Itís midnight. The red preacher-phone rings.

Pastor Al, the late-night parson, answers again...

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An Age-Old Mystery Unfolds
A Novel by Alfred B. Davis

    Called back from Tunoa early by his pastor, Missionary Paul Brown is plunged headlong into an ancient evil that threatens to destroy him and the Wildwood Baptist Church. Armed with his faith in his Savior, Jesus Christ, and with the help of his family and fellow church members Paul Brown races to uncover the mystery before it is too late.
    From the sudden death of Pastor Williams to the final confrontation with evil itself, this fast-paced thriller will keep you on the edge of your seat.

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Twas the Night Before Winter Fest
Posted: December 13, 2006

Twas the night before Winter Fest, when all through the land,
Not a Christian was stirring, nor lending a hand.
Their Christmas was hung by the attorneys with care,
In the hope that their pastors soon would not care.

The Christians were nestled all snug in their pews,
While visions of Winter Fest gave them the blues.
And Deacon in his suit coat and I with my tote,
Had just wracked our brains for a Winter Fest float.

When out in the hall there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the room to see what was the matter.
Away to the foyer I flew like a flash,
Tore into the lobby and fell with a crash.

The moon on the crest of the holiday tree
Gave the luster of Earth Day to all I did see.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a rumpled old man, with eight charges to fear.

Twas a little old lawyer, so snidely and slick,
I knew in a moment it must be Ole Nick.
More rapid than eagles his charges they came,
And he hooted and hollered and charged us with blame!

"No Bibles! No witness! No Commandments in here!
No meetin'! Nor preachin'! And no teachin' ya hear!
To the stop of your sort! I'm the plaintiff to all!
I'll dash away! Trash away! Bash away all!"

As weak knees before the ACLU did knock,
When met with a subpoena, though it was a crock.
So up to the courthouse the lawyers they flew,
With a case full of briefs, and Ole Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard out the door,
Their protests and outcries and a li'l bit more.
As I stuck out my head, and was looking around,
Down the pathway Ole Nicholas came with a bound.

He was stressed and a'fire, from the look of his eyes,
And his cases were all tarnished with falsehoods and lies.
A bundle of griefs he had flung in his pack,
And he looked like a swindler, a bit of a quack.

His eyes-how they smoldered! His grimace so scary!
His lawyers were flustered, his attorneys harried!
His stern little mouth was drawn down in a frown,
For the base of his case the judge had shot down

The stub of a pencil held tight in his fist,
And the note he had circled stood out on his list.
He had a broad claim that the judge had found smelly ,
That shook when he sued, like a case full of jelly.

He was grumpy and sore, a right angry old hob,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of his mob!
A look at his case and a peak at the note,
Soon gave me to know what the judge he had wrote.

He spoke not a word, for his case was a joke,
And filed at the courthouse, to harry the folk.
By laying his lawsuit astride of the court
And giving a threat, to end Christmas by tort!

I sprang in the pulpit, to the church gave the news
Of what the judge wrote of Ole Nicholas' views.
"God's great gift of His Son, on that one blessed night,
Sent a Savior for all, that's a case you can't fight!"

-Pastor Al

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