I won't telephone him. I'll never telephone him again as long as I live. He'll rot in hell, before I'll call him up. You don't have to give me strength, God; I have it myself. If he wanted me, he could get me. He knows where I am. He knows I'm waiting here. He's so sure of me, so sure. I wonder why they hate you, as soon as they are sure of you.
It makes me happier, more secure, to think that I do not have to plan and manage everything for myself, that I am only a sword made sharp to smite the unclean forces, an enchanted sword to cleave and disperse them.
Grant, O Lord, that I may not break as I strike! Let me not fall from Thy hand!
Meanwhile, on Earth, a completely different esoteric plane of existence, Father Chuck awoke with a jolt. This time he was sure of it. Oh dear, he’d heard the Voice of God.What had the Good Lord said? Trembling, the little priest smoothed down his mustache. He was not the right man for a calling. Not the right man at all.