Not Angels or Demons

By Shel Eugene Cox

Community activism is essential to promoting effective change, but when a more insidious agenda takes shape, under the guise of social justice, the results are anything but positive. After his grandson becomes enticed by the motivation of a charismatic community activist, Franklin Morris has no choice but to watch his family struggle through a frustrating labyrinth of lies and violence. With the help of his new friend and Chaplain, Patrick Keaton, Franklin tries to determine the truth behind the agenda. When a simple act of police action takes a wrong turn, thrusting the community into more turmoil, it only furthers the chaos and havoc in their environment. Only with God’s help will Franklin and Patrick learn the truth behind the agenda, and maybe even evade the grips of a more evil, unseen presence. Will Franklin and Patrick discover the truth about this agenda before the community they love becomes lost in violence and destruction?

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Jun 29, 2021
• ISBN: 9781664235717

Shel Eugene Cox

Shel Eugene Cox is a retired Navy Intelligence Officer with 30 years of experience leading, guiding and mentoring service members, young adults, and, Junior High and High School-aged youth. Throughout his career, he has served in diverse communities and organizations across the nation; leading and guiding military personnel while providing collegiate instruction in young adult environments. Throughout his life, Shel has written and self-published several works, including the Christian Autobiography, ‘God’s Navy’, and the Christian fiction novels ‘Not Present or Future’ and ‘Neither Death nor Life’. Shel is an adjunct professor with Southern Nazarene University and he currently serves in the ‘Next Generation’ youth program at his church. He resides in Owasso, OK with his wife, Sheri, and his two children, Abbygail and Joshua.

Book preview

Not

Angels

or

Demons

Shel Eugene Cox

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Copyright © 2021 Shel Eugene Cox.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means,

graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by

any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author

except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue

in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

WestBow Press

A Division of Thomas Nelson & Zondervan

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Bloomington, IN 47403

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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.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Scripture quotations taken from The Holy Bible, New International

Version® NIV® Copyright © 1973 1978 1984 2011 by Biblica, Inc.

TM. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

ISBN: 978-1-6642-3570-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6642-3572-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-6642-3571-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2021910662

WestBow Press rev. date: 06/08/2021

CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Though there are many who have provided support to me during my

journey through writing this story, I wish to give special thanks to:

Dr. Pat Calhoun, whose experience as a Peace Officer provided

guidance of law enforcement practices, which helped me honor

those that have served –and continue to serve- in support of

their communities. God bless you on your retirement!

Ms. Irma Allen-Lewis, whose incredible smile, Godly friendship,

and unwavering guidance provided me with understanding

and perspective. I am forever grateful for your support!

Pastor Matt Thomason, for the gift of spiritual guidance and

mentorship that you have provided me over the years. May

God bless you, your family, and your ministry, always!

For my son, Joshua,

who possesses the

incredible gift of

seeing the value when others do not.

What a righteous gift you have.

PROLOGUE

WHAT ARE YOU fools doing?

Franklin was beside himself. He could not believe the chaos he watched, streaming live, from the local news station. It was a late night in Ferguson, and more and more people were gathering around the central downtown stores causing havoc. Fires were set ablaze all over the shopping district, and the smoke was overshadowed only by the rioting and looting taking place in the streets.

I just can’t watch this nonsense anymore, Franklin groaned as he turned off television. His heart broke. From what he could tell, this was worse than the events that transpired in Ferguson just a few years prior. What made this situation worse was not just the violence, but the presence of the cancerous anti-police attitudes that seemed to spread all over the country since then. Every time there was a police-involved shooting, Franklin prayed. Every time a protest erupted over alleged police abuses, Franklin prayed. Every time someone protested the alleged abuses, Franklin cringed, especially at any sign of defamation of the American flag. It was something that Franklin never imagined he would ever see.

Racial tensions weren’t just high in the St. Louis area, but all over the country. What was worse, Franklin witnessed this type of attitudinal destruction happening all over the world. He was frustrated that America seemed so self-destructive that it could no longer do for the world what it was capable of doing. From Franklin’s perspective, America was no longer seen as the light on the hill. It was in trouble and Franklin felt it. Twenty-nine years in the Army gave him that convenient insight into national affairs.

I gotta call Jeffrey, he sighed, hobbling over to the phone just as quickly as he could. He reached for the phone and it dropped, almost immediately, as it slipped from his hands. Oh, for cryin’ out loud! His aged hands struggled to handle anything these days. He knelt, trying hard to pick up the phone without allowing himself to be in a position to where his knees buckled. He was able to grab the phone off the floor but found himself falling back as he stood up. Luckily, he fell back into the chair, conveniently located right behind him. Franklin dialed Jeffrey’s number and the phone started ringing.

Come on, son! Answer! Franklin became more frustrated as he was desperate to get ahold of Jeffrey. The phone only rang until that awful tone picked up.

We’re sorry, but the AT&T customer you are calling is not answering and their mailbox is full. Please try again, later.

Awww…you gotta be kidding me! Franklin hated that message. He wanted to hear Jeffrey’s voice and get confirmation that Ethan was not in the middle of all that violence. Lord, please don’t let him be in this mess?

Franklin moved throughout the house, praying and lamenting over the smoke, from the fires, filling the air along the shopping district. He could feel his heart beating heavier and heavier and he panicked as he knew what followed the flames. He disregarded his temporary physical state, as he had had enough; enough of police officers shooting blacks; enough of blacks taunting, tormenting, and harassing cops…along with anyone else not resembling African American skin tone. He was done with it.

My dearest Dorothy, I am so glad you are not here to see this. You would not want to see this. Practically in tears, Franklin looked over at a picture of his wife, which was sitting on the table. I miss you!! I miss your smile, your personality, your…faith! What would you do if you were here? How would you respond to this?

Dorothy always found a way to be positive in every situation. No matter how revulsive things became, she always maintained a smile supported by the most angelic patience. Maybe that is one of the reasons why she had the ability to help so many other women. She, herself, was an angel. She had been such a source of strength to many women, especially in the black community. Lord, I can’t believe she’s been gone for three years. Sighing in desperation with tears in his eyes, Franklin knelt his head and prayed. Father, please do something about this hatred; this…discontent. I am so tired of the violence and anger. Please, Father? Please?

He shook his head in loathing, wiping away his tears. At this point, there was so much hatred and bitterness, everywhere, that hope just seemed all but lost. It was in the community. It was in the media. It was in politics. It even crept its way into some churches. Deep in the thought of this, if just for a brief moment, however, he felt a strange sense of peace come upon him. It’s gonna be O.K., Franklin. Everything will be O.K.

Franklin could almost hear her voice. He couldn’t tell if he was imagining it or if he might be going insane. At that moment, Franklin felt that, maybe, in some way, God had a plan, and His plan was always for the good. As for Dorothy, her love was a real encouragement Franklin’s most trying times. He looked back up at her picture once more and, noticing the writing that was right below it, he leaned in to read it. It was Dorothy’s favorite Bible passage: Romans 8:38-39, and it carried her through the hard times of their marriage and through the hard times of life. It gave her strength, many times.

It would do the same for Franklin, now, as he prayed it, aloud, with tears flowing down his cheeks. He recited the passage from Romans 8:38 – 39. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

"Where is the hope? I meet millions who feel demoralized by

the decay around them. Where is the hope? The hope that each

of us has is not in who governs us, or what laws are passed, or

what great things we do as a nation; our hope is in the power

of God working in the hearts of people. That is where our hope

is in this country, and that is where are hope is in life."

Charles Colson

"After this I saw a vast crowd, too great to count, from every nation

and tribe and people and language, standing in front of the throne

and before the Lamb. They were clothed in white robes and held palm

branches in their hands. And they were shouting with a great roar,

‘Salvation comes from our God who sits on

the throne and from the Lamb!’

And all the angels were standing around the throne and around the

elders and the four living beings. And they fell before the throne

with their faces to the ground and worshiped God. They sang,

‘Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom

and thanksgiving and honor

and power and strength belong to our God

forever and ever! Amen.’"

Revelation Chapter 7: 9-12

CHAPTER 1

WHAT AM I going to do? Patrick said. I can’t believe that I did this to myself! He contemplated his most recent engagement with the elders.

Didn’t the elders have a right –and the responsibility- to do what they did? I would have done the same thing in their shoes. Lord, how could I let You down like this? I feel so ashamed, God! I am so sorry! What will Cheryl think? What will my kids think?

He sobbed as he considered his next concern.

And what about the congregation?

He just could not stomach the reality of his current predicament, and he had no constitution for the wrath to come. He was not looking forward to Cheryl’s response as he attempted to explain this most recent misfortune. His soul was overwhelmed. Getting relieved of my ministry position for alcohol dependency? Really, Patrick? Really?

He could not turn the car on. Sitting in the church parking lot, realizing that it would probably be the last time he would ever leave it, he loathed the drive home. He was lost and angry at himself for being in this situation. No matter how hard he wanted to, though, he could not find himself getting angry at God. Realistically, he understood the consequences. I deserve this, God. I know…I know that I have no one to blame for this but myself. I am so sorry. Please forgive me?

Breathing heavily, he continued hurting, inside, from the stress of having to tell Cheryl as his concerns shifted to her feelings. She was the epitome of the ‘Proverbs 31’ woman: poised and patient. She honored and respected her husband. She seemed to have a knack for being the stereotypically supportive minister’s wife and she humbled herself in the role. Patrick knew that. Oh, how I know it! Man…how do I tell her this?

Ughh, he cried, in the agony of the idea of what her response was going to be. He started the car and drove out of the parking lot to begin the slow, agonizing trek home. His mind was rolling as he was overwhelmed with guilt at the thought of disappointing God. Of all the emotions and concerns he had at that moment, that reality hit him the hardest. Patrick loved the Lord. His relationship with God was strong, and his faith…even stronger.

Why did I allow this to happen? Why did I give into alcohol? As he thought about it, the consideration hit him like a brick. Am I…an alcoholic? Am I? Did I consume it, or did IT consume ME?? Patrick tried to quell the storm inside himself. Nope, nope, he struggled. Get that out of your head. It was just some drinks. Some…drinks…that just kept getting out of hand.

Patrick could not face the possibility that he might be an alcoholic. Regardless, that was another issue, entirely, and at that moment, he could only take one issue at a time. He pulled onto his street and pain shot through his chest. Parking in his driveway, he noticed Cheryl, through the window, working in the kitchen; no doubt waiting on him like she did so many times in the past. She didn’t appear to notice him pull into the driveway. To Patrick, that was a small sense of relief. I just want to run…anywhere but here! Looking up at Cheryl through the window, he took another deep breath. O.K. Get in there and get this over with. Maybe Cheryl would be understanding. Surely, she would be angry and, no doubt, confused.

Patrick closed his eyes and prayed, silently. Lord, please be with me? What will be the magnitude of her anger? Oh Lord, how is she going to handle this? Caught in deep prayer, Patrick didn’t notice Cheryl coming out of the front door, which she did just before turning the porch light on.

Patrick, she called, loud enough for him to hear her. Patrick opened the car door, slowly, exiting the car. Hey, honey, what are you doing out here? I saw you pull up; why didn’t you come in?

I was just out here, thinking, Patrick bemoaned.

What’s going on? Are you…O.K.? Patrick walked up to the front porch, and due to the illumination of his face, there was no hiding it. The tears in his eyes -accompanied by his demeanor- gave it away. Patrick…what is going on? What’s wrong? Patrick looked away, trying hard not to say anything, but realizing that he had no choice.

Cheryl, they let me go.

"What do you mean, ‘they let you go,’?"

The elders…they let me go.

WHAT? Cheryl stood in total shock. She could not breathe. Patrick started crying.

I am so sorry, Cheryl. God forgive me; I am so sorry.

Cheryl didn’t say a word. She was completely taken by his statement. Had Patrick not been tormented by the guilt he felt, he might have wondered the meaning of her silence. If only I could read your mind, Cheryl, he thought.

They felt that I could no longer effectively serve the congregation, Patrick continued. And to be honest, I don’t blame them. How can I blame them? Cheryl’s demeanor seemed to change from shock to disappointment. She knew why he was let go and it broke her heart. She knew it…and it confused her even more. Patrick loved the Lord and Cheryl knew that, too. But…

Cheryl, I am so sorry. I…I…will you please forgive me?

Cheryl still could not speak. She was still trying to process this new information in her mind. Her eyes filled with tears. Patrick looked at her, trying to read her. As he stepped closer to her, she backed away, abruptly. She looked back up at him and, shaking her head, turned back into the house leaving Patrick where he stood. He wiped the tears from his eyes and looked up into sky. Jesus, I am so sorry. Please, please forgive me. I don’t know what to do, now, but I know I deserve this. Please don’t let this hurt my family. Please show me what to do from here?

Patrick sighed, wiped the tears from his eyes, and stepped onto the porch and into the house. He looked around and noticed that only the living room light was on. Cheryl walked up the stairs and straight to her room, shutting the door behind her. In 17 years of marriage, the two never experienced a lonely night apart from each other. Patrick, somehow, figured this would be the first night. He walked over to the couch and sat down. He didn’t want to pray. He didn’t want to read the Bible. He didn’t want to do anything. He turned off the light on the stand and reclined back into the couch. It would be a long night for him. Overwhelmed with guilt and shame, he felt like such a disappointment to God. Falling asleep would be difficult. It would be a long night, and he would go through it alone.

Lord, I am so sorry. I can’t do this without you. I feel so defeated. I am so sorry. As deep a sorrow as he ever felt, Patrick grabbed his Bible and held it to his chest. Holding it tightly, he prayed and prayed. Prayer brought him comfort so many other times, but for some reason, that would not be the case, now. Regardless, he prayed over and over, and believing with all his strength, even in this dark moment of his life, the love of God still prevailed.

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Dad? Dad, are you there? It’s Jeffrey.

There you are, Franklin snapped as he opened the door. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you. Have you seen what those fools are doing downtown?

I know, Dad. It’s unreal!

I’ve been watching it on the news. I was hoping that Ethan was not involved in that nonsense.

No. He’s not there with those rioters; not that we know of. Franklin turned toward the television as Jeffrey followed him into the living room. Dad, you should turn that off. You shouldn’t be watching that.

Yeah, I know, son. I just can’t believe what is happening here in Ferguson…again. Jeffrey sighed. He needed to change the subject. He knew that he had to talk to his dad, but he did not know how to bring up his father’s not-so-favorite subject again.

Dad, we have to talk.

"I don’t want to hear it, Jeffrey! I already told you: I’m NOT leaving!" Franklin refused to turn and face his son.

Dad, I really need you to listen to me.

"I don’t want to go, Franklin snapped, doing everything he could to prevent targeting Jeffrey with his frustration. This is my home, and I want to stay here!"

I know, dad, but hear me out: you are here, alone, and we don’t live anywhere close to here. At least at the Veteran’s Retirement Home you would be safe and treated with respect. You would be well taken care of and there are other Veterans, just like you, to hang out with. Franklin wasn’t hearing any of it. He was stubborn, but in his mind, he had every right to be.

Why should I have to leave my home, Jeffrey? I don’t need for money. I have no debt as my car and house are paid for. There is plenty of money for you and Michelle when I go. This is my home! Franklin’s frustration continued to build, but he did understand the point where driving his car became more dangerous for him.

Dad, please, please consider this. You know we love you. It’s getting more dangerous for you to live alone. I mean, you could move in with us if you would like. Franklin gave his son a serious glare. O.K., O.K., I got it, Jeffrey scoffed. Franklin was not impressed.

Dad, come on! Please think about this. Look, you would get your own room. It’s like your own apartment. It’s a very nice room. You still have your own privacy. It’s almost like a gated community. It’s free to you as it don’t cost a thing. Jeffrey showed Franklin a brochure that he pulled from his back pocket. Dad, you are a retired Army Colonel. They would take very good care of you, there.

Franklin sighed. He knew that Jeffrey was right. It was getting harder for Franklin to live alone. He enjoyed his solitude, but that might be another problem. He was always alone, lounging around the house, all day, watching television or staring out the windows. Franklin turned and walked over to the couch, sitting down next to Jeffrey. Jeffrey remained silent. At this moment, he thought it would be best to wait until his dad spoke first.

It is scary out there; all those people lootin’ and burning cars.

You’re changing the subject, Dad.

So. I can change the subject if I want to. Franklin figured he was losing this argument so he might as well make it harder for Jeffrey.

Yes, Dad, it is scary out there. It’s even more insane; all those cops killing black people.

"Those cops are just tryin’ to do their jobs. It’s not like they wake up in the morning sayin’ ‘hey, let’s go killin’ black folks.’"

Well, this isn’t the Army, dad. Many blacks are afraid of the cops.

Son listen to me: your mother and I never had to worry about stuff like that! Why…because we didn’t do anything to challenge the police.

I’m not listenin’ to this, Dad, Jeffrey interrupted. Franklin could sense the frustration in him.

Jeffrey, did you even see the news? Many of those fools rioting in the streets aren’t even from here. Some of them who were arrested had I.D.’s from other states. They were not here protestin’. They were here causing mischief and taking advantage of the chaos. They don’t give a flip about that man that was shot. They knew it was a black cop who shot him. That is just not right!

Jeffrey was caught up in the emotions of anger and rage like many of the other people who felt similarly every time they encountered a police officer. He just wanted to change the subject. Dad that is another reason that I don’t want you to live alone anymore. It is dangerous. I would feel more comfortable if you were living in an environment with other people.

"Now you are changing the subject," Franklin responded, sounding a little more lightened up.

Yes, I am, Dad, Jeffrey laughed. Jeffrey really wanted to lighten the mood, so he thought he’d change the subject, again. Hey, did you see the game the other night? Ethan tore it up, didn’t he?

Yes, he did, didn’t he? Did you and Michelle go watch him?

We did, and it was fun! MIZZOU put a whoopin’ on Nebraska, didn’t they?

Yes, they did. They sure did that. And that boy of yours sure can play football! Kinda reminds me of someone else I once knew. Franklin jabbed Jeffrey’s side, playfully, with his elbow.

O.K., Dad, I gotcha! Franklin sighed. In his heart, he knew how this conversation was going to end.

Well, I guess I might as well face this.

What do you mean, Dad?

Jeffrey, what happens to my home? Jeffrey looked up at his father, completely unprepared for this question.

Well, it is your home. What would you like to do with it?

"Well, I’d like to stay in it! They both laughed as Jeffrey caught his father’s feeble attempt to catch him off guard. I guess I’ll sell it and put the money in the bank for you guys."

Dad, you know we don’t want your money.

Oh, I know, son, I know. This is just hard for me. Just promise me you won’t stop coming to see me.

I promise.

And I wanna go to the home games to see my grandson play.

O.K., do you really think you would enjoy that? I mean, it is loud at those stadiums.

Son, I used to come watch you…

Yes, yes, I know, Jeffrey interrupted. You used to come to every game, rain or shine, driving hours on end, in the snow, and up the mountains, both ways…la de da de da…

Now don’t you sass me, ‘boy’! I can still take you!

I believe you can, Dad, Jeffrey laughed, before his father continued.

And Christmas’s…and Thanksgiving?

"You will spend ALL holidays with us. We wouldn’t have it any other way, Dad." Franklin looked around, trying not to become emotional.

This is our house, your mother’s and mine.

I know, Dad. I know. Jeffrey reached over and put his arm around his father as they laughed at each other a little more.

I miss her, Franklin lamented, wiping a tear from his eye.

I miss her, too, Dad. I miss her…so much.

Your mother had a beautiful way of making sense of everything. She was such an angel.

I know, Dad. Believe me, I know.

CHAPTER 2

I’VE BEEN TRYING to find a job, Brian. It’s been difficult, and Cheryl has not been taking any of this very well.

Really? How has she been; I mean, through all of this? Brian wanted Patrick to open up more, but he was trying to be careful.

She’s different, now. I know that she resents me for what happened, and I’ve begged and begged for her forgiveness. I really can’t blame her, and to be quite honest, I am really surprised she is still with me.

Is that so, Brian replied, stunned by that last statement. Patrick sighed, trying not to become emotional. This was a hard conversation for him to have. Brian prayed, quietly, before continuing. Have you guys been having problems; I mean, apart from the church?

No, not before this whole situation. Patrick paused, and the weight of the silence was a bit uncomfortable for Brian. Brian wanted to say the right thing, and he wanted to be encouraging. A minister losing his job was a tough thing to deal with, and Brian knew it.

Listen, you know I will be praying for you. We both will, Janet and me. But I want you to remember that minister or not, you need to pay attention to your wife. She is going through a really hard time…just like you. Continue encouraging her. Tell her –and show her- that you love her. Don’t ever stop. She will go through the fire with you, but just don’t forget to focus on her and her needs during this. I can assure you: there will be plenty. Brian paused for a second. Patrick seemed slow to reply so Brian continued.