Iron Angel

By G. Louis Magliano

Paul rode his Sportster down the lonely back county highways with no destination in mind. The Lord would lead him and direct him to whatever or whoever needed him. Sometimes, the mission was painfully obvious, and other times, Paul went by instinct. As he traveled, he recalled the early days when he was new to the mission field. His friend, brother, and mentor had taught him along the way.

He smiled as he thought about Red. Big Red was a piece of work too-a dry sense of humor but fiercely loyal to only one, Gods only son. He would talk consistently about the mission field.

"Dude, it's an amazing thing to serve God. He is everywhere, man. Like, I mean in everything we see. Everyone we meet needs a touch from him, and he has sent us to do some touching. Sometimes it's just a kind word, and other times we need to get in some dudes face. He would laugh at his own joke. "Man, I'm here to tell ya that some guys just don't get it. Ya got to be creative, bro, in a spiritual way. But most of all, ya got to look out for the unexpected. The enemy of this world is clever and a liar. If we ain't careful, we get caught up in the lie. Dude, be on your guard all the time."

Red was right. Paul was now on his own, and the journey was tough. The attacks came from every angle, and all it took was a small distraction, and the door to destruction swung open. Paul knew he would persevere if he kept his eyes on Jesus. The battle was on, and the war raged, but with God, all things were possible. The giants would fall, and strongholds will collapse before the Lord of truth and His messenger on two wheels. And for this mission, God had chosen Paul Johnson, the Iron Angel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504907651

G. Louis Magliano

G. Louis Magliano, a.k.a. Knothead, is a patch holder and member of Bikers for Christ Motorcycle Ministries. He has been with BFC for six years. He is an independent ordained minister and attends an Assembly of God church in Ashland City, Tennessee. He is married with four children and four grandchildren. Originally from Chicago, he has been in Tennessee for twenty one years. He has authored three other Christian novels: The Hour Glass, A War Within, and The Jesus Fix.

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2015 G. Louis Magliano. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 04/29/2015

ISBN: 978-1-5049-0764-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-0765-1 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Iron Angel

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

XIV

XV

XVI

XVII

XVIII

XIX

XX

XXI

Epilog

Dedication

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Christian Motorcycle Association

Nashville, Tennessee

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Crossroads Riders

Clarksville, Tennessee

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Bikers for Christ

Nashville, Tennessee

Iron Angel

There is no time of day on the road. Day and night drift together like the passing of the tide or a lone cloud, unnoticed until it has arrived or departed. There is only the next hill to climb, to see what is unseen or the curve that is hidden by a wall of evergreens. The way may be clear and straight with nothing ahead except the horizon. A horizon that never seems to get any closer. Not even nature can change the direction of the road. Only the effect and its condition. The road remains.

The road is a means to a destination, known or unknown. Sometimes desired, anticipated, feared or a way of escape. It has no soul but it lives. Like life, there are issues that affect all that use it. It may be clear and free from obstruction and then with no warning, a moment later, broken and uneven, unsettled and hazardous. A danger without emotion. Unpredictable, change can come at any time and turn a joyful, carefree way into disaster and death.

It exists only to serve and be used. It was created for just that purpose. As it guides its travelers along and they finally exit, the road continues. It will wait with patience for the next traveler. There are no dead ends. Only a dead ending or a new beginning. The road continues in different directions and sometimes it will lead back the way it came.

I

It was difficult at times to try and determine where God wanted him. Red used to tell Paul that it was impossible to know for sure. Just be who you are and God will drop it right in front of you. Don't look for it dude or you will be looking for a mission under every bush. You'll know when it's time. Until then just ride and enjoy the scenery

How do you describe what a perfect day is or was. Is it when weather conditions are just what are needed to complete an outdoor event like a garden wedding or family reunion? Could it be that all the right people, friends and family, are present and none have an issue that dampens the moment? Is it a windfall of luck with the ultimate payout? Does the one of your dreams profess their love at an evening sunset constitute perfect? Is perfect what has happened or what is remembered? And is perfect enough to last a life time?

When the perfect day has ended and life begins anew will the memory of that day remain? Will the challenges of the new sunrise, that may bring disaster, erase it forever in your mind?

Paul was a loner for the most part, not by his choosing but circumstances that dictate choices available. And even those circumstances that were laid out in his path like a buffet with delicacies so plentiful it was hard to choose, a choice must be made. And once that choice is made it sets into motion another list of choices. All the choices were his to make but the consequences of his decisions, most of the time hidden, would set a new table with new directions. A life of never ending decisions. So Paul was a loner not of his choosing but by his choices in life. And like so many decisions and choices that led down a certain path it was almost impossible to revert back or change. Paul had learned long ago to just roll with it and make something good happen when all seemed to fail.

Yesterdays choices turned out to be good. Everything had cooperated in a way that suited the young man well. The road was clear and clean. The weather had been calm with light winds and mostly sunny. What more could a man on an iron, two wheeled machine ask for. Almost 600 miles of open road with no interruptions in the tranquility that only a biker could understand.

Even the encounters with the few people he had met at gas and food stops had been short and pleasant. A man in his fifties chatted from the other side of a gas pump, telling Paul of his days on the road with a now parked and dust covered old Harley. I got to get that thing out one day. He said, reminiscing of a time long removed, as he got back into his car with his lady and what might have been grandchildren in the back. Loaded down for some vacation spot someplace down the road. Another lady in the gas market who smiled and told him that his bike was pretty. And the little boy who just stared with awe as he started the machine up with a load roar. The child's mother smiled and asked if Paul would take a picture with her son. Paul obliged, setting the five year old on his gas tank but he couldn't reach the throttle. He then stood him up so he could reach and then let him rev up the powerful 1200 cc engine. He handed the excited kid back to his mother. She will probably hear about it for the next few hours. Paul had to admit it to himself that he also enjoyed the moment.

He had found a cheap motel that was at least clean and the night went by without incidence. Was yesterday perfect? Nothing went wrong. Nothing broke. The road was clear, the weather fair and he had a good nights sleep. Yesterday may not have been perfect but it wasn't bad at all.

If today was the same, Paul could deal with it but there was a tug on his heart that told him to be aware. He knew the feeling. He had it before. He didn't have a job or a home. He followed his calling. A calling from God to go where he was told. A mission unknown until it was revealed to him. God had promised to provide for him and has done just that. He never had a need or want. He always had enough gas, food and clothing. Just enough cash to get by and sometimes a little extra. It was difficult at first. Difficult to trust an unseen being, a God invisible, a word or thought from your own heart but the Lord had proved Himself on every occasion. Paul finally got the message. Just do it.

But even with a calling and faith he had to make decisions. Gods plan was not always that easy to see. The world clouded a persons vision. Mans wisdom, which seemed so right, was often so very wrong. And Paul's own spiritual sight was dimmed by his own experiences. Of all the difficulties to overcome was the fact that sometimes Gods will can seem so senseless to the world but in the end game that was Gods plan, it made perfect sense. Paul had heard a preacher once say that.

God didn't care what happened to his followers but He did care how they reacted to what happened.

What the heck did that mean? Paul thought that God would always be there for him and take care of him. He would want for nothing. This proved to be true. God did all these things but the fact was that God had called Paul to the mission field to be a witness and to show the world a different way, a way to God. A way to restoration. To bring them, who ever they might be, into a relationship with Jesus. And if on this mission things got a little hairy or uncomfortable, then so be it. The end result or bottom line was what was most important. That bottom line was simple. If Paul was hurt, sick or died he would go into glory but if a person died who did not have Jesus as his arbiter to God then he would go to hell.

God does care what happens to His children. He has taken care of that with a retirement that the world can never match but His main concern is those who have not yet seen the light and Paul, like many others, has been called to carry that light into the world.

Some where down that road ahead would be a challenge. Paul could almost taste it. What would it be? He prayed this morning, asking that he be prepared and not blow it like he had before. There had been a time or two when he was not prepared or leaned on his own understanding and did not listen to the wisdom from the Spirit that lived with in him. It had turned out badly. He had suffered a beating one time and a total wash out another. He felt horrible. A sense of failure crept over him but God had shown him through His word that He, God, understood the failures of man and that there was always forgiveness for those who came to Him. Learn from these things and move on. But even knowing this it was hard for Paul. He prayed that the Lord would send another, more well equipped, witness to fix his short coming.

Many years ago in another world and a vicious life style, Paul had done things that even now were often to hard to imagine. Drugs, alcohol, violence and money ruled his life and because of him many souls were lost to eternity with no hope. He had visited a cemetery once and seen the names on some grave stones of young people that he was responsible for, directly or indirectly.

He had wept bitterly not knowing if that young girl or former enemy was now one of hell's thralls because of him. He knew he was forgiven but the weight of that thought was an ever present anchor that he had never been to drop off completely. An ache that kept him focused. A pain to remember but like the Apostle Paul it was Grace that kept him going and Grace that set him free.

Paul walked out of the small diner next to a cheap motel that was home last night and looked down the highway. Somewhere down there was a mission, a person who was waiting for Paul. Maybe a group in a parkway or a stranded motorist. It didn't matter any more. For the last two years, Paul had traveled the highways following the Spirit into different circumstances. Some were easy and fun and others were a challenge with painful endings.

Paul returned his attention back to his ride, a metallic cobalt blue 2012 Sportster with 12" bars. He put his few belongings on the back, strapped down with a bungee cord to the P-bar and put on his brain bucket, leather jacket and vest.

There was no thought about what was down there. He would know soon enough. Right now, at this moment, all he cared about was the open road with the sun on his back as he headed West toward the mountains that lay about five hundred miles ahead. It was a good morning. He smiled as he started up the bike and saw some old timers in the window frown at the sound as he roared away. It probably wasn't a nice Christian thing to think but well, no one is perfect.

It was a little chilly this morning but the sun beating on the black leather warmed Paul enough. In a short time he would replace the heavy jacket for a plain black T-shirt with a faded image of a Maltese cross with some words in Latin that meant "I will defend that which is mine" and his vest.

The old vest had it's own story. It was more than a gift, it was a challenge. The former owner had handed it to Paul one night and proclaimed that he had passed the chalice to Paul. It's your turn Iron Man. I'm finished. I can go no further.

Paul had taken the leather vest from his brother as he watched his spirit being released. His friend, brother and mentor had gone home to his reward. Paul knew he had no choice in the matter. He had been called just as Jonah had and to run from the call would mean…well Paul didn't really want to find out. Paul had ridden with Big Red for almost six months when he was released from prison on a weapons charge. Big Red was visiting the facility as a Chaplin and filling in for the regular minister. He noticed Paul almost from the start and knew this was his mission and smiled. The tall lanky inmate was about to meet his destiny.

Paul saw the big biker in the open hall and was drawn to him. The man was crazy looking with long red hair that was more orange than red. Tattoo's covered him from his neck down. Both arms were covered all the way to his fingers. He had large silver rings on six of his fingers and a silver chain around his neck. The guy was well over six foot tall and every bit of two hundred and fifty pounds. The name patch on his vest said BIG RED. He was loud but had a confidence that was easy to see. Paul sat down in the back and listened to the man talk about Jesus and relationships in a way he had never heard before.

I ain't talk'n about no stupid holy stuff. I'm talk'n about a friendship man. Like a tightness that comes from brotherhood. Real tight… he clasps his hands together, …a bond man. Solid with no strings. He would move back and forth as he talked. You got to understand that we are all sinners and like He, Red pointed up, He has your interests in mind. Like He cares man. Do ya remember when you was on the street? What it was like when you knew your brother in the hood had your back. He didn't care what you did as long as you were a brother. That brotherhood covered over all the crap. Red looked straight at Paul. Jesus has your back if you let Him. You join His club the same way you join any street club or MC. He comes first. You let that happen and He will take care of the rest. And let me tell you something else brother. If He is for you…No one will be able to stand against you. And that is a fact.

Paul listened to Big Red for another half hour. Some of the inmates walked out. Some made some obscene remarks and gestures but it didn't even phase him. Red kept right on and when he was finished Paul knew that there was a connection.

He walked over to Paul before he left and put out his hand. What's your name bro?

Paul. Paul took his hand firmly. You seem to get intense when you talk about Jesus.

Dude. There ain't nothing like it man. And you know…and I know that you got the call.

The call? I don't know what you…

You do know man. I was sent here for you. You believe man, I know it but now you got to let the Spirit of God lead you.

Yeah well…I ain't much for preaching.

Dude. I ain't talk'n about preaching man. I'm talking about following the lead of the Man. He will do all the talk'n stuff through you. All you got to do is say you will.

But I'm in here. Paul pointed to the walls around them.

So what man. Red pointed to a chair. Sit down for one minute and I will explain how this is going to occur. Red looked at the guard who was pointing to his watch. I know boss. I got one minute with the dude here and I'm gone. He didn't wait for a response from the guard. You get out when?

I go to trial in about a month. But I…

Red stood up. I'll be waiting out side for you. I'll have a bike too.

How did you know I rode? Paul stood up.

I didn't. God knows and He will provide for us as long as we go where He says. Red smiled. Man oh man. Is you in for a great ride brother. He took Paul's hand. In one month I'll be out front…you just be ready.

And how do I get ready?

Get into the Word bro. Plant it in your head and in your heart. See you then.

Wait. How do you know I'll be there? What if I get sent up?

Big Red laughed. You won't. God had other plans for you. One month and I'll be out front.

Paul watched him leave and knew in his heart that life would never be the same. He had accepted Jesus with some other guys when a group of biker ministers came by about a year ago and now this. In one month Paul would know if this was real or not, but until then he would get into the Bible like he was told.

That was more than a year ago and now he was alone. Red had been right. He never needed anything. God was always there. Paul wondered when his time would come to give up the vest to another. That was the only thing that Red had said that was freaky. The vest man. It's like your calling card. It ain't got no magic but it is a statement as to who we are. I got this cut from my mentor, a real crazy dude man. I mean like, way out but he had it going on too. That was a crazy day when he handed the cut to me. Dude! I put it on and like I could feel God. I know it ain't like that but it was a feeling. He just got on his bike and took off. That was the last time I saw Wack. I heard that he died about a week later. Dude had cancer so bad but no one knew but him. Man I miss that dude.

Now Paul wore the vest. The back top rocker said "Iron Angel, with a picture of a motorcycle with gold wings in the middle and a bottom rocker that said "Samaria".

The back patch itself was enough to draw attention, especially from motorcycle clubs. It was against most biker protocol to wear a three piece patch and not be part of an official MC. Sometimes Paul would just take it off and roll it away so as not to cause an issue with an outlaw club. Other times it was a witnessing tool to those that didn't understand the significance of the patch. But a man had to be careful. Offending someone was never a good way to reach someone.

After just a few hours on the road, Paul was ready to loose the jacket. It would be a little cold for a while but he was ready for a gas stop and didn't want to have to stop again once rolling toward his appointment, what ever that might be.

After the fill up he only had a few dollars left and the small diner next door to the gas station looked good. He wasn't hungry but the coffee that would be inside was definitely calling him by name.

The diner was no different from the thousands of others in the Southwest. Different colors, different clientele and different staff but still strangely the same. You walked in and every soul turned to inspect you. You would get a nod or smile from some and a disinterested stare from others. There was that occasional glare from the local old timers who didn't approve of his style or loud machine but that was also part of the scheme.

Paul nodded to a guy about his age. He was probably the owner of that muscle car out front, judging by his attire. The man got up and dropped a five on the table as he walked out. Passing by Paul he nodded and said. Nice ride bro. Keep it up. He didn't wait for a response as he headed out the door. As Paul sat down at the counter he could hear the Challenger roar. Almost as loud as his Sportster. Paul grinned as a pretty young lady about twenty walked up with a pad and pen.

Well now big boy. What can I get you?

Just coffee sweetheart. Paul glanced in the mirror behind the counter to watch the other patrons. It was always good to know what was behind you.

The waitress set the coffee in front of him and smiled as she noticed the name tag. So Iron Man, where ya headed?

No place in particular. He pointed West. Just that way.

A real cowboy. Wow. She turned away to serve another patron.

A real cowboy? Well I guess it could be worse, Paul thought. He sipped his coffee and wondered if this was where he supposed to be. He would have the coffee topped off and then hit the road.

The waitress was a cute little thing. Talking with everyone like they were family but in a town this small she probably knew everyone. They might as well be family. Small town girl who will never leave. Paul could never do that. He had to get going. There was always a need to see over the next hill or what was around the corner. There was too much world out the there to sit in one place for very long.

Paul finished his coffee and asked for a ticket. It was time to leave.

Oh, don't worry about that. We don't charge cowboys for coffee around here. She winked and smiled. She looked up as the door to the diner opened. Her smile disappeared as soon as she saw who entered. Damn. This I don't need.

Paul turned to see a big guy in torn jeans and a Grateful Dead T-shirt walk in. He had a smile but it wasn't very pleasant. It was a smile that said trouble. Paul decided to wait and see what was going to happen.

The waitress walked around the counter and went face to face with the man. What do you want Kyle?

Now is that the way to talk to your best man? I think you need a little attitude adjustment. He put his hand out to grab her arm but she slapped him away. Now you know you shouldn't do that.

Get out! I got nothing for you and I don't need you and as far as my best man…you ain't even a man.

Now you are starting to get way out of line. I might just have to teach you another lesson.

She backed up a few feet. Big man, ain't you. Slapping woman and kids.

Only when they deserve it…and you and that brat need it. He stepped forward.

My son is only three. I swear Kyle, you ever touch me or him again I'll…

Not do nuth'n. Now he reached out with force but all he grabbed was air. Paul pulled the young lady away and stepped in the middle. The few other patrons all stood up. They all left except for a couple of old men.

One of them walked over to intervene. Now Kyle. We don't need no trouble in here.

Beat it old man. Kyle never looked away from Paul. Here was a new body to slam and he could get away with this he thought. This guy was interfering in a personal domestic dispute.

Paul didn't waver or talk. He just stood in the gap. Kyle tried to step forward to test the bravado of the intruder but Paul stood fast. Now they were nose to nose. Kyle out weighed Paul by about fifty pounds and was a little taller.

You better move on out of here biker boy. This is your only warning. He said real low with a growl. Now get.

No. I think you better get. Paul said in a low smooth voice.

You about to get your skinny butt kicked in. Kyle backed up and took an unbalanced fighting stance.

Paul turned around and said. Sweetheart. Please call for an ambulance. He turned around and pointed to the door. Let's you and me go outside where there will be less destruction.

All of a sudden Kyle wasn't so sure of himself. You a real tough guy, ain't you. Well I…

I'm done talking. Paul said as he walked to the door and held it open. Make the call sweetheart. He turned to Kyle. Come on. I got other places I need to be right now. Paul gestured to the parking lot.

You crazy. Kyle was now totally off balance.

Come on now. Paul's voice never rose. It was even and unaltered. Either way. You are leaving, by ambulance or your truck.

Kyle stormed out of the diner. He jumped in his truck and started the motor. I'll be back Cindy. And you better watch your back biker. He said as he threw up dust and gravel as he left at a high rate of speed.

Cindy hung up the phone. She walked up to Paul. I don't know what to say. No one ever did nothing like that for me before.

Actually I didn't do anything. Paul said.

Yes you did but I still got a problem. When you get on that bike and leave I still have to deal with...him.

What about the law?

Kyle has too many connections and I'm just white trash. She hung her head. "I'll probably get another beating and it will all go back to the