The letter came three weeks later. Allen’s hand began to shake as he read it. It was the stone by which he could slay Abel. A disgruntled employee of the Living Waters Community Church had hacked into Henry Harp’s computer and printed out a series of torrid emails that Henry had exchanged with a prominent member of his church. It was clear from the emails that Henry was involved in an adulterous affair. He was quite explicit about some of the things that he was doing with his lover and how much he was enjoying plunging into the abyss of lust.
A brief flicker of conscience about reading someone else’s mail was quickly suppressed. Allen was still fuming over the loss of the Dickersons and how Henry Harp’s successes illuminated what Allen felt were his failures. Now he held in his hand the power to kill or at least seriously damage Henry’s career. The Cain and Abel story wouldn’t leave his mind. He remembered God saying to Cain in response to his anger, “Sin is lurking at the door; its desire is for you, but you must master it.”
The truth was, at this moment, Allen didn’t want to master his sin. He wanted to play in the field of this particular sin, savor it, relish it, and taste its full lustful potential. In one corner of his mind, he clearly understood the overpowering seduction of sexual addiction. He knew that he shouldn’t give in to this temptation, but he felt almost powerless to resist. On a better day, Allen would have appreciated this experience as an opportunity to deepen his ability to empathize with those who feel trapped in the hold of such addiction. But this was not one of those better days. He didn’t want to be empathetic. He wanted to exorcise his pain by exposing Henry Harp for the duplicitous, self-serving hypocrite that he was. The only question was how he should do it in a way that would cause maximum exposure.
Allen was so consumed by his musings that it took him a moment to realize that his secretary was calling him over the intercom.
“Allen. Allen. Earth to Allen. Come in, come in from wherever you are.”
“Huh, oh, sorry, I was thinking about something and didn’t hear you. What do you need?”
“Grace is on the phone,” she responded with a chuckle.
Grace was Allen’s wife. He had often kidded her that he knew the moment he met her that he was saved by grace. Hearing her name interrupted his almost murderous line of thought. I guess I do need grace at this moment, he thought as he lifted the receiver.
“Hi, Grace, what’s up?
“Our neighbor came by with some news. She’s a member of your favorite church. They received word today that their pastor, your seminary buddy Henry, has cancer, and it’s very serious.”
“Darn,” he responded. “Before you called, I was trying to figure out how to strangle the little weasel. Now I have to feel sorry for him.”
“Its tough, Allen, but I thought you ought to know. Love you.” And she hung up.
