I recall the last time I mentioned milk and take evasive action. “No thanks.”
Ally pays, then leads us over to an empty table while our drinks are prepared.
“I always knew you were a self-starter,” Ally begins, this observation immediately ringing hollow. She doesn’t know me well enough for that kind of reflection, and it’s another hint that most of this conversation has been well rehearsed. “What is it about the Kingdom’s Young Communicators course that appeals to you?”
Absolutely nothing, but I fully understand I’ll need to give a little if I want some trust in return. Ally’s strong connection to the church makes her a dangerous interview, but it also means her knowledge could run deep.
I’ve gotta take my time with this.
“I’d like to be my own boss,” I reply.
Ally’s grin somehow gets even wider when I say this. “Yes!” she replies with genuine enthusiasm. “Have you read Pastor Bend’s new book?”
I’d love to keep smiling and agreeing with every little thing she says, but out of worry I’ll be quizzed later on, I’m forced to shake my head no. Fortunately, I’ve read everything else by Pete Bend, but the new-release copy from my parents remained unopened on my hospital bed stand.
Ally doesn’t seem to mind that I haven’t been keeping up.
“Craftsman Soul is incredible,” she fawns. “Like, how is he so smart? I know it’s just stuff the Prophet said back in the day, but he’s got a way of making it really … modern.”
Now we’re getting somewhere. For as little as I know about how to order coffee, I’m extremely well versed in discussions of Prophet Cobel and Pastor Pete Bend. I’ve been training my whole life for this.
“You’re so right,” I reply with a nod, “and that’s exactly what Tobias Cobel wanted, for his words to live beyond the time and place they were first spoken. He knew the church had to evolve and change with the times, and that’s a revolutionary stance to take with something as ancient as the Word of God.”
“Yes!” Ally agrees, her eyes lighting up.
“It’s okay to run a church like a business, because if we don’t treat the message of Jesus like a Fortune 500 company, then nonbelievers will certainly do that with messages of their own,” I continue. “Religion is more than just faith—it’s faith with a brand.”
“Did you just make that up?”
“The Original Leader,” I reply. “Pastor Bend’s first book.”
“Holy moly.” Ally’s expression melts as her rehearsed demeanor slips away. I can tell she’s relieved that I know my stuff, thankful our discussion is set to be more of a business meeting than a sales pitch.
I almost feel bad that our conversation will never reach the conclusion she seems so thrilled about. I’m not really here to sign up for the Young Communicators course, although if our paths had crossed in any meaningful way two years ago, who knows what might’ve happened.
It’s our duty as Kingdom of the Pine to spread the message of Prophet Cobel far and wide, to keep his lessons—and the teachings of Jesus—firm in their deeper meaning, but palatable to an ever-changing world. Getting members of the congregation into positions of executive power is an important step in this process, and while some people might find this mixture of business and faith off-putting, for us it’s the whole point. For too long, religion has taken a back seat to other organizations that are willing to embrace capitalism—organizations willing to admit that sometimes the ends do justify the means.
We are in the business of saving souls, Pastor Bend cried out during one of my favorite sermons. Let’s act like it.
“Ally!” the barista calls, prompting her to lose focus.
My companion excuses herself, standing up and heading over to the counter to fetch our beverages. I take this moment to collect my thoughts and shift into a new gear, homing in on the reason I’m here. I’ve built a connection, and now it’s time to dig deep.
Ally returns, placing my drink before me and then sitting in her chair. She takes a quick sip of her own beverage and leans down to pull a folder from her bag.
It reads: KINGDOM OF THE PINE YOUNG COMMUNICATORS BUSINESS PATHWAYS—INTERMEDIATE.
“You seem to know what you’re talking about, so I have an offer I’d like you to consider,” Ally starts. “Through my own current program, I’m eligible to sign up ten other recruiters under what’s called a multi-level model.”
“Hey,” I suddenly blurt, cutting Ally off. “Can I ask you something?”
She seems confused but curious.
“You went to Northcrest High School, right?” I continue, trying my best to feign intrigue as I take in her features. “For some reason, I feel like we spent a lot of time together. Do you get that, too?”
“Sure,” she replies warmly.
“Do you remember a school trip, though? Or maybe something with the church?” I ask, then try guiding her with a vague recollection of my own. “I have a hazy memory of like … a camping trip.”
Ally considers this a moment, then shakes her head. “I don’t think so,” she offers in a way that seems genuinely unaware of where I’m leading this conversation. She notices my untouched drink. “How is it?”
“Oh,” I falter, glancing down at the cup of hot, brown liquid. I’m appalled by the smell, but in the interest of playing along I lift my drink and take a quick sip.
The bitter taste immediately overwhelms my mouth. It takes everything I’ve got to keep my lips in place as my body instinctively struggles to pull them down in an exaggerated frown.
That is terrible.
“Wow,” I blurt, not sure what else to say as I squint my eyes in an expression of deep thought. “Really good.”
The second these words leave my lips I erupt in a sputtering, gasping cough, unable to hold back the reflexive spasm in my throat. I somehow manage to swallow most of the beverage without spitting it out, but that doesn’t stop the commotion.
Startled patrons immediately turn in their chairs to look at us, pausing their conversations as they take in the scene of the uncontrollably coughing girl who’s now loudly hacking into her hand.
“I’m sorry,” I choke, finally managing to pull myself together.
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Ally assures me, more than gracious.
As my throat settles I turn back to face my companion, but I’m swiftly distracted by a slight tickle within my hand. I glance down, opening my palm ever so slightly and then clenching it tight when I notice the mayfly.
I’d hoped these little critters were out of my system—no outbursts since returning home from the hospital—but it appears we have a straggler.
“You okay?” Ally asks.
I couldn’t be less attracted to Ally, but I might’ve laid it on a little too thick with my holy business acumen. The sparkle in my coffee date’s eye might’ve expressed a little more than just excitement for the sale.
Lepaca is close.
This confirms Ally’s attendance at Camp Damascus, but it also means time is a bigger factor than I initially thought.