The Stain
A Parable of the Church

“I need a drink,” Ralph thought to himself as he walked into Tommy’s Place.

“The usual, Tommy..”

Tommy, knowing exactly what was wanted and what was needed, filled Ralph’s glass nearly to the brim. Without another word, Ralph’s money was put on the bar, taken, change offered and refused. Just like every day. Just at this same time.

Tommy smiled. Ralph nodded. He walked across the floor, stained with years of life. Then he sat at the table by the picture, the faded picture of Pete Rose stealing Home. Others nodded to Ralph in acknowledgment. A couple of men began making their way to his table, their table. One, then another, came in and had their everyday transactions with Tommy, before coming to the table.

George, talkative as usual, started the conversation. “My crew broke ground for that big addition to Faith Church today. We’ll be there for months. I hope it works out better than the last job we did for them. Lord knows we need the work, but we don’t need the aggravation. All day long, people come by and tell us what to do, but each one has a different idea...” George stopped in mid sentence as he saw the pain in Ralph’s eyes.

Jerry, not picking up on Ralph’s silent words, took the pause as an opportunity to jump in. “My Ex goes there. When I was picking up the kids for the week end, I couldn’t help hearing her talk to her friend about the ‘discussion’ of the decorating committee. At least three couples walked out of that meeting! And the lady who was trying to lead the committee ran out crying after one of the older ladies told her, in front of everyone, “For your own good, dear, you need to know that your decorating ideas for a church are not in very good taste. For a casino like I’ve seen on TV, maybe, but not for a church. I only say this to be honest.’”

David, putting his hand on Jerry’s arm, bent over and whispered in his ear. Jerry nodded, made eye contact with those at the table. His eyes met Ralph’s last. “Sorry Ralph. Sorry guys. I wasn’t thinking.” Several of the men nodded and a few seemed confused. Everyone waited for Ralph to speak...

For Ralph, it was one of those moments when memories fast-forwarded in his mind. In an instant, months and years were relived. The compressed file, the one called pain, was accessed. Its contents were viewed in his countenance. Then he remembered why he was here. He smiled.

Ralph had had a secret, or had tried to have a secret. His heart had been deeply pieced with pain. It became infected, and rottenness had oozed out. An ugly stain had covered his heart, and that stain had bled through for all to see. He had tried to cover it with anger. Unfortunately, it was as unconvincing as a comb over. The only one fooled was Ralph.

There are unexpected moments that define a life. A word of praise for extraordinary effort can make a whole life extraordinary. An unguarded gaze passing from a father to a child, revealing shame, can infect a life with shame. Ralph could still see his father’s face after “the incident.” It was his earliest memory. In his countenance, he saw love with borders too small to contain mistakes. He couldn’t see his mother’s face because it had been hidden behind her hands. She didn’t see him reaching out for her, didn’t hear him crying. But he heard her sobbing. He could still hear her sobbing. He didn’t know what he had done wrong or why it was wrong. So he knew that it was he himself who was wrong. When she finally looked at him, it was the same way she looked at the stained sheets after an “accident.”

The next day at Faith Church, in the big sanctuary with small boundaries, the white haired man who loved to shout was getting started. Ralph could still hear his mother whispering, ‘“Don’t talk!” “Don’t squirm!” “Sit up straight!” “Don’t make me more ashamed!”’ as the shouting man railed against addicts and Democrats. Ralph hated it as much as the Shouting Man seemed to hate everyone not in the room. Why did the man shout so much? As Ralph was trying to ask to be taken to the bathroom, he remembered his father putting his big hands over his mouth. He remembered becoming very frightened when he couldn’t breathe.

After the shouting and singing was over, Ralph’s father told the preacher he needed to talk with him. As his father started, the Shouting Man first looked as if someone had kicked him in the shin. And then it seemed like a mask covered his face as he nodded. The Shouting Man gathered four or five other men in a circle in the corner and they whispered together. All Ralph heard was “black heart.” Perhaps their whispers were magnetized shouts intended to attract gossiping eyes because everyone’s gaze was on the men in the corner. Ralph’s black, stained heart broke and leaked all over the floor. At least something spread on the floor beneath his feet, staining the red carpet. Fear separated him from everyone in the room, and he became its prisoner. After that everything, everyone was different. And at three, he didn’t yet know the word ‘lonely,’ but if anyone knew what it meant, he did.

The Bible says, “Give and it shall be given unto you.” Undoubtedly, this is not what the shouting man was thinking about when he gave Ralph hatred. But Ralph gave back what was given. The shouting man didn’t call it hatred, of course. He called it ‘concern.’ Others needed to ‘pray’ about it and they couldn’t pray if they didn’t know all the details. All the details, whether they were true or not, were spread through the church. In a few years, a few of the boys from Sunday School, began to call him him some of the names they had heard their parents use when they were warned not to play with him. As a kindness, perhaps, Ralph began to do some of the things that others said he had done. He wouldn’t want them to be liars, would he?

So there were more “incidents.” And each added to his legacy. He fulfilled all their wildest words. And it gave the Shouting Man something else to shout about. Days, months, and years passed. The day finally came when Ralph’s father commanded him to get in the car to go to church, and Ralph said, “No, thank you.” Or maybe his words were a bit stronger. He vowed he would never go back. No one really seemed unhappy with that decision.

Life from there was predictable for Ralph. Not good, but predictable. At least it was predictable until another incident occurred. But this incident was very different. Ralph was in the alley behind Tommy’s Place losing the liquid that he had taken too freely, too deeply. As it happened, the Shouting Man was walking by on the adjacent street. Older, but with undaunted distain, he made eye contact with Ralph as he was raising his stained face. The man shook his head, shouting silently, and walked on. As Ralph staggered towards his car, another man walked by. He looked on as Ralph struggled to get his key in the lock. He began to walk closer, but not too close. He knew when a man needed room.

“Need some help?”

Ralph mumbled something while continuing trying to insert the key in the moving lock.

“Let me give you a ride.”

Ralph tried to respond, but no recognizable words came out. But the man understood what wasn’t said and helped Ralph into the car.

On the way, without warning, Ralph again felt the need to have less alcohol in his unhappy stomach. Stains now covered the front of his shirt over his heart and the man’s car. “Sorry,” Ralph tried to say, but the bile was backing up again. The man looked at Ralph and Ralph cringed. Not outwardly, but deep inside he pulled back. He had seen the Bible on the seat. He knew what that meant, didn’t he.

The man began to reach across the car. This time Ralph really did cringe. The hand came closer and sobriety came closer too. As the car slowed, Ralph expected to be pushed out, as he had so many times before. The hand came closer. It came to rest on Ralph’s shoulder. “It’s just a car. It’s not really important. When you’re feeling better maybe you’d like to hear about what is important. Really important. I stopped so I could write my phone number down for you.” The man wrote it on a scrap of paper and slipped it into Ralph’s pocket. Ralph didn’t remember it until the next day. He took his shower with his clothes still on to get the worst of the mess off. He was absently checking his pockets before throwing them in the corner, with other clothes that looked and smelled much the same. He pulled the soaked paper out and left it on the counter by the piles of pizza boxes and balled up bags of meals long since forgotten.

Later that same morning, he rushed out the door on his way to work. He always made it to work. Maybe late. Maybe hung over. But Ralph realized that no work meant no money and no money meant no booze and no booze meant no relief from the pain that consumed his soul. If someone like him had a soul.

When he got outside, he saw no car. Since he really didn’t remember much about last night, he was afraid. Was there another accident? Then vague visions filled his mind. A stranger. A ride. Being sick. Being helped into his apartment. Then blessed blackness. Now he remembered! As he began walking, the rain began, too. Foul thoughts, foul words and foul weather were on his day’s agenda. As he walked, a car pulled up along side of him. “Need a ride?” called out an almost familiar voice. The voice from last night. Ralph almost said no, but it began raining harder. He’d be late, and the boss was running out of patience. Reluctantly, he got in. As he closed the car door, he was also closing himself so the ridicule would not penetrate. The Shouting Man had a least taught him how to protect himself.

Ralph waited. Condemnation had to be coming. Or condescension. People carrying Bibles always carried those to give out with their tracts. The man coughed slightly, as people do when it’s hard to get words out. Ralph cringed, waiting for the tirade. Instead, the man simply asked, “Where ya need to go?”

“Construction site at 3rd and Main,” Ralph muttered.

“Need a ride after work to get your car?”

“That’d be fine,” Ralph said before he even thought. “Now I’ve done it,” he muttered to himself.

As the day progressed, Ralph’s hangover gradually diminished. But as the hangover lessened his thirst increased. Between that and apprehension about the coming condemnation, he was in a foul mood. But when the 12 pack appeared at quitting time, Ralph’s good humor reappeared, too. And with the appearing beer, the memory of the ride disappeared. The man waited out front as the workers left. He looked sad as he finally drove away. As Ralph staggered out, he caught a glimpse of what appeared to be the man wiping a tear from his eye. That tear washed the away the soil burying Ralph’s secret, and that secret emerged from its grave. It staggered out, revealing the sad ugliness. Loneliness wrapped in fear emerged from the darkness, an undead vampire ready to again drink his life blood. Ralph struck the stake of denial in his heart, and laid his secret back in its grave.

Ralph saw the man from a distance several times in the next weeks, but he was always able to avoid him. Ralph couldn’t avoid thinking about him, however. The memory of the hand brushing back a tear haunted him. He had steeled himself against criticism. Indifference was harder, but he could handle it. Hatred didn’t affect him at all. Anger gave him strength. But tears for him! Even his mother hadn’t cried for him, she had only cried because she was ashamed of him. Her tears were like a flash flood that had carried away the last of his humanity. As he had reached out for hands to rescue him, the torrent of her tears had washed him away. Ralph began the long walk to Tommy’s to find blessed oblivion once again.

As the weeks passed, Ralph almost succeeded in forgetting the man. The only time he had a problem was late at night when the “anesthesia” wore off before the morning came. This was one of those nights. He had given up trying to sleep and sat on the porch. He had no “anesthesia” left and no money either. All he had was time and pain. He went in to get a drink of water and saw the note that had been lying on the counter with his life’s debris. He picked it up and tried to straighten it. Surprisingly, it was still legible. All it said was, “If you ever need someone, I’m here. Call me anytime. Your friend.” A phone number was at the bottom. Another stain was added to the note as a tear fell from Ralph’s eye and landed on the wrinkled paper. “Haven’t done that since I was three. What’s wrong with me?” It seemed as if someone else’s finger was dialing the number, but the scars and nicotine stains on the fingers were his own.

“Can you come?” he said without prelude when the call was answered on the fourth ring.

“I’m on my way. That’s what friends do”

Ralph talked that night more than he had since he was a little boy. His friend listened. Finally as dawn was peeking in the window, Ralph quietly asked the question that was screaming inside of him. “Why?”

“My friend told me that what I did for the most helpless, I was doing for Him. Actually, He said “the least of these,” but I like to put it in my own words so I understand better. He did the same thing Himself. He went looking for those who were hurting--like you. Would you like to hear some more?”

Ralph heard some more. He heard about a man who wasn’t welcomed by the shouting men of His time. He heard about how lies and gossip were spread about Him, too. He heard about how He was left to suffer alone so that no one would ever have to be alone again. He heard about how God’s rule gave boundaries set by love, not by fear and condemnation. He discovered that God’s boundaries are there to hold you close, like the mother’s embrace he had always longed for, but never received. Until that moment he had only known the prison of Fear’s barbed wire barriers. He had bloodied himself on those barbs of alcohol, drugs, and condemnation as he tried to find freedom. He knew he could never break through. That night Ralph found that a Man had laid His body over those barbs to allow Fear’s captives release, inviting even Ralph to use Him as a bridge to freedom.

Ralph relished his new life! He looked for a place to live out what he had experienced. He even visited Faith Church, but somehow, stained glass didn’t seem to fit with a stained heart. Oh, his heart wasn’t stained by his failures anymore, but it was stained with Another’s blood. Stained floors fit with stained hearts. Besides, when Ralph visited Faith Church, his work jeans and tee shirt were not as comfortable as they had been an hour before. As he walked in, it seemed as if he had passed through a check point designed to keep out the “unacceptable.” His jeans and tee shirt didn’t make the cut. Neither did he. God had found him in back of Tommy’s Place, with his jeans. Maybe God could use him to find stained hearts in stained jeans at Tommy’s. He would go into places where the Kingdom of Fear had a grip on men’s hearts, and where they weren’t afraid to admit it. He would be a secret messenger carrying hope to the helpless, like himself…..


“I need a drink,” Ralph thought to himself as he walked into Tommy’s Place.

“The usual, Tommy.”

Tommy, knowing exactly what was wanted and what was needed, filled Ralph’s glass nearly to the brim with 7-Up. Without a word, Ralph’s money was put on the bar, taken, change offered and refused. Just like every day. Just at this same time.

Tommy smiled. Ralph nodded. He walked across the floor, stained with years of life. Then he sat at the table by the picture, the faded picture of Pete Rose stealing Home. Others nodded to Ralph in acknowledgment. A couple of men began making their way to his table, their table. One, then another, came in and had their everyday transactions with Tommy, before coming to the table.

George, talkative as usual, started the conversation. “My crew broke ground for that big addition to Faith Church today. We’ll be there for months. I hope it works out better than the last job we did for them. Lord knows we need the work, but we don’t need the aggravation. All day long, people come by and tell us what to do, but each one has a different idea...” George stopped in mid sentence as he saw the pain in Ralph’s eyes.

Jerry, not picking up on Ralph’s silent words, took the pause as an opportunity to jump in. “My Ex goes there. When I was picking up the kids for the week end, I couldn’t help hearing her talk to her friend about the ‘discussion’ of the decorating committee. At least three couples walked out of that meeting! And the lady who was trying to lead the committee ran out crying after one of the older ladies told her, in front of everyone, ‘For your own good, dear, you need to know that your decorating ideas for a church are not in very good taste. For a casino like I see on TV, maybe, but not for a church. I only say this to be honest.’”

David, putting his hand on Jerry’s arm, bent over and whispered in his ear. Jerry nodded, made eye contact with those at the table. His eyes met Ralph’s last. “Sorry Ralph. Sorry guys. I wasn’t thinking.” Several of the men nodded and a few seemed confused. Everyone waited for Ralph to speak...


“Let’s talk about Jesus,” Ralph said to the men with stained hearts. “Does He complain about how rotten we are? Does He spend all His time inside the walls people have made, or does He come looking for hurting, lonely people? Does He really want anything to do with a vomit smeared drunk like me? Or like you?”