help me to not punch your servant on his big nose.”

It worked. I mellowed enough to say, but still with clenched jaw, “Point taken.”

I now wanted away from him, and I wished I’d never see him again. Careful what you wish for, I needed a real friend in my life, and that was Saul Sallie. I just didn’t know it yet.

“Maxwell,” our pitching coach bellowed. “I need to see you in the office.”

Was I in trouble? Was last night’s fun with the manager’s daughter or something? But as soon as I walked into the office, he and the manager were grinning at me.

“Congratulations, you’re moving up to high A,” the manager told me. “Good luck, son.”

“When?” was all I could manage.

“Pack your stuff, your flight leaves in three hours.”

I wouldn’t see Saul again for eight months. Believe it or not, I missed him.

A SAINT IN SIN CITY

Saul Sallie

Chapter 2

IF ANYONE IS IN CHRIST THEY ARE A NEW CREATION, OLD THINGS HAVE PASSED AWAY, BEHOLD, ALL THINGS HAVE BECOME NEW. (2 CORINTHIANS 5:17)

I noticed right away that Destiny’s eyes were red rimmed when she answered the door. Yet she greeted me with her typical warm smile, so I simply said, “Hi Dee, I’m meeting Marcella here at two.”

“I’m afraid you’re not, Sweetie,” she replied with a sad countenance.

I gazed at Destiny dumbfounded, not realizing yet that I had been stood up. “Excuse me?”

“Saul,” Destiny began, her lower lip quivering. She tucked a strand of blond hair behind an ear, her fingers trembling slightly. “Marcella doesn’t want to see you anymore. She, um, I don’t know how…”

Destiny put her hands in her face and groaned. Now I started to worry. “Destiny, is Marcella alright?”

She lifted her face from her hands. “Yes and no.”

“I don’t understand, what’s going on?” I pleaded, as my pulse quickened.

“I know you two have only known each other a few weeks,” she said, and sighed. “But she told me today that there is, um, something going on between you two.”

“Mrs. Storm,” I stammered, reverting to Eddie Haskell politeness under duress. “I assure you we’ve done nothing inappropriate. After all we’re cousins, we’re just friends.”

“Mrs. Storm,” she giggled, then became serious. “You know you two aren’t actually blood cousins, right?”

“Huh?”

“For two people so smitten with each other, you haven’t probed too deeply about yourselves,” she almost seemed to scold.

“I’m not.. She’s not… What do you mean she’s not actually my cousin? She’s Brock’s daughter, that makes us some type of cousins.”

“Sweetie, she’s adopted.”

Destiny gave me a minute to corral my stampeding thoughts.  “I don’t get it. Why can’t she see me then?”

“It’s not you. It’s her.”

The classic break up line. But what was there to break up? We had only known each other three weeks, and we were simply friends. Or were we? And why did I feel a strange emptiness welling up in me. “Where is she?”

Destiny ignored my question. “She asked me to explain her situation too you.”

“Okay, I’m listening.”

“Brock and I adopted Macella when she was sixteen. She had been a victim of human trafficking.”

Destiny let her words sink in. When they did, I felt bile rise up to my throat. “So she was a prostitute?”

“Not willingly, but yes. She escaped with Oralee.”

“Please don’t tell me little Oralee was prostituted.”

Destiny shook her head emphatically. “No, Marcella escaped with her before the creeps could do any physical harm.”

“That’s good,” I murmured. Then Destiny proceeded to tell me the story of Sevenia’s dream about two girls on the run, Marcella and Oralee’s makeshift fort under an abandoned railroad bridge, and how she, Brock, and Sevenia rescued them.

Destiny told me how Marcella felt she was unworthy of me. She also worried that because of the extreme sexual abuse she experienced, she might never be able to have a normal relationship with a man. She told Destiny it wouldn’t be fair to pursue a relationship with me, and in the end turn frigid. That’s why she wanted to nip our new companionship in the bud.

“I need to see her, Dee.”

“I promised I wouldn’t tell you where she went.”

“Please Dee, I love her,” I said, my voice quivering and I couldn’t stop some tears from popping out of my eyes.

Destiny looked at me with wide, startled eyes. Then she turned her gaze over toward the shop. “Oh look. Her car’s here, and her bike.” Then she looked steadily toward the southwest. “I guess she must have walked somewhere.”

“Thanks, Dee,” I said before I took off in a jog.

“Saul,” she called. I stopped and turned toward her. “You know there is over a hundred acres of timber beyond that field?”

I nodded. “Thanks again.”

Marcella had taken me to these woods once. The deer trails we followed were wide enough to walk, but not quite wide enough for a bike. I had hunch where she might be. We came across a stream where there was a three foot waterfall. The fall, and section of rocks after, made a very soothing rippling  sound. I could tell by the way Marcella sat down, and the dreamy, tranquil look that came over face, that she had been there before.

We sat quiet for a long time before she asked. “Do you know what has three feet and no head?”

Her question took me of guard, and I frowned, but smiled at the absurdity. “I don’t know.”

“A yardstick,” she replied playfully. She had giggled, and I laughed, thinking the way she crinkled her nose was adorable.

As I ran my heart ached recalling that moment in time only a week ago. It hurt like nothing I had ever felt before to realize what a difficult life that sweet, wholesome young woman had before Destiny and Brock took her in.

I was actually a pessimist by nature, but I now optimistically envisioned seeing Marcella by the waterfall, our eyes meeting, and she springing to her feet and happily bellowing, “My love, I knew you’d come for me.”

The first part of this scenario happened. I discovered her right where I had hoped. The second part was just the opposite. Her eyes widened in surprise, she rose to her feet, but instead of running into my arms, she ran away from me.

Now I had just jogged around a mile. So when she took off at a sprint, even though I was technically the professional athlete, she was slowly pulling away. Plus, she was smaller, and could negotiate all of the timber with greater agility than myself. Another point against me was I was trying to talk to her. That didn’t help my wind even a little bit.

I can’t remember exactly what I said, but either it was winning her over, or she was getting tired, for I had gained on her. It was neither. She stopped suddenly and turned. A split second before I saw her tear streaked face and heard the word the two words, “You don’t…” we collided. Worst of all for me, which actually turned out to be best of all, my nose hit her forehead. Hard.

It didn’t break because I’ve got strong bones. But I’m a bleeder. And bleed I did. Blood poured from both nostrils as I sat on the ground and clutched my face. I panted, I groaned, and I panted some more. I had jogged what seemed like a mile, and sprinted for what seemed like ten.

“Oh Sweetie, I’m sorry,” she said as I felt her strong, yet feminine fingers stroking my hair.

Did she call me Sweetie? Of course Destiny had called me Sweetie before also. I was dazed, and didn’t really comprehend her placing some type of cloth over my wound. It was her light blue jacket. When the bleeding subsided, she asked, “Are you alright?”

“I think so,” I squeaked, as I rose to my feet. I looked at her with wide eyes, and a smile played at her lips. I am not a handsome man, I often have thought I look like a frog. But I have been called cute occasionally, and garnered some female attention. More so as my baseball career progressed.

“You poor baby,” she cooed, and kissed my cheek. We both looked startled, then her hands went to her hips. “Did my mom tell you where I went?”

“No, I knew you would be at the waterfall.”

“How?”

“Cause I know you.”

“No you don’t,” she said with angry shake of her head. “No one does. Except God. I don’t even know myself, so how could you possibly know me?”

“Who really knows anyone? But we can know enough to love.”

“Are you saying you love me?” she asked with a challenging glint in her eyes. “We’ve known each other three weeks.”

“Apparently you detected something, or you wouldn’t have run off, and left it to Dee to send me away.”

Her lips pursed, and she frowned, then spat. “Oh, please forgive me. You always looked at me like I’m some virginal princess, but the dark secret revealed shows me to be a whore.”

“No, you’re not!”

“Saul, I can’t change what I was.”

“You were a victim.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I have had sex with grown men before I was even a teenager.”

“Was that your choice?”

“I didn’t run until Oralee motivated me.”

“So you wanted to be in that situation?”

“Of course not!”

“Then you are that virginal princess.”

She frowned some more, but there was an inquisitive, hopeful look in her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“You’re a Christian, right?”

“You know I am.”

“So, do you believe you are a new creation?”

“Yes,” she said meekly.

“Do you believe the past is past, and your present and future are new?”

“Yes, I do, but the past still leaves scars. Deep scars.”

“But you are a virgin in spirit,” I told her. “True, there’s nothing you can do about what was done to your physical body. But like you said, it wasn’t your choice. You were trapped.”

“I’m glad you understand,” she said with a sad smile.

“Good,” I grinned. “So we can quit this nonsense of ending our, um, friendship.”

Her smile quickly faded. “Is that all that has been going on?”

I suddenly felt awkward. “Ah, I, I really don’t know.”

“That’s the problem, I do. I hate to say this, but my dark experiences gave me the ability to read men pretty well. And you don’t behave like a guy that wants to be just friends.”

Remember I told you I get tongued tied around pretty women? Her insinuation made me just that. Then I managed. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Did my mom tell you about my feelings about relationships?”

I told her everything Destiny told me.

“She was vague about the most important part,” Marcella said and then sighed heavily. “Can you turn around? I can’t have you looking at me when I explain. It’s too embarrassing.”

“Um, sure,” I said, and turned my back on her.

“Saul, the last couple weeks you’ve ignited something in me that I’ve never experienced before. I’ve never felt, um, romantic desire, and it frightens me.”

“Why?” I asked turning, excited that I ignited some type of passion in her.

“Turn back around,” she demanded. I did, and she continued, beginning to cry as she did so. “For one thing, I was afraid of what you would think when you found out I was forced into prostitution. For another, I was afraid if our relationship proceeds, and gets to the point of, you know, marriage, that I would be uncomfortable, you know, having sex. So I think it is best to end this thing between us before it gets started.”

She was sobbing now. I turned and put my arm around her shoulder. “The thing is, it already has started, and I don’t want it to end.”

She looked at me and hiccupped. “You need to consider what I said.”

“I already have, and you’re well worth the risk.”

She kissed me feather light on the lips. It was tentative, and sweet. Then she softly wrapped her arms around my neck. In her actions I read her desire and longing for me, for love. I also read the fear and caution she warned me about. I would patiently win her trust.

“I will never leave nor forsake you,” I whispered into her ear.

The whimper she emitted after my words both broke my heart, and made me determined to protect her. I wondered if I should have remained silent. But her hug tightened, and then she kissed me gently on the cheek.

A SAINT IN SIN CITY

WE OUGHT TO OBEY GOD RATHER THAN MEN (Acts 5:29)

Saul Sallie

Chapter 1

It is not safe to assume that I am like me. That is, my public persona. Sometimes when you are a quiet introvert, people get the wrong idea about who you really are. This is especially true when you are famous. But maybe infamous might more accurately describe my current situation.

I had been maligned, and I have never seen so many false insinuations about me. And why? All because I refused to throw a baseball a certain amount of times over the course of a set time. That set time being game seven of the World Series. This happened to coincide with the Biblical Sabbath ordained by our Creator. And I am a Christian Sabbatarian. Why is this important to me?

You can find the history of creation in Genesis chapter 1 and 2:1-4. You can also find the Sabbath portion of the ten commandments in Exodus chapter 20:8-11. The best way you can find the origin of the Sunday sabbath becoming prominent is by researching Constantine, the Roman ruler who reigned from 306 to 337. When he “legalized” Christianity, the result was the merging of many pagan beliefs into the Christian doctrine.

The most significant addition, I believe, was recognizing the “venerable day of the sun” from sun worship as the sabbath. Up to this point, Christians still honored the Biblical Sabbath. The one obeyed by Jesus, the patriarchs, prophets, disciples, and apostles. Read the book of Acts, especially chapters 13-17, and you will see that the Apostle Paul and others were keeping the Sabbath, not the first day of the week, which is how the Bible usually refers to Sunday. If it was supposedly changed to honor the resurrection (no Biblical proof of this), Jesus had been resurrected many moons ago by the time the events in Acts were taking place.

All this said, God will not hold those accountable who keep Sunday in ignorance. There are millions who are unaware of the history. I was one of them. And like most, I wanted to ignore the truth. But it is the day our Creator told us to remember, not Sunday. God does not change, and His law is perfect, converting the soul. This day He blessed and sanctified recognizes Him as not only our Creator, but our Redeemer.

“He’s a legalist!” mainstream Christianity declared of me.

I guess that’s partially true. I love Jesus, He’s my Lord and Savior, and I follow His teachings with the guidance and help of the Holy Spirit. As a result, I find myself obeying the ten commandment law of God. This is a legal document written in stone by the very finger of God. But the question is motive.

When I walk in accordance with the words of Jesus, “If you love Me, keep My commandments,” am I doing it to be saved, or because I am saved? The first would be legalism. Hopefully, prayerfully, I fall into the later, out of love for my Lord and Savior. But I don’t trust my own heart, it is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked, who can know it? Thankfully, God can, and He loves me more than I ever have loved Him. (See Jeremiah 17:9, 10. And John 14:15 for the words of Jesus)

The first big lie told about me was that Seven Sallie, the polarizing talk show host, was my father. That didn’t take long to get straightened out though. He’s my uncle, my dad’s youngest brother. Another major misconception is that Mason Maxwell and I don’t like each other. The truth is, he’s like a brother to me. And it is true, like brothers, we have fought by times. Unfortunately, a couple times were in front of teammates. I suppose that’s how that gossip turned into media speculation.

A couple lies were about my beautiful wife Marcella. We some times call her Marcy, but the name Marcella means strong warrior. And that’s exactly what she was, and is. Most think she’s a former porn star. Not true since you will find no illicit pictures or videos of her. This falsehood probably stems from her association with former porn star, and now Godly woman, Destiny Knight-Storm.

Another report is that my wife was a prostitute. This is only partially true. The fact is, she was a victim of human trafficking, and sold into sexual slavery as a minor. She heroically escaped with an even younger girl named Oralee during a bitter cold midwestern winter. She was ultimately rescued by my cousin Sevenia, who is Seven’s daughter, Destiny, and her husband Brock Storm. Destiny and Brock ended up adopting the two girls.

Another falsehood is that my wife was instrumental in my Christian conversion. Another partial truth. I gave my life and heart to Jesus at the age of sixteen. But, at the age of nineteen, I temporarily lived with my Uncle Seven. It was the best summer of my life. I was playing minor league baseball in the city he lived about ten miles outside of. It was during this time that I met Marcella and fell deeply in love.

Like I said, she had been adopted by Destiny and Brock. Brock and my Uncle Seven are cousins, and pretty close friends. Brock would also be my dad’s cousin, so that would make him, my cousin once removed. Anyway, I had never met this cousin once removed, but was well aware of his legend as a bodyguard and rescuer.

The very day I took up temporary residence with my Uncle Seven, I met my first cousin once removed. His day job when he wasn’t saving people, was modifying vehicles, and reselling them. That is where I met him for the first time, in his shop.

I am six foot three and quite muscular. But in the presence of Brock Strom, I felt like a child. He was built like a pro wrestler, and I sensed he could easily pick me up and throw me across the room. But his smile was warm and friendly as we shook hands.

I was surprised at how much he looked like my Uncle Seven. Not only more so than my dad, but Seven’s own twin brother, Uncle Six. Six and Seven were my uncles’ actual middle names, and they had gone by them for so long, I wasn’t even sure what their first names were. My dad wasn’t overly close to his  extended family.

I thought the three of us were alone as we stood next to a 1968 Mustang that was on jack stands. Then Brock spoke to someone. “Hey Marcella, can you come out from under there. I want you to meet someone.”

The wheels of a mechanic’s crawler scratched on the concrete floor. A pair of gray and blue stripped coveralls appeared from underneath the Mustang. The head that emerged from the coveralls was the prettiest girl I had ever seen. Even with grease smudged on her face, safety glasses covering her almond shaped eyes, and a blonde ponytail coming out of a baseball cap, she was lovely.

She was surprisingly shy when Brock introduced her as his eighteen year old daughter. I myself have always been tongue tied around girls I found attractive. But there was an element that made me quite relaxed and comfortable. She was some type of cousin, and even if it was in the acceptable distance for blood kin, there was no way I was going to have it being said that my special lady was my cousin.

You see, in the beginning, I didn’t know she was adopted. When I met Destiny, Brock’s wife and Marcella’s mother, they looked enough alike, I only became more ensconced in my belief that we were kinfolk. Destiny had come into the shop from doing yardwork. And like her daughter, she looked stunning despite a shabby wardrobe. She wore an old flannel shirt and baseball cap, but it couldn’t hide her loveliness. Not that she was trying.

Seven told the small group that I was a pro baseball player, and would be staying with him until I got moved, hopefully up to double A and not back down to low A. Destiny had the five us go into the house for refreshments. I asked Marcella about herself, and she gave me vague, self-evasive answers. But then I got out of her that she loved to ride mountain bikes. This was a passion of mine as well. I told her as much.

“Do you want to go ride?” she asked enthusiastically. “We’ve got some great trails only a half mile from here.”

“Oh, I’d love to, but I don’t have a bike with me right now,” I replied.

“You can use mine,” Brock offered.

“Okay, I’d love to,” I grinned.

And that’s how it started with Marcella and me. Just as friends. We thoroughly enjoyed each other’s company, and began spending time with each other whenever we could. She came to my home ball games when I pitched, and we called and texted when I was on the road. There was also an undeniable chemistry between us. I wondered if I should reconsider the cousin thing, and check into the appropriate distance with distant relatives. But then a conversation with Destiny changed everything.