Chapter 37 Henry's story

I often can't help but compare the Archmage to Reverend Henry.Both of them love to sing.Both preached brilliantly.Henry, like the Archmage, had only led the congregation of one diocese in his life, and had only been the husband of one woman.Henry and Anat, like Oberth and Sarah, had two daughters, a son, and lost a child. But other than that, their stories are very different. For example, Henry didn't meet his wife during a job interview.When he first met Anat, she was playing dice with his brother. Come on, make a six!she cried, throwing the dice onto the table.Six, give me a six!

She is fifteen years old.Henry XVI.He fell into a coma and lost his head at the moment, just like in the comics, he was shot with an arrow by Cupid!You may not think that throwing dice is such a romantic thing, and it seems that people who work for God should not find his eternal love in this way. When Henry went to prison at the age of nineteen, he said to Anat: I don’t expect you Wait for me for seven years.She said: Even if I have to wait twenty-five years, I will not leave.So, who is qualified to say what eternal love must look like? Every weekend while Henry was in prison, Anat boarded a bus at midnight and made the six-hour drive to upstate New York.When she got there, she sat there and waited for the sun to come out.When visiting time came, she and Henry shook hands, played cards, and chatted until visiting time was over.She rarely misses a weekend without seeing him, even though the schedule is so hard.She was the one who kept Henry up and made him feel like there was something to look forward to.Henry's mother wrote to him while he was in prison, saying that if he didn't keep up with Anat, you might find another woman, but you'd never find a wife.

Once he was released from prison, the two were married in a simple ceremony at the Mount Moorea Church.He was skinny then, a tall, handsome guy; she wore her bangs and her beaming smile lit up her wedding photos.They entertained at a nightclub called Sagittarius and spent weekends at a hotel in New York City's garment manufacturing district.On Monday morning, Anat went back to work. She was twenty-two at the time.Henry twenty-three.Within a year, they had lost a baby, lost their jobs, and had the hot water heater in their apartment explode in front of them during the winter, with icicles dangling from the ceiling.

Then, the real trouble was just about to begin. The archmage said that a good marriage should be able to withstand hardships, and the marriage of Henry and Anat was done.But from the start, those worries have included drug use, crime, and dodging the police.Nothing like Fiddler on the Roof.Both Henry and Anat used drugs.When Henry returned home from prison, they decided to change their minds.But since the baby died, the boiler exploded, Anat lost her job, and Henry, penniless, saw his drug-dealing brother with a wad of hundred-dollar bills, they fell back into their old way of life, and sank deeper.Henry sold drugs at parties, as well as in his own home.Before long, visitors came so often that Henry made them wait on the corner, letting in one at a time.He and Anat were heavy drug addicts, heavy drinkers, and fearful of the police and competing dealers.One night, Henry was taken for a ride by some Manhattan drug dealers, and he thought it would be his death when the ride was over; if he didn't come home, Anat was waiting with a gun in his hand.

But when Henry finally hit rock bottom, the night he hid behind the trash can, Anat had had enough. Why don't you go to God?That Easter morning, Henry asked her. because of you.she confessed. The next week, he and Anat got rid of the drugs and the gun.They threw away all their gear.They went back to church and read the Bible every night.Periodically, they feel weak and unsustainable, but they hold each other through the storm. One morning, about a few months into their new lives, someone knocked on their door.It was very early and a man's voice said he was going to buy some products.

Henry yelled from the bed to go away, saying he was done with the business.The man insisted on not leaving.Henry shouted: There's nothing here!The man continued to knock on the door.Henry got out of bed, pulled a sheet around his body, and walked to the door. I told you Don't move. A voice growled. Seeing five policemen, Henry was stunned.All five drew their guns. Step aside.One of them said. They rushed through the door and told Anat to stay still.They searched the house from top to bottom and warned the couple that if they had done anything wrong they had better confess right away.Henry knew everything was thrown away, but his heart was still beating fast.Am I missing anything?He looked around.Not here.there is no

Oops, not good! He couldn't swallow suddenly, it felt like a baseball was stuck in his throat.There are two red notebooks stacked on the small coffee table.Henry knew that one of them was a copy of the Bible verses, which he copied down every night; the other was older, and it contained the names, transactions and amounts of hundreds of drug transactions. He took out his old notebook, which he meant to destroy, and now it might have ruined him.A police officer strolled over, picked up a notebook, and opened it.Henry's knees were weak and his lungs were pounding.The man looked at the page, looking from top to bottom.Then he threw the notebook back and walked away.

Apparently, Proverbs did not interest him. An hour later, after the police had left, Henry and Anat grabbed the old notebook, burned it at once, and thanked God for the rest of the day. How would you react if your pastor told you such a story?Part of me admired Henry's honesty; part of me felt that, judging from his own list of misdeeds, he should not be qualified to preach.Nevertheless, I have heard him preach several times, and heard him quote from the book of Acts and the Beatitudes, referring to King Solomon and Queen Esther, and to Jesus telling his disciples: Lost for me. Those who live will have life.Henry sang gospel songs that were inspiring and captivating.He seemed to be in church at all times, either in a long, narrow room in the second-floor office with a conference table left by a former user or in the small, dark gym.I walked into the church unannounced one afternoon, and there he was sitting, hands folded, eyes closed, praying.

Before the cold weather, Henry used to cook food on the grill next to the church: chicken, shrimp, whatever donations he got.He gave food to all the hungry.Sometimes he even preached across the road from a low concrete wall that was about to collapse. I spread the word of God on that wall, and once Henry said: The results are no less than what I did in the church. how to say? Because some people are not ready to step foot here.Maybe they feel guilty because they are doing something bad.So I go outside and bring them some sandwiches. Like a doctor visiting a patient's home. yes.It's just that some of them don't even have a home.

Did any of them take drugs? Oh, yes.But some of those who came on Sunday were also on drugs. Are you kidding me, when you preside over the church? Oh really.You look at them.When you see those heads bobbing up and down, you know: Mmmmm, these guys have some pretty nasty stuff. Don't you feel unhappy? Not at all.You know what I tell them?I don't care that you drink; I don't care that you just came out of the opium den.When I'm sick, I go to the emergency room; when I'm sick, I go again.So whatever is making you sick, feel free to use this church as your emergency room.You should continue to come here until you are cured.

I carefully looked at Henry's big, gentle face. May I ask you a question?I said. OK. What did you steal from that synagogue? He breathed a sigh of relief, laughed and said: "Believe it or not, it's up to you to send the envelope." envelope? yes.I'm just a teenager.A couple of older boys broke in long before I did and stole everything of value.All I found was a box of envelopes, and I took it and ran. Do you remember what you did with those envelopes? do not remember.He replied: I have no impression at all. I look at him, and I look at his church, and I wonder if it's possible for one person to really know another's life. ◇◇◇ I carried a box of old manuscripts of the Great Master's sermons home.I flipped through the pages.There was a lecture from the 1950s on the purpose of the synagogue, and another from the 1960s on the generation gap. I saw an article titled Raindrops Keep Hitting My Head, which was written in the late 1970s.I read it inadvertently, and suddenly I was shocked. Every time it rains, our roofs shed tons of tears.The Archmage wrote.He talked about sitting in church one day when a water-soaked ceiling tile fell and nearly hit him, and about a wedding celebration where the chicken soup was juicier than it should have been because it had rained for two days.During one morning service, he had to take a broom and break a tile in the way to allow the rain to drain. In his sermons he appealed to the congregation to donate more money, lest their house of worship should really boast. I think of Reverend Henry and the hole in his roof.This is the first time I see a connection between the two.A church in the city center; a synagogue in the suburbs. Anyway, our congregation finally managed to scrape together enough to pay for the repairs.And Henry couldn't ask his congregation for money at all. ① These are the eight types of people mentioned in Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount: Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled.Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.