The North Sister Novel

Once in the auditorium, the three hundred sat in silence and near darkness while the doors were locked and guarded. 

At first a white spotlight focused from above on a golden cross standing fifteen feet high against a royal blue curtain. When the necessary time had passed for all attention to be focused on the cross, a second light came on to slowly illuminate and brighten the pulpit just to the right of the cross. 

A man walked toward the pulpit, crossing the stage beneath the cross, a man wearing a black suit, carrying a black Bible under his left arm, a man with a firm stride, the stride of one either supremely confident or dangerously arrogant. He stopped behind the pulpit only long enough to slam down the Bible before he stepped toward the front of the stage, walking to the edge, his arms lifted, shouting, "Who am I?"

In unison, over three hundred voices rose and fell in a catechistic, mesmerized monotone. "The Preacher, praise the Lord." 

For anyone listening to the chant for the first time, the sentence would have made no audible sense. The exact pronunciation of the words was slurred, mumbled in unison, but those present, those who knew the words, had repeated them a thousand times, cared only for the emotional meaning, for what they called the spiritual meaning of the sound. 

The Preacher shouted then. "Who are you?" 

"Soldiers of Christ," came the answer, one voice, one mind. "Are you ready to do battle in His name?" The Preacher howled the word "you," thrusting his right hand forward, punching the air as if he had hit each eye in the congregation. 

"We are ready."

The words were now becoming distinct, as if the three hundred assembled became more assured of memorized lines, more assured that they would all speak together, think together. A single personality was forming, one that felt familiar, certain, warm, and comfortable, like the touch of a lover long known, as if the very rhythm of the words spoken with so many others guaranteed a certainty in life with strength to carry into death. 

"Yes you are ready," said The Preacher, lifting his arms higher, "and soon you will be in His bosom." 

They were hushed for a moment, having heard "soon" before, the "soon" that meant for them to be patient, disciplined, prayerful, vigilant, the "soon" meaning when they died and went to heaven, the uncertain "soon" of the Second Coming, which seemed, for those who dared to doubt, a hope of death before death, an early death that would bring them to the Lord before He took them in due time as He took all those who passed this way.